#Spiteful Womb

[tilde44]

Spiteful Womb - Fourth Mansion

[ave-studio]

Advance Notice

I'll be performing as VALISE at Pioneer Works on April 10, 2025, the opening night of Ende Tymes Festival. Also on the bill are Aaron Dilloway, Spiteful Womb, and The Rita. Tickets and info on the following days of the fest can be found at: https://www.halfnormal.com/endetymes/

[luxrayz64]

i think jigsaw would be pro life he's so petty and puts people in traps for literally anything he would absolutely put someone in a trap for getting an abortion

[dulcewrites]

No but alys and elysa giving birth during the war. This further notion that aemma reiterated of the “birthing bed” being a “battlefield”. The contrast of who loses their lives versus the lives brought into the world/into royalty or a certain status because in the war

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭?”

He’s too much, fucking you like he hates you but you can handle it can't you? What kind of queen of lust would you be if you couldn't withstand the demon king?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! Monster fucking/hentai logic, hints of a size kink, satoru has two cocks, no say word used, overstimulation/hints of mind break, begging, dacryphilia, reader has horns, biting, cervix/womb fucking (I’m telling you hentai logic), hate fucking but he doesn’t hate you, mean and condescending!Satoru who loves bullying you and making you cry, succubus!reader, satoru drugs you up, mirror sex, satoru is obsessed and wants to break that pussy, some objectification/heavy degradation, pulling on your horns, squirting, he calls ya mama once, some blood/light blood play

Oreo/fey; This has been rotting in the drafts for a while so take Satoru’s part

Tears trickle down your stinging cheeks. Twisting your hips partly sliding Satoru’s cocks out of your sore cunt. Your clawing at the sheets desperate for relief from his pussy bruising cocks. His speed is spiteful, pace nearly hip-shatteringly brutal.

Your body burns when he laughs. “Awwee you think I’ll let you get away?” Yanking you back onto his cocks by your bruised hips. Your jaw drops, body shutters, toes curl and eyes roll back. The thick ribbed bottom of his cock rubs your g-spot.

Yanking your head by the taunt, bejeweled chain between your twisted horns. Sinking in his thick cocks, pressing you into the bed with a hand on your back impossible to escape his hateful thrusts.

He croons, “Why would I ever let you go when your lil sloppy wet lil cock sleeve takes me so perfectly?” Sliding his finger slowly along the base of your horn sending intense tingles down your spine to your stuffed cunt.

Clenching Satoru, squeezing his fat cocks together inside you. Whining, “You’re-nnn-you’re gonnnnaaannnnn fuuuck me!” Satoru props a leg up on the bed frame, helping him fuck you deeper. Sobbing, “Breakme! Sooooo meaaannnn! I’m sorrrry!”

Smacking your ass twice, your sore cheek throbs sweetly. Satoru croons, “What’s my dumb lil’ toy sorry for?” Squeezing your hip, piercing your skin with quickly sharpening nails.

Relenting when blood trickles down your thigh. smearing your blood and squeezing your soft thigh. Dragging his nails up, leaving stinging thin scratches. Both of his cocks bullying your sore cunt is too much, too big, too deep you're struggling to think.

Bouncing on his cock, skin smacking skin, your wet cunt squelching with each punishing, quick thrust. Slurring your words together, “Anything I did! Fuucccck! Nnnnn!” Satoru twists your arms behind your back, pressing your face into the bed.

Hunching over to bite your shoulder, his sharp fangs rip through your skin. Swallowing a mouthful, licking the drops that seep out when he retracts his fangs. Your pussy quivers, clenching Satoru's cocks as an intense warmth washes over you.

Sneering, "It's cute, you think there is a reason other than cause," rutting his hips harder. "I can!" You're sobbing, thighs trembling, toe-curling mess your bruised cervix into your womb.

It shouldn't feel this wonderful, is he supposed to be that deep? One quick stroke ruins your chances of worrying. Why think about it if you're going to cum on his cocks anyway. The intense blissful high is so close your pussy is trembling.

"Be a good lil glory hole n’ take my cocks!” Squeezing your hip, yanking you off the bed by your horn’s chain. Slamming you down on his cock, you can feel his pulse throbbing in his veins.

Satoru yanks your head to the side, biting your neck, injecting you with his aphrodisiac. Needy burning heat pools in your gut spreading into your spasming, squirting pussy.

Groaning frantically bouncing you on his cock, pounding your gushing cunt. “Squirting on my cock like you wanna me to make ya a mama." Pushing on your bulging stomach. "It's getting me off seeing ya cry cause your sloppy wet pussy is getting too sensitive."

Turning you in front of a floor-length mirror. Admiring how your cunt stretches for his cocks. The soft ribbing on the bottom of his cock tugs your cunt when he glides out.

"The slightest movement makes ya feel like your cumming when I inject too much." Stroking your clit, stuffing your squelching cunt. You're cock drunk on a blissful high, your cunt spasming, clenching him tighter. Sneering, "But you should still be able to handle me right?"

Oreo’s m.list

written by oreo-(creampie)/fey!

[mis-mcgifsten]

Oh the tags!!

uh i've been reading a bunch of time-travel fix-its and my brain generated another one of my stupid-ass aus:

Darth Vader retrieves Luke except he is busy so it's Cody who ends up caring for Luke on the day to day bases and through this, he manages to circumvent the chip. (nothing new so far)

Lo and behold some force osik happens and baby Luke is transported back in time into the middle of clone wars and into the middle of 212th frontlines.

Now

This is where it gets interesting

*Luke crying "daddy/papa/buir!" upon seeing Cody*

Obi-Wan: You did not tell me you have a secret child, commander. Cody: I can't have a secret child, sir! I'm gay! Obi-Wan: Now, dear commander, you know perfectly well that the universe is a beautifully diverse place. Cody: (holly shit Luke can actually be my child)

Obi-Wan: Luke, dear, are you sure Cody is your father? Luke: Mhm. He has less lines on his face and darker hair... (holly shit Luke is from the future) Luke: ...but he feels the same so I know it is him! (holly shit Cody fathered a force-sensitive child)

Cody: Luke, do you have other parents? Luke: Yes! I have another dad! Vader! Cody: (oh force he is actually my child) Cody: Can you describe him to me? Luke: Uhm, he wears a mask and a cape and a red sword.. And he has a funny accent!

(holly shit somewhere down the line Cody is going to have a kid with a darksider)

Anakin thinking he is using the braincell when he actually is not: funny accent? close with Cody? OMF Obi-Wan is going to fall

[cryobabiess]

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader

Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!

Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.

Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.

“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.

“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.

You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.

“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.

“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”

And with that, the emperor crawls to you.

He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.

“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.

You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.

“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.

“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”

Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.

“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”

You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.

“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.

It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.

“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”

You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.

And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.

Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.

[rockcandyshrike]

A Non-Exhaustive List of Things that Delighted Me in Nosferatu 2024

WE GOT:

Possession sex in the first three minutes

Blood drinking in the most visceral dryhumping fashion possible

Animals being eaten raw (explicit)

People being eaten raw (semi explicit)

Children being eaten raw (non explicit)

Phenomenal use of shadows

A doctor character whose voice is identical to Alan Rickman’s??? I legit thought it was him for a sec

A Silly Little Minion Guy

Implied Necrophilia (Actually dead)

Full frontal Necrophilia (Undead)

Both are kinda Romantic

Rats

RATS

RATS ON RATS ON RATS BABY 🐀

Fucking to Spite your Evil Ex

Incredibly deranged acting by Lily Rose-Depp

So many scare chords, very maximalist sound design

A Lot of Fluids

My Gawd, that’s a lotta fluids

Bizarre as hell jump cuts all over the place

Sumptuous period accurate costuming

*Exquisite* Cinematography

Nicholas Hoult looking progressively more and more sweaty and pathetic

Doorways framing characters Significantly

Engrossingly (emphasis on Gross) commanding performance by Bill Skarsgård

Insane voicework

Technically a Christmas movie the way Die Hard is technically a Christmas movie

Orlok’s Or-cock

It’s just hanging there

Menacingly

Willem Dafoe at one point: I’VE SEEN THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE ISAAC NEWTON WANT TO CRAWL BACK UP HIS MOTHER’S WOMB!

