#IM ON THE FLOOR BLOODIED AND BRUISED

[soapyakships]

depression be damned!!!! my girl can work a look!!!!

[kittycatcock]

do not tell me what i want or don't want, pet. i'll get my jaws around that soft delicate neck of yours just to prove a point. plus, it will warm you up nicely for when the collar goes on. that big heavy thing shifting around on the wounds and bruises i'll leave on your skin.... sounds awfully uncomfortable, kitty. this is what talking over your owner gets you. still, you are presenting your neck quite nicey. and i'm not unreasonable, am i? i'll give you some gentle kissies on your neck as well as a reward for doing as i say. i'll even be gentle as i grab you by the hair so i can exert maximum control over your movement <3

hhhhhhh whinnessss the cold metal collars gonna sting on kittys wounds so bad >////< hhh but. kitty wouldnt have them if she hadnt talked back to her owner..... she can do whatever she pleases with kitty's body it's really not up to kitty to decide ... dumb kityy just.... needs to remember that sometimes... needs some sense slapped into it.... but ill... >////< hhhh ill be a really good pet so u don't have to do that to kitty...

[bunicate]

mimi i wud die for sum wrio incest ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ i need nii-nii to punish his lil sis when she starts actin up and disobeying ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ pairing ꒱ྀི wriothesley x fem reader — warnings ꒱ incest. fucking in leggings. calling your big brother daddy ? creampie. reader is described as small / 18+

i kept u waiting long enough and Im not sure but I may have strayed a witl bit from whut u said but still ! ! wrio-nii <3 muhehe . some icky thoughts and babbling below nonnie.

believe it or not wriothesley doesn’t necessarily enjoy punishing his little sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to it, especially if you’ve been seeking a less-than-innocent reaction out of him. 

it crushes him to say it, but wriothesley knows that his chilling title as duke at the fortress of meropide doesn’t grant him the same freedoms as others. he’s an overseer, a self-appointed role that he carved himself. part of it is to maintain order; the other half is maybe to fulfill his own sentence and snuff out any remnants of the guilt he couldn’t shake off.

naturally, he’s a protector whose hands happen to be bloodied. if it meant guaranteeing the safety of his little sister, he’d fight his way through anything, even if it meant bruised skin and broken bones. to be at the fortress while you remained in the world above was, to say the least, hard, but he’s working around that obstacle.

its some days, like today ( though rare on occasion ) he takes a well-deserved break.

a long shower, a couple of hours in the at home gym to stay dedicated, and then he promises afterwards that he’s all yours. maybe a picnic, a stroll through the town, a shopping trip—whatever you set your sights on, he’d do it; he’d get it because he has the patience of a saint, but that just happened to be the one thing you lacked.

your attempts at seducing him were messily orchestrated. adorable, and innocent, and his cock strained against his sweatpants nonetheless.

wriothesley’s bare chest expands with each deep breath he takes, greedily sucking up the air to calm his lungs and beating heart after he drops his weight.

though away from the world below, he doesn’t stray from his regimen. even when darling little girls strut in loungewear not even appropriate enough to wear in their own homes, offer him water.

he downs it—gulps it incredibly fast and wipes the remnants of water that escape on the back of his hand. he sets the glass down, and he knows that water isn’t the only thing his body is aching for.

the clothes are practically second skin, your nipples are puffy and alert under your shirt from the air conditioning, and the leggings are tight enough to emphasize the chub of your lower lips.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

it’s a silly question he doesn’t bother to answer.one foot behind the other, hands intertwined, you give him that a stare that reveals more than you let on. your tongue delicately swipes your bottom lip, and his eyes follow. he watches closely when your lips do that small bounce from the release of your teeth.

he wants to wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and rip the flimsy pants off. maybe even ruffle up your pretty pigtails, but you’d hate him if he did. yet, it’s only fair for him to tease in return, and wriothesley isn’t too keen on enforcing discipline. but if you want it so bad, he can’t see why he can’t be voracious just this once.

it takes him only a split second to wrangle your body to the floor and push your cheek into the plush mat. he’s pumped with adrenaline; his brute strength nearly knocks the wind out of you.

those fingers that you love so dearly trail down your hips and backside to finally press down on the seat of your leggings—right where your cunt sucked in the fabric. just two of his digits encompass the size of your heat, and they trace the sticky folds through the cloth. your grip on the mat tightens, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

he roughly rips open your leggings, the sudden exposure to air making you gasp. it’s a wide enough hole to display your plump ass and fat little pussy to his icy blues. such thick, succulent lips dressed in a thin layer of your slick that he wanted to lap up selfishly.

his large hand reels back and collides with the flesh of your butt watching it jiggle.

“hnn— !”

your body lurches forward on impact, and wriothesley flexes his thick arms to keep you still.

“shh, shh. s’okay.”

he rubs the fat of your butt briefly before landing another swift strike.

you squeal, “nii-nii! p-pleaseee !”

the arch in your back deepens, and wriothesley licks his lips in anticipation at your show of embarrassment.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

he’s dizzy from the sight of your gaping cunt, and he can’t tell whether to spank it, fuck it, or kiss it first.

ultimately, he decides on spitting.

he puckers his lips, and a tiny glob lands right in the center of your pussy, and he eagerly stares as it disappears between your plump folds.

you flinch away reactively from the moist invasion, scrambling on the floor, but your brother overpowers you.

“come on, don’t run from me now, you little brat.” his hold on you tightens, forcing your ass higher up.

wriothesley begins to tug his pants down and pull out his heavy cock. it’s thick and drooling pre-cum from his wide tip, eager to empty his load inside your tiny hole. he gives it a few strokes and watches you wiggle your butt in excitement.

“put it in nii-nii. i'm so messy down there, so you don’t need’ta prep me. . .”

a manicured nail runs down your slit and separates your fold, and nothing but arousal webs across your twitchy cunt.

“fuck .” 

you are messy.

you’re dripping and creaming, and he’s barely started. he takes his own thumbs to spread your lips apart further, like he couldn’t believe it himself. your vagina thumps erratically, pumping out a bubbly, clear fluid. the squelch is disgustingly loud, and he has to fight himself from collecting the salty drops with his tongue.

he whistles in agreement.

“would you look at that? i guess you’re right. this needy cunt can take my fat cock. ”

he's holding his breath when he presses it against your quivering center.

“i always thought you were too little to take it, but your pretty pussy is more than ready for me.”

he rubs the softness of your skin in awe.

you turn your neck slightly to give him a shy smile. “mhm, s’ only for you. . but,” you shake your hips again. “could you put it in, please?”

slick was now stuck between your thighs, staining your already ruined leggings, and you felt dirty, but not enough to overpower the desire to be fucked by your older brother. you were practically humping the air in utter want, but wriothesley doesn’t match your urgency.

“i’m trying, sweetie, but—” the duke makes no effort—he wipes his sloppy mushroom head on your clit, dragging it in messy circles.

“nii-nii is having trouble.”

his pre-cum frothed into a cloud coating your already wet lips, and he hisses when your pussy briefly twitches around his glans. he nudges your opening teasingly but doesn’t bother to push his way through the tight seam.

he shakes his head in faux remorse.

“see, i guess you’re still too little after all."

you throw a small fit, “that’s not true! i can take it!”

he chuckles at your pouting. the hold on your ass digs into your skin as a warning to not get so worked up.

"then what do you suppose we do?”

he spits again, but this time on his shaft, and he drags his hand up just enough for his foreskin to cup the crown of the flushed tip.

"jus’ ruin it—force your cock in. .”

and he didn’t need to be told again.

two beautiful holes, a tight little knot that he can’t wait to split apart one day, and a wet and fat pussy. was he even strong enough to tough it out a little longer?

he looks up towards the ceiling, muttering a brief prayer. you just might kill him, but he's more than ready.

the tight fist around his member squeezes until a thick drop of white plops against the floor. his balls firm and round flutter with every gasp of air you take. his body is in sync with yours, and as soon as his tip pushes against your opening, it stretches—coaxing in his meaty girth. he pushes all the way in until he's sure he can’t go any deeper, and then pulls back out. his cock shines with your wetness, and he takes a few seconds to marvel at where your groins meet.

without warning his hips to mount forward, and he fucks you with purpose—to teach a lesson.

his pace is far from what you predicted; it's much faster and filled with a vigor you weren’t used to. your big brother prefers to handle you with much more care, knowing that you're just a delicate little thing, but he trusts you’ll get used to it.

you proved time and time again to be adaptable, so you keep your ankles crossed and your face down, smushed into the floor, while he uses your body for his own end. his balls, warm and taut, spank your clit unabashedly, turning the screw inside of you. a ring of milk forms at the base of his cock, and the friction pulls noises out of you you didn’t think you were capable of making.

you move to crawl away and put some distance, but wriothesley doesn't let you.

“nah, be still; let nii-nii use you. that’s what little girls are supposed to do, right?”

he laughs, maybe even out of disbelief. each time he tries to convince himself that it will be the last, he still finds himself forcing his cock inside his cock-hungry little sister. and your moans only elevate in pitch as you get closer to that edge.

“yesssss. ah !—hn—you can use me as many times as you want. m'your little stress toy!”

wriothesley grunts loudly. the sound of your lustful proclamations rattling his very being.

“I'm your little girl. keep fuckin’ me, please, nii-nii.”

he doesn’t want to stop.

the recoil of your round ass from the impact of his thrust is a view too otherworldly for him to separate his eyes from. his body accumulates more sweat, and he continues to deliver those fucks that pushes you harder into the floor. your leggings, other than the gaping rip, were thoroughly obliterated, and the mixture of fluids made the fabric darker and stickier.

“! m’almost there, keep going nii-nii. . . s-so close !”

a foggy cloud slows the whirrs in his brain; all of his thinking ceases, and the only thing he can focus on is finishing inside you. to empty his large balls of his salty seed and pull out more of those choked sobs out.

“s’okay baby. relax . i got you.”

“hnn-! hiccup . mmkay ! i love you s’much."

“yeah, nii-nii loves you too, baby. don’t fucking forget it.”

"i won't, d-daddy.”

he stills only for a moment before continuing.

“daddy ? what are you talking about, silly girl?”

he snickers in between moans and claps of skin. did he fuck you that dumb already?

“I’m your brother princess, don’t tell me you forgot.”

you pulse around his cock.

“mhm, but you’re my daddy too.”

he rolls his eyes and smiles.

