#and then the skin on her neck rips open and she screams in pain and fear as she comes apart

[quietwingsinthesky]

leviathan!charlie also takes care of the weird plothole about her going from “hunting & hunters are scary and dangerous wtf get away from me” to “oh wow murdering people is soooo fun, guys!!! i just wish it was more magical!!!” because in this scenario it is not her going into hunting and somehow being in complete denial of the bloody reality of it, but her actually regressing to more violent tendencies in order to keep in contact with the Winchesters, who are basically the only friends she has.

leviathan!charlie who teamed up with them to take down dick specifically so that she would not have to act like she did in purgatory and could find a new life, but inevitably being drawn into the black hole of hunting/winchester-related violence. leviathan!charlie who sets out like vampires can to feed on animals…. and the occasional asshole, but that one shaky spot on her moral ground gives her room to backslide into seeing the monsters she hunts as just more assholes to eat (regardless of the fact that they are her!!! she’s a monster too! she just got lucky siding with sam and dean first!) leviathan!charlie who tries to hold onto the humanity she painstakingly taught herself, but the longer she’s around the winchesters, the harder it is to be anything but a monster.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Arrival

He has been waiting for you all year. You left the small town to go back to the big city, and he stayed in the mountains surrounding the area. He was so patient. So very patient. But so frustrated.

He tried to entertain himself by hunting, and torturing people and animals. He even tried forgetting you and finding another one to satiate his hunger. She was resembling you in so many ways and his heart quickened for a bit. He took her to his den. She was scared and trembling, and so beautiful. And nothing like you. You were excited when you saw him. You talked with him, touched him, wanted him. Just a memory of you was a powerful aphrodisiac making his blood rush like a mountain stream. The real human in front of him was just meat. He kicked her out.

And now... You return. The very evening you arrive, you look for his den, bravely entering the dark forest. You run to him.

"You are back," he snarls, gently touching your cheek like he doesn't believe his eyes. You smile at him and nod your head.

He pushes you against the wall and licks your neck. "You're back." He is almost whimpering. His claws rip all your clothes, scratching your skin, bruising your flesh. His maw is around your throat, biting you, making you wince in pain. He wants to punish you and own you and please you. He wants to do it all. His arms are merciless, grabbing your tits and ass, rubbing your cunt and asshole. You moan and beg, red and hot from excitement, your eyes full of tears. You can almost hear the pulsating of his cock and the rush of his blood. He is growling. "You're back... You're back..."

"I'm back... to you..." You barely answer back because he is inside you, pushing his full length into your soaking wet cunt, fucking you into that wall. The wall of his den, the one that he made for you, for his mate. He is fucking his mate's pussy until you're screaming and your orgasm shatters your bones.

Before he finishes inside you, pumping in and out without a pause, he says: "I'm never letting you go again. You are mine."

He slams his hips against yours and bites your neck, marking you again, opening all the old wounds that he made. Because you are his and only his, and you're never leaving him again.

[buckyalpine]

Winter soldier x reader ft sex pollen

Unhinged winter soldier with sex pollen. This is wildly inappropriate (with some fluff?...) but I thought of it so you must all suffer with me. Imagine Hydra filling the room with sex pollen immediately after Buck is wiped, sending him out at in his most feral state in hopes that the winter soldier will lose control and give into the urges they've forced into him. They need him to breed another super soldier since they were unable to replicate the serum in his veins.

As soon as the dust fills the room, his pupils dilate, his tac suit far too hot, his veins pumping so hard they feel like they're going to burst. The straps holding him down release and his chest is heaving, trying to calm down the primal needs hes feeling, pain prickling his skin the longer he stays in the room. He grunts, striding out of the room and into the night, chasing a craving he has to get out.

He moves without a soul detecting him, until a sweet scent catches his attention. Floral, natural, innocent. Fertile. He's suddenly hyper focused on the thing his body is screaming for, following the unsuspecting woman, his teeth grinding through the pain. She enters a building and he observes each window before seeing a lights turn on, her nude silhouette appearing through the curtains.

It takes no effort for him to climb up the fire escape, easily prying the locked window open only to be met with the sound of the shower running. Her scent permeates all his senses and he nearly strips off all his clothes then and there, the pollen causing lust that makes his bones ache. The water shuts off and hes waiting like a predator waiting for its prey, sitting perfectly still while the door clicks open. She gasps and freezes in place and he sight alone makes him growl.

Pathetic little bunny.

"Who-who are you" she whispers, clutching her towel tightly together though it's not like she didn't know. Tears fill her eyes seeing the deadly soldier people spoke about, unsure if he even existed, the very rumor now sitting on her bed. He doesn't anything, groaning at the feeling of his arousal steadily dripping from his cock, palming his erection.

"Please-don't" She shakes her head, seeing his hardness pressing against his pants, his large presence suffocating because she knows there's no where to run. He slips his mask off, revealing his dangerously handsome face, his eyes wild with lust and need.

"But I have to" He grits out, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the waist, burying his nose in her freshly washed hair, deeply groaning at the scent of her bodywash, "mne eto nuzhno, zayka" [I need this, bunny]

"No-I-I'll do anything-" She trembles, squeezing her eyes shut feeling his warm wet tongue lick up her neck as his mismatched hands rip her towel away, pulling her hips flush against his cock. The rough material of his tactical hear scratches her soft skin, making her whimper when when he bites her shoulder.

"takoy myagkiy krolik" [such a soft bunny] He throws her like a doll, her ass bouncing off the mattress, flat on her back back while he undoes his pants, pulling his cock out. She squeezes her legs shut, shaking her head, his fat bobbing length taunting her as he pumps himself while crawling onto the bed.

"It hurts bunny" He groans, forcing her legs apart, her natural scent nearly causing pain as he stares at her pussy. Her button between her legs involuntarily twitches and he pinches it hard making her squeal, the sound causing a drop of precum to spill out.

His head is so focused on getting his release, he doesn't bother prepping her, shoving his cock into her tight cunt, grunting and forcing his length in when he feels resistance. He stars to fuck her hard, holding both wrists in his metal hand, keeping her pinned under him while he splits her open.

"Hurts-too much-to big-stop-" She gasps out her pained cries melting into muddled moans of pleasure, her own body betraying her, feeling her own warmth wetting his cock making it easier for him to slip in and out. "Oh god-soldat-stop-don't-

"You're wet" He hisses, almost accusatorily, pounding her harder, faster until the bed shakes and scratches the floor, the serum pumping in his veins making his cock sensitive.

"I need this-I need it" Sweat beads at his forehead, his balls feeling heavier than usual, the pollen causing his body to produce more semen than he naturally would.

"YA chuvstvuyu zapakh, kakoy ty mokryy, zayka" [I can smell how wet you are bunny] His balls throb painfully, his cock ready to burst as his thrusts become more erratic. He snarled against her neck as pleasure starts to lick up his spine, the bruising grip on her wrists tightening as he starts to pump her full of his load without warning.

She whimpers feeling shame for the delicious stretch of his cock, her cunt fluttering, swollen from his abusive pace. She finds herself flipped over with her ass in the air, her face pressed against the sheets, his cock rock hard again, prodding at her puffy folds.

"Not done-need more" he growls lowly, stripping his clothes off, his body heat dialed to 100. His crotch is covered in cum, a mix of his and hers, the smell of her driving him insane as he grabs her hips and slams her to meet his thrusts again. He has more power at this angle, fucking her like a mad man, groaning with his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, only focused on pleasuring his cock.

"Ty shlyukha Zimnego soldata, ty voz'mesh' to, chto ya tebe dayu" [You're the winter soldier's whore, you'll take what I give you] He's at his most unhinged, grunting and groaning, fucking her like an animal, her muffled screams only causing his cock to swell more. "Make me feel good, make it go away bunny"

"Soldat please stop-too big" she begs and he fucks her harder, making her moan, pulling another orgasm out of her body even if she fought against it. His thighs meet the back of hers, rolling and rocking his hips, hitting her cervix until her sweet juices squirt out of her, obscene sounds of skin on skin filling he room. "SOLDAT"

"I have to breed you bunny" He shakes his head, unwilling to leave until he's sure she's pregnant with his child, forcing every bit of his cum into her. "My fertile little bunny" He nips your skin, running his hands over her tummy, imaging it firm and round with his baby growing inside. He loved the thought of such an unsuspecting, sweet angel carrying the child of he soldier, all of his cum making a mess in her pussy.

By the last round, the pollen has started to dissipate and the cloud is lifting. He pants, still rutting into her pussy, something tugging at his conscious, shaking his head when the lusty animalistic haze weavers.

"T-tell me your name" He rasps, his heart beating wildly, loosening his grip on her. She whimpers from pain and to her surprise, he slowly down, still grinding himself in, burying her face into her neck. "zayka, pozhaluysta" [bunny, please]

"Y/n" she whispers, unsure of why she told him, her voice catching in her throat when his lips press against her skin. She's limp in his hold, the smell of sex permeating the room, the sheets soaked with his cum, but nothing more full than her cunt.

"Y/n" He moans, his body trembling as he nears the end of his final release, stilling till he's milked himself dry, her soft body worn under him. Something is wrong, he can feel it, the emotionless control he had before, slipping from his grasp. He yearns to hold the woman in his arms but he can't .Something stops him.

His movements are robotic as he pulls away and slips his clothes back on, memories unfamiliar to him flashing through his mind.

He wasn't the soldier.

He was-

Her soft snores pull her from his spiral, looking up to seeing her sleeping form, fucked out from the way he'd ruined her. He frowns at the unfamiliar feeling of concern he's experiencing, pulling the covers over her body.

"Thank you bunny" He whispers, making her whine in her sleep, calling for the soldier.

"I'm-

He shakes his head, his previously wild replaced with those of a young man from Brooklyn.

"B-Bucky"

-

[hisokaisdaddyz]

Sinz Kinky-June .ೃ࿐

☆Day two☆

❝"Breed me."❞ ✧ ೃ༄

Miguel Breeding kink + Degrading+ Biting & cheating.

☆Fem!Pov☆

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.ೃ࿐❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.ೃ࿐❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.