AND MORE!

Magnificent piece of art. Horny in the most Grotesque way. 4 stars to me bc I’m a freak. Has inspired me to watch the original 1922 version. Go watch with your friends. Do NOT watch with your family unless they’re really really chill. Bring a drink and take a sip every time it gets Weird. Enjoy 😘🧛🏽🩸🦇

[ma1dita]

Congratulations on 23! not a book reader but I remember reading somewhere that there's a rule that boys and girls who aren't related ofc be alone in the cabins together. Imagine this rule got implemented bc of Luke and posideon! reader

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x poseidon!reader

not sure if this was supposed to be a smut request but guys look what you've done to me this is all yalls fault

a/n: smut... a bit of godly desecration & blasphemy?...is this dark!luke? luke said fuck the gods literally...no dialogue...wrap before you tap bc they dont (luke castellan x poseidon!reader)

wc: 603

It had been raining at Camp Half-Blood for a whole month.

No amount of prayers from Cabin 7 nor Mr. D's control over the atmosphere of his camp could change this—and everyone was doing their hardest to figure out why.

You and Luke however, were having the time of your lives— with camp activities canceled due to the downpour, it gave you more time to bundle up under the covers and within each other's arms. It wasn't a secret per say, just something so natural between the both of you. Like crashing tides, he'd fall into your embrace over and over for as long as the gods would allow. But sometimes, he liked spiting them for the fun of it.

Your cabin was empty all the time anyway, no pesky siblings or unclaimed campers peering over the bunks and invading your personal space, because this is what this was between the both of you---personal and intimate. No one's business but your own.

In Cabin 3, you were his alone. And as much as he is Camp Half-Blood’s all-star camper, he thinks the gods owe him this much. He’s allowed to be selfish when it comes to you.

Luke could relish in the sound of your moans echoing off the marble walls, waves of pleasure extracted from you as he thrusts into your pussy, soaked and pulling him in deep. He marks you where only he can see, handprints on your hips, hickeys between your tits and thighs, and he licks your cheek like a fucking dog, just because he can.

His alone.

His cock pistons harder as he holds onto the plush of your tummy, hands grappling onto every expanse of skin he could touch—his, his, his, from the hair he's pulling on your head to the tips of your curled toes. The harder you shake underneath him, the wider he grins, reducing a daughter of the Big Three to nothing but a fucked out puddle of tears. 

Luke encourages you to be louder—deep down, he likes the idea of desecrating you in a place of honor. The Big Three were too pretentious to be parents, forbidden children given temples instead of homes to sleep in. It’s not his fault this place has too many platforms to christen. He supposes you both should try your father’s altar next.

Your eyes glaze over before you cum, and each time it reminds him of sparkling seafoam kissing the coast of the beach back home. It's his cue to throw your legs over his shoulders, diving into your mouth like you'd breathe oxygen into his lungs as he loses control and moans until your heart, like the rest of you feels full of him. He swirls your pretty pearl between his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you as naturally as he calls your name. 

Under the tears and drool, Luke agrees you’re your father’s daughter, soft and sopping wet, drenched in his domain. Anchoring himself between your hips, you let out a scream of Luke's name and he kisses you delicately as you both release—everything from your collarbones to your breasts to the skin behind your knee, he kisses all of it. 

His.

Luke could argue that the cum dripping out of your womb is his too, despite how eagerly he gives it to you each time. You didn’t even have to beg him this time.

It's what he loves about Cabin 3—it's his as much as it's yours, no clothes necessary. Until Mr. D comes barging in drenched to nine hells and floodwaters rising behind him with a personal threat from your father.

[rosethorndragon]

Fuck Rowling. I'm a fucking hufflepuff. You know what that means? I'm fucking attached to this fucking badger. You know what it doesn't mean? It doesnt mean that I like the book series and had read it through multiple times. It doesnt mean I have watched all of the movies multiple times. It doesn't mean I agree with things that make people feel less about themselves because they were born "wrong".

Cause fuck if I actually read it all the way through and watched all the movies. (I think my sister did though in the hey day)

The Fandom of Harry Potter is far greater than any Bigot that may have birthed it. It is an adult now. It doesn't have to do what it's parent told it to. It can go off and tell JK Rowling to jump into a volcano. I'm going to keep reading my Harry Potter fan fiction on AO3 with people not understanding why muggles have issue with trans people when there is a potion or ritual for that.

AITA for having a url from a problematic fandom?

My old url was based on my hogwarts house, and had been since before all the jkr controversy. I'm a pretty boring person, my defining traits are sarcasm, grit, and the color green, so to me it made perfect sense to use these for my url. Tumblr, however, did not agree. I got anon hate for this, specifically saying I was transphobic, but I'm also trans... I personally do not like jk rowling, I strongly disagree with her opinions on trans people, but nothing I do on the internet is going to give her money or popularity. She already has so much of both of those, there is literally nothing I could do to improve her life, so I really don't think it does any harm to enjoy a fandom I grew up on that she happened to make. And my slytherin relations are much more fanon compliant than canon complaint anyway, I'm not evil, just a bit bitchy, so that's not even something I took directly from her. I'm not trying to support her as a person in any way, and I get the sentiment of being anti-hogwarts, I really do, I just don't see any real harm in participating in and enjoying something she was a part of.

So, am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[irisintheafterglow]

I have this extremely detailed idea for a fic LOL where you’re childhood friends with the Miya twins and also play volleyball. You end up getting injured first year of high school and end up moving to karasuno and become manager. You have a falling out with atsumu cuz he’s angry at you for leaving but ur still friends with atsumu. You run into them again at nationals and call atsumu “Miya” while calling osamu by his name which pisses atsumu off. He ends up coming to ur hotel after the loss and there’s an angry confession. I love the way you write atsumu and would love to see this fully fleshed out!!!

hello my dearest anon i'm sorry it's taken literal MONTHS for me to get to this but i kept it in my drafts so i could come back to it and do it justice !!! the angry confession lowk turned into just a straight up hurt/comfort scene but i think it's more in atsumu fashion to just straight-up fold and forget being angry if the person he loves is sobbing hehe

the twins were people you didn't remember meeting, exactly; it was like a whack-a-mole game in an arcade where one pops up in front of you and before you can push that one away, another springs to life even closer to you. as one twin bounces over to invade your peaceful sandbox, the other twin would tackle him mercilessly and end up destroying your creation anyway. jealousy was an expression you observed in atsumu from an early age, especially when you were in school and seated with osamu as your desk partner. in spite of your efforts to avoid them and their ceaseless bickering, their presence eventually became endearing as you grew with them through elementary school and middle school.

it helped that you shared their love for volleyball, often referred to as "the terror triplets" whenever you played a co-ed game. in and off the court, you filled the gaps they didn't know they had, wordlessly hurling water over the side of the boat if they were sinking. atsumu was the chaos, osamu was the wrangler, and you were the one who used reason to pull your friends out of sticky situations. their parents liked to joke that you were the reincarnated third sibling that atsumu ate in the womb, and the three of you spread that rumor in 7th grade until you were taken to the principle's for unruly behavior. for better or for worse, you were the third facet of their invincible duo, adding a glow that helped the others shine even brighter.

so it felt like the walls were crashing down when you snapped your ankle during freshman year semifinals.

atsumu had heard you scream before, specifically when you were fed up with his shenanigans and saw no other option to make him listen. your voice would be at its peak volume for so long, it would go hoarse and it was like looking a dragon in the mouth. your rage gave him goosebumps, almost a thrill that ran down his spine; but, the moment you landed wrong after a miracle jump set made him nauseous.

osamu would've missed it if he'd tuned out for a second, since it was less than a scream than a cry. one moment, you were launching from the ground to send a spike to the other end of the net, and the next you were crumpled on the linoleum, your breathing concerningly ragged. he shoots atsumu a look and they wordlessly shove their way down the stairs and onto the court, past concerned onlookers and replacing your teammates under your arms as you're removed from the game. osamu has no time to protest--nor question--his twin's motives when atsumu takes matters into his own hands and sweeps your legs from under you, carrying you against his chest and murmuring quiet words of comfort into the top of your head.

your family moves to a prefecture in the countryside less than three months later, drained from the constant excitement of the city.