“i guess i have a pretty daughter to take care of now,” he says and he’s rewarded with your cute mewls and noises of happiness.

he’d kill for you.

again.

he’s a man free of guilt when he’s the closest to you, and it’s why he feels no shame when he delivers one last thrust and pumps your pussy full of his hot semen.

you welcome it, feeling it fill your belly and it takes few minutes for wriothesley to separate himself from you. the minute he pulls out is when he feels robbed of your warmth, he feels naked but satisfied. his cock layered with thick cum fell limp between his legs and he feels relief that his balls were no longer aching with cum ; it was instead leaking from your puffed cunny.

his hands reached out to touch your sensitive pussy, squeezing it to watch the dollops of his seed drip on the gym mat. your legs shake in desire and it’s when reality sinks in.

you didn’t finish and wriothesley makes no move to get you off. he smirks, he’s sure that this time his punishment will keep you in line.

although, only for a bit .

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | grateful - j.m.

kinktober day nine - cockwarming

pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

wc: 2.17k

summary: being joel's girlfriend meant you saw sides of him no one else ever saw. one of them was how he just loved to be in your presence, to feel you, to touch you — to be buried inside of you.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS ARE NOT WELCOMED!!! NO AGE = BLOCKED. mentions of violence and sexual violence *if you blink you will miss it it's not a main theme!*, mentions if blood, dirty talk, p in v, cockwarming, slight somno.

an: gosh im so behind on this but i WILL catch up. i have a concert tmrw im very excited! also this one is very short, but i still love it 🥹

reblogs, likes & comments are so very appreciated i love u guys 🥹

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ °｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT it meant to be in a relationship – with joel. somehow, years after you got lost with the group you’d traveled with for months, you ended up in the midst of a bunch of men on horses pointing their guns at you. 

one of them being joel, and his brother. you were cut up, bloodied and bruised, in the freezing winter with hardly anything on. you remembered looking around you at the men that circled you, your hands raised but just barely because you had a stab wound on your left shoulder, crying. 

“please, i, i can leave just, please don’t kill me, i’ll go,” you cried frantically. 

every thought was going through your mind right now. you were half naked, shivering and near frostbite basically, the only thing warming you up would be the blood pouring from your wounds. there were only two things that could happen. 

they’ll trap you, have their way with you, then leave you for dead. or, they shoot you because they think you’re infected. 

“please don’t hurt me, i’m, i’m not infected, i swear.” you sobbed, looking down at your knees that felt numb being buried in the snow. 

you heard a shuffle, then something hit the floor, and the crunch of snow under a pair of boots. until you saw them right in front of you, and the person lowered themselves down to your height. 

the man tilted your chin up with his glove-covered fingers, and made you look at him. 

“you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of, come on, we’ll get ya some clothes,” 

and that was it. joel was the one who kept you away from the men that stared you down like a piece of meat that day, he kept you away from tommy, who kept telling him it was a bad idea. but quickly referenced when he and ellie came into town, and they took them in like nothing. 

he kept you safe. and he let you stay with him for the time being, until you managed to find a job down at the local bar. then, the two of you kind of went your separate ways. you found a little house at the corner that tommy told joel to give you, and managed to live by yourself for the year you were there. 

joel didn’t want you on patrol routes, or to forage for things that the town needed. he needed you safe, even when he wasn’t there. 

you hadn’t talked to joel, but he managed to come to the tipsy bison every friday, sitting at the bar by himself and watching you. 

“you know,” you start as you are cleaning the beer glasses and wiping down the sticky table after closing. joel was the only one still there. 

“you come here every friday, ever since i started working here, but everyone i’ve ever heard from tells me you like to drink alone. in the comfort of your own house,” you said, wiping the bar down in front of him. 

“jus’ makin’ sure you ain’t in no trouble over here,” he mumbled behind his last drink, downing the rest of the mahogany liquid. he did a subtle look down your shirt as you wiped the bar down in circles, watching your cleavage come into view. 

you just chuckled. “i think i’ll be okay. i promise you’ll be the first one i go to if i need help.” 

that made a small smile tug on his lips. 

“let me walk ya home,” 

so he did. except he didn’t leave after that. that night, the two of you drank a little more at your place, and things got a little heated. in the midst of stretching you out for the very first time, he was whispering things you would’ve claimed were little nothings, but seemed as if he was declaring his need for you. 

“fuck baby, tell me, whose pussy is this? who else is stretchin’ ya out like this?” 

“pretty fuckin’ girl, i swear i’ll fuckin’ kill for ya, won’t let nobody come near ya,” 

“you ain’t leavin’ me, darlin’. this pussy is fuckin’ mine,” 

and you never did, and he always kept his promise. four years later, after him being the one to fix your wounds and give you clothes, a place to stay — you lived with him. ellie ended up being able to take patrol routes occasionally, moving into a small house with dina. she was even glad he had someone to look after him, to take care of him as he cared for everyone. 

joel had just came in towards the end of the night from patrolling with tommy, mumbling about how he’s sort of an idiot. you could barely hear his banter from your bedroom, ears perking up at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed.

“baby?” you called out from the bedroom as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. his eyes searched for you in the darkness of the living room, until he ended up walking to the back hall to the room you both slept in. 

his face softened, giving a little smile as he walked over to you and plopped on the bed next to you. the force almost made you drop the book you were reading, so you dog-eared the page and put it on the table as you turned to curl into him. 

“you smell like outside,” you said as you crinkled your nose. 

“fuckin’ tommy, stressin’ me out. he wanted t’ stay longer for maria just in case but it was a fuckin’ ghost town, nothin’ was even there, but he’s fuckin’ stubborn.” 

you just sighed and let your face rest on his chest as his arm threw over behind you, rubbing the side of your body. “well, you’re home now.” 

he sighed, taking a swig from the beer and moved to put it on the bedside table. he just threw his head back, used his forearm to cover his eyes and breathe in and out. you just looked at him, a little empathetic. 

you started to kiss his chest, the one with the dirty shirt he wore to patrol and up his body, to his neck and jaw. with the movements, you swiftly swung your leg over one side and straddled him, making his arm move and his head tilting down to get a look at you. 

you just watched him, watching you, and smiled as you sat directly on his groin. 

“i know you’re stressed, but,” you started and rubbed over his tummy and pecs, “i need you.” 

you said with lust in your eyes, and he just smirked as he watched you reach under his shirt to feel the warmth of his body. 

“my baby needs me, ‘s that right?” he asked lowly, his voice sounding raspy and gruff. his hands rested on the width of your hips, loving the way you were so curvy and plush for him.

you just nodded, and moved to where you could unbuckle his pants and try to shimmy them down with his help. after you got his pants and boxers to his knees, you spit in your hand and gripped the shaft of his half hard cock. 

“i love you,” you said as you started to feel him harden in your hands, his own hands moving to the tank top you had on and yanking the fabric down to see your breasts. 

“you know i love you, baby,” he said and reached to play with your heavy breasts, tugging your nipple and playing with both of them so he could watch them peak. 

“i’m just real tired, honey,” he started as he felt your grip on his cock soften, and watched your face turn with disappointment until he grabbed your face and made you look at him. 

“you wanna help me out, darlin’?” he asked and you nodded with your eyebrows furrowed, “alright then, come lay down right here,” 

he patted the side of the bed that you slept on, and you let go of his cock before pouting and sliding down to the side next to him. you faced the opposite direction, facing the wall as you heard him get up and start taking all of his clothes off before sliding under the blankets with you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby, such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you have,” he said in your ear as he pulled you flush to his back, gripping your asscheeks before pulling one cheek apart from the other, feeling the wetness you gathered at your cunt. 

“always so wet f’ me, always so good to me,” he breathed on your neck. he felt your legs move apart so he’d have more access, and he just smiled, kissing on your shoulder. 

you didn’t know what he was planning on doing until you felt him guide the tip of his fully hard length up and down your cunt, still using one hand to move the thickness of your ass so he’d have access to your juices.

“joel,” you whined and moved your hips back to his, and finally felt his tip slip inside of you. 

“please,” you begged as he stretched you completely, feeling full even as he’s halfway. 

he lifts the blankets to watch you take him from behind, watching how his cock the was lathered with your juices as he thrusts softly into you before he bottoms out completely. 

but he doesn’t move, and instead kisses on your shoulder before going to your back, kissing there and wrapping his arm around your waist to rest on the fat of your tummy. 

“wait, joel i-” you started before he just squeezed your breast, leaving his hand to rest there. 

“mm-mm, we’re goin’ to sleep,” he said, but the feeling of his cock being buried inside of you was too distracting. you couldn’t sleep. 

“but joel,” you whined, your hand resting on top of his as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. 

“go to sleep, i promise i’ll give you want you want baby, jus’ let me feel you like this, yeah?” he asks and you involuntarily moan a little, your movements of trying to fuck back on his cock failing. 

“i love feelin’ you like this, sweet girl. could be buried in this fuckin’ cunt for years,” he whispered as he squeezed your tit again, “you fit me so fuckin’ perfectly,” 

“i love when you fill me up, joel,” you whispered ss you hugged his arm, leaving kisses on it and making joel smile against your skin. 

“aw, my baby, loves when i just keep you on my cock, just so i can feel you. love when you keep me warm inside that little fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and you whined, trying to squirm and get some movement in. 

he just holds you tight, not letting you move. the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim made your cunt clench, and he groaned at the feeling. you felt like you were suffocating, practically feeling his cock in your throat as he just laid there behind you and kissed your skin. 

“go to sleep, baby. i promise i’ll make ya cum over n’ over til’ i gotta leave,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the proposition.you knew he was telling the truth, because he’s done it before. 

he’s made you soak the sheets before it even hit six in the morning, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and ravishing in it. the best thing he could ever do with his time is watch you fall apart because of him, and make you feel good. 

so, you fell asleep with him still inside of you, feeling the dull throb of his cock and your cunt mixed together, the feeling of when he would move to pull you closer because he slipped out of you a little bit. 

he craved you, even in his sleep. 

and the next morning when he woke up, he was still buried inside of you and looked at where you two connected, seeing the pool of your arousal leaking onto him, and on the bed. 

so he kept his promise, and used the newfound arousal you built up to slide out of you, and slide right back in. until you woke up, and tightened on his cock as he fucked you awake. 

joel was obsessed with you, and that meant if he could have you sitting on his cock while he did his day to day things, he would. and he’s tried. but feeling you soak him, squeeze him and cry out for him made him feel a whole other type of gratuity. 

you were grateful he was the one that took you in, he was the one that cared for you and protected you, and he was grateful that you let him walk you home that night, grateful that you only trusted him and not anyone else. 