Breeding? It wasn't something Miguel thought of very often, perhaps he did think of fucking her until she was filled with his seed, once or twice, but it was merely a thought of possession, since Y/N was dating Peter instead of him, Which is why it stayed a meaningless thought, until Y/N brought it up, it shocked Miguel. He never knew how much of a freak Y/N was, however, Miguel wasn't complaining, it was another thing he loved about her. What added to his shock was when she added Degrading to the mix. "Filthy little slut." He couldn't help but mutter to himself. underneath that hard interior she had was a touch starved beast aching to get her claws into someone. Miguel was more than willing to be that person.*

"Y/N...." Miguel moaned, the second his dick settled within her, her walls clenching around him sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine. As she laid underneath him, he held her head down, keeping her pinned against bedding, her face buried into the bed, her ass arched, the sight was enough to make him bite back the urge to just completely ruin her. Instead he leaned down, parting his lips, his tongue darted out, to wet the area on her neck, causing her to tense, he pulled his hips backward, until the tip of his cock sat at her entrance, Miguel timed it, he bit down on her neck and slammed his hips forward, a scream ripped past her lips at the sensations of his cock filling her cunt, and his teeth breaking skin.

"Fuck." Miguel groaned, tasting the saltiness of her blood. Her hitch in breath was enough to spur him on. He growled, pulling out slightly before slamming back in, setting the pace for their carnal dance. The pain of being bitten, the sting of his teeth was all but gone, replaced by the sensations of fullness and pleasure. Miguel held her down, one hand gripping her hair, while the other gripped her hip.

With each thrust, Miguel let out a groan, "Mine, you're mine, and I'll fill you with my seed until there's no room left inside of you..." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust, his primal urges taking over, the heat between them amplified.

Their moans echoed off of the walls, the sound of his skin slapping against her, the stench of sex filling the air, fuck it was more than enough to make Miguel want more.

"Fuck.. it's been a while...No? I do believe you've been starved of what you really wanted...Y/N, Peter can't fuck you like I can." Miguel muttered in between moans, against her neck, low whimpers could be heard, coming from him with each thrust, a smile tugged at the corner of Miguel's lip, noticing Y/N shake her head, denying his words.

"If that's so, then why do you come crawling back to me, every chance you get? Cut the bullshit. Let's just face it now, you need me...Leave Peter, and come to me, I'll give you what you really deserve, you need me to fuck your pussy the way you like it."

"You wanted to be fucked, and now you're getting it. And I'm going to keep going until you forget that pathetic excuse for a boyfriend of yours ever existed."

His voice was low and gravelly, almost a growl, as he fucked her relentlessly, his cock pistoning in and out of her cunt, coated in a mixture of their bodily fluids. "By the time I'm done with you," he continued, his voice dripping with sinful promises "you'll never look at Peter the same way again. You'll remember who you belong to, Y/N"

His words were harsh but true, Y/N knew she'd be back on his doorstep, begging him to hold her. Her eyes struggled to stay open, Miguel flipped her onto her back, pushed her legs forward until her knees were touching her breast.

"Keep em' open, watch as I fuck you raw, Y/N, as I breed this pussy. Look at the way your pussy sucks me back in."

Miguel growled, his cock pounding her pussy. He was relentless in his pursuit to make her feel every inch of him. "I'm close, baby. I'm gonna fill you up," he said, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more determined.

There was a twisted sense of satisfaction in knowing that he owned her body, that she'd come crawling back to him. He reached down tapping her face, forcing her to open up her eyes.

"You alright there baby? Look at me, you're not talking much. You here?" He grabbed her cheeks holding her face still, when she muttered a few words he released her. "You're okay, baby, Still able to talk? Then I must not be working hard enough am I?" He teased, withdrawing his hips, forcing his cock back in, inhumane growls and grunts ripped past his lips.

"You feel so good baby, so good, taking this cock like the slut you are, hmm? Gonna' fuck you until you're full of my babies huh? Like the sound of that?"

{Cut short here, because this is from my bot, which is on Jan.Ai I just felt like sharing it here.}

https://janitorai.com/characters/2cc1ea29-d60b-4be2-9c79-fc2aa138bbe6_character-miguel-o-hara%E2%98%86

❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.ೃ࿐❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.ೃ࿐❝ ❞ ✧ ೃ༄.ೃ

Song recommendations- Earned it- The weeknd

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober #25

25. Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking (X24 x reader. dark, be warned)

You have been pushed into a corner with one dull realisation: you have no time. 

One of you is going to die and it can’t be Logan. It can’t. You know he’s goddamn self sacrificing to a fault but Laura is a factor here too, and she has a better chance with him than with you.

You tell Logan to give you his suit jacket and, though he doesn’t know why, he obeys unerringly. The shotgun is next, a bunch of shells deposited into your pocket. 

“Go,” you say, loading them into the barrel, “I’ll hold him off.”

“But…” you don’t remember the last time he looked so torn, age and fallibility painted over his face as if with brushstrokes. You hold his cheek in your hand, memorising the feel of his beard.

“Go.” There is no arguing with you. Laura begins to lose it, her voice rising with panicked Spanish as she realises you’re going to be left behind, but Logan hauls her over a shoulder and starts to run. She screams and reaches for you, tears streaming down her cheeks, and you can’t bear to face it for too long or your heart will break.

Buy them time to get to the car. That’s all you need to do. Then they’ll be safe.

“Come on,” you mutter, waiting for the beast to arrive. The wind picks up and you hope the scent of Logan is carried from his jacket, enough bait for the creature to take.

The treeline moves, and then there it is, stalking out towards you. Fierce, furious eyes. Nostrils flaring, scenting the air as it moves. Targeting you.

You fire a round into its belly.

“Let’s go, you fucker,” you hiss.

It howls in pain as skin fixes itself immediately, teeth bared to as if it is about to show you what it will rip you to pieces with.

You have its attention. You start to run.

It lets out a roar and starts to chase you, feet beating loudly on the dry grass. You shoulder your way through the trees, thin and vicious as they whip you, drawing blood with every slap. You can hear it coming after you, moving far quicker than you can, hunting you down, oh god, you’re going to face the end of your life–

It tackles you hard to the ground as you swing your gun around to aim at it. It knocks the weapon from your grasp and you watch with horror as it slides far away.

X-24 stares down at you, the weight of its body pinning you to the ground. You grit your jaw so hard you fear that your teeth might shatter. If you’re going to die, you’ll do it without looking away.

“Do it,” you hiss, defiantly.

But it doesn’t.

X-24 holds your gaze. An agonising moment passes as you wait for him to sheathe it claws inside of your soft belly, finish you off… so imagine your surprise when it buries its face into your neck.

“Oh… oh!” you whisper, feeling how it nuzzles into where your pulse beats, how its tongue flits against your pulse. Its hips dip down to notch into the space it’s forced your legs open to create and starts to grind down into you, simulating fucking with none of the relief.

Your eyes go wide.

“Wait… wait…” you grab it – no, him, surely – and hold him back. He whines like a dog and his hips don’t stop their movement, but they do still a little. He’s hard as rock against your clothed cunt, incessant with his little thrusts. “You want to…?”

You’re not sure if he has the capacity to speak back, at least not at the moment, but he understands enough to realise you’ve cottoned on. He must see this as consent, as his hands drop to your jeans with a snik you recognise from Logan, begins to slice them off of you. Panic floods you. He’s the enemy, isn’t he? This isn’t… you don’t…

“Ah–no…” you mutter but, for some reason, you can’t muster much force behind it. This thing… this man… it's just a feral version of Logan, no? The same as the man you love? Is it that affection for you is so hard-wired into his DNA that it comes through with every single iteration of him, even something as wild as this?

Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing. Perhaps what this creature needs is someone to show it softness.

“Whoa, okay. Slow…” you whisper, reaching to cup his jaw. X-24 whines at the touch, nuzzling into you as he removes the scraps of your jeans from your waist. You move his face to look up at you, make eye contact to try and assert your dominance, even now. Treat him like a needy puppy.

“We can, okay? We can. But go slow, baby.”

Your words sink in and when he goes to tear off your underwear, he is gentler. The shock of cold air still makes you shiver when it touches your surprisingly wet cunt but you are warmed when he buries his face against your folds, scenting and licking you desperately. You gasp at the suddenness of it all, go to bury your hands in his hair like you would with Logan… only to be disappointed when you realise it’s been buzzed to his skull. You drop your grip to the grass instead, pulling up tufts as you try to hang on.

There is no skill in what he is doing, he just desires to be as close to you as he can, totally drown himself in your musk. The feeling of his beard on your clit keeps strumming pleasure through you, though, and the way he attacks you with lips and teeth soon has you coming all over his tongue. He lets out a ragged groan, dragged deep from the cavern of his chest, and then he’s over you again: hips jerking down ineffectively against yours.

“It’s okay, shh, wait…” you mutter, hands going for his fly and freeing his hard cock as quick as you can. There is no surprise: you are faced with Logan’s length and girth, thick and hard and oozing with desire for you. X-24 growls a little and then wastes no time in finding your entrance, sliding himself up to the hilt in one motion which has you gasping and writhing. 

Logan would let you adjust, tease you. This creature, this man, does not have the facility to understand that. He ruts wildly, dragging himself out to the tip and then slamming back home, obsessed with the way your needy cunt soaks his entire cock, entranced by the idea of more of you. His hands wrap around your thighs and pull you even closer to him, as if he fears that if he doesn’t pin you down that you’ll disappear. You clutch onto his shirt and try to ground yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere… It’s okay…”

He growls and whines as his pace picks up, hips slapping loudly and lewdly against yours in the quiet of the woodland around you, and then with a snarl he’s releasing himself into your body; filling you full of cum and, as far as he is concerned, claiming you.

He at least has the acumen not to collapse on you, crush you with his skeleton. Instead he nuzzles his face into your stomach as if trying to guard the womb he’s just flooded with himself. As the world settles again you stroke your fingers against the prickle of his hair, not entirely disliking the way he holds you in a vice-grip.

He whines at the softness of your touch, and you can almost make out a word. 

“Mine.”