"he hasn't spoken a word to me since you guys got here," you mutter to osamu in a shaded corner of your backyard. "he tell you anything?"

"you know as well as i do that he doesn't tell me shit," osamu points out and you groan.

"tsumu keeping secrets from both of us," you lament. "just the development i needed before i never see you guys again."

"don't say that." your best friend's face was gravely serious, like the prospect of never seeing you again was ailing him too. "you'll visit, won't you?"

"i'll do my best. you know they don't like me going out anymore since my injury," you say, glancing at your parents bidding goodbye to their coworkers that attended the party. "i just wish he'd tell me what's wrong."

"i don't," osamu scoffs and you blink at him, dumbfounded. "honestly, i'm pretty sure i know what's wrong with him."

"but you won't ask because..."

"because he won't stop yapping about it if i open up the topic to conversation," he bluntly explains and you find yourself waiting for elaboration.

"what could possibly be on his mind that's affecting him so badly?" at that moment, before osamu could expose his brother's melodrama, you were called away by your parents and what atsumu was hiding, you never found out. two hours later, you were watching your best friends become smaller and smaller out of the car window.

---

when you first sign on to be a manager for karasuno's volleyball club, you truly don't think they'll make it to nationals. in fact, you hoped they wouldn't make it so you could continue to stay out late and could avoid thinking about the now-blonde twin who was suddenly ignoring your messages. your days were spent so long surrounded by the monster twins and their equally monstrous friends at inarizaki; it was bittersweetly refreshing to see such a rag-tag collection of rowdy individuals that, by some stroke of luck, could mesh together well enough to call themselves a team. so, when you're on the bus to nationals after defeating the strongest team in the prefecture, you're just as surprised and shocked as the rest of them to be in the city.

"didn't you spend your first year in tokyo?" kiyoko asks quietly, peering out the window over the rim of her glasses at the towering skyline.

"i did, but moved out here when my parents got tired of the city," you explain. "i haven't been back since."

"and you never visited?" her question isn't accusatory, just unsettlingly attentive as your fellow manager tended to be. your mind pushes forth the memory of your promise to osamu, and your simultaneous bridge burning with atsumu. whether you struck the match or he did, you couldn't tell.

"well, i-uh," you hesitate and she waits patiently for your reply, "i just never got around to it. strict parents and whatnot."

"i see. do you still have any friends here?" there's a clear image at the forefront of your psyche now, two shadows of twins you once knew standing between your new team and victory. "i know you played before your accident, so maybe we'll see some people you know." you can feel her words prodding you like a shepherd with a stick, herding you into sharing more about your past than you're comfortable admitting.

"yeah," you chuckle with blatant anxiety. the look on her face tells you she's reading straight through your white lies, but she doesn't push any further. "maybe we will."

as luck would have it, you run into the one team you did not want to interact with for as long as possible. after wanting to walk off the nerves of the following day's matches, you and a few of the more restless players decided to explore the area near the inn. you're barely two blocks away from the entrance doors when you spot two silhouettes burned into your memory from childhood, wrapped in bright red inarizaki track jackets.

"those guys look like a team we might play," you hear hinata mutter to kageyama, who puts no effort into hiding his distaste toward your former school. "i heard kita, the white-haired guy, is the captain, and he's like the conductor of an orchestra--"

"the twins he controls are brutal," daichi suddenly declares from next to you and you nearly jump out of your skin. the mob of red was slowly approaching your mob of black, going opposite directions on the same sidewalk and inevitably on track to collide. a true trainwreck, to say the least. "they move like a two-headed snake and are backed by the rest of the team, who have talent in their own right." step by step, your past and your present draw closer and you suddenly have the urge to hurl.

"i know that's your old team," kiyoko leans in and whispers so that only you can hear. you freeze. "if you wanna avoid them, i'll go back to the inn with you. sawamura has it from here." by the time you give her a grateful smile and open your mouth to reply, it's too late. the inarizaki and karasuno teams stop parallel to each other and you don't have time for hiding.

osamu spots you first.

"well if it isn't the pride of 'the terror triplets' returning to their hometown," he teases with an easy smile, stepping out from the group to greet you. you feel karasuno's gawking expressions follow you as you wrap your arms around osamu for the first time in a year, squeezing him like a sibling back from university.

"is it just me, or did your hair get greyer?" he shrugs one lazy shoulder and you turn your attention to your upperclassmen, who regard you with the same brotherly affection. "kita. ojiro. it's nice to see you again."

"nice to have you back," ojiro replies. "this is your new team?" you're abruptly made aware of your new players watching you in confusion and turn to them with a burning face. after explaining your history with inarizaki and reassuring them that you weren't going to abandon karasuno at nationals, they begrudgingly continue onward and let kiyoko and sugawara stay behind to keep an eye on you (and this alien new team you're associated with).

"he misses you. it's annoying," suna grumbles when you finally have the chance to catch up with him. you don't need to clarify that suna is referring to atsumu. in fact, you'd clocked him as soon as you spotted the team at the other end of the street; it was nearly impossible not to miss the sunshine-blonde hair sticking out from the middle. "but he's angry at you at the same time for abandoning us."

"i didn't abandon you guys," you protest. "my parents made me leave."

"and yet you never visted," suna counters blandly with his signature expressionless expression, but you can tell there was the slightest bit of hurt behind his words. "we miss hanging out with you. the miyas miss you. he misses you."

"you said that already," you frown. "if he misses me so bad, why's he made himself scarce all of a sudden?"

"he's hiding in the back, moping," he informs you. you peek around the towering shoulders of their tallest blockers and spot him, sinking into the stiff collar of his track jacket, eyes trained on whatever bullshit app on his phone. anything to avoid interacting with you. your heart pangs for a moment, but the pain is quickly forgotten when you remember how he'd ghosted you when you left.

you only speak to him once before you return to the karasuno players, when you're saying your goodbyes. he makes the mistake of reattaching himself to his twin's hip, a habit that he would never break.

"osamu," you nod at the gray-haired twin with a fond smile before your eye flick to the twin beside him. atsumu looks hauntingly good, coldly calculating and still with the dimple above the right side of his mouth. your smile falters, the light fizzling out from your eyes until nothing is left but a longing ache.

you say it without thinking, without knowing the ramifications that would arise in the following days. the single word spoken directly to atsumu's face enrages him more than when you left, when you tried to maintain contact, and when you ultimately stopped sending check-in messages. he misses you so badly, it feels like his chest is being torn open.

miya, you murmur curtly before turning on your heel and slipping through his fingers again.

---

"how did you know inarizaki was my old team?" you ask kiyoko when you return to the hotel the following evening, still riding the high of karasuno's lucky win over the foxes. you smiled with the crows and cheered them on as much as you could, but found yourself watching your former upperclassmen's disappointment sag in their bodies. you had to look away from kita as he finally broke down and ended up waiting for the rest of karasuno in the lobby, heartbroken witnessing your past (and what could have been your future) any further. "i mean, i appreciate you giving me an out when we first saw them. i really do. i'm just wondering how you knew."

"your water bottle," she answers simply. "i kept wondering where the fox sticker came from, and recognized it on their jackets when they walked closer." your mouth opens in a small ah of understanding, hugging a pillow close while your fellow manager finished getting ready for bed. "why'd you never visit? or tell karasuno about where you came from?"

"it was less painful to just move on," you admit, "or so i thought." burying your face in the pillow to hide your shame, you glance up and find kiyoko watching you sympathetically. "atsumu, the uh, blonde setter. i lost him when i moved." your voice cracks and your emotions threaten to spill over uncontrollably. by some miracle you maintain your composure but fall silent for a minute while you collect your thoughts. kiyoko waits again for you to continue, sitting across from you on the floor between your sleeping mats. "i stayed close with osamu because the only relationship i've ever had with him was platonic, but after my accident, and how 'tsumu took care of me..."