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TAGLIST

@awilderi @nerdieforpedro @cyb3rluvvxx @joelmillers-girl @pedritoferg @bethanymccauley @dirtydianaahah

let me know if u would like to be added to the taglist!

[jinwoosbabyboo]

I Don’t Do Well With Blood

MC who doesn't do well when it comes to blood A/N: Yes we know MC is no stranger to blood, but for this story she can barely handle it [Requested by: 49hr0]

Zayne

Zayne came back from one of his business trips covered in cuts and bruises. You walked in on him in the bathroom dressing his own wounds.

MC: Would you like some help?

Zayne: I appreciate your concern My Love but I can handle it

MC: What about the cuts on your back ... let me help

Zayne: If you wish

MC: oh

Zayne: something wrong?

MC: you're still bleeding

Zayne: That's how cuts work

MC: *passes out*

Zayne, mumbling: I knew she couldn't handle it

Rafayel

Rafayel asked you to help him carry in a heavy package

MC: Hold on I need to adjust my hand

Rafayel didn't hear you and ends up pinching your finger between the box and the wall

MC: OW OW STOP !

He immediately drops the box and rushes to you

Rafayel: Are you okay?

MC: My finger *gags*

Rafayel: Is it bad?

MC: Im gonna throw up

Rafayel: Please don't

MC: I can't handle blood

Rafayel: ME EITHER

MC: RAF!

Rafayel: Okay okay relax I'll cauterize it

MC: You'll what?

Rafayel: *Uses his evol to burn your wound*

MC: WHAT THE FUCK

Rafayel: It worked

MC: Why don't we just try a band-aid next time?

Rafayel: Oh yea I guess that would work too

Xavier

Cut himself on the mandolin slicing zucchini

Xavier: I think I just cut the tip of my middle finger

MC: You- *Turns to see Xavier examining his bloody finger* are....are you okay?

Xavier: Its not as bad as it looks it just took a little off the top ... can you hand me a paper towel?

MC: *Scared stock still* You're getting blood on the floor

Xavier: Thats why I need a paper towel

MC: oh

Xavier: ....

MC: .....

Xavier: They're behind you

MC: Oh right ... right

Xavier: I'll grab it

MC: I GOT IT I GOT IT BACK UP *Throws the entire roll at him*

Xavier: I only needed one

MC: *Throwing up in the sink*

Sylus

You were hiding out in the safe house Sylus has in Linkon when suddenly he stumbles in holding a dark cloth to his shoulder.

MC: Sylus!

You jumped up quickly closing the blinds knowing that since the sun was up he can't heal his wounds quickly.

MC: What happened?

Sylus: Got hit with a bullet don't fret there's an exit wound I'll be okay in a few hours

MC: How can I help?

Sylus: I'll disinfectant it if you can just wrap it

MC: I can do that

Sylus: You’ll have to turn around while I clean it

MC: Why?

Sylus: It's bloody

MC: I cut my leg last week and didn't faint I think Im over that now

Sylus: Somehow I doubt that

Sylus heads to the bathroom with you on his heels. He removes the soaked cloth from his shoulder and starts cleaning his wound. There's rustling and then a loud thud followed by the sound of bottles falling behind him.

MC: *Passed out in the tub*

Sylus: *Heavy sigh* This is why I told you to turn around ... so hard headed

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[tyunzonlystar]

Bike ride (10:06pm)

Warnings! Sub!beomgyu, virgin!beomgyu, big dick!beomgyu, dom!reader, nipple play (gyu rec), strangers to ???, mentions of abusive parents, cuts nd bruises (injuries not sh), making out, pet names (pretty boy, mommy, baby, good boy, beomie, gyu) mommy kink, dick sucking? And unprotected sex (please use protection!)

word count: 1391

summary: Beomgyu snuck out his house to go on a bike ride and ends up falling off! :( but luckily you helped him..

smut under the cut!! MDNI‼️

You left your house about 20 minutes ago and decide to walk to the beachside a few minutes away from your apartment. As you were walking this boy kept riding past you until he fell off! You quickly run over to him and crouch next to him.

“Oh my god are you okay?” You asked him even though he now had cuts and bruises on his body

“Yeah im fine” he tried to move his bike off him “could you please help?” 

You nod your head and move his bike off him and help him up 

“Hey im y/n i live a few blocks from here so i can help clean you up if obviously you wanted?” 

He looked at you and smiled “really?”

“Yes”

“Your not gonna hurt me for like annoying your walk that was meant to be peaceful?”

“What? Of course not! I just wanna help you and then you can go home” you explained to him now having a bit of suspension on why he thought you were gonna hurt him so you decide to ask him as you two start walking back to your apartment.

“Hey i was wondering why you thought i was gonna hurt you? If anything is going on at home with whoever you live with you can talk to me or anything.. but you dont have to if you dont want to” 

The boy looked at you and nods his head to say he listened and appreciated your words

“Uhm i come out on my bike quite often at night when my family is asleep and i sneak out and come here often..” 

“Ohh so like its an escape for you then?”

“Yeah i uh guess?”

Soon enough you get to your apartment complex and you open the door and let him in first and then you walk towards the elevator and press floor 8. 

“Sorry you couldnt bring your bike in here.. but don’t worry the receptionist will keep it safe!”

The boy laughs a little as the elevator dings signalling your at floor 8. You walk out the elevator and the boy follows behind you as you walk to your apartment

“My apartment is kinda big and theres a spare bedroom incase you cant get home..”

“Thank you y/n you dont know how much this means to me..” He says just above a whisper. You make you way to your bedroom and grab your first aid kit

“Hey i never got your name..?”

“Beomgyu”

“Thats a pretty name for a pretty boy. Anyway sit down here” You pat a chair next to you and Beomgyu sits down with light blush covering his face from your complement. You open the kit and take out a antibiotic wipe and gently clean his cuts while he hisses in pain.

“Shit.. ouch” He mumbles

“Sorry..”

You finish cleaning his cuts and bruises and bandage them up

“Its 11pm and i dont want you riding home alone and my car is broke.. would your family mind if you slept here just for tonight?” You asked him

“Mm no they wouldnt mind..”

You nod your head 

“You can sleep in the spare bedroom but if you need me or anything you can come in my room”

Beomgyu smiles down at you on your knees and thanks you before asking another question…

“Could i sit on your bed uhm with you and we can just talk?”

“Yeah if you wanted i dont mind!”

“Really?” He asked surprised you didnt shout at him for wanting to be in your bed. You get off your knees and put the bloody tissues in the bin and put away the first aid kit and get on your bed and pt the space next to you. Beomgyu stands up and sits on your bed

“Y/n?”

“Yesss?”

“Can i tell you something?”

“Yes”

“I was on my bike earlier cuz i wanted to escape from my family.. i can’t remember if i told you.. but i wanted to escape from them because they uh abuse me.. so some of the bruises you saw were from my  dad as he doesn’t support what i do..”

“Oh well what do you do?”

“I play the guitar and livestream it and he doesn’t support me playing music.. it’s because he doesnt want me to make more money than him since he gets really bad pay days like he doesnt get alot of money and my mom she pays for the bills and my dad uses her but my mom also abuses me but she does it mentally.. and earlier today my dad smashed my guitar while i was livestreaming…”

You nod your head and listen to him carefully.. 

“Im so sorry thats happened to you Beomgyu and im thankful you trust me to tell me considering we met a few hours ago..”

He smiles and nods his head.

A few hours go by and you dont know how you got onto the topics of your sex like but you did and beomgyu kept a pillow on his lap.. you  knew why but didnt say anything until the question came around..

“Are you a virgin?” You asked him and he shuffled slightly as he face went a crimson red as he slowly nodded and soon enough you found yourself on his lap heavily making out with him as you slowly grinded down on his lap.. He whimpered. 

“Holy shit..” you thought growing wetter at his moans and noises.

You run your fingers through his long oreo hair and pull away from the kiss

“Are you sure you want this? I mean your a virgin and we dont know eachother super well..”

He eagerly nodded his head

“Okay Gyu if its what you want” you shrug as you sit between his legs and pull his jeans and boxers down to his knees and his thick long veiny cock hit his stomach.

“Jeez baby your huge” you say as you watch the pre-cum drip down his shaft. 

“Ready pretty boy?”

“P-please!”

You took that as a yes and kitten licked his tip before taking little by little in your mouth slowly bobbing your head up and down while jerking the rest you couldnt fit in your mouth

“Y-y/n! Fuck fuck fuck!” He whined loudly as he gripped onto your hair

“‘m gonna c-cum.. please let me mommy” his whimpers bounced off the walls of your bedroom as your hands reach up and rub his nipples as he chanted your name like it was a ritual as he came in your mouth and of course! You swallowed.. you dont want his cum going to waste did you?

“M-mommy want your p-pussy..” 

“What do we say when we want something baby?”

“P-please”

“Good boy”

You get of the bed and shimmy your pj pants off and let Beomgyu tale your panties off

“Go on take them off for mommy”

His hands slowly took your panties off and he threw them on the floor as you hovered above his cock

“Ready?”

He nodded once again as you slowly sank down on him. You stopped halfway to try get used to him stretching you out and a few seconds later you took him all in your gummy walls.

“Hnng.. f-feels so good..” He moans as you start bouncing on his thick girthy cock 

“Doing so well for me Beomie.. so pretty.. fuckkk!” You praised as he hit your sweet spot 

At this point the only noises were skin slapping and both of your moans and whimpers

“G-gonna cum” Beomgyu whimpers as he bucks his hips to meet yours

“Cum for me baby” you whisper in his eat as you kiss his neck and leave nasty dark purple splotches on his neck and collarbones. He bucks his hips up to meet yours one last time before he releases his hot load into you and soon after you cream on him and collapse on top of him

“Did so well for me.. im surprised your a virgin with that cock” i laugh and he laughs back 

“Ill get towels then you can shower and we can go bed” you say as you get off his cream covered dick and go get warm towels to clean the both of you up..

After your both are cleaned up and in comfy clothes you two fall asleep cuddling….

do not steal, copy, translate!

feel free to reblog my lovelies!