[liz-on-leash]

Taken

STAYC Isa × Multiple Guys

[Commissioned]

No warning, read at your own risk!

4,040 Words

The evening air was a stark contrast to the energetic atmosphere inside the rehearsal studio, and Isa welcomed the cool breeze on her flushed skin as she stepped outside. 

Her heart, still racing from the intense dance routine, now quickened for a different reason as she noticed a van parked across the street, its engine idling. 

A sense of unease crept up her spine, but she brushed it off, attributing it to post-performance jitters.

As Isa strolled towards the alley, hoping to find a quiet spot to gather her thoughts, the van's side door slid open, and four men emerged with lightning speed. 

Two of them were tall and muscular with dark skin, their eyes glowing with an unsettling intensity. The other two, pale-skinned with sharp features, had a feral look about them.

"Gotcha, you teasing slut!" one of the black men stated, his deep voice cutting through the night.

Isa's scream was cut short as a meaty hand clamped over her mouth, while another arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. 

She kicked and struggled, her small frame no match for their brute strength. The white men joined in, their rough hands groping her thighs, leaving red fingerprints on her pale skin.

"Help... Someone..." Isa whimpered, her voice muffled by the strong hand.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" The other black man delivered a brutal punch to her stomach, causing her to double over and retch. 

The man holding her released his grip on her mouth, only to replace it with a drugged cloth, forcing her to inhale the potent chemical.

“Breathe it in, you fucking tease," one of the white men hissed, his hot breath on her neck sending shivers of terror down her spine.

Isa's limbs grew heavy as the drug took effect, but her mind remained alert, aware of the horror unfolding. She felt herself being thrown into the van, her head hitting the metal floor with a sickening thud. The world spun as the men climbed in, their laughter filling the confined space.

"Look at this pretty thing, all drugged up and helpless," one of the black men said, his deep voice laced with cruel amusement. "Let's have some fun, baby."

Isa's eyes widened as she saw the men's faces contorting with lust. The black men, with their powerful builds, loomed over her, while the white men crawled closer.

"These thighs though..." The other white man reached out and squeezed her thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. "So thick and milky, holy fuck."

Isa let out a pained moan as his nails scratched down her sensitive skin, leaving trails of fire. The black man nearest to her face grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

"You're gonna take what we give ya, you hear?" he snarled, his breath washing over her face. "Scream all you want, ain't nobody comin' to save ya."

Her cries were muffled by the rough hand covering her mouth, as the other black man ripped at her clothes, tearing the fabric away from her body. The white men joined in, their hands rough and relentless, leaving her naked and vulnerable.

"Oh, she's a feisty one," one man remarked as Isa kicked out, her legs flailing in a desperate attempt to fend them off.

A heavy boot connected with her thigh, making her scream into the hand covering her mouth. "That's for trying to fight back, ya stupid bitch."

Isa's body jerked with each brutal impact, her legs becoming their primary target. The men took turns raining slaps and squeezes on her thighs, their laughter filling the van as they reveled in her pain.

"Please don't hurt me… I'm s-sorry..." she begged although she did nothing wrong.

"Shut her up, I can't stand that whining," a tattooed white man said, grabbing a length of duct tape and roughly covering her mouth, securing her cries of agony.

The van came to a screeching halt, and Isa's body slid across the floor, leaving a trail of sweat behind. The men's excitement grew as they reached their destination, their hands moving with renewed fervor over her trembling form.

"This is just the beginning, sweet Isa," a black man whispered, sending shivers of fear through her drugged body. "You're gonna learn to love every second of this ride."

The van doors flung open, revealing a desolate industrial area, bathed in the eerie glow of a single streetlight. Isa's dazed eyes struggled to focus as one black dude loomed over her.

"You won't be singing those sweet songs anymore, bitch," he spat, ripping the tape from her mouth with a cruel smile. 

The sudden pain made Isa cry out, only to be silenced by a stinging slap across her cheek, leaving her reeling. 

As she struggled to regain her senses, her eyes widened in horror as the same man unzipped his pants, releasing a monstrous black cock. It was thick and veiny, its size rivaling the width of her forearm. 

Her breath hitched as he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You will take this down your pretty throat, and you better not bite," he warned. "Gonna fuck that mouth and ruin it for anyone else."

Before Isa could process his words, the other black man grabbed her from behind, his strong arms wrapping around her, holding her in place. “No, let me, ugh, go…” 

She felt the cold, hard length of the cock pressing against her lips, and despite her efforts to resist, it forced its way in, stretching her mouth painfully.

Saliva dripped from the corners of her mouth as the black cock invaded, her eyes wide with shock. The man behind her held her head in a vice-like grip, allowing his friend to thrust forward, driving his cock down her throat. 

She gagged and choked, her eyes watering as she struggled for breath.

"Look at her go," the man behind her laughed. "She's loving it, can't get enough of that black dick!"

Isa's eyes rolled back as he withdrew only to thrust again, each push sending his cock deeper, triggering her gag reflex. 

Her throat burned and her nose ran as he face-fucked her with abandon, his balls almost slapping against her chin with each forward.

The two remaining men held her arms and legs, their hands digging into her tender flesh, leaving extra bruises that would serve as reminders of this night. They laughed, their voices echoing in her throbbing head.

"She's such a good little cock-sucker, ain't she?" a white man taunted, his hand tightening on her thigh.

The man fucking her throat grunted with pleasure, his hips moving at a relentless tempo. He pushed deeper, lowering himself until he was sitting on her face.

His cock bulged inside her throat, stretching her to the limit. Isa's eyes jutted out, her face turning red as she choked, her body convulsing in an attempt to breathe.

Snot and tears mixed on her face, her eyes pleading for mercy as she struggled against the men holding her down. The room spun, her vision blurring as she teetered on the edge of consciousness.

The white man holding her legs landed his eyes on the wet patch spreading between Isa's thighs. Licking his lip, he yanked her shorts down her thick thighs, exposing her glistening pussy lips. 

"Aw, look at that. She's so scared, she pissed herself. What a fucking mess."

Isa's body trembled, her shame compounded by the men's laughter and crude remarks. The man holding her legs ran his fingers through the wetness, smearing it across her sensitive skin.

"Bet that pussy tastes as sweet as she looks," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Might just have to find out.”

The black man on Isa’s face picked up his momentum, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. Isa's throat constricted around his black cock, providing a tight, wet sheath for him to plow into deeper.

Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through his body, his balls tightening with impending release. "Fuck, yeah, swallow it, slut!" he grunted, his eyes rolling back as he reveled in the sensation of her mouth and throat massaging his cock.

Isa's eyes watered, her vision blurred as she choked on his length, her body convulsing in a desperate attempt to draw breath. The man behind her held her head in a merciless grip, ensuring she couldn't escape the assault on her throat. 

The squelching slurping sounds of his cock pounding her face filled the van, mingling with her trembling muffled cries and the men's groans.

Meanwhile, the white man attending to her pussy grew bolder. He worked his fingers roughly along her slit, gathering her fluids before pushing a thick finger into her tight, virgin hole. 

Isa's body tensed, her legs straining against the man holding them as she groaned in surprise around the cock in her throat.

"Ah, she's so fucking tight," the man grunted. “Need to stretch this pussy until it's ready for our cocks."

He added another finger, scissoring them inside her, eliciting a strangled cry from Isa as he stretched her virgin walls, his rough nails scraping against her sensitive insides. 

Her body squirmed, her hips bucking involuntarily as he violated her with his fingers, preparing her for the impending penetration.

The second white man hugged Isa's leg to his chest, exposing her soft inner thigh. He rubbed his engorged cock along her smooth skin, his precum leaving a sticky trail.

His hand moved to her calf, squeezing and kneading before he bent down and licked a wet stripe along her calf, his hot tongue leaving a wet, sloppy imprint.

"Taste so good, I could eat you up, babe," he commented.

Isa's body shook, her pupils vanished as the black man above her buried his cock deep into her esophagus, holding himself there as he pumped his hot cum down her throat. 

Her airway completely blocked, she gagged and choked, her body convulsing as she struggled, her nails scratching at his thighs in a futile attempt to escape. The man's cock twitched, emptying his load, his pleasure heightened by her misery. 

As he pulled out, his cock sliding from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound, his thick cum spilled from her lips and nose.

Isa's body, overwhelmed by the assault on her senses, went into shock as she slumped limply, passing out with the taste of cum and the violation of fingers still fresh in her pussy.

The men grabbed her unconscious form and tossed her further into the abandoned brick building, her body landing with a sickening thud on the broken and dirty concrete floor, illuminated by a single flickering bulb.

The men’s eyes gleaming with lust and cruelty, were not satisfied with the extent of Isa's suffering. They wanted to push her to the brink, reveling in her pain and despair. 

One of the men, his eyes alight with sadistic glee, snatched a half-empty beer bottle from the corner of the dilapidated room and approached the trembling idol.

"Wake up, baby," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Time to join the party again."

Isa's body jerked as the cold liquid was poured down in her mouth, her abused throat burning as she choked and spluttered, gasping for air. Her eyes flew open, taking in the grinning faces of her captors, and the horror of her situation came crashing down on her.

Mustering what little strength she had left, Isa pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her body trembling violently. Her once pristine skin was now wounded and soiled, her hair a tangled mess, and her makeup streaked with tears and cum.

"Please... have mercy..." her voice rasp and raw from the abuse. "I can't take any more... I'll do anything, just let me go."

Her pleas were met with laughter and crude remarks, the men's desire only heightened by her vulnerable position.

"Look at you, on your knees, begging like a dog," one black man said, his deep voice laced with scorn. “You should know your place. You're our thing now."

Isa's eyes darted from one man to the next, her hands weakly attempting to cover her exposed tits and pussy, a futile effort to preserve some dignity.

"Please... I won't tell anyone... Just let me go..." she sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her tears. "I feel sick... I can't..."

Her words were cut off by a sharp kick to her side, sending her sprawling onto her stomach.