"you're in love with him," she finishes with a small sad smile. "but you've both chosen your sides and don't want to cross over. i saw it in your face every time we interacted with them." you nod weakly, pulling a blanket over your shoulders to further hide yourself. "what will you do if you never see him again?" you stare at her, heart sinking to your gut at the possibility. you peer at her through increasingly watery vision, tugging on a jacket and slipping on your shoes before you can even think.

you've barely stepped into the frigid winter air and swiped to osamu's contact on your phone when you collide with something firm and warm. you tilt your head up and feel like you're in a dream; somehow, you'd summoned him to karasuno's tiny inn with a few tears and lots of regret.

"what in the hell are you doing out so late--" oh. any lingering words of wrath, frustration, or heartache catch in atsumu's throat as you throw your arms around his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. he tenses for half a second, a deer-in-headlights brain malfunction, before snaking one arm around your waist and clutching the back of your head with his hand. you exhale a shaky sigh of relief when he returns your embrace which gives way to all the longing you'd bottled up for a year. when he makes to pull away, presumably to finally speak to you, you shake your head and hold him tighter.

"no," you plead, your soul bare for him to destroy. "don't make me leave." your last syllables devolve into a sob and you're choking for air against his chest. "please." he shushes you gently, carefully taking your face in one calloused hand and guiding you to look at him. his eyes are red and swollen from the day's loss, and tears run down in well-worn tracks across his cheeks. your thumb swipes them to the side as they fall and he doesn't try to pull away. one embrace and he's folding like a card table. maybe this was what he wanted all along.

"even after everything, i can't ever see you cry," he croaks. you can tell he's at war with himself, part of him wanting to cuss you out, scream at you for abandoning him, give you every angry piece of his mind that you avoided since your going-away party. yet, there's also the other half that compelled him to run to karasuno's accommodations in the first place just to see you; the part of him that ached for you and felt you closer than before, the part that said you needed him.

"i don't-i don't know what to do," you sniffle. "you hate me, and i--"

"i could never hate you," he promises adamantly. his anger forgotten, he just needs you to know that you're okay. "i hate that you left me...and that you called me my damn surname to my face...and that your new team won by sheer luck." you manage a watery laugh as he continues to commit every subtle movement of your face to memory (atsumu didn't know if he'd ever had the chance again). he offers a smile, something soft and endearing that he hopes you'll mirror. when you don't, he pulls you back into his chest and lets you ride out the rest of your breakdown. "i could never hate you. i love you too much."

"even when i'm ugly crying?" your voice is small and muffled, but it gets through to his freezing ears anyways. "and i manage a team that beat you?"

"i don't like when you do either, but i'll still love you anyways," he murmurs. "now let's get you out of the cold, i'm freezing my ass off and i was planning on confessing inside anyway."

---

even though you're the upperclassman manager after kiyoko graduates, ukai still lets you ditch a day of training camp to hop on a train to tokyo. the twins are waiting at the station when you step out, atsumu's inarizaki track jacket draped over his forearm. when he spots you as you round the corner, he meets you halfway and lifts you off your feet, spinning you around with a giddy grin on his face. before you can utter a word, he stops you and guides your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, forcing you to wear it before he listens to anything you say.

"hi, darling."

"hey, baby," he coos, taking your bag and slinging it over his swoon-worthy shoulder. "how was the train?"

"good. couldn't sit still, i was so excited," you reply, slipping your hand easily in his. "yo, miya," you say in greeting to the other twin. poor atsumu flinches slightly, still sore about you calling him by his surname during last year's nationals. his brother, however, is entirely unaffected.

"tsumu hasn't shut up about you for six days straight," osamu deadpans, but you catch the affection in his eyes when he reaches out to lightly punch your shoulder. "six days until they get here! five hours until they get here! two minutes until they get here!" you burst out laughing at osamu's impression of his brother, his voice an octave higher and mockingly sing-songy. "i'm glad you're here, but mostly i'm glad that now he can shut the hell up."

"i could never shut up about them," atsumu corrects, glancing at you with a lopsided grin. "i just love you too much."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[thequeenofcurses]

against the window

summary: eren x fem reader smut with some fluff (kinda) at the end bc he thinks he hurt you wk: 1k

the clear glass window eren had you pressed up against was chilling, but the heat of him pumping his cock into you from behind balanced you out.

“you’re so damn sexy,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pumped in and out of you.

he turned you, wanting to see your face. his arms and chest flexed when he picked you up. your back was elevated against the window, with your legs now wrapped around his hips. he bounced you up and down on his length, each time nearly reaching your womb. your arms found their home around his neck. he fucked you so rough and mean, but kissed you in-between your bounces so sweetly.

eren wanted to get behind you again, so he begrudgingly put you down. never pulling out of you, lest he miss your connection, he flips you till you're facing the window and your breasts are mashed against it. he kisses your neck from behind and gives it some bites “i can’t get enough of you,”  he admits.

his cock is assaulting your pussy. thrusting in and out, like it’s suffocating, and the only way for it to breathe was inside you. and eren technically was suffocating. he would breathe in your scent. god, you were so intoxicating to him. the only way for eren to not completely drown right now was by pumping his long erect manhood inside of you. eren couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. there was only you. 

“e-eren,” you stuttered out. “you feel so g-good”

eren smirked hearing your praise. he pulled out of you slightly only to slam back inside, his hips bucking into you wildly. “you like that?”

“uh-huh,” you babbled, closing your eyes. “f-fucking me so deep.”

eren’s smile only grew wider hearing your words. they made his cock swell even larger inside you. he firmly gripped your hip while he rutted into you. 

the second you open your eyes, your heart drops to your stomach. levi was walking straight towards your building with hange following behind him.

“oh my god, eren,” you exclaimed. “levi’s coming. hange too. they’ll see us!”

eren poked his head to the side to glance out the window to see just how close they were. he shrugged his shoulders and lifted your left leg up, firmly holding it by your ankle. “let them see,” he whispered into your ear. the possibility of getting caught terrified you, but he was fucking you stupid. 

his hard, long, thrusts into your pussy were unrelenting. he reached down with his other arm, holding you, and rubbed your clit vigorously. “come for me,” he growled, his voice low and husky.

you arch your back, leaning into him, giving him a newer, deeper angle and that sends you over the edge. your tight walls spasm and clamp down onto him like a vice. you’re so, so loud. if these windows weren’t soundproof, levi and hange definitely would have heard you. in spite of you coming down from your high, he’s still bucking into you. thrust. thrust. thrust. 

“i don’t care who sees,” eren claimed. “this pussy is mine. you’re mine.” his words nearly had you shaking. it only takes a few more thrusts until you’re milking all of eren’s seed. he doesn’t stop and slowly fucks his leaking cum back into you. he pumps you full of him and only then, after he’s guaranteed his cum is staying inside you does he actually pull out. he lets go of the tight grip he had on your ankle which is starting to turn red. 

somehow his hair still looks great even though it was a bit disheveled. he looks so beautiful, with only a few hairs out of place on his sweaty head. thankfully (for you!) hange and levi got distracted and turned around before they got close enough to see you guys through the window.

you both back away from the window and head towards the bed, exhaustion starting to take over you. before you can lay down eren glances at your leg and sees the mark he left.

“y/n, did i hurt you?” eren quickly checks your body for anywhere else he could’ve accidentally injured you. his voice was low and urgent. “im sorry.” he found some more red marks along your hips. “im really sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you murmured. you tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the way your hand lightly rubbed your side betrayed your words.

eren’s jaw clenched, his brows knitting together. “don’t say it’s okay if it’s not,” he said, his voice softer now but still weighted with frustration at himself. his hands hovered in the air for a moment like he was unsure whether to touch you again. “where? let me see.”