[patchiko]

Ur writing makes me emotional im literally writhing on the floor jason let me take care of u bbg 😭 can u write smth ab him letting his s/o take care of him after a rough patrol? Can be sfw or nsfw

HEHEHEHE THANK YOU ANON!! I GOTT YOUUU

im so proud of this it took long but im literally writing this at 3:49 AM bc of the idea that popped up in my half asleep brain

Taking care of ak!Jason Todd after patrol!! (SFW FLUFFY FIC)

Night after night, Jason Todd would come home to you. Sometimes bloodied and bruised, sometimes frustrated and annoyed, sometimes his feet were dragging and his whole body ached. Tonight he slipped through your apartment window, smooth jazz played so lightly it took him a second to register it. A light in the dining room was on. He could’ve just showered to let the running water tell you he was home, and be greeted with your presence when he came out. But, tonight his eyelids were heavy and his body felt empty. Like a lost ghost, he longed for something that gave him a peace to rest his lamenting spirit. Jason wandered to you, it was second nature at times, he found you sitting at the dinner table working on your laptop.

Your gaze flicked upwards, the red of his helmet catching your eyes. “Welcome back!” You said warmly. Almost in an instant his body felt full, heavy, like he was about to melt into a puddle right then and there.

“Hey.” The helmets voice scrambler hid Jason’s mellowed tone. Slightly frowning underneath it because of its harsh manner, he promptly took it off. After sliding the cold metal off his head, his eyes met yours. You were smiling tenderly at him. Jason drifted toward you, when he got close he felt like his whole body would’ve dropped to your feet and he could in a dormant rest for centuries. As long as you stayed there of course. Hardly noticed how close he stood over you until he felt himself moving down to kiss your cheek. Jason stopped himself, “Can I?” he whispered to you feebly. You nodded to him with that warm smile he longed for desperately. Jason pressed his cold lips to your cheekbone, the sensation of your skin soothed that longing feeling. He pressed another one firmly, helplessly trying to quarrels his yearning soul. Jason caught himself, skin flushed as he dragged himself away.

A sigh escaped his lips and he started turning away,” Would you like one too?” He fixated himself back on you, you were still looking at him lovingly, your finger pressed against your lips, waiting for his response.

Wordlessly he bowed his head back toward you, turning his head for you to kiss his unbranded cheek. Jason wasn’t ready for you to touch that side of him so directly. He didn’t want you to meet the oily black hate, the only other thing that touched his heart, his longing, his ache as comfortingly as you did. The discomfort seeped from him when he felt your plush lips meet his skin, it wasn’t quick, not too long either. In Jason’s mind it was perfection, it made that tar that stuck in his veins seem like a pathetic substitute. It made his breath heavy, all but burdened with a swollen heart. It made him feel untouchable, not in his brutal norm but in a heavenly stillness. It made him scared. That you could take care of him, not just when his body bled but when you filled something enigmatically empty inside him. Something that he could only fill with that hate that he clutched onto like a boy to his mother.

Jason lugged himself away from you. He wasn’t sure what would hurt him more and he wasn’t ready to find out. He sat across from you pressing his callous palms against his face.

“Bad night?”

“Mhm. Something like that.”

“Need anything?” He already got it.

“No.”

He would be lying if he were to say he wouldn’t wish to a star like a child, asking for your ease indefinitely.

i love him☹️

[queenie-the-court-jester]

If there will be a part two for yandere online friend, once I found out im pregnant, I will cause a miscarriage on purpose and blame him for the lying, the cheating, the drugs, EVERYTHING. Tormenting him for his betrayal, because it’s not fair that he messed around with another girl while I was there for him when his own family wasn’t.

(I know i was aware high school love wasn’t gonna last but i love being petty and holding on grudges brings me joy.) 🥰💅

you're more fucked up than me dawg 😭 but at the same time it's understandable?? In a way?? But then again that isn't any better than the yandere... This will be the first, and last darkfic I will ever write

Tw: self abortion, guilt tripping, toxic relationship, mentioned non-con, this whole fic is a warning in itself, self harming, suicide. readers be warned,dead dove do not eat

🥀no no NO! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS!? WHY WOULD YOU RUIN EVERYTHING HE WAS SO CLOSE TO ACCOMPLISHING?? you were supposed to love the baby.. all in all, he goes into hysteria when he sees you on the floor of the bathroom. Blood all over the tiles and toilet

💔calling 911 and breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably as they load you onto the stretcher and go to the hospital. When you wake up, he expected you to call the police or scream for help. But you just.. stared at him? No emotion..

🥀you stayed in the hospital for a week, he stuck to your side like glue. The nurses always commented on how much of a loyal boyfriend you had, but they were met with silence. It unnerved them a bit but they just brushed it off as you processing the miscarriage

💔when Damien took you back to his house, he boarded up the windows and doors. Adding multiple locks all while looking like he was hyperventilating. Images of you bleeding flashing through his head. the doctors said it was a miracle they even managed to save you

🥀he froze when he finally heard you speak for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"this is all your fault. You did this to me."

"d-darling please! Let's not go there.."

"you're a worthless pathetic bastard. I hate you."

💔he slowly goes back into his old destructive habits, cutting his arms and smashing solid objects against his thigh or legs. Making himself feel the pain you must've felt, always crawling back to you. Bloody and bruised, begging to be forgiven

🥀he starts making up stories. Saying the girl pushed herself onto him, or he wasn't thinking straight when it happened. He'd be so unstable you could even manage to get him to off himself if you pushed him farther, taking his money and leaving his bloody corpse in the shitty house he called a home. Did he seriously expect to raise a family here? Pfft, what a weirdo..

[babygorewhore]

You’re everything.

Eddie Munson x fem reader

Eddie Munson comes home and sees the bedroom destroyed. Your mental health has taken a toll and you feel worthless. But he’s always there to remind you how much he loves you and how he’s always willing to help you pick up the pieces.

Warnings! Hurt comfort. Mental illness. I wrote this with the reader having BPD and autism. This is based on my experience. I haven’t seen much on those two issues. Feelings of worthlessness. Mild self harm. Anger episode. Anxiety. I hope this comforts you because you’re worthy of love and Eddie would love you no matter what. Also the photo used is just for aesthetic. Not proofread.

Thank you to my friends, Dolly, Mae and Em for helping me with this. I love you girls.

Eddie pushed open the apartment door, with his hip, a few grocery bags lined down his arm because he refused to make two trips. “Hey, sweetheart, I’m back!” He shut the door with his foot, did a quick unfocused glance around the living room.

“Fuck, the store was packed! I think you would have stayed in the car, baby.” He set down the bags and started putting away the cold items. Eddie yawned afterwards, closing the refrigerator and stretched. His black, stolen back sweatshirt rising above his stomach.

It dawned on him that you haven’t responded at all. “Baby?” He called again. No answer. He frowned and approached the bedroom door and he gasped when he saw the scene.

The bed was torn apart. Blankets thrown off and the pillows dented. Eddie went to take a step before he looked on the ground. Stim toys were all over the floor. Stuffed animals and even clothes. A few shirts were ripped. He didn’t see you. “Princess, what’s going-“

A hole was in the wall next to the closet. A small one but it went deep in the plaster. Eddie moved quickly. Surveying the damage, he saw a bloody imprint. Knuckles. Eddie sighed. You were having an episode. He should have known. You didn’t answer his texts. You hated phone calls. This wasn’t the first time this happened. Eddie on a number of times had to sit by your side during dark hours.

But he loved you. You were beautiful. His everything. It wasn’t one sided. If anything, you gave too much to him. You were always supporting him. Even when he was unbearable. You stood by him. He would do whatever you needed. He needed you. He wanted you. Eddie knew immediately where you were then.

He gently opened the closet door and he saw you. You were wearing a large t shirt, it went past your thighs and loose plaid pajama pants.

Over ear headphones on, your phone face down on the floor and you were stimming. Rocking back and forth. You were panting, your face flushed and he could see your eyes squeezed shut. Eddie saw your right hand. Your knuckles were bloody and bruised.

He didn’t want to startle you so Eddie opened the door further, enough for you to hear it over music.

Eddie’s heart ached when you turned to look at him. Your eyes were blood shot. Your lips bleeding from what he knew, you bit them or picking at them. Your nails had blood underneath them from biting the nail. You were a wreck. But you were his special girl.

“Hey…” He said, swallowing. “Baby, I-what happened?”

You tried to stand but ended up sprawled on the ground. He went to help you but you jerked away, pulling yourself up.

“I’m so fucking mad right now.” You were almost yelling. But you sounded out of breath. “I-I took my meds but I’m still like this. My heart hurts, I just feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. Everything is too loud!” You weren’t crying but you were growing hysterical. You started pacing.

“Why am I like this? Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I get so upset over the smallest things?” Eddie was standing close but he didn’t reach yet. You were tugging at your shirt. He knew you were getting hot.

“I can’t deal with this. I can’t feel this way! Im so sick of feeling like I’m useless because I can’t even talk on the phone to my boyfriend because I hate how it makes me feel! You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“Sweetheart, will you just come here for a second?” Eddie tried to prompt.

“No!” You stopped moving and placed your hands on your chest. “Eddie. I don’t want you to see me like this. Again. Maybe you should leave. I don’t want to keep freaking you out.”

Eddie moved then. And he gently grasped your elbows and looked down. Eye contact was difficult for you and he never wanted to force it. But he tilted your chin, happy if you just looked at his forehead. “Princess. I’m not leaving you. I would never.” He leaned forward, rubbing his nose against yours. “I’m just happy you didn’t break your hand.” He pulled away, glad you weren’t moving away. “You’re burning up. Let’s get to the couch, it’s too warm in here.”

Eddie wrapped his arm around your waist, helping you walk around the mess and he sat you down on the couch. “I’ll be right back, babe.” You grabbed his hand. “I promise.” He smiled at you. You slowly let go.

He tried not to show his panic as he looked for the first aid kit. Eddie came back to the living room, kneeling in front of you. “Let me see that hand.” He asked, pulling it towards him. It was shaking. He was careful, dabbing it with saline and you winced. “I’m sorry, baby.” Eddie went through the motions, remembering how to wrap an injured hand from his own share of punching walls.

After the bandage was around your hand, he pressed a kiss on top. He maneuvered his way up and sat beside you. Eddie held your leg that was bouncing. “Babe…I know for a while things have been really hard for you. And seeing all that today, I see you’re in a lot of pain. And I just want to help you. I love you so much. You know that right?” You covered your face with your hands.

“Eddie, you shouldn’t. I feel like I don’t have enough good days. I’m so tired of always telling you how bad my day was, or that I want to have a meltdown about fucking textures or sounds. I just wish I could be normal for you.” Eddie shook his head, taking your hands down.

“Hey. Hey. I would never trade you for anything. I would never want anyone other than you. The only thing I wish I could change, is how you feel about yourself. Baby, you are so much more than what you struggle with. You’re kind, funny, like so funny I almost snort and I can’t even breathe. You understand me, you are so caring and you let me be annoying when I smoke too much weed. I could go on for days.” You lifted your head. And looked at him. And held eye contact.