"Shut the fuck up with your begging!" the man who had face-fucked her spat, his eyes dark with rage. "I wanna see you suffer, bitch. We do whatever we want, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

He stepped forward, his sole pressing down on the back of Isa's head, forcing her face into the dirty floor. "No! No! Please!" She struggled, her hands scrabbling at his foot, her screams echoing off the brick walls.

"Who's first?" a white man asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

"Don't matter," the black man who had stepped on her head replied, his voice calm but menacing. "We all gonna have our turns anyway. She's ours and she's gonna learn her fucking place soon enough."

The white man who had fingered Isa's pussy stepped forward, his thick cock jutting out proudly. "I will stretch her out nice and good for ya. She won't be walking straight after I'm done."

Isa's cries intensified as she realized there would be no escape, no mercy from these ruthless men. Her body, once a vessel for her art, was now a plaything for their darkest desires.

The first white man positioned himself behind Isa, his hands gripping her soft, round ass. He lifted her, aligning her with his throbbing cock, which stood rigid and swollen, eager to claim her. 

Isa's cries intensified as she begged for mercy, her head still pinned to the ground by the black man's boot.

"No! Get away— Ahhh!!!” she sobbed, her body trembling uncontrollably.

The second black man, not one to be left out of the action, climbed onto Isa's back. He twisted her arms behind her, bending them at an agonizing angle, causing her to scream in fresh pain, her saliva mixing with her tears on the dirty floor.

As the white man held her hips, his cock poised at her entrance, Isa's body tensed, every muscle screaming in protest. The head of his cock pushed past her tight pussy lips, stretching her, invading her most intimate canal. Her body vibrated, nausea rising as the trauma of her situation hit her anew.

The big white cock, relentless in its pursuit of pleasure, slid further inside, inch by inch. Isa's eyes rolled back, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her body tried to adjust to the invasion.

With each push, he sank deeper, his cockhead bumping against her cervix, arousing a fresh wave of pain. Isa's body shuddered with the force of his penetration, her muscles clenching involuntarily, providing a grippy, wet glove.

He gripped her hips, holding her in place as he began to pound into her, his balls kissing against her clit. Her pussy, and untouched, now molded around his cock, her inner walls gripping and massaging his length with each withdrawal and penetration.

"You like that, don't ya?" he growled, slapping her ass cheek hard, leaving a red imprint. "Bet you love getting fucked by a big white cock, you Asian slut. Scream for me, tell me how much you love it."

Isa's body shook with the force of his pounding, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her arms, twisted painfully behind her, prevented her from forming coherent words, but the white man wasn't satisfied.

"Tell me, filthy bitch!" he demanded, his voice harsh as he slammed into her, his hips meeting hers with a violent rhythm.

Isa's mouth opened, her throat working as she tried to form words, but all that escaped was a pained, “It hurts… It hurts so much... Help me… everyone… manager-nim…”

"You're a stupid bitch, can't even give me what I want," he snapped. 

He drove into her angrily until he heaved and cummed inside her, his cock twitching as he filled her wounded pussy with his seed. Isa's body jerked with the force of his release, the burning sensation of his cum adding to the agony coursing through her.

He then pulled out, his spent cock slick and sticky with their mixed fluids, leaving Isa's weak body trembling on the hard floor.

The black man crouching on Isa’s back released her arms, letting them dangle by her sides. He positioned himself behind her, dropping to his knees and grasping her plump ass cheeks, pulling them apart to expose her tiny fluttering asshole. 

"Go on, bro, tear that ass up," urged the white dude who creampied her. "Show her who's in charge."

The black bastard leaned forward, his breath washing over Isa's exposed rosebud, making her tremble and whimper. He spat on her sensitive hole, the wetness dripping down her cleft.

The other black dude stepped off Isa's head, he grabbed a fistful of her matted hair, yanking her face up from the filthy floor. Tears streaked her cheeks, mixing with the dirt and smeared snot.

"You belong to us now, cunt," his foul breath washed over her face. "Say goodbye to your idol life, because from now on, you're our sex slave. And many more."

Isa's body shook with silent sobs, her eyes pleading, reflecting the shattered remnants of her former self.

"We ain't stopping till we've had our fill," he continued. "So, stop your whimpering and accept your new life as our bitch."

He delivered a sharp backhand across her mouth. "And don't play dumb, we know you understand every fucking word. You're gonna get bred daily, even when that belly of yours starts swelling. We would still fuck the baby out of you, got it?"

Isa's eyes widened in horror, her mind struggling to comprehend the endless violation they intended to subject her to.

The black man stepped aside, his work of breaking her spirit momentarily complete. In his place stepped another white degenerate, a length of cord dangling from his hand.

"My turn to loosen that throat of yours, baby," he announced, filled with anticipation.

Isa weakly shook her head, her eyes pleading for mercy, but the white dude yanked her hair, forcing her head back, exposing her throat, vulnerable and exposed.

With swift efficiency, he wrapped the cord around her slender neck before pulling the ends tight, cutting off her air supply. Isa's mouth fell open in a silent cry, her eyes bulging as she clawed at the cord digging her skin, her face turning blue.

Seizing the opportunity, he shoved his cock past her trembling lips, the head hitting the back of her throat instantly, triggering a violent gag reflex. He hissed in pleasure, his hips swaying, fucking her mouth as he maintained his grip on the cord.

Isa's body convulsed, her hands clawing at the cord - more like on her own neck in an attempt to hook her fingers into the cord as she stifled around his invading cock, her saliva mixing with her cries.

The white dude's cock invaded her throat, stretching her mouth wide, while the black bastard's thick shaft breached her tight asshole, tearing through her sphincter.

The cord around her neck tightened, cutting off her air supply, making the penetration even more severe and sickening.

Isa's sphincter screamed in protest as his thick cockhead forced its way past the resistant muscle, producing a scream that was instantly muffled by the cock pounding her throat. 

Her body stiffened, every muscle clenching as her ass was stretched to its limits, accommodating the brutal invasion.

The black man’s hips surged forward, driving his cock deeper into her bowels. "Feel it in your fucking guts, right?”

Isa's eyes rolled back, her vision tunneling as her body struggled. The white man's cock pumped in and out of her mouth, his thick shaft sliding past her gag reflex, hitting the back of her throat.

"Look at her, loving it, stupid cunt. Can't get enough of our cocks, can you?"

The black man's cock, now buried balls-deep in her ass, began pounding, his hips slamming against her bruised ass. Her insides burned and stretched, her sphincter clenching and unclenching involuntarily around his shaft.

"You're mine, bitch, screaming for my cock in that ass of yours.”

Isa's body trembled, her nerves curling as her consciousness threatened to slip away into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. The dual penetration, the choking cord, and the nonstop battering pushed her to the brink of endurance. 

Her hands fell limp, her fingers scraping the dirty floor, her face turning an alarming shade of blue, her eyes pleading silently for an end to the torment.

Sensing her distress, the white man released the cord, allowing her to gasp for air, her lungs heaving. But the respite was fleeting as his cock continued its assault on her face, his pace wild.

Her throat ached and abused, tears mixing with the sweat and filth on her face. Her body shamed her, leaking urine from her neglected pussy, the warm yellow liquid mixing with the dirt on the floor, a testament to her broken spirit.

"Fuck, she's pissing herself, can't handle our cocks," the white man laughed.

Isa's mind screamed for release, her body yearning for the sweet escape of death, the violation too much to bear. The men showed no mercy, their pleasure heightened by her suffering, their cocks throbbing as they claimed every inch of her.

Black man unleashed a torrent of thick cum deep into her ass, his hips jerking as he filled her ruined bowels with his seed. White man's cock twitched and pulsed before firing his load down her throat, his pelvic slamming into her face.

Isa's throat worked to expel the cum from her mouth, a mixture of gagging and retching as she struggled to breathe and swallow at the same time. 

Black man withdrew his spent cock from her ass, and the cum that had been bubbling at her stretched hole now leaked out, mixing with the filth she produced down her thighs.

Her body twitched and spasmed, her limbs splayed out like a dying fish, but the peace lived a second. The two remaining men, their hard cocks ticking, stepped forward.

"Time to double-stuff this K-pop cunt,"  white man suggested.

Isa's eyes widened in horror as she realized their intention. They positioned themselves, one at her ass and the other at her pussy, their cocks poised to invade her ravaged holes. 

White man at her ass lined up his thick shaft with her gaping hole, now slick with cum and blood, and thrust forward, his cock sliding into her with ease, stretching her anus once more. 

At the same time, the black man at her pussy plunged his cock into her swollen, cum-dried cunt, his length sliding past her battered canal with ruthless force. Isa's body arched, her back bowing as she screamed around the new cock in her gaping mouth.

"Won't let you pass out, bitch," one man said, bringing another a syringe filled with a clear liquid. "You have to keep awake for every second of the fun."

The needle pierced her skin, injecting the drug into her system, forcing her eyes open, her body alert despite the overwhelming exhaustion and pain.

Her ass and pussy were now gaping, stretched beyond recognition. Her asshole, red and raw, twitched with each pulse of the cock inside her, her sphincter loose and unresponsive. 

Her pussy, swollen and bruised, leaked cum and blood, her inner walls pummeled and bruised from the continuous pounding.

Time lost all meaning for Isa. Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months. Her life now revolved around the cocks that invaded her body, her once vibrant self reduced to a shell, existing solely to envelop their cocks.

The pain, once excruciating, had faded to a dull numbness, her body broken and desensitized. Her eyes, once full of life and hope, now held only darkness and despair as her body jerked and spasmed, a living testament to their cruelty.

[urmomspersonalwhore]

imagine calling Arlecchino daddy instead of fatheri badly want her fingers inside me

You were cleaning the Knave’s office, dusting the shelves.

They were so ridiculously tall, partially to match the Fourth Harbinger. You didn’t complain much about it, even though it was a nuisance because well…you liked the way things had to change in order to accommodate her height. It was sort of attractive. She wasn’t “giant” tall but compared to you, yea. You were about to clean the bookcase until the door knob turned and opened to reveal the handsome woman.

Her eyes narrowed at your presence and walked inside her room, sitting down on a luxurious chair.

She parted her lips, sitting in silence before finally saying something whilst staring at the piles of documents.

“I require you to retrieve a letter from Columbina, Mrs. Moreau has it.”