“eren, it’s nothing. really,” you insisted, “you didn’t mean to—”

“doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his tone firm, but tinged with regret. “i shouldn’t have…” he trailed off, his hands running through his sweaty hair. something you picked up on that he always does when he’s anxious.

you reached out, gently cupping his face and guiding his eyes back to yours. “hey. i’m fine. i promise. you just surprised me, that’s all.”

his emerald eyes searched your face for any sign of lingering discomfort, his lips pressed into a tight line. “i’ll be more careful,” he said quietly, a vow more to himself than to you.

your thumb brushed against his cheek. “i know you will. i trust you eren.”

“i’d never forgive myself if i hurt you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“you won’t,” you assure him. you lean in to press a kiss to his lips. “and you didn’t. we’re okay.”

for a moment, he held you, his arms wrapping around you in a way that was so protective and grounding all at once. just like when he protects you in his titan form. when he pulls back, the anxiety in his eyes was replaced by something gentler, something only you got to see.

“thank you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “for… putting up with me.”

you laughed softly, a sound that eased the lingering tension in his chest. “i don’t ‘put up’ with you, eren. i love you.”

he gave you a small smile in return “i love you too.”

A/N i dont really know where i was going with this, but i thought about the window scene all day at work and just had to write something

masterlist | aot masterlist

[drakaripykiros130ac]

People are so insensitive when it comes to Rhaenyra’s situation. I have never seen so much cruelty directed towards a girl who was put between a rock and a hard place.

You all are acting as though Rhaenyra’s goal in life was to cheat on Laenor and undermine the Velaryons, her allies and her kin. She didn’t sleep around with the purpose of getting back at her husband and having children with other men out of spite (she’s not Cersei).

Rhaenyra was forced into marriage with a gay man and expected to produce heirs not only for the Iron Throne but also for Driftmark. So, an heir and a spare for House Targaryen. Another heir and another spare for House Velaryon. Four children (preferably sons) were expected from her womb. Good luck with that.

Let’s suppose that the rumors are true and Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are not Laenor’s. Rhaenyra’s decision to have children with another man should be less criticized, and regarded with more sympathy. She couldn’t spend her entire marriage life to Laenor without having children. Her “suitable” options were these:

1. Remain childless and let herself, the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Throne, be called barren.

2. Demand an annulment by exposing Laenor’s nature (confirming the rumors), and not only humiliating House Velaryon (her allies) but also putting the succession of Driftmark into question (since Laenor was Corlys’ only son and his chosen heir).

At a time when a faction of snakes was constantly nipping at her heels, either one of these options would have left Rhaenyra vulnerable at Court.

She took matters into her own hands and had children with another man. And not just another man. This was a man she could trust, her sworn shield, a man who cared for her and who would never betray her (it’s hard to find someone like that).

To claim that she should have chosen a Valyrian (as though the options are unlimited) is extremely superficial. For this to work, she needed someone trustworthy, someone who would not attempt to claim the children later on. We all know that Daemon would have been the best option for her. She loved him, he was Valyrian and her ally. But alas, with his own marriage and life away from Court, it wasn’t really possible. And I am not really sure if Daemon would have been okay with another man laying claim to his children (that is up for debate).

Rhaenyra preferred a man who was trustworthy over a man with the “correct” features. The chances were 50/50 that the children would look like her, and unfortunately, they didn’t. That’s that.

Laenor and Corlys accepted the situation, because they understood what it would cost them all if they didn’t. This whole thing was on their heads. They provided the heir to the throne with a husband incapable of reproducing. It was not Rhaenyra’s fault.

As such, the children were recognized as Velaryons by the father (Laenor), the Lord of Driftmark (Corlys) and the King (Viserys). And these are the only opinions which matter. No one can prove that the boys didn’t inherit Baratheon and/or Arryn genes. Legally, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are the sons of Rhaenyra and Laenor.

When it comes to the Iron Throne, it doesn’t matter who fathered Rhaenyra’s children, as long as they are hers. She is the ruling Queen. And we have no way of knowing how things would have gone down after Rhaenyra became Queen. Daemon had two sons of his own. He could have managed to convince Rhaenyra to acknowledge Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey as bastards and then legitimize them, since she has the power to do so. If the boys wouldn’t have been accepted by the Realm (unlikely), there is also the possibility that Rhaenyra could have decided to pass the succession to her and Daemon’s children. Rhaenyra had legitimate heirs who could have taken the throne after her death.

As for Driftmark, despite greedy Vaemond’s ramblings, the succession was just fine. The Velaryon line would have continued through the marriage between Lucerys and Rhaena.

Lucerys had the Velaryon name and Rhaena had the Velaryon blood. Their children would have had the Velaryon name and blood. Problem solved.

People need to stop acting as through Vaemond was some sort of crusader, demanding “justice” for his House. He was just as much of an upstart as the Hightowers and he wanted to take Corlys’ power for himself, and so he took advantage of some rumors to discredit Rhaenyra’s children and advance himself.

Things are not black and white, and given Rhaenyra’s nearly impossible situation, exceptions can be made. And these exceptions wouldn’t have affected neither the succession of Driftmark nor that of the Seven Kingdoms.

[radfemsiren]

When feminists say that what a woman is wearing does not matter when it comes to rape, and that men must be taught better, there is always this idiotic argument of “Well that’s ridiculous! You think a rapist is going to care if his health studies teacher wags her finger at him and says ‘No means no!’ Stupid feminists!”

This is a complete mischaracterization of the feminist argument.

A rapist is not born. He does not come out of the womb with a big R branded on his forehead. He is made.

He is made when he is in kindergarten, and when he pushes the smaller kids aside and they cry, they are the ones punished for causing a fuss. He is made when he is not paying attention in class, so the girl in front of him is punished for breaking dress code. He is made when him and other boys make lists of girls calling them dehumanizing names, and he is made when he watches violent porn, and he is made when he guilts and whines his first girlfriend into sex even when she says she is not ready. He is made when he tells everyone stories about her, and his side is always believed. He is made when all the undone chores are his sister’s fault only. When everything he says is smart and brave, and everything he does is spectacular and amazing. He is made when he realizes he can do whatever he wants … and nothing will ever come back to him.

He is made every single time he crosses a line, and someone else gets the blame and punishment, not him.

Male socialization is a collective and repeated effort of reinforcing entitlement and lack of consequences. It’s like a toddler never being told no, and them testing the waters of what they can get away with, going father and farther each time. All the while being spoiled rotten: being cheered on for mediocre efforts, for never having their self esteem dare to be challenged.

A rapist is like a narcissistic, hungry, and spiteful God… and like any God, a loyal group of cultists had to create the altar of worship first.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Bloody Feast (Vampire!Thranduil x Fem!Reader)

Summary - Periods. The time of the month you despise the most, is the time of the month your lover eagerly awaits for.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab reader, fem!reader, vampire!Thranduil, slight dom!Thranduil, mention of periods (frequent), mention of blood (frequent), weird descriptions of periods (I am sorry), mention of blood clots (again, I am sorry), oral sex (reader receiving), brief mention of male receiving oral sex, semi-public oral sex, blood play.

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person-ish

Word Count - 2,200+

A/N - I had a weird thought and well...this monstrosity was created. I never thought I would make another Vampire!Thranduil smut but there is a second time for everything. I am suffering and needed a distraction. I wrote this in the span of about three hours from an odd idea I had. Smut under the cut.

Read on Wattpad Read on AO3

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Periods. That time of the month when your least favorite monthly visitor arrives. Though, out of what felt like spite for you, said visitor would be either fashionably early to put a damper on your plans or terrifyingly late to make you ponder the delay as it took its sweet time to arrive: typically arriving while you were wearing something white.

But, regardless of the name you bestowed upon that time of the month, it was inevitable. It came, bringing along cramps, mood swings, and a bloody mess that always managed to stain a pair of your unmentionables during its stay.

Amongst the pain, mood swings, and mess it left behind lingered an unexpected emotion from your vampiric lover. Lust.

The first time you had your monthly bleed around the pale-haired vampire, you noticed a shift in his demeanor.