“You’re more than bad days, baby. I love you so much. And I know you were listening to our song, right? The one I told you to play when things get bad?” You nodded. Smiling a little. Eddie feigned shock.

“Is that-is that a smile? That’s my girl.” It widened and he grinned, cupping your cheeks.

“Come on. Sing one line with me. And then, I’m gonna go pick up the bedroom. I’m going to make you something to eat and then we’re going to watch your favorite movies.”

“Do I have to sing?” You complained.

“Sorry, baby. Those are the rules.” Eddie winked, still holding tight to your face.

“And I don’t want the world to see me, cuz I don’t think that they’d understand.” Eddie leaned in, pressing his lips softly to yours. Gently because of the picked apart flesh.

“I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and squeezed tightly. Eddie followed suit and hugged you around the waist.

“I love you so much, Eddie.”

Eddie breathed you in. It wouldn’t fix what you felt. But you wouldn’t have to battle anything alone.

Tagging. @xxhellfirebunnyxx @reidsbtch @take-everything-you-can @emsgoodthinkin @monstxrteeth @battymunson @scene-and-dandylover @lithium80sblog @elaine-in-the-membrane

[targaryenluvs]

Holy shittt that capitol girl blurb??? That was something else 😵 can you pls make a part 2 of it but like a oneshot of it where he gets jealous of one of those lowly capitol people takling to us and he takes us to his room and then smutty smut happens??? Your dark!finn fics make me feral😩

oooh, i like your brain, captiol girl reader is a fav of mine! but ngl this gives off coryo vibes too.

i was listening to ride…

love you best,, coriolanus snow/finnick odair

can be read as either!!! no specifics i think

tw: kind angry sex, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, semi-public, implied short reader, size kink, humiliation, kinda guilt-tripping, degradation, mirror, flashback punishments, mentions of purposeful starvation, spanking, overstimulation, toys 👀 double pen, im so sorry i don’t know what possessed me

if there was one thing you knew about your partner it was his short temper when it came to you. obviously he didn’t show it all that often but you were one of the few people who could tell. whether it be by his grip on the champagne flute, the rigid posture, or, his unsettling smile. but it was obviously normal to everyone else, all they could think of was the fact that the legend himself was smiling their way.

he hated them in all honesty, but he wasn’t an idiot so he tolerated them.

but eventually every man breaks, and this time it was because of you.

an ugly, loud, grimy businessman had taken interest in you, his girl. he flashed his pearly whites your way every chance he got, brushing his hand by your waist in order to grab a drink, even has the audacity to actually touch you, bring the strap of your dress back up.

“sweetheart,” your partner beckoned you from up the stairs, your saving grace from the man. “come along now.” his grin was sinister and mischievous and you could only guess at what he was thinking of. excusing yourself from his side you made your way up the stairs, his eyes lingering on your behind. that man was lucky your boyfriend didn’t jam his fist in his face.

and before you knew it, the two of you were far from the party, on the third or fourth floor. “what are we doing here?” your voice was quiet, too focused on your surroundings rather than the man behind you, and how hungry he looked. turning to view him you were met with a hand around your throat. “what do you think you’re doing?” his one hand practically encircling your neck, your two hands pawed at his wrist to no avail.

“n—nothing.” you croaked out, watery eyes meeting his own dark irises, they seemed to be consumed with fire, and you knew your were bound to be burned. “are you trying to fuck with me? everyone here knows who you are here with but you’re acting like a whore, do you even know that man’s name?” you shook your head as a smirk made its way to his face, his voice was hot in your ear, “i think you need to be taught a lesson.”

he made you feel small in every way possible, whether it be guiding you through a crowd, or a hand on your hips moving you to the side. or, cornering you when you decided to be a brat, especially during the start of your ‘relationship.’

one of the most prominent examples being when you’d once refused to eat, besides a snack here and there and some water. the servants didn’t know what to do and your boyfriend hadn’t returned, busy with work. so when he did return and learned of your temper tantrum, he tied you down, taking orgasm after orgasm, one for each day you hadn’t eaten. it was the worst and best night of your life, your own ass was bruised and bloodied.

he’d struck you for every hour you refused.

he had his head between your legs, lips on your clit, licking it whilst two fingers pushed in and out, grazing just the right spot, making you arch your back and claw at the mirror. removing his fingers, his tongue traced your folds, saliva mixing in as he moved to your slit, and the inside of your walls. but it was never easy with your boyfriend, and he hated the fact that you looked so pretty. moans sweet as ever, hands pulling at his hair softly.

no, he liked you best at your worst.

so instead of letting you catch your breathe, he took off his tie and bound your wrists behind your back, your circulation practically cut off. you had nothing to grab, to hold, to ground yourself with, all you could do was sit and cry as he sucked your clit harshly, fingernails digging into your thighs as a warning.

stop moving.

again, horrible listener, so you thrashed around, lifting yourself up from against the mirror before being pushed back by him. your eyes were screwed shut as you heaved, “please, please i didn’t do anything!” his eyes shot up to look at your face in disbelief. “you did nothing?” he sneered, rising from in between your legs before his hand clutched your hair as you yelped.

“you want attention, that’s all you ever want. you have legs you could’ve walked away and come to me but you stood there, laughing at his jokes.” his fingers smooshed your face, he loved you best like this. messy hair, mascara smudged and lipstick smeared. for once you were unable to read him, you couldn’t tell if he was joking, mad or teasing. he got down on his knees, tapping your foot as you raised it, your panties removed as he stored it away in his pant pocket. your thighs were painted with arousal, sticky when you moved.

the click of the door opening sobered you up straight away, “what? why are you—” he shoved you infront of him, not even bothering to check if the coast was clear, he assumed there wouldn’t be anyone, you were floors above the party and the only people that would be around these disgustingly sensual rooms would be there for the reason he was. crimson red walls, plush velvet walls, a monstrosity in terms of a fashionable home, but comfortable.

you ended up in a random bedroom, also red. he shoved you onto the bed, shuffling through the drawers with intent. “where would it be?” he muttered to himself as he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on a closet door, promptly moving towards it.

you laid on the bed with your hands underneath you, at least the ceiling was white you thought. the heat between your legs was unbearable, but not left unattended for too long. he had a box in his hands, not too large but not small. “what is that?” you craned your neck to look, but he pulled out a blindfold.

“i want you to only cum when i tell you to, do you understand?” you groaned loudly, “oh come on are you kidding me? why the hell do i have to do that? so annoying—” the dildo penetrated your dripping pussy as you moaned out, finally.

he couldn’t do everything he would have wanted to whilst still at the event but he could at least satisfy himself. he slid in and out with ease, unrelenting pace as you cried out, “don't stop, please don't stop!" he loved you best like this, crying on his fat cock splitting you open.

“you like that? yeah you do.” he grinned as you clutched the sheets underneath you, he pushed it deeper, before taking it out. “please, don’t stop!” you screamed out, the anticipation of what he’d do was exciting, unable to see him. his finger simultaneously traced around your ass, using your slick he smeared it around.

“you want more? you want my cock in you too?” you nodded vehemently, “oh god yes! yes!” he pulled it out before flipping you over and propping you on all fours. he was nice enough to be sweet, cooing and praising you for how good you were being. “you’ll be good for me won’t you? i’ll take your bind off.” thank god, “yes, i’ll be so good, promise.” it felt so good to move them around again. the thing about your boyfriend was that he never made anything easy when it came to sex.

“i want you to fuck yourself.”

his hand on your hips and your own pressed against the headboard. “that's it, fucking take it!" he grunted as he thrust into you, “yeah, you wanna scream? confirm what they know?” you could barely keep your own eyes open let alone respond but of course he would never let that be. you’d never experienced something so euphoric yet punishing. you felt as if you’d explode. he’d gotten tired of how slow you were being with your pussy so he was kind enough to multitask.

but listening wasn’t exactly your strong suit and it didn’t matter how harsh he gripped your hips or how he slammed into both holes, you’d still try and get away. “s’too much, please.” your head rested on the bed, you were exhausted.

“fuck, i’m so close!”

“you’re lucky i’m letting you after the shit you— you pulled.” his words didn’t hurt, your pussy only clenched further, “i can feel you, in both holes.” your forehead pressed against his, a gentle gesture, a reminder of your relationship. he grunted into your ear, thrusts slowing down, messier, closer.

he pulled it out of your ass as you moaned at the loss of contact, “messy girl, need two cocks in you? my little slut needs more?” you shook your head, “just you. just you.” you babbled, you felt so good. oversensitive and tired, which again he loved. he pulled almost all the way out, pressing the fake cock to your lips, “suck it, you’re too noisy baby, you want someone to find you like this? i didn’t lock the door.”

his smirk made you dizzy, he made you dizzy. he took a second to admire you, splayed out on the bed now, sucking both of your juices off it. he slammed back in making you whimper and teary-eyed. soon enough reaching his high as well as your own as you clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, “mmm!” he grunted, “fuck, you’re too good, take it the whole way baby, if you’re— if you’re gonna suck it then take it all.” he found his release with you, his hot cum spurting into your womb.

“next time, you stay by me. or don’t, i’ll fuck you even harder next time.”

[loppsided]

d. grayson as your boyfriend

summary: headcanons for boyfriend dick :p

pairing: dick grayson x afab!reader

wc: 397

warnings: fluffy grayson, slight cussing,

a/n: probably going to be doing a lot of headcanons since im in school so enjoy this! reblogs and likes appreciated!

so protective, sometimes to the point where it gets annoying lmao. he just wants to make sure your safe at all times and what better way to do that than being near you 24/7!