You turned to face her, maintaining eye contact as she spoke. It was quiet, seeming to be in your little headspace. You couldn’t lie about how attractive your boss was, she was so irresistible. The thought of her on top of you pounding into your wet hole having to scream her rightful name, “Daddy”. You shook your head, bringing yourself back into reality, and nodded,

“Right away, daddy.”

You were meant to say father, but the little Drabble in your mind thought differently. Red took place on your face, the embarrassment running through your veins as the knave’s eyes widened in surprise and shock at the name.

She perked an eyebrow at the name

“Oh?”

Arlecchino stood from her chair, a small smirk so faint you would have to squint in order to notice it.

This is it, you thought.

This is the end of your life.

You stepped back, but she kept walking forward which ended in you being pressed against the bookshelves with her body on top of yours.

A gasp left your throat as you looked up at your boss, she raised a hand to hold your waist before speaking with a raspy tone,

“Such a naughty thing, in need of a punishment.”

You whined, a blush crawling from your throat to your cheek. She smirked, leaning in to tease your skin with her cold breaty before licking a spot on your neck until she bit it which caused you to yelp.

She licked the spot again to soothe pain while teasingly rubbing your thighs with her slim fingers.

A hand slipped under your waistband of your underwear, feeling your wetness making her smile.

“Wet already?”

She teased, adoring your flushed expressions.

You whimper as she slowly rubbed your clit, the stimulation barely there.

The Knave chuckled at your neediness and pulled you off the bookshelf, guiding you to her desk. She tugged your uniform, pulling the dress off.

Her hands went to hold your thighs, pulling them apart.

She maintained eye contact with you, slowly sitting down on the floor to meet your clothed pussy. Arlecchino practically ripped it off of you, staring at your now dripping cunt making her smirk.

“Barely even touched you, and you’re already soaking wet.” She growled, making you ache for her more.

Her fingers toyed with your clit, her breathe being felt from how close she was.

After a bit of her teasing, she finally licked a stride up your slit, giving kitty licks. You whined, wanting more after all this barely gave you anything.

She laughed, the vibrations stimulating you further, forcing a moan from your mouth.

The Knave finally sucked on your sensitive bud, her hand moving near her mouth. Then, slim fingers entered your tight walls. She started off on a rough pace, not slowing down a single bit as she continued to eat you out.

Her tongue swirling around and sucking on your clit, fingers pounding into you.

It was so much, your legs wrapping around her head while your spine arched. She could tell you were close and became faster in movements.

Once you came, she instantly went to clean you up. Not wasting a single drop, humming at your taste.

After licking your cum, she got up. Staring at you a bit before kissing you, making you taste yourself.

She pulled away, your bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Maybe I’ll move you to be my personal maid, hm?”

[catfern]

feed.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: vampire!ellie williams x reader

music: angel - massive attack

word count: 630

summary: freshly turned, ellie has a hunger insatiable. you would bleed for her, but that's not all she wants.

warnings: pussy eating turned feeding, mentions and descriptions of blood, cannibalism (kinda), alludes to character death.

cat says ⎯ a quick little drabble to celebrate the start of autumn (fall, if you're a weirdo). also letting u guys know i'm alive barely! keep an eye on me, something fun coming soon!

sweet.

something sickly artificial, absent life beneath her tongue. a languid pulse, tired obligation.

pulling back, a gnawing feeling sits on ellie’s skin as she contemplates; the delicacy of a moment, so violently ruined by the willingness of her own temptation. the fever of something passed, as she watches the arc of your breathing on stained sheets.

you had agreed, so blindly loving, to the baring of her teeth. what a poorly hidden creature you had opened your arms to. come here, take my warmth, i shall feed you.

so very selfish, to long for more, to take. her tongue, taught to pull at the slick between your legs, thrumming a mean word, a trail down the pillow of your thigh. a soft whine dripped from the swell of your lips at the first feeling of her canines, press, press. a strained cry, the wound of an animal. ellie wonders if perhaps, you would curl away. an itch inside her told her not to let you.

glaring red, a sign to stop. a syrupy taste that bellowed the taunt of an addiction, something so, so easy to fall into. she watched the ichor pinken, mixed with the cotton shine painting the inside of your thighs.

“fuck…” a low, inserted rumble from the cavity of her chest. a call, answered. made for her own greed, your body now merely a vessel for this — awakened craving. she longs to feel the rip beneath this wicked invasion of ivory, the tears of your flesh, bitter on her tongue. if she pulled harshly enough, she thinks, she could even hear your body scream apart beneath her. 

wants and needs cloud the dimly shining lust in her, a newfound hunger choking that light. 

bleed.

shaky breaths crown on your ribcage, wordless mumbles dying in your throat. ellie would, maybe, laugh, something teasing, if not so consumed. a soft rhythm beneath her fingertips, buzzing in her skin, your own bastion of moribund life. she can feel you, feel your response to this … violation. and you want this? in some perversion of ellie’s own mind, you do. you want to feel the bite, teeth sinking into the hand with which you fed her.

you seize so unnaturally, beneath your lover’s teeth. pulled on strings, following a wicked path of pain, a stained rut of your hips, a whine amidst the blood.

ellie watches, impatiently, her own breath heavy and rotten through her nose. strings of red, falling across the plains of your stomach, the crooks of your neck, discovering as if not already a part of you, exotic on your own body. her mark is left here, deep in sconces of your flesh, pulling you on marionette wires with every scattered indulgence.

her tongue is a burning heat, tracing brutish, possessive trails in the fading delirium. her fingers press harsh fingerprints, inked in apple-ish reminiscence, across the curve of your breast, and your breath hitches.

“i can’t—“ she’s too close, too, too close. her breath melting against your skin. you can see her, blurred and wild, face flushed against the stretch of your legs. the eyes of a dog, wide and unforgiving and helpless, buried in the fading warmth of your body. you watch as one would something untamed, cornered. 

“you’re too good to me.”

ringing truth in your ears, a pained reminder as you lie, so eager to please, no matter the tax, in this hazy room of mortal lust and tenderhearted violence. 

ellie sits, she waits, for what she does not know. metal in the crooks of her teeth, a maple taste deep in her throat. to love is to consume, to swallow whole, to nourish. love shared is love lost, life lost.

ellie waits, shedding animal in dying skin, to rot in your memory.

⎯ kofi

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Vampire AU

ghoap x F!reader (in third person)

Johnny accidentally turning a random girl and begging Simon to keep her

"Please stop yelling," she asked, rubbing her temples. Her head was throbbing. It was too bright, too loud, too smelly. Her boyfriend was yelling about her not being ready to leave for date night. A nice reservation at one of the new up and coming restaurants. It was hard to get apparently. "Just go without me."

Near tears you curled up in bed, kicking your shoes off while you dress bunched up by your hips. Eyes shut so tight it looked staticy. Your hands clamped down over your ears.

He grabbed your wrist, yelling and yelling.

"Get up!" He demanded, shoving a pill into your palm. "I'm not missing dinner because your pmsing."

Always so dismissive. The pain was spreading down your neck to your spine and around your ribs to your chest. Your bones were caving in on themselves, turning to dust in your body. You cried out, choking on tears and phlegm. You'd had intense period cramps, thrown up so hard blood vessels in your eyes popped, had your foot run over by a car, broken a bone or two - this was worse.

You were dying. It didn't just feel like it. Your brain was screaming that it was dying. An intense feeling of dread.

He was at least acting concerned now. Saying he would take you to a hospital if it was that bad. Your eyes opened to black spots blocking out much of anything. The setting sun burned your skin.

"Close the blinds," you begged. Snot bubbled at your nose while spit stained the comforter.

"I'm right here." He knelt down next to the bed. "We just need to get you to the car."

He grabbed your wrist again.

Your teeth sunk into something chewy. You bit down harder and it exploded like gummy candy - filling your mouth with sweet liquid. You drank down and down. Horrified sobs and cries came from somewhere beyond you. You couldn't tune into listen anymore.

A solid drum beat that got quieter and more erratic was all you could hear.

Simon had ripped Johnny a new one. Biting some random drunk bird and letting her go off without finishing what he started. Scared off by Simon's own call for him. She disappeared before they could kill her. If they couldn't find her their only hope was that the transformation killed her. For her to burn to death when the sun rose. He didn't have the time or patience to babysit another newborn. Johnny was already a year old but still impulsive with an inflated ego that comes with immortality.

They had spent the rest of that night trying to track her back down. Simon would drain her if he had to. Reduce her to a whimper. Night two had similar luck. The city was too big for them to cover. He refused to call Price or Gaz for back up. Johnny would need to fix his fuck up himself.

Simon had smelled it first. A quiet nudge and they turned down a side street. It was a nicer neighbourhood. Up the fire escape. Johnny broke the latch on the window.  

They found her in the bedroom. On her hands and knees in a bloody dress curled up in the corner, knees to her chest. Blood dripping from her new fangs. Eyes filled with delirium.

She scrambled like a fawn when she heard Simon’s boot creak. A baby animal with no instinct, left to fend for itself. She'd be easy to kill.

"I...I didn't mean to." She sobbed. "I don't...I don't know what happened."

Johnny grabbed his arm.

"She's quiet pretty." He raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Be nice to have around."

"No, Johnny."

"I'd let you fuck her first. Even though she's mine." He grinned.

Simon looked down at her. He could still end this. Not give in. Rip her head off right here, set the flat ablaze. Disappear like any other night. They'd call it a murder suicide. Lover's quarrel.

Johnny's teeth tugged on his ear lobe.

"Don't say no till you taste 'er."

She was pretty.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Thirteen

Summary - A Queen is born.

Warnings - depression, torture, ptsd, fluff, the found family *crying*, sadness, some mentions of death

*Not fully proof read so don’t come at me 🥺

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve

Eris couldn't sleep.

The first night he had take you to bed, he had expected to be up all hours of the night comforting you, convinced that what had happened to you would wrap around your mind and continue to torture you. But you had slept peacefully.

Soft snores sounded from your lips, your eyes were closed, and not even for a moment did a flash of pain rip across your angelic features.