A subtle change at first. It was nothing you paid too much mind to, though the pain of the lining of your womb shedding out of your core had blinded you from the way the vampiric king lingered by you. It was something you waved away, believing your lover was merely worried over how you writhed in pain as the unfertilized egg shed alongside the old lining of your womb. Yet, nothing could prepare you for the truth of the matter.

The truth of why he lingered, why his sapphire eyes fixated on you, burning holes into your skull, was due to the fact he thirsted for the blood that poured from your core. He yearned to taste the rotted fruit of your womb, the blood of expired life, upon his tongue, to feast upon the blood you despised.

The lust for your expired blood rose as the months passed. The scent of your shedding flooded his sensitive nostrils, making it nearly unbearable to be in your presence as the urge to take you, to feast upon the blood of your womb, flooded through the vampire's chilled veins. Igniting a fire, a passion that had been dormant inside him for ages.

A fire he managed to keep at a brief simmer. The flame of his thirst managed to stay steady long enough for him to slip away into the forest and feast upon any poor deer he managed to sink his fangs into -- yet deer tasted bitter compared to the scent of your sweet, fertile blood.

However, it appeared that today would test the limits of his resistance.

It happened amid supper; the vampiric king raised his fork to meet his cold, thin lips when the sudden scent of sweet metallicness entered his sensitive nose alongside the chill of air. The muscles within his body went tense, the smooth metal within his dominant hand bending under the pressure of his chilled grasp.

His cold, sapphire gaze quickly snapped up from the various foliage upon his plate and fell onto the heavenly figure that sat beside him. You.

The burn of his intense gaze roamed your figure, warming it even through the chill of the night air as he searched for the cause of that oh-so-delicious scent. And then, he spotted it. The purity of your ivory gown, now stained a delicious deep crimson amid the inner thigh region as you shifted in discomfort upon the wooden chair.

The flesh of your cheeks began to heat as you felt the familiar twisting cramp of your bleed beginning. A sense of dread and embarrassment danced within your veins as you shrunk back within the plush wooden seat, attempting to hide the bloodied bits of your gown beneath the elongated table, unaware of the pure lust that roamed the chilled veins of your lover.

The light within his sapphire-hued gaze began to dim, the roaring fire of lust within his core began to burn wild as he slowly inhaled the delicious scent of your shedding womb. His nostrils flared, the lids of his eyes drooping as they glazed over with an unmistakable hunger and lust.

"Y/N," He spoke, his voice low and twinging with the unbridled lust that nearly burst at his seams the longer he sat beside you. "accompany me back to our quarters. I require your assistance in retrieving something of great importance." A simple request, one that appeared to be your way out of this humiliating mess.

The hue of your head bobbing rapidly filled his darkening gaze, earning a slight smirk on the corners of his thin lips. Yet, it went without notice as you were too fixated on shielding the sight of the delicious blood that stained your once pristine gown.

The soft clank of your beloved's fork hitting the wooden table echoed throughout the silent air, lingering within it as the blur of your vampiric lover standing filled your view. The swiftness of his motions nearly caught you off guard as you felt the chill of his hand encase the warmth that was your own, the steady tug of his led you out of the dining hall and away from prying eyes.

The heat of your cheeks burnt brighter as you felt the gaze of the guards lingering upon your sullied rear. The large crimson color seeped deep within the gown, showing all who viewed it the state of your aching womb. A sight that your lover salivated over as he dragged you into the twisted halls.

──────

The harsh wood of the twisted woodland halls dug into your stained gown as the pale-haired man pressed you up against it. The light within his eyes dimmed, replaced with the dark, burning fire of lust as he inhaled the sweet, metallic scent of your bleeding core.

"Thranduil--" His name left your lips in the air of a surprised gasp, the size of your gemstone-colored eyes widened as they gazed upon the now lust-driven vampire that towered over you. The size of his nostrils increased as they flared with lust, taking in every last breath of your sweet, bleeding womb as he leaned to your ear.

"I have waited long enough." The chill of his breathed growl earned a shiver to roam down your spine, a momentary distraction from the pain that roamed within your core. "And now, I shall feast." A statement you barely had time to process, as the sudden blur of his pale golden locks filled your line of sight.

The wooden floor creaked under the weight of his body down on his knees. The sudden cold swish of the skirt of your gown being hoisted up followed suit in sound, the weight of the smooth, silken fabrics now rested upon the mid of your stomach.

And as you gained weight in the middle of your belly, you lost the weight of the blood-soaked unmentionables that shielded your bleeding cunt from the starved vampire.

"Yes." The words slithered out of his mouth like the hiss of a snake, the moisture within his mouth near overflowing as he gazed upon the bloodied lips that rested around your core. A delicious sight he yearned for, dreamt of for what felt like an eternity to the eternal man.

Before you had a moment's thought, the sudden chill of his frozen tongue lapped upon your bleeding core. His licks were long and slow as he savored every ounce of the sweet, clotted metallic flavor upon his tongue. A pleased growl vibrated against your sensitive, aching cunt causing a small electric wave to roam throughout your pain-ridden body.

The smooth glide of the cold flesh of his chiseled cheeks grazed against the warm flesh of your bloodied inner thighs, furthering the waves of pain mixed with pleasure throughout your body as he continued to lap up the entirety of your aching core. His tongue cleansed every crack and crevice of that delicious, clotted blood he had yearned for, for so long. Savoring the taste and texture of the sheddings of your womb with a feral growl as he delved deeper into each sensitive fold.

The delicious, deep crimson color began to lighten in hue. The sweet, metallic taste now gained a familiar tang of pleasure upon his tongue as the sweet nectar of your arousal began to mix with the blood of your womb. A heavenly combination he had only smelt upon you during the rare times you gave him head during your monthly bleed.

"Ah!" The sound left your lips in a surprised gasp as the sudden, cool stretch of his tongue entered the warmth of your core. The cold swirl of his tongue danced within your core, allowing it to be completely coated with the delicious mixture of your bleeding arousal. The weight of your hips shifted on their own, mindlessly dancing alongside the patterns of his tongue as the tips of your nails began to grasp against the harsh texture of the wooden wall your back rested upon.

A pleased growl vibrated against your sensitive core, the hypnotic sensation coaxed out further sounds of pleasure from your plump lips as the weight of your head began to tilt back into the wood. Any care for the blood that stained your gown, a stain that would likely never come out, faded from your mind as you fell into the trance of the coldness within your aching center.

The vampiric king continued to feast within your bleeding core, slurping up each pleasure-filled drop of your sweet, bloody nectar as his tongue continued to circle inside of you. The speed was unpredictable. At times, it was slow, following the size of a blood clot before it dropped into the coldness of his hungered mouth, while other times it was rapid. Quick. And jutting. Hitting the most sensitive ounces in your core, making the muscles within your abdomen clench as a familiar tightness began to find itself amidst the field of pain that waged inside of you.

The sudden cold, rough graze of his smooth, frozen thumb grazed against your sensitive bundle of nerves. A choked gasp found itself out of your lips as your hips bucked up upon his face. An instinctive reaction, one the vampiric king decided to use to his advantage.

The frozen caress of his thumb pressing into your clit furthered the electric pleasure that roamed your body. The precise circles that danced upon your clit synced with the ones that waltzed within the walls of the entrance to your womb. A skillful dance that led you in the tango of pleasure, guiding you with every motion as your hips followed suit in the hypnotic sway.

"Thranduil." His name escaped your lips like a desperate prayer, hoping for your god to hear you and grant you what you desired most at that moment: release.

"That's it." The vibrations of his words bounced throughout your bleeding core, the weight of his thumb pressed further into your sensitive bundle of nerves, the motions of which it danced upon becoming rapid as he continued to devour you. "Give it to me. Give it all to me." He commanded, tongue jutting in and out of your savory core with immense speed.

Tongue tying knots inside of your clenching walls, scooping out every trace of blood it could catch as the pressure of his thumb grew more intense in weight and speed. The sway of pleasure danced you to the edge, making the room spin with every swirl of his frozen tongue and finger.