100% clingy dick when you get that comfortable with each other

hands always roaming on your body, in your hair, on your back, holding yours.

if your a titan it takes a lot of convincing him to let you on missions not because he doesn't think you can handle yourself but because he knows he'll be distracted making sure your not hurt instead of doing the mission.

if your a normal civilian he teaches you hand to hand combat, hes nervous one day someone might try to take you and he needs you to be capable of defending yourself.

brings you flowers every friday, especially when hes super busy with missions to let you know your still his #1 priority.

patching up his bruises and cuts after a mission, scolding him on being more careful as he looks up at you with those puppy dog eyes.

love language is definitely acts of service -- training with you to make sure your at your best, making your bed for you when your busy, cooking you breakfast in bed just because "he feels like it."

just those little things that make sure you don't forget how much he loves you.

his stern demeanor falls quickly when hes around you, a big softy when its just you and him watching a movie or taking a bath together.

speaking of baths, this man LOVES taking showers/baths with you in a non-sexual way. after a mission when he's all bloody and sweaty he asks you to join him so you can wash each other off.

play fighting when training together -- always ending in you and him wrestling on the floor with side splinters from laughing so hard.

listening to each others favorite songs, discussing the lyric delivery and melody of each one. after ranting about your favorite album for almost 10 minutes he decides to buy you a vinyl of it.

him opening up about his past, growing up with bruce, his time as a detective in detroit and more around the 5-6 month mark of the relationship.

overall, though he can be a pain in the ass, he's the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

[writermask-0807]

vlad tepes dracula x reader {“love me soft, and love me slow.”}

A/N: im a puddle of goo for sad vlad and this is the product of that. ngl, im honestly actually proud of this fic and wow isn't that new?? (the world must be ending) anyways I hope yall enjoy!!

Warnings: ooc vlad, uhhh pining, sort of, and angst?? but with a happy ending (?), so dont worry! just my poor bby grieving ig (he deserves better 😭)

He doesn’t know how to say it.

It doesn’t matter how long he’s thought of it, how long the words have been lingering, just on the tip of his tongue, only half a kiss away from being confessed against your mouth, his fingers tangled in your hair- a raw, vulnerable permanence to whatever - whatever this is, whatever this he has with you.

He doesn’t dare to call it love, although it is what it is- love in the curve of your lips and the shine of your eyes; soft, tender love in the gentleness of your hands when you hold him, love, tender and soft in your brushing kisses and your pretty smiles, etched deep into the ancient floors and walls of his castle, a place warmed once more by your presence and your love, a place he can call home once more.

It’s love, and he’s sure the both of you know it is, but -

Vlad Tepes Dracula does not know how to tell you he loves you, and he’s not even sure if he wants to—and he doesn’t want to admit it, because then it will mean that it’s real, that this is actually happening—because he’s afraid. No amount of denying will take it back, not when the truth is so terrifyingly, blatantly obvious, a laughing mockery in his face.

Love has not been kind to him. He had loved Lisa, true and with all of his heart (or what was left anyway), and it had torn him apart, it had unraveled him at the seams and it had left him wounded and bleeding. It had left an empty, bloodied cavern in his chest, and it had bruised him black and blue with anger and grief. Love has not been kind to him, and yet here he is again, afraid of it and yet so deeply, desperately, pathetically in love anyway.

It’s almost laughable- how far the great Vlad Tepes Dracula, King of Vampires, has fallen from grace, but here he is, finding something suspiciously like happiness in that endearing way you laugh, in the way it makes your eyes crease at the corners like half-moons, your dimples curving.

Starlight gleams on your skin and the color of your eyes when you open them, lashes fluttering, feeling his gaze, and you’re so achingly beautiful like this—the midnight breeze in your hair, the moonlight shimmering on your skin, the gentle lilt of your laughter, and that soft, tender love in your eyes—and all he wants to do is cradle you close, hold you to his chest and tell you that the heart inside, as broken and black and withered as it is, beats for you and you only, and he longs for it so much that the very thought of anything else aches.

“Vlad, are you alright?” you ask, leaning in, concern in your frown as you peer searchingly at him, a delicate hand coming to cup his cheek; and this close he can smell the sweetness of your scent of lavender and cinnamon, see the galaxies of stars in your wide, beautiful eyes, feel the softness of your skin if he chooses to reach out.

And he does, curls an arm around your waist and steals a kiss, achingly tender and soft, reveling in the way you melt unthinkingly into it, into him - and he should really tell you to be careful, that he could hurt you - he’s selfish. Always has been, and with you around, he thinks he always will be.

“I’m fine, dearest. Just thinking.” He breathes into your hair, presses a kiss to your temple, cradling you close, and there must be some somber quality to his voice, or maybe it’s the mournful sigh that accompanies his words that does it, but he thinks you know, in that moment - he thinks you understand in the way you soften into his embrace, arms winding around his neck and pulling him closer—if even possible—into your warmth.

“It’s okay, you know. We’re gonna be okay.”

You murmur in his ear, leaving a soft kiss to the side of his jaw, before you tuck your head in the crook of his neck, and god, he loves you. He just can’t say it yet. And despite the tears that pearl in the corners of his eyes, he thinks that that’s okay. He’s bruised black and blue by a burnt out anger and resignation and grief, and he needs time to heal but you understand and it’s okay. There’s nothing more he can ask for, and while love hasn’t been kind to him, Vlad thinks another chance is worth it if it means having you in his arms like this again.

FIN-

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Just A Little Taste

Frank (Adam Barrett) x f!reader

Summary: you’re the only one left, and Frank is more the happy to keep you around. Alternative ending where Frank kills everyone else and doesn’t explode

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, blood kink (he’s a vampire tf did you expect), degradation, he’s mean to her and she likes it, rough sex (he breaks a table), choking, suffocation kink, implied consent (I think? she consents to it later), explicit language (take a shot every time he says fuck), no use of y/n or physical descriptions, blood, violence, it’s a horror movie idk what to tell you. Read at own caution

I call him Frank throughout the fic, it’s just easier for narrative because he was only ever called Adam like once. It’s also implied in the movie he doesn’t go by Adam anymore so.

WC: 4.8k I’m sorry

A/N: DONT YOU DARE LOOK AT ME. I had to I’m sorry okay??? Not only did I want to fuck this prick the whole movie im actually obsessed with Dan Stevens now so there’s that. But I totally thought about fucking this man the whole movie so I wrote it. To the 5 people that will read this you’re welcome (I’ll see you in hell😘)

For reference I based some characterization bits on this fic by @f1nalboys since I think they wrote Frank perfectly! And I think they rubbed off a little on mine lol

What the fuck did you get yourself into?

Your head was throbbing, your racing heart drumming in your ears. You felt like you were spinning. On your hands and knees on the floor, you were covered in so much blood and guts you felt like tearing your skin off. You didn’t even think it was your own blood. They were all dead. 

This wasn’t what you signed up for.

You were crawling, you didn’t know where you were trying to go, it wasn’t like you could outrun her, or him. You looked behind you to find them in their mayhem. Truly Joey and Abigail were trying, you watched them from a corner—bruised and bloody—as they tried to fight him, maybe kill him. Then you would be next for not helping. But it didn’t look like it mattered. Joey wasn’t moving from where she was impaled, blood gushing from her neck. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. You choked out a sob as you tried to force yourself up on your feet. But who were you fucking kidding? You were fucked either way. Abigail would catch you and feed off you slowly before ending your torment. Or Frank would. And truly, you almost wanted Abigail to get you instead. 

“Ah. There you are. Thought I forgot about you?” His sinister words filled your ears and another sob ripped from your throat as you pathetically tried to crawl away, your legs too unstable to even support your weight.

“No.. no.. no.” the shaky words slipped from your throat as more tears spilled from your eyes, a feeling of utter terror and dread settling in your stomach. You actually cried when he effortlessly grabbed one of your ankles and dragged you towards him. “Please!”

“Aw, are you crying?” He mocked you, tilting his head at you, tongue swiping over razor sharp teeth. Blood covered his mouth and chin, down his neck and his eyes were sadistic as he looked over your distressed form. He almost looked in thought, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you yet. 

“Just kill me. There's no one else..” You sobbed, looking to the side to find Abigail’s body completely lifeless, limp, black blood pooling around her. You swallowed, your jaw locking tight as you looked up at him in defeat. You just made peace with the fact that this was it. “You won. Just fucking end it.” 

Frank clicked his tongue, amusement mixing with the malice in his expressions and he shook his head. “I like you, y’know. You have such a dirty fuckin’ mouth for such a pretty face. Thought about how to shut you up all night, and I think I figured it out.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwed shut when he reached down to grab you. You fully expected him to sink his fangs into your throat and tear it right out, suck you dry until your heart stopped pumping. But he didn’t. You let out a pathetic sound when he grabbed the back of your hair and forced you up on your feet. He forced your head back, giving you no other option but to look at him. 

Frank knew his heart had stopped beating the second fangs grazed his lips, but right now as he watched your face twist with desperation and anticipation of his next move, your soft lips quivering and your big eyes staring back at him, he swore he felt blood pumping in his veins. This thought of your life being completely in his hands, that ultimately you were the only one left, it gave him an indescribable feeling he craved to explore more. He always did enjoy exerting his power over those around him, but this was so different. He felt it even before he turned. 

Something about you was so intoxicating and alluring to him. The second he met you, he knew he wouldn’t let this be the last time he saw you. As much as that defeated the purpose of the no-name, unknown crew thing he had established. The little looks you shot him throughout the night, like he intrigued you, amused you. He caught each and every one. But it wasn’t until you got all up in his face to curse and shout at him about what had gone down with Abigail that he realized that if he died tonight without getting a taste of you he would be real fucking pissed in hell. 

He didn’t want to kill you. No. He wanted to ruin you. Fuck you into nothing. Fuck you until you were useless, nothing more just an outlet for his pleasure. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I wanna keep you, actually. I wouldn’t waste a pretty lil’ thing like you.” His blood stained lips curled up into a sinister smirk that had your stomach turning in ways that would make any sane human being sick. You kept your mouth shut as he leaned down to find your ear, his grip on your hair tightening. “I can think of a couple things you would be so good for.”

“You're going to hypnotize me? Turn me into your personal fuck puppet?” You scoffed through gritted teeth, the idea making your stomach twist and your jaw lock. He laughed, the sound so somber in your ear it made you swallow. He ultimately shook his head, tisking softly at you.

“Jesus, what kind of a fuckin’ animal do you think I am? You have two options here,” he ran his tongue over his lips, blue eyes sharp on yours as his grip loosened. “You can go. You know where the door is. I’ll even give you a head start. But, if I catch you, I’ll fuck you until you pass out.”

Your mouth fell open, shock filling your eyes at his vulgar words. An unsettling heat settled deep within you as the implications of his words sank in. You should not be considering your options. Get the fuck out. It’s that simple. But your mind lingered. He could almost sense your hesitation. This made him smile.

“Don’t act like you weren’t giving me fuck me eyes all night. Clinging to me like a bitch in heat. I bet you would have let me fuck you on the nearest surface of this place if I had tried.” The words he spat flustered you in deep embarrassment. You hated that he wasn’t wrong. You gravitated towards him, caught glimpses of him when you thought he wasn’t looking, you wrapped up his bleeding leg, you refused to leave his side when everyone else chose to split up. But what truly sunk into him was the fact that you refused to fight him, too. You ran with Joey but you didn’t fight him and you didn’t help them, against your better judgment. And you couldn’t deny that.