Nesta had suggested that it must have been the exhaustion, that after the adrenaline had worn off, all that was left inside of you was a pit of weariness that would never be satiated.

So they all stayed awake, waiting for the moment when your withered soul would let in the pain, and part of Eris hoped for it despite knowing how awful it sounded. He just wanted you to feel safe, to get better, and he knew better than anyone that the road of healing came with a steep price attached to it.

Four days passed. Four days of a quiet manor, so quiet because none of them wanted to wake you or move you from the place you had found comfort in. Lucien had taken over Eris' position so that he could stretch his legs per Nesta's orders, bundled under the thick sheets with your head resting on his chest and hand idly lay across his stomach. Lucien would take that opportunity to pick up where Eris had left off from the book he had left splayed on the table beside the bed, speaking with a low and dreamful voice, willing some serenity to find you wherever you had wandered.

Elain and Nesta would often spend their days in the same room, peering at your sleeping form from the seating area whilst trying to busy their own minds. Nesta was busy writing to Feyre, unsure if she could ever write to Cassian, and Elain would read one of her gardening or cook books, noting down the recipes she'd think you'd love once the idea of food made you smile again.

It was the fifth night that made Eris snatch back his hope.

None of them had heard a scream like it, strangled and raw, your limbs thrashed under the covers and Eris had to wind you into his embrace so that you wouldn't hurt yourself. His heart strained in his chest as you cried, no, begged Rhys to stop, to set you free, that you'd do anything to make things right.

The door opened, and Nesta lingered in the entryway, eyes rounded as she took in the scene before her, your pallid skin glistening with tears and sweat, and Eris trying to pull you from whatever it was you were seeing with his own eyes pooling with desperation and lips wobbling with every lovely word he spoke, with every long stroke he ran through your hair.

Before she could fully register the movement, you bolted upright, eyes wide and wild and snapping to every corner of the room whilst your breath laboured in your throat. There was no y/n within the woman she was staring it, just a terrified female haunted by what she had faced. Your fingers shook, and you grasped the collar around your neck, trying to scratch beneath it to rip it from your skin.

Eris had little choice but to snatch your hands before they tore your skin to shreds, but you wouldn't look at him, no, your eyes were trained at the dark spot in the corner of the room. Eris opened your palms and pulled them to his heart, so that you could feel his heartbeat pull you back to the present, "I'm here, Little Fawn. Feel me. I'm right here," his voice wavered, his gaze snapped to Nesta's, and they were equally as afraid as the other.

The gentle thumps against your palm were enough to draw your attention away, you looked down at the dampened sheets and followed the line down your arm to where your hand rested, then your glanced up at his beautiful face riddled with worry, "You're home. Rhys will never be able to hurt you again, alright?" Eris faced you, his legs at either side of your hips, and he leaned forward to press his lips into your brow.

Eris' breath fanned over your face, like an autumn breeze signalling the end of summer, and he lowered his eyes to find yours.

It was a sweet action, one that made Nesta smile softly from her place in the doorway, but the smile was short lived. You moved from the bed, hand clasped over you mouth and other pressed into your abdomen as you headed to the bathroom with Nesta following quickly in tow before Eris could even properly rise from the sheets.

Nesta, knowing what was about to happen, rushed to your side to pull your hair from your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles into your back and acting as a pillar for your lack of strength so that you could lower to the ground safely and empty the barely there contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. A soft breathless groan sounded from your lips and you threw your head back, sniffling and wiping your eyes from the sting of your tears. You looked to her, bottom lip shaking and begged, "Please."

With a sigh, she rose to her feet and closed the door, mouthing a small sorry to Eris just as the door clicked to a close.

Not needing to peer to his side to see who was stood beside him, Eris spoke, "Tell Helion to come as fast as he can."

A beat of silence coursed between Eris and his companion, "Are you sure?" Lucien asked. The thought of you being in any form of pain was enough to make him feel ill, but the pain that would sink within you at the hands of Helion's mercy threatened to curse his soul, no matter if it was helpful or not, he knew what awaited you.

"No," Eris bit back his sob and turned to Lucien, and the latter felt uneased by the fire burning within Eris' orbs, "She'll claw at them until they're off or until she slices through her own throat. Get him."

Lucien did not envy his brother, not one bit. He saw the exhaustion on his face, the worry that the love of his life wouldn't be the same, the love that Eris was sure he would never have, and the fear that her light had been stripped from her soul. It wouldn't surprise him if Eris spent the rest of his days attempting to restore even an ounce of it, it wouldn't surprise him if Eris gave up his title to ensure he could dedicate every moment to it.

Though, Lucien knew that deep down you would never allow Eris to do such a thing, and all they could hope for was that someday your light would return in whatever way it could.

So, Lucien didn't argue with his brother. Instead, he lay a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed ever so softly to let him know that he was there and listening, that he was there to help before dropping his arm and exiting the room to do as Eris wished, leaving his brother stood alone atop the rug with ragged hair and eyes staring ahead at the door you had pleaded Nesta to hide you with.

The breeze rustled the leaves of the tree craning over the window, it was almost as if the branches had drooped slightly so that they may be able to keep an eye on you, to fill your silence with something other than your thoughts.

Unable to lay in the bed, you found a spot at the edge of the deep set love seat, resting against the arm and back with a thick cushion wedged behind you and a blanket draped over your figure that was drowning in one of Eris' shirts. You had sat there long enough to see the sun rise and set, to see the sky turn from blue to orange and nearing black, and you faintly counted the stars in the sky as they appeared.

Candles illuminated the room, Nesta had made sure to enter the chamber like clockwork to make sure that you were comfortable and warm, and had enough light so that you may read if you wished to. She also reminded you that Eris wanted to see you, asking if it would be alright if he came to sit with you for a minute, but you always wordlessly shook your head to the notion, you were ashamed that you weren't the woman he remembered you to be, that you were a small broken fawn caught in the trap of her own mind and decaying right before their very eyes.

Nesta crouched beside you, taking your cold hand in her own and reaching to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Someone else wishes to see you," you moved your head an inch to the side but didn't look to her, you were too enthralled with the stars to tear your eyes away, "Helion is here. He knows how to take these away," her fingers drifted along the hem of the cuff on your wrist, and when she looked up she found your darkened eyes, resembling coal and decaying embers rather than their usual violet and fire, staring right back at her, "If you'll let him try."

It wasn't clear if you knew that they knew of the demon living within you, and if you did then you hadn't let on to it. Nesta's nerves heightened at the silence, "Will you? Let him try?"

"Yes."

"Can I bring him in?"

"Yes."

Nesta muttered a small alright and rose from her position, caressing your cheek for a moment before crossing the room and opening the door, speaking in a soft whisper and allowing a draft to pass through the entry which signalled Helion's arrival and her leave.

Footsteps sounded against the floor, his shadow stretched over your curled up form on the seat, and he hesitated for a moment, seemingly trying to deduce where the right place to be was. Helion settled on taking the empty seat before you, his sun-loved skin glowing in the candlelight and his arm resting along the back of the seat, fingers just above grazing the curve of your knee.

Helion drank in your appearance, now understanding what Eris and Lucien had warned him of, and did his best to hide his horror at your pale skin and lifeless eyes, at your thinness and the bones sickly protruding from your flesh. Then his amber orbs found the black veins skittering over your skin like lightening bolts, seeping from the stone collar and cuffs, creeping to consume your entire body.

"I take it that you know what she did?" You spoke softly, moving your gaze away to the window to acknowledge him, and his face said it all, "If you know, then I suppose they do too?" Helion nodded slowly after you tilted your head backward, like you knew exactly who was lingering behind the closed door. "And you can rid me of her, and of these?" Helion watched as you shakily raised your limbs, the faint dangerous hum of the stone encased around you sounding, like a mother soothing a babe, though the stone was no mother and you no babe. It was as though they were trying to deter you, like they had their own mind and consciousness and knew that they were in a rather precarious position.

"I can," you hummed at his words, "But you must know that it will hurt, and we cannot do it here."

"Because all of the power contained with the stones will pour back into my body and the results could be catastrophic," Helion inhaled sharply at what you already knew, he often forgot just how knowledgeable you were, and it was his fault for underestimating you.

There was a real chance that the entire court could perish if Helion were to do it within Fir Manor, that if when the power flowed back through your veins that the earth would splinter and swallow whatever it saw fit as penance for the crimes committed against you. He had to take you far away enough where the damage to the continent would be minimal, and luckily enough for the both of you, Tarquin had offered a small island a few miles off the coast of the Summer Court for the task. It was uninhabited and not seen through the naked eye, so it wouldn't exactly be missed.

Helion told you of his plan, in intricate detail as you asked, if he was going to tear your flesh to pieces then you wanted to know how, you wanted to know every step. When he was done explaining it, how he would have to carve your back open to retrieve the stone, and how exactly he would have to submit you to the worst of pains to free you of the stone collars, you felt your stomach churn.

"Eris will have to be present. He is your Carranam, his power is the key of unbinding you from the stones," he noted your shiver and shuffled closer to you, resting a hand on your quaking knee, "I know that you don't wish him to see you like this, or in any pain, but this is the only way, y/n. Eris loves you, you have changed him from a male to fear into a male to admire, he wishes to help you. Let him."

"I'm not the woman he fell in love with."

"You are his mate. There is no world where he wouldn't love you, no circumstance where he would ever turn his back on you," his thumb soothed over your bones and he saw a wall crumble behind your eyes, "You left this court to save them, to save your family from what Rhys may have inflicted upon them. But you seem to forget that they also chose you, over everything, they chose you and they always will. None of that has changed, my dear."

It was on the tip of your tongue, and you couldn't stop the question from sounding, "What happened to him that day in Spring?"

"Feyre unleashed the power of us all upon him. Between that and the fury of Cassian and Azriel, and Mor and Amren, he didn't stand a chance. Rhys is now confined to the Prison. Amren thought it would be suiting after all he inflicted upon you."

Rhys in the Prison. Something about it didn't sit very well within you at all. Flashes of darkness and loneliness crept into your mind, and you did your best to push them back to where they came from, you told yourself that he deserved it, but you couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for him.