And, as the finale of the tango of lust, you were thrown over the edge, leaving you sinking into the sea of pleasure. The tang of your bloodied nectar flooded the vampiric king's mouth, drowning his senses with that sweet metallic zest of your bleeding pleasure. The cries of your pleasure bounced throughout the once silent woodland halls, alerting all those with sensitive ears to what was transpiring amidst the once quick exit.

The vampiric king growled in pleasure, happily downing the mouthful of nectar, groaning in satisfaction at the textured clots that went down his throat as his nostrils flared with relief.

Finally, he had received the bloody feast he had been yearning for all these months.

The speed at which your chest rose and fell quickened as you searched for your breath amongst the scent of pleasure that danced throughout the air. The sweat that clung to your skin allowed for the beautifully stained gown to join it in hugging your heavenly figure, making you appear like a glowing goddess rather than the bleeding mess you typically felt during your annual bleeds.

The chill of the king's tongue departed from your core, and soon after, the weight of his smooth, cold thumb eased from your sensitive bundle of nerves. A soft, disappointed whine slipped through your plump lips as you watched the vampire rise from his knees, the wood creaking at the shift of weight as he licked the remnants of your metallic pleasure off of his lips.

"Come now, my songbird," The king spoke, his voice laced with amusement as he fixed your skirt, shielding your bleeding cunt from the cold air. "we have the rest of your monthly to indulge." The light within his sapphire eyes returned as he spoke, now twinkling with a mixture of mischief and desire as he clutched your blood-sullied undergarments within his cold palm. His free one took the warmth of yours in his hand as he continued to steady pace to your shared quarters where he would surely indulge in yet another bloody feast.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[hana-no-seiiki]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 + 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈)

tw/cw: this act alludes more to reader being amab (because breeder reader era wont be ending anytime soon) so beware. off-screen seggs. worldbuilding and lore stuff. yandere themes, mentions of forced prostitution. misandry.

status: unedited

[ ACT I ] • [ ACT III ]

MOTHERS HELD A HIGH SOCIAL RANK IN YOUR SOCIETY. They were the bearers of children; held with a status akin to gods. As such, those who were able to give birth were favorable.

Not a womb-less being like you.

You spent a couple decades or so in denial. Hoping that one day you’ll be accepted. That maybe society itself would change and you’d have a place in the world.

Only for reality to ruthlessly slap you in the face.

“[Y/N].”

Your mother’s voice, no matter the content of her speech, always made your heart rate soar. Cold sweat appeared on your palms and forehead, but before it could even be discerned on your form your hands make a swift movement to dry yourself. Your could feel your shakiness intensify as she drew closer.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted back. You cursed inwardly as your words came out hoarse; without its usual confidence. You could already hear her admonish you.

How could you be anything less than perfect? After all you were already born a failure. Might as well make up for it by being the best.

Throughout the decades of your parent’s unfavorable treatment, you had gain a semblance of self-esteem. At least enough to give them cheek at times. Although your subconscious always reminded you of what they were capable of if you weren’t engaged.

Your teenage self could never imagine talking back to them. With that, in spite of the unwarranted attention you were somewhat happy with the circumstances you were given.

“You went to the countryside, again.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and tar colored blouse. She always wore black clothes and a solemn look wherever she went, intimidating many that dared to gaze at her direction. Her graying hair was tied into a tight bun. Pointed, cat like eyes behind thick glasses. But she was beautiful. Annoyingly so. The very reason why so many fell at your feet.

“I am here now.”

“Her Highness was looking all over for you.”

“That’s the point. I was hiding from that witch.” You crossed your arms. You did not like that woman at all. You remembered repeatedly enforcing your boundaries and personal space to which she repeatedly broke down and disrespected.

“[Y/N]! Stop being such a brat. Act your age for once. This is a golden opportunity. For you and our whole family!”

“Selling my body wasn’t enough? Your greed really knows no bounds.”

You shut your mouth immediately. You’ve gotten too far, if her heels clacking on the ground wasn’t already an obvious indication her thin, banshee like screech should be.

You expected a slap, maybe even her pulling your hair out once again, perhaps her nails would tear into your skin once more leaving a scar that would make at least some of your clients change their mind. However before she could even get close enough to touch you, her husband pulled her away.

“Estella . . . if you hurt them, her highness might . . .” He held her back.

You used to think you loved him way back then. When he’d halt your mother’s actions and take care of you after you’d been used. But then you realized that he only saw you as an object he could benefit from as well. Once the princess asked for your hand in marriage he was ecstatic. Waxing on and on about how happy it’d make him if you went with her, even allowing her to defile you in your own bedroom at times. The only reason he didn’t actively hurt you was because your mother’s ego was so fragile that she’d take him getting physical as a sign of defiance and ill will.

Swarms of hatred encircled your heart. To think you were so blind and hungry for an ounce of their affection only a year ago.

Hours passed before your tears showed signs of stopping its flow. You hoped the streetslights that barely gave vision at least hid you from prying eyes.

“Witch, huh?”

A voice tore you away from your moment of sadness. In fear of anyone else seeing you in this state you hurry to fix yourself as you heard heeled clicks grow louder.

“I should have known.” You turned your head to face the sounds’ source. Only to see the reason why so many tears of yours were wasted this day. “So, does this mean our engagement is off? Or shall I be executed for sullying your name?”

Third Princess Kalliope Mikiavella Levantine. If her name was a nightmare then her presence in your life was evermore.

She was your highest paying client. Ever insatiable. Ever spoiled by her mother the Empress. The only saving grace of this whole situation was that she was not the Crown Princess, yet. Otherwise you might have already been made an imperial concubine or consort.

“Unfortunately not.” She smiled, a little solemn in a way to empathize with your situation, but nonetheless ruthless knowing her power. The princess was beautiful, her blazing red hair that curled immaculately lightly bounced in her steps towards you. Bright amber eyes that almost appeared like the dim streetlights.

“I am unclean. Impure. Why would you want someone like me?” You keep your eyes to your legs lest you fall for her beauty. You always looked somewhere else whenever you two slept together. Always in fear that you’ll grow to love your assaulter — captor.

“I . . . do not know. But everytime I hear you sing my heart feels at ease. I want you in my life, [Y/N]. For as long as I live.”

“Think of it this way, as my spouse you will be ruling over the entirety of this country. Every thing, every one, will be yours. Even those parents who sold you to me. And you’ll give that kid a bright future—“

“[Y/N] . . ?”

You do not think before your lips crashed upon hers.

“Athanaxious? Athanaxious! “

Vasileious searched high and low, in every corner of the ocean Athanaxious usually dwelled in. He even swam the shores, close to those wicked human hunters called fishermen to find him. But with no luck.

“Let him be, Vasilei. He’ll come back in due time.” Aurelius, the pair’s eldest brother, comforted him. Aurelius had a beautiful tail of pure gold, unlike the flecked one Vasileious and Athanaxious owned. His hair was a beautiful, long and curly brown with a lock of blond that made it all the more stunning. His tan skin glimmered akin to the surface waters at day, and almost glowed at night.

“Say that when you get scolded by Mother. I dare you.” Vasileious spat, nerves fried from stress. He would have never interacted or approached a human if it weren’t for his stupid younger brother. But now he’d seen several. Do you know how horrid that experience would be for him? It was downright terrible.

Aurelius, ever the only serene one in the family, massaged the small of his brother’s pale back, “You seem on edge. More so than usual.”

“Athanaxious was meeting with a human, Aurelius. A human!”

“Huh, so you finally found out.”

“You knew of it?!”

“All of us did.” Aurelius shrugged, slightly curling his tail as a gesture of ease. “Oh come on, we all know how much of a snitch you are. Besides, Athanei can’t be dissuaded. Telling him not to do something will only make him want to do it more.”

“He used his siren song on them.”

“No way! How did he sound?”

“. . . It sounded — “ Vasileious ashamedly could only remember your own voice that day, unable to give a proper remark he gave a simple, vague response. “alright.”

“How utterly anticlimactic. Although you saying something aside from terrible means it must be good.”

“Make of it what you will.”

“Irenaeus!”