“So pick one.” He released your hair, taking a step back. You released the breath you were holding and you stared at him, blinking softly, searching for any deceit in his eyes. Maybe he was toying with you. Giving you a false sense of security. He tilted his head at you, amusement and malicious glee circling in his blue eyes as the smirk never left his expression. 

You often listened to your instincts, to your gut. And your gut was telling you to get the fuck out of this place. You swallowed a sob as you ran down a long hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as your feet took you somewhere. But you hesitated, a deep sense of doubt sinking in your head. Something else joined. A feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend but it was strong, and you didn’t want to go out that door. Not really. 

You stopped running. You didn’t know why you stopped. You looked behind you, almost expecting to find him there. A heavy feeling sat in your chest, an eerie sense of anticipation. You could leave right now, pretend none of this ever happened, only a nightmare to hide in the back of your subconscious. But somehow, you didn’t move. Frank didn’t have to spare you, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him off on your own even if you tried—you didn’t want to. He was in complete control and he chose you. You weren’t oblivious. 

The smirk on his face only grew wider when he caught you at the end of the hallway, sinister eyes pinning you in place as he approached you. But you weren’t hypnotized, you just didn’t want to run. 

“Well, aren't you full of surprises?” He grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. You didn’t try to fight him.  Your eyes flickered with defiance and curiosity. “Did you even try to run?”

“You were giving me fuck me eyes, too.” You dared to shoot back, and you didn’t miss the way his eyebrows shot up with pleasant surprise. He blew out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, I was.” 

His mouth was on yours as he held your face in place, his tongue slipping into your mouth without shame, razor sharp teeth nicking your lip. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the metallic taste mixing with his mouth. He almost growled at the taste. 

His mouth stayed on yours, not giving you even a second to breathe as he backed you to the nearest wall. You ignored the blood drying on his cool skin and the stickiness of his clothes as you ran your hands up his face until they landed on his disheveled hair. Truth was, the filthiness of it all, how fucked up it all was, it all added to your arousal. You weren’t a saint afterall, and this thrill excited you like nothing ever before. You didn’t know just what he was capable of, that excited you.

“Your stupid heart is beating so fuckin’ fast. Do you want it that bad?” His words were mocking, in a breathy laugh as his lips moved down your jaw. You opened your mouth to reply when he dragged his tongue over your skin to taste the blood staining it. Your eyes rolled softly, your brain shutting off for just a second.

“God, yes.” You breathed out as his hands grabbed at your tits through your shirt. A smirk fell on his lips again as he effortlessly tore the material right in half. You groaned at this, though ultimately your clothes were ruined anyway, but he could have asked, you would have taken it off. “You could’ve taken it off, you know?”

He laughed, shrugging as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, the ends of his teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly, “I’m not your fuckin’ Prince Charming.”

“Nope, you’re just an asshole.” You bit your lip softly, trying to level your voice as not to sound so out of breath, so desperate, but when he carelessly unzipped your jeans, tugging them down your thighs just enough for him and unceremoniously shoved his hand into your panties, how the fuck could you stay calm?

“Oh, yeah, I’m a fuckin’ asshole,” he lifted his head to watch your mouth fall open and your eyes grow big when his middle finger slipped between your folds and rubbed your wetness on your clit. The sweet moan he pulled from you made him grin with delight. “But I’m a great fuck. Wanna find out sweetheart?”

The only response you gave him was a pathetic moan when he slipped two long fingers into your hole, and he couldn’t help but mock the way your lips parted open in pleasure.

“Oh, I think you do. You’re soaking my fingers and for what? You just wanted this pussy filled and you didn’t care about nothin’ else huh?” He took in the way your eyebrows furrowed and twisted as he slipped his fingers in and out, listened to your soft gasps each time he curled his fingers the right way. And he did it, again, and again. “You should’ve said somethin’. Fuck.. I would’ve.. I would’ve fucked you with my tongue in the bathroom, or bent you over the pool table and filled you with my cock.”

Your walls squeezed his fingers and a sob ripped from your throat at his words. You were begging his name softly, one of your hands flying to wrap around his wrist as he fucked you with his fingers, your release creeping up on you faster than it ever has before.

“Yeah, you’d like that. You just wanted me to take you like a whore, hm?” He slipped and crooked his fingers perfectly, his palm rutting against your clit with each expert flick of his wrist. Your chest was heaving, eyes screwed shut as pathetic sounds fell freely from your lips. But what truly caught his attention was the vein that popped on your neck close to your pulse point, pulsing as blood pumped through your veins. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on it, he could almost hear each thump of your heart, pumping faster the closer you got. It was so human. Something he no longer was. “What's that? You close or somethin’?”

“Uh-huh!” His thumb was on your clit as the sound left your mouth, his fingers pumping and scissoring your cunt wide open until a sob ripped from your throat, your mind going completely blank as your release coated his fingers. You could feel yourself slip down the wall, your legs a shaking mess that couldn’t hold you up any longer, his fingers still deep inside your weeping cunt. But he didn’t stop, he pressed his body against yours, free hand on your hip, forcing your body upright. You sputtered, your nails digging into his wrist as he forced his fingers as far as they could go, drawing out on your pleasure to the point of tears. “Frank, h-hang on.”

The way you sobbed his name made him smirk, his sadistic eyes now on yours. “Aw, is it too much?” He mocked you, his fingers curling just to torture you. You whined, your eyes pleading for mercy. He didn’t have much to give, but he also didn’t have much self control, either. “Ah, you’re right, we can do better than this. Now, should I stuff your dirty mouth, or your soakin’ pussy?”

You pulled your lips into a pout, your eyes big as you stared up at him, as soft gasp pulled from your lips when his fingers left you. You swallowed, the thought of choking on his cock temping your mind, but fuck, you just wanted him to take you, right now.

“I just.. I want you inside me.”

“‘Course you fuckin’ do.” He pulled you off the wall, his grip tight on one arm to keep you standing as he searched around the small walkway. His eyes landed on a table in the corner filled with photo portraits. He was dragging you to it, his free arm knocking over everything on the table before he effortlessly hoisted you onto it. 

He kissed you again as he tore your jeans off your legs all the way, along with your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him to be forgotten. Your shaky hands focused on his clothes next, shoving his jacket off his shoulders and reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His hands joined yours, since you were taking too fucking long fumbling around with his zipper. He shoved his jeans down his thighs just enough, not bothering to take them off all the way. Parting from his lips, you attempted to pull his bloodied shirt over his head, desperately craving to feel his skin. He didn’t deny you, his shirt getting tossed along with his jacket somewhere. 

You didn’t stop him when he pushed you on your back, body flat on the surface and your legs dangled over his torso. Your slick cunt was on full display for him, and he very much appreciated the visual of his doing. He leaned down the slightest bit, forcing your knees to damn near touch your chest as he freed his cock from his boxers. He exhaled sharply, his neck craning to the side as he held back the deep urge to just shove his cock inside you. 

His eyes met yours for a second, a shit eating grin on his face before he looked down to watch as his cock slowly sank into you, disappearing inch by inch within your tight walls. Your jaw fell open, a silent cry leaving you at the sting of his cock. A curse left your lips, eyes screwed shut as you dug your nails into the wooden table beneath you. 

“So fuckin’ tight. Fuck.” He grunted, the sound settling deep within his chest. His pace was grueling from the start, the second he was inside you he was drilling into you. He watched your face with big eyes, lips slightly parted as he reveled in your pain. ”I wanted it so bad. Thought about splitting this pussy wide fuckin’ open all night. Fuck.” 

Sobs spilled from your lips, a string of uh-uh-uh’s filling the empty house. You tried to crawl up the table, give yourself some room from his rough hips at first, but he didn’t particularly appreciate you trying to run away from him. He used his body weight to keep you pinned to the table as he leaned over your body further, his chain now dangling over your face as if to mock you further. 

“Aw, is my cock too much? You can’t take it? You asked for it,” he spat the word accompanied by a particularly sharp thrust that made you cry out. “Please Frank, it hurts.” He mocked your voice, his face above yours. He brought a hand to squeeze your cheeks between his fingers as you nodded tearfully. But you couldn't bring yourself to even try to tell him to stop, let alone try to run away this time, ultimately the pain coursing through you dissolving into blissful pleasure. “Good. I hope it fuckin’ hurts. That’s what a slut like you deserves.” 

With each spiteful word he spat, the intensity of his actions increased. But god did it feel absolutely delicious to be railed this way. You had never felt this way before. So intensely consumed by pleasure and pain that you cried. Tears fell from your eyes just as freely as sobs of pleasure fell from your lips. Frank was more than happy to hear them all. He fucking reveled in it. His lips pulled into a mocking pout at the sight of your tears, but the sight only made his cock twitch. He leaned down to your face, tongue sticking out to lick your tears.

You were shocked, eyes wide and mouth open, but you were more shocked at yourself, at the fact that you liked it. You were covered in blood, not even your blood, he was covered in blood, everyone else was dead and yet here you were, taking his cock like that was your only concern in this world. And the worst part was, you didn’t even mind it all that much. “Ugh, fuck. This is so fucked up.” The words left your lips in a haze, an unconscious thought as your back lifted off the table, a burning heat settling deep within you. You didn’t expect him to hear you. But how could he not? He laughed, his forehead pressed to your wet cheek.

“But you don’t want me to stop, do you?” He pulled back to look at your face, head tilted at you as his hand fell to your neck and his fingers gripped your throat, but he didn’t quite squeeze. He grinned at the way your eyes rolled back as you shook your head as best as his grip allowed you to. “So much for not wanting my hand on your throat.” 

He mocked you once again, laughing at the irony. He remembered your words from much earlier in the night--I swear if you put your hand on my throat next I will cut it off. A twisted smile formed on his lips at the thought, his fingers tightening around your throat. He wondered if you still had your switchblade on you. Would you stab him if he squeezed too hard? He would probably enjoy it if you did. 

You weren’t sure when the air started to leave your lungs, or when the room started to spin. You were dizzy, blood rushing to your face as his fingers dug into your neck. You weren’t sure what you felt more, the bruising around your throat or his cock bruising your cervix. Either way, the feeling was unbearable, overwhelming. You could feel consciousness start to leave you, your chest heaving with panic. Would he keep fucking you even if you passed out? You guessed it wouldn’t matter too much to him if you did. All you were hoping for is that you didn’t pass out before your release. Your pulse slowed, he could see it. It amused him to watch the way your heartbeat slowed, your face untwisting as you slowly slipped. His fingers released your throat, a loud gasp leaving your lips as your head spinned. 