"And the Night Court? What happens to it now?"

Helion became aware of the fact that the interaction was probably the most you had spoken since you had returned, Helion had always had an odd way of getting you to speak when you didn't particularly want to. There was something comforting about his aura that always had you feeling seen and heard, and he was using that same aura on you now.

"It is to be decided. A date is to be set for Rhys' trial, that is when the fate of the Night Court will also come to light," Helion smiled thinly and reached to entwine his fingers with your own, "We can speak of this later, and I will welcome your input. But for now, we need to free you of these stones."

With a shaky exhale, you rose to your feet, the blanket slipping from your lap and exposing your legs that were partly hidden by the hem of Eris' shirt kissing your thighs. "Give me a few moments. I'll be down soon," you didn't wait for his reply before disappearing into the bathroom, grasping a dress from it hanger along the way and beginning to pull the shirt from you body.

Helion sat in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts and mentally preparing himself for what was to come before he rose and smoothed the creases from the briefs of his tunic, glancing back toward the closed door on his leave.

It only took a few minutes for you to appear. A night-blue dress hung from your shoulders that were graced with a cream coat with frilled arms which dragged along the floor behind you, the riding boots that Eris had gifted to you what felt like an eon ago slithering up your calves, and hair brushed back and pulled into a loose braid that sat atop a bed of unbound waves with whisps that framed your sharpened features perfectly.

All eyes were on you as you paced across the room from the bottom of the stairs, halting before Helion. Eris rose to his feet, heart pounding in his chest at the fear laced within your eyes, and he glanced to Nesta and Lucien, the only two people he would allow to journey to the island alongside himself and Helion, who wore the same worry on their faces.

"Let's just get this over with," you winced when you rolled your shoulders, that all too familiar pain writhing beneath your skin telling you that the queen was struggling to keep a hold of you, "I'm ready."

Helion nodded stiffly, extending his arm behind you to lead you out to the cobbled path of Fir Manor. The breeze danced through your hair in greeting, the leaves from the ground tumbling toward your feet, and you slid your hand into the one offered to you by Helion. Within moments the Autumn Court pulled from your focus and twisted into black, and then you were covering your eyes from the unobstructed moonlight beaming down on you.

Crashing waves sounded, and you slowly turned in a full circle, seeing nothing book onyx waves lapping onto the shore of the small island where you stood. A small tent had been erected to your left, the doors flapping in the salted breeze, allowing a small glimpse at what was waiting for you. A long wooden table. An assortment of knives. Pales of water. Fire.

"We can wait. We can wait until you're strong enough, we don't have to do this now," Lucien grasped your arm and turned you to face him, eyes pleading as they darted from you to the tent and then back.

Blinking up at him, you smiled softly, "The longer we wait the weaker I become," you raised your fingers to his cheek, drifting them along his cheekbone, "It has to be now. I know that you know of what dwells inside of me, Lucien. It has to end."

"You could die, y/n."

"So be it. At least I'll finally be free then."

Lucien turned to Eris the moment you pulled away from him, approaching the tent in which Helion had slipped into only moments before, "Stop her," Lucien seethed, pacing to his brother so that they stood nose to nose, "Your mate could die in there. Stop her."

"I'll never stop her from doing what it is she wants to do, Lucien," Eris loosed a breath, he was terrified but he understood the freedom the night could offer, even if it mean death would greet you far too soon, "Either be here and help her, or go back to Elain."

Eris rounded his brother, following after you as fast as he possibly could, leaving Lucien and Nesta on the sand, "I don't like it either. But Helion wouldn't propose it if he wasn't sure that she would survive. She needs us and our strength, Lucien. If you don't want to be in there then we will understand and so will she, but I will not abandon my sister at her final stand. Ever. I suggest you follow suit."

The demeanour of cold was understandable, Nesta had left everything behind to follow you in a life of the unknown, unable to stand by and wait until Rhys moved against you. Nesta had always adored you in her own peculiar manner, Lucien often spied her lurking outside of your room since you returned, ready to tend to you if you asked for her and ready to wait until that moment came. It reminded Lucien of the bond he once shared with Tamlin, an unwavering loyalty, a bond broken by his own demise, but Lucien was sure that your bond with each of them would never falter, not even in the face of your darkness.

So, Lucien inhaled deeply and turned to follow Nesta who had already began pacing away from him and toward the dancing curtains of the tent, he followed suit and dipped into the opening and his stomach became uneasy at what was before him.

Eris was stood before you, caressing small circles into your forearms, talking in a low voice to you, only loud enough for you to hear. Your coat was discarded on the back of a nearby chair, and Lucien could count each one of your vertebrae if he so wished it, but instead he decided to focus on the small square poking from beneath your skin. It was the first time he had seen the stone, a perfect square embedded at the apex of your crescent moon scar that your lack of nourishment made clear for all to see.

It was strange how a stone no bigger than his thumb could cause you so much torment.

There was a shadow around you, it was dense, dragging you down into the pits of hell. But you had danced with the devil for far too long to allow it to succeed.

The table beckoned you and you moved to it, your now bare feet scuffing along the ground as you approached it, your fingers dragging along the smooth tabletop. Inhaling deeply, your gaze flickered to Helion, and you turned, perching on the wood and moving your body so that you lay face down with you back facing upward to the thin cloth of the tent.

"You'll need to hold her down," Helion called, and Lucien was too entranced by your movements to recognise that Helion was talking to him. The High Lord of Day took a tentative step forward, "We can't give her any pain relief, it'll dull her senses, and she needs them for what's next."

Lucien looked back to you, seeing that Eris had fallen to his knees before your face and taken your hand in his and brought it to his lips, "Everything is going to be alright," he repeated the sentiment over and over, and Lucien realised in that moment that if the roles were switched and it were Elain laying upon that table, that Lucien would do all in his power to free her from her pain.

Moving to your side, Lucien lay his palm on your shoulder and applied a little pressure, using his weight to test how much strength he'd need to use, which turned out to be not much at all.

"Are you ready?"

Wordlessly, you closed your eyes and nodded, the muscles in your back tensed the moment Helion brought a knife to the exact place he knew he needed to cut into to make it as quick as possible.

Helion pushed down on the knife, letting it tear through each layer of your skin, and you began to strain in Lucien's grip, your body jolting and groans sounding from your lips. Reopening a scar was a painful thing, the marred tissue contorted and wept tears of blood whilst a scream ripped from your lungs, but Helion couldn't stop, Eris had forbidden it.

"Please, stop," your sobs pleaded but your voice had betrayed you, it was combined with the voice of another, coaxing like a siren, low and sultry, "I'll die. You're going to kill me. Please."

A strength Lucien didn't know you possessed coursed through your limbs and you thrashed, inhuman grunts pooling from your broken lips and head snapping around wildly. The candlelight flickered in the speeding winds that were circling the tent, the darkness falling from you in waves and seeping into the sand below. "We do love the darkness. So much," the distorted voice spoke, "I'll make her rip you apart, Lord of Autumn. Then perhaps she'll beg me to join you."

Lucien had all of his weight splayed on top of you, holding your body in place, and Nesta had moved to your shoulder, using her hands to keep it still so that Helion could continue, and he did, but much quicker until the stone was gleaming in your blood and peering up at them. Swirls of a soul danced beneath the surface of it, like the rising smoke of a roaring fire.

"I am the one who makes her a queen. I am the one who gives her the power she wields. Without me, she is nothing."

Eris snarled, lowering his face to yours, or well, the demon who had come to the light, and spoke, "My mate is the most powerful being in any universe, and she was that way long before you were ever lay within her. Your reign is over. My queen ensures it."

Before the demon could spew any matter of vile words, Helion cut deep within the muscle that the stone had melted into and used his fingers to rip it out, holding it in the palm of his hand and feeling the darkness writhe in the face of his light. Helion threw the stone to Nesta who amply locked it within an onyx stone box, the same stone that wound around your neck, and placed it on the table beside his tools.

"Get off of her," Eris ordered, your body had fallen limp, and soft whimpers passed through you whilst Helion did his best work to heal the wound.

You felt every strand of her darkness retreat from your veins, pulling and tugging at your essence on their way out as though they were clutching onto you and begging you to allow them to stay. The relief that washed over you was immeasurable, it was like you had spent the last eon in darkness and were gifted a speckle of sunlight. Pure and adoring light that had found you once more.

As though it had never happened, Helion closed the wound, the only reminder that she had been there being the striking ache in your bones.

"Give her a moment," Eris spoke sternly, knowing that they couldn't wait too long, the adrenaline in your blood was providing you the strength you needed for the next step. He moved to your side, offering his strength to sit you upright and knelt at your feet, wiping his tears with your thumb, "I know that it hurts," your darkened eyes found his and your bottom lip quaked softly, "But have been to the depths of hell and waltzed with the darkness, you have kept strengths in conditions where I never could have. There are no limits to you, nothing you cannot do. And what we're to do next will bring the end of it all. I will not leave you. Even if this power consumes you then I will follow. I will never leave you. It was always you, I knew it was, and I'll never let you go."

At his words, you leant forward and rested your forehead on his, his warmth and light breathing life into your bones, his touch setting your nerve endings on fire. "I will stay," you pulled back slightly, your eyes wandered over his face, "We have a life to live."

"That we do," Eris pressed his lips to your knuckles and pulled you to stand, "Only I can do this next part. I'm sorry," his index finger stroked down your face and over your lips, scribing them to memory, and then his hands curled around the stone of the collar. Eris looked to you hesitantly, internally begging you to stop him, but all you did was rest your fingers on his wrists and nod to him with tear-filled eyes.

"I love you, Eris Vanserra. You could never hurt me."

"When all of this is over, I'm going to make you my wife. My High Lady."

A soft smirk tugged at your chapped lips, "You better."

Eris watched your eyes drift closed and your body relax, like it knew that you were safe with him, and that moment of serenity on your face was once he would remember for the rest of his days. His hands heated, fire stinging at his fingertips that grew searing alongside his will, and the stone began to crack under his touch. Eris knew that he was melting your skin, and you were doing your best to quieten the sobs of pain that stabbed at your chest and coursed down the bond.

He was your Carranam, his power harmonised perfectly with your own, and that power was currently locked within the stone encasing your limbs. He was the only one who could free you of them. The only one who could withstand it.

"I love you," he whispered.

The ground shook beneath your feet, the sand shifting and sinking as Eris deepened the trajectory of his power, sending it flowing through your veins to each stone cuff and melting through the surface of the stone until it smashed and fell to the ground. The ground stopped its shaking, the sand licking at the darkness pouring from the splinters of stone scattered around them, and you gasped lightly.

A crack sounded and Eris had nothing to hold onto before he was sent to the floor, the island turning and earth splitting alongside the ocean beneath his feet. They were all sent to crashing to the ground, all but you, you stood standing as tendrils of black danced up your legs, the darkness swam from the stone toward you, lapping blissfully at your feet before joining the others in their ascent.

Your eyes were still closed, but it was working. Once pallid skin was turning golden right before their eyes, your lifeless hair held its once-lost glossy hue again, your skin became fuller, like your power was healing you from the inside out. You were guzzling the darkness much like Helion had warned, and such an acceptance of power meant that the burst was coming, a burst that would threaten to devour anything within its reach.

With a single nod from Eris, Helion grasped at Nesta and Lucien, ignoring their pleas before winnowing out of there and back to the Autumn Court. Eris was the only one who would be able to control it. He shakily rose to his feet, and the earth threatened to send him tumbling into an abyss but he wouldn't allow it. Nothing would ever be able to take him from you.

Eris reached for your hands, holding onto them and forcing his fire into you, moulding his consciousness with your own so that your power had something to recognise as worth saving, so that it had something to control itself for.

The sand parted beneath you, and it was like the air was tightening in his lungs, you were consuming everything around you both. Wind circled the tent, so wild that it ripped the fabric from the ground and sped off into the tornado that had been created around the island, so untamed that not even the moon could shine on you. It crept in closer each passing moment, sucking all oxygen from the surface that was crumbling beneath him.

Eris grabbed your face in his hands, "I love you, y/n. I have always loved you. From the day I saw you in the Night Court, before I ever knew that we were always meant to be together, I have loved you. I swear that the stars sighed with relief the moment I found you. It was always meant to be us, and even if you blast me to the depths of hell I will rise from my grave and crawl on my knees to you."

Flashes of his dreams coursed through his mind, ones of a life of love and happiness, of your wedding, of the moment he crowned you his High Lady, of the moments where you would tell him you were with child with that sickly beautiful smile on your lips. If all he was meant to have with you was a couple of months then each second of his loneliness and torment was worth every moment he was able to spend with you. Eris could find some peace in it as the earth continued to disintegrate.

Pressing his lips to yours, he felt the tornado surrounding you draw closer and felt his feet begin to betray him, and he was happy to be swept up in your power, he had always relished in it, "I love you, Little Fawn, so much."

A gentle sharp intake of breath sounded in front of him, and he found himself lost in a pool of violet and molten fire just as your power splayed itself catastrophically over the oceans surface, sending the water and wind crashing backward a few hundred feet whilst the earth and sky continued to rumble, but Eris stood firm in your arms. The oceans screamed against your power, each rip and wave rushing to gather and rush back toward you, to drown you, growing so high that the moon had disappeared behind the tidal wave looming over your heads.

But, with a single flick of your fingers, the water halted and fell into a infantile pool of innocence that crept toward and doused your feet. The wind dropped and the earth stilled, all because you ordered it to do so wordlessly.

Then you found his eyes, hands touching every inch of his arms and chest like you were sure he had been swept away, "Are you alright?"

Eris nodded, cupping your face in his hands gingerly, and spoke, "Your fire. It's back."

A gentle breeze danced around you, flitting through your hair and carrying your scent to his lungs, "I told you. We have a life to live," your voice was as soft as the sun in Autumn, inviting and warm and full of light.

Looking down, Eris noticed that the sand beneath your feet was no longer sand, but that you were both stood just atop the surface of the ocean. Eris looked back up at you with a smirk, "So you can walk on water now?"

Frowning, you also peered down, tapping your toes against the water and dipping them below the surface for a moment. You shrugged, still wound in his embrace, and found his eyes once more, "What can I say? I am a God," Eris smiled at your words, not even a little bit surprised by them, he had always had an inkling, and pulled you into him, brushing his lips against yours and feeling the universe loosen a breath, "I'd like to go home now."

Eris hummed in agreement and buried his nose into the nape of your neck, peppering kisses along your collarbone and shoulder as the world around you dissipated from sight and the notion of home settled into your bones.

Authors Note

I'm so sorry that this took so long!

Finally feeling a little better and was able to finish this part! I really hope you all love it x

(Sorry if I've missed anyone from the list)

Taglist

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[transmunsons]

Little Eddie Munson whose favorite movie growing up was Sleeping Beauty. Or rather, it was his mother’s favorite. She loved the dragons and fairies and princesses and magic.

Eddie watched her face, open and excited, as it was lit up by the reflected glow of the theater screen. The light washed away the crease line between her eyebrows that always became more prominent after talking to his dad. It was the only wrinkle she had. The only one she’d had time to form.

Eddie remembered the way she had leaned down and laughed quietly after Eddie frantically asked her what would happen to the prince. How she told him to wait and watch. And maybe Eddie was too young to fully grasp the plot, but his mom was patient and explained it to him in the parking lot as they walked back to their car, hand in hand while Eddie stomped on every leaf he saw.

Two years later, Eddie stood next to his dad wearing the frilly dress he’d always hated and stared resolutely at his Mary Janes. He’d kicked and screamed that morning, but his dad eventually convinced him that Mom would want her little girl to look her best today and don’t you want that? So he’d complied. Hours later, the rotund man at the pulpit would not stop talking about how Elizabeth Munson used to light up a room and how we would all miss her so terribly.

Eddie was just tall enough to see into the casket. She looked like she was sleeping. Like she was only a kiss away from coming back. He watched as his dad pressed his lips to her hairline, watched as the lid closed and she was lowered into the earth.

All this flashed before his eyes as he stood alone facing down the hellish swarm of bats. A scream—a roar—ripped itself from his raw throat as he challenged the monsters, goading them into attacking. He wielded his jury-rigged spear and trash can lid as if they were a sword and shield, taking down as many bats as he could.

But Eddie was no prince. He was knocked to the ground and held down, laid out like an underworldly buffet for the vicious bats to sink their teeth into. And they did. It hurt like hell, too. By the time Dustin hobbled over to him, Eddie had stopped screaming. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that the bats weren’t gnawing on him anymore.

It’s not how he thought he would go, bleeding out in the arms of a fifteen-year-old. It’s not fair, but he’s a Munson. They don’t get happy endings.

He heard Dustin calling his name as his eyes slipped away to stare at the inky excuse for a sky, splintered with red. He never knew how much he loved the sun until it was gone.

Big, brown cow eyes framed by blocky eyebrows overwhelmed his field of vision. Steve.

He felt a hand on his cheek and then—oh—Steve was kissing him.

He could vaguely hear Steve shouting instructions at someone, or multiple someone’s, he wasn’t sure. Then his lips were back on Eddie’s, pushing air into his lungs. Ah, so it wasn’t a kiss. Damn shame.

“Steve, he’s mumbling something”

“He’s delirious”

The world was moving. Flashes of light passed by periodically. He was still lying down but not in the dirt anymore. The lights were… street lamps. He was in a car.

Thankfully he couldn’t feel his body. He knew this wasn’t good and probably meant that he was in so much pain that he went into shock. He was trying to ignore that.

Frantic voices surrounded him and he was lifted out of the car. The movement jostled him too much and all the pain came back in a tidal wave of blinding white. He promptly passed out.

Eddie woke up covered in so many bandages he could barely see any skin. He felt gauze on his jaw and neck and tried to touch it, but his hand was yanked to a stop by the wrist. He was handcuffed to the gurney.

“I tried to stop them.”

He was met with the sight of Steve Harrington slouched in a plastic chair wearing a rumpled deep red sweater. Through fallen strands of hair, Eddie could see that the skin under Steve’s eyes was tinged purple.

“They said it was just a precaution, to make sure you wouldn’t run.” Steve looked mad. “Hopper’s out there working on getting you uncuffed.”

Eddie must’ve still been delirious. “Hopper?” He croaked.

“Long story,” Steve twitched his mouth into a smile.

“I always knew that guy was a tank,” Eddie stated.

Steve let out a laugh. It was a glorious noise. Eddie wanted to come up with a million ways to cause it again.

“How are you in here, you know, if I’m so dangerous?” Eddie rattled his cuff.

“I can be quite charming,” Steve leveled him with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Eddie made a disbelieving hmph.

“You doubt the charm?” Steve looked playfully offended.

“Oh, I doubt.”

Steve scoffed.

“You’re not nearly as cute as you think you are,” Eddie lied. “So how’d you get in?”

Steve stared at him for a second before fishing something out of his back pocket. The ring of keys jangled and flashed in the light where Steve held it. “Lifted it off a nurse.”

In Eddie’s book, that was far more impressive than schmoozing his way in. He told him so.

“Thanks,” Steve looked down. If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say it was downright bashful.

“They lowered your security to just, uh, that,” Steve gestured to the handcuffs, “after your alibis were confirmed.”

“My alibis?”

“Yeah, you’ll be a free man as soon as you sign some paperwork.”

Of course there was a catch.

Beeping from the machines Eddie was hooked up to filled the room.

“You saved me.” Eddie whispered. He remembered strong arms pulling him off the ground, one under his knees, one cradling his head.

He took a good look at Steve sitting there beside him, with his sweater and his stolen keys. He looked wrecked, like he hadn’t had a good night's rest in days. His honey brown hair shone in the harsh hospital lights. Eddie thought he looked fucking regal.

Eddie realized two things at once. 1: he might be falling in love with Steve Harrington and 2: there was a big, fat, unmistakable “F” on his medical bracelet for all to see.

He heard the beeping of his heart monitor increase.

“Hey, what’s wrong, are you okay?” Steve was suddenly