Another merman appeared. Younger than Aurelius but his beauty unlike any of the other brothers. His tail a beautiful ivory color that slowly transitioned to grey and blacks at the tip. Long dark hair and golden eyes. Irenaeus was known to have the biggest body count of all siblings — bringing thousands of humans to their doom. If it weren’t for his carefree attitude and the god he was named after, one would think he loathed humans more than Vasileious himself. “The human Athan was meeting . . .”

“What about them?”

“Apparently they are to be married off to a human princess. Sailors across the ocean have been speaking of it so. And. . . well . . . “

“Spit it out.”

Irenaeus looked left and right, his tail flicking in an anxious manner, “I believe Athanaxious might be meeting with the Sea Witch shortly.”

“What? You didn’t stop him?!” Vasileious screeched. The ocean floor that surrounded them tremors in his cries, large waves rippling, barreling towards land. His two brothers flinched in pain.

“Less time scolding more time on looking for our brother.” Aurelius broke him out of his moment of panic. “Irenei, inform the rest of our family. Vasilei, let us depart.”

Deep within the Abyss of the ocean, Athanaxious found himself swarmed with feverish determination and anger. The pressure of the waters always felt suffocating but now? It was nothing to the looming dread that drowned his heart.

He reaches his destination before his mind could properly think. He thought long ago that the last time he’d come would be that, the last. But here he was again, far more desperate than he was afraid.

“Be welcome, Than.” The low, gravelly voice of the sea devil danced across the murky waters.

“You must know of the happenings on land.”

He comes out of his hiding, long winding tentacles slither across the walls covered with barnacles and seaweed, as He moved towards Athanaxious, “Mm, I’m afraid not. Please enlighten me.”

“Tch. My human. They’re going to marry some rich lady up north. This cannot happen.”

“You want me to help you ruin a wedding?”

“You know the drill. A price for a boon. This will be quite expensi—“

“I offer you my voice.”

The Sea Witch found themself speechless for moments on end. For a siren to sell their voice would be akin to dooming themself to a lonely, wretched existence. Unable to lure their prey or be of any ‘worth’ in their society. They were aware of Athanaxious’ infatuation over you. Just not self-sacrificing extent of it. “…And in exchange for your precious voice I offer you a new identity as a human.”

“Beware, as every step you take will feel like daggers going through your feet. You will however, be the most graceful dancer upon the land. A perfect fit for our little singer.” An apparition appears between the Devil’s fingertips as it flicked across the waters. It was you, on a platform of sorts surrounded by other humans. You were bringing joy to their faces, as you did with him. “Shall I add a wager to spice up the fun?”

It took a lot of willpower for Athanaxious to rip his eyes away from your ‘magical form’ and all he could muster was a nod.

“Should you succeed your voice shall return, and you wouldn’t have to keep giving me your scales to brew love potions. Their heart will be yours forever more, guaranteed by both their feelings in your triumph and my very own magic.” The apparition shifted; Athanaxious appears within the image — human. The two of you looked joyful as you embraced underneath what seemed to be the moon.

But then it all lasts for a second before it shifted once more. The vision of your happy ending swiftly turned bitter as this apparition’s Athanaxious slowly dissolved and disappeared, before you turn to someone else and embrace them instead.

“If you fail to win their affection before the wedding, I will keep your voice and you shall turn into sea foam.”

Athanaxious felt his stomach grow weak at the illusion’s show. Moreso the possibility of your romance with someone else than his death. He only had one choice.

“I understand. I accept both the deal and the wager.”

“Oh, how magnificent! I hope you don’t go on to regret this.” The Sea Devil lips tugged upwards.

“Now, sing for me.”

“Where will you be going?” Kalliope tugged at your sleeves.

“Out. I’ll be back before sundown.” You gently pulled your arm away from your admirer, as you buttoned your clothes and put on a pair of trousers.

“But—“

“My seed must take root for our marriage to be guaranteed, no? Keep your hips raised.”

“Can we go for another bout before you leave?”

You loop your finger around a lock of her hair, lending her a final kiss to the forehead. “No.”

Your town was not one to write about in history books. It was like any other the Empress was able to conquer under her rule. A quaint village just west of the capital city known for their great alcohol and folks to bed.

In such a small population, everyone knew you and you knew everyone. People even knew of your clients, every single one in fact. They weren’t surprised to see you in much more extravagant or expensive clothing as you passed by the street in an equally gaudy carriage.

It was moreso the armored guards that surrounded you that alerted them of something different.

“[Y/N]!”

Clearly that wasn’t enough to deter your childhood friend from running towards you.

“First you impregnate my sister and leave her all alone to take care of your mistake, now you go and get married without a word to us! Do you even care at all?!” The young man wore overalls. Soot covered his skin from what you assume was the mines he started recently working in.

Yiorgos used to be a lot kinder. Softer. Almost puppy like with his admiration towards you. But after a series of misunderstandings he grew resentful of your existence. You never bothered to correct him.

Or perhaps you were just too busy and hurt by his assumptions.

“Out of their highness’s way.” A guard put their arm between you and your former friend.

“Their . . . highness ?” Yiorgos looked at you, baffled. His hung wide open. He then leaned forward to no doubt shout at you once more before you finally put a word in.

“No, I know him.” You shook your head at the guard. Your focus left the man as soon as a familiar mop of [hair color] entered your vision.

A small girl dressed in clothing akin to your own, left Yiorgos’s side and ran up to you with no regard to the armored knight that loomed over. Excitement clear in her eyes. “Don’t listen to your uncle, you aren’t a mistake alright? Go on in, I’ll be with you.” You gently pushed her towards the siblings’ house. The girl shook her head, unwilling to let go of you. But her grip slowly loosened and she eventually shied away, leaving you and the rest.

“Your sister paid me to sleep with her and insisted not to use protection, we both know I pay for that night every single day since it happened both reputation wise and monetarily. And lastly, as you can see I had no choice.” You tilt you head to the small army of knights made to watch over you and your carriage.

Yiorgos shook his head. Brown hair swaying side to side. “You always have a choice.”

“And my choices are life and death. Don’t bother arguing about my situation!”

“Here’s my last payment and goodbye. I’ll be taking the kid with me to the castle soon.” You throw him a bag filled with gold coins and then proceeded to make your leave.

If there was anything you were proud of in your town however, it would be the opera house you worked at. Thousands of people all throughout the world often came here to watch your shows amongst the other singers and performers.

Due to its popularity it was even funded by the Empress directly. That is how you met the princess.

“[Y/N]! I’ve heard the news. Congratulations.” Your employer, Lady Anastasia — a noble woman —, runs her hand in your hair. She used to be a regular person your mother sold you off to until she eventually hired you as a singer at her Opera House. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t pay you a little extra for your services after hours.

“What’s with the fuss?” You gestured to the boy servants fussing over a young man. Who seemed a little too familiar, nostalgic maybe. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Oh, we found a young man out on the beach you frequented. We thought it was you at first but upon closer inspection . . .”

“He’s a mute that one. Ain’t no further thing from our theater’s star.” Her Father, a rather old and gruff man, huffed. He was always so prideful of you. Despite his rough demeanor, you knew that he cared deeply. After Anastasia would bed you, he always came by to give you a cup of tea. You didn’t know how to repay the man except use your body, so he’s had a taste of you as well.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve bedded half of your town and then some.

“Will you keep your scathing remarks to yourself?” Anastasia lightly slapped him, “He is incredibly talented on the art of dance, light on his feet.”

“And weak on constitution. He barely finished a piece before falling to his knees and panting!”

“I’ll take care of him.” You put a hand to your chin. The man gave you a weird feeling in your stomach. Something tells you that the fates have your threads intertwined.

“Are you sure? With all these wedding preparations. . .” The old man grabbed your shoulders, making you flinch.

You unknowingly glared at him.

“Ah, sorry to be so presumptuous.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You coughed, unsure how to or if you should even apologize. You decide on focusing at the task at hand. A final show before you’re eternally doomed to the Imperial Palace.

“Well then, why is nobody ready?”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023