“Fuuck—God—Fu—” breathy incoherent words spilled from your lips, your thoughts blurred as you came. The thought of someone pushing your limits to such extreme, it pumped adrenaline through your veins, rushed dopamine through your fucked up brain. You clung to him, nails dragging down his back as you turned into a shaking, sobbing mess. 

“The fuck was that? Shit, did you just come?” Frank asked, a laugh of disbelief leaving him as he looked down to see his cock glistening with your release as he slipped in and out of you with ease.

“Mhm!” You nodded, only a high pitched noise leaving you, too incoherent and cock-drunk to even form a thought. You expected him to slow down at some point, for his relentless movements to falter, but somehow the thought of you falling apart without even so much as a warning got him going even more.

“Who the fuck said you could do that, hm?” He spat, a grunt leaving him as he rutted his hips against you. The sting of his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your cervix. You whined, attempting to ground yourself with a grip on the table. You could hear the frail wood creak under you. 

“Frank—” You warned him, attempting to sit up to take some weight off the table, but it didn’t make much of a difference, the small table finally breaking under Frank’s harsh movements. You expected to hit your head on the ground, and you braced yourself for it, but you only felt the impact on your back. 

One of Frank’s hands held the back of your head, cradling it almost, the other was braced on the floor as he tried to take as much of the impact as possible. You heard him laugh next to your ear and you groaned, cursing at him under your breath.

“Motherfucker, I’m not a goddamn ragdoll.” You groaned, wincing softly as you lifted your back off the broken wooden chunks beneath you.

“Shit, my bad. I’ve never fucked while being a vampire, alright? I don’t know how this shit works.” He shrugged, unbothered as his cock still sat hot and heavy inside you. He looked at you, eyes playful as his lips curved into a grin. “You okay?”

“Uh yeah, think so.”

“Good. Up you go then.” You didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, before your brain could process it, he was moving you both around. He sat on the back of his knees as he sat you on his lap. Not that you would do much up there, but he figured it’d be less painful than the hard cool floor. 

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you against his chest. He grabbed your face with his other hand, pulling you to meet his eager mouth as he snapped up his hips. He swallowed the sound he enticed from your throat as your body bounced in his grip. You threw your arms over his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life as he split you open with his cock—again. You couldn’t believe you already wanted to come again, shameless sobs spilling from your throat as your chest heaved, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it. Were vampire pheromones a thing? Not that you could actually think of anything right now, not with how good he was making you feel. 

“Oh, I know what that means. You wanna come again, huh?” He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers how he liked to do. You were nodding, eyes big and watery with tears. He found it so amusing how easily he could make you go from all talk and attitude to pathetic and fucked out. And deep down, you liked it, too. It was often exhausting to pretend all the time. “Oh, I know, baby. I want you to come all over my cock again.”

And it wasn’t a request, he slipped his hand between your bodies and your head fell on his shoulder, gasping softly when pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You didn’t have to think too hard, the painful stretch of his cock was enough, but the second he played with your clit you were done for. You were sobbing as your third orgasm hit you, tears spilling from your eyes once again.

“Aw, well aren’t you a good girl? C’mere, look at me,” his hand left your sensitive clit to lace around your hair forcing your head up. His eyes were on yours, tongue licking over his razor sharp teeth as he fucked you through your high, now chasing his own. “You want me to fill you up? That’s what you wanted, right? Just wanted me to take you and use you like some whore? Well you better fuckin’ take it like one.”

His name fell from your lips quietly, almost pleading as he forced your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, your ripped up shirt long forgotten in the mindless dance of clothes. You knew what devious thought was in his head, and like you read his mind, he sunk his teeth into your flesh. A strained whine left your throat, your fingers digging into his back as he savored your blood. He groaned, riveting in the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock as he fed. And it was that sweet taste of your blood that made him fall apart. A deep grunt settled in his chest as he spilled inside you, only releasing your shoulder when he felt his release seep out of your cunt.

A shaky gasp left your lips when he let go, a feeling of relief sitting on your chest when he didn’t suck you dry. You had fully expected him to feed until your body was lifeless. Ultimately he had already fucked whatever this was out of his system. But he didn’t. He gave you no time to comment on this, without a word he kissed you, your blood still coating his mouth. 

“Ugh, Jesus,” you grimaced, blood now coating your lips. He smirked at you, lips parted to flash you his teeth as he took in the way your face twisted in disgust. Still tangled up in each other, still clinging to him on his lap, you watched as swiped his finger over the streak of blood dripping from your shoulder. And your eyes never left him as he savored the taste of you, his chest rising and falling with delight. A strange feeling sank in your chest as your senses returned to you, and you suddenly felt painfully self-aware. “Are you going to finish feeding off me now that you got what you wanted?”

“You truly are a dumb little girl, huh?” He mocked you, laughing softly, a second laugh erupting from his chest at the way you narrowed your eyes at him with a glare. “If I had wanted to kill you I would have. You’re not the only pussy in this city y’know.”

“You are such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes, the intimacy and the slight bit of vulnerability in the moment slipping from you, and you aimed to get up, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed and flustered. But he didn’t allow you to. He kept his arm on your torso and he gripped your face between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“And you’re a fuckin’ brat. Now that we have established that, I think we can come to an understanding. We’re the only ones left for a reason, so let’s take advantage of that, yeah? If you let me, I’ll take care of you.” 

You wouldn’t mind that. You wouldn’t mind that at all. You were an adrenaline junkie afterall, and what could be more adrenaline inducing than fucking a new-turned vampire?

“I think we could figure something out.”

[murdockcastleslut]

No18 from the angsty romance prompts for Remus lupin pls! Maybe after the full moon

im sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy it! | request info here!

it was a bad night, you knew it was going to be the moment the wolf snarled at you.

you were all in your animagi forms. this has never happened before. and before you could try and move forward the wolf scurried off and left you all searching for him for hours.

after hours of looking for the wolf, sirius had tracked his scent back to the base of the whomping willow.

when you entered the shrieking shake, there you saw you boyfriend laying on the floor, a small blanket barely covering him. but his body was covered in bloody scratches and bruises.

you cursed to yourself and quickly transformed and grabbed your clothes and yanked them on. you ran to remus's body pulling his head to you lap.

"re-remus, what happened?" you forced yourself not to sound as sad as you were.

"it was a bad one, darling." he mumbles barely audible as his eyes flutter.

your hands trembling while holding his face pale, bloodied face "remus, keep your eyes open, for fucks sake! PLEASE- please please, talk to me." you pleaded with your lover.

"james, sirius, peter, please someone go get promfrey! NOW!" you shouted harshly although not meaning to.

you look back at remus and his eyes are still fluttering still fighting to stay open.

"remus please stay awake. please. tell me about the cottage you want to get us again." tears stream unconciously stream down your face as you beg him.

you sat there trying to get him to talk while waiting for the boys and promfrey to come back.

[babyyweebbitch]

haiii! im super impressed w ur writing. It's so good (must admit). can I have a Simon "Ghost" Riley when he found out I trying to hide wounds after fighting?

It's okie for no, thx u and luv uuu <3

no problem bubba :)) i wanted to do something like this but didn’t know how to | i just reread everything and saw u said fight 🧍🏾‍♀️ chat pls to kill me its been a while and i JUST woke up from a nap. i hope this is okay tho!!

content warning : Black female reader, blood, hiding wounds , simon being angy

you had gotten back from a solo week long mission a few days ago, you were being quite distant and secretive from everyone… nobody knew why but they didn’t pry thinking it was just you wanting space after a tough mission especially going alone… nobody blamed you

one day, you were walking through the base in regular clothing but baggy clothing, which Simon thought was odd because you were always known to wear shorts or something, you grabbed a few medical supplies and hid them before quickly going to your room across the bass, he noticed this.

how odd… what would you need with these items? he decided to follow far behind you and watched as you went into your room. after a few minutes he knocked on your door and waited for a response

“im busy! one moment!” you yelled out sounding panicked and hurried.

“can i come in?” simon called out from the other side, his deep, thick British accent was very easy to tell who it was because of how it sounded. after a few seconds you opened the door but leaned against the door putting weight on one leg as you did, opening it just so much so he couldn’t see the rest of your room

“whats up?” you asked, having a face of trying to hide pain, which he took notice of very quickly. he raised an eyebrow and looked at you, taking a few seconds to answer

“i saw you got medical supplies… is everything okay?” he asked with clear worry in his voice, which only showed with you

“yeah everything is okay, i was just getting them for Johnny” you said clearly lying, Johnny has been with Ghost most of the day

“you’re lying — what is wrong?” he said, with a stern voice, you kinda just looked at him with a look of ‘oh shit, im cooked’ but you wanted to try and lie again

“im telling the truth, Si…”

“lying again! Y/N what is going on, let me in”

you both just looked at each other before you slowly opened the door, simon saw all of your bloodied bandages on the floor along with the new ones you had just gotten… he didn’t say anything at first but once he did you felt like a kid being yelled at again

“what the hell? what happened?” he said with a angry tone, he looked at you and the look in his eyes scared you. you avoided eye contact and you just looked at the floor

“it happened on my mission… i got banged up pretty bad and didn’t want to tell anyone…”

“why?!” simons voice was raised just a little bit once he asked this, he was angry that you didn’t say anything about it and he was angry you let it go this long. after a few seconds he walked into your room and closed the door “show me now, you don’t have an option” he said, standing directly in front of you with his arms crossed. you were about to protest but after seeing he was dead serious you untied your sweatpants and let them drop, once he saw your legs you had a few cuts and bruises but the worst one was a gash on your upper thigh that was still healing. he sighed and he pointed to your bed without further explanation

you sat down and simon started to take care of the gash on your thigh first before the rest. he didn’t have anything to stitch it with so he just wrapped it tightly after cleaning it and he prayed for the best.

“take your shirt off, i know theres more” he said as he tossed bloody tissues away and he looked at you, you took your shirt off and you had a tank top underneath, there were a few scrapes and bruises here and there on your arms and rest of your body but nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own.

“if you do something this stupid again, i will tell Price about it…” he said getting up from the floor and subconsciously cleaning up the old bloodied bandages and other trash from your floor. he didn’t say anything else afterwards, he was upset with you and didn’t know what to say or do with you. you kinda just watched him and once he was done cleaning up he left the room.

you felt horrible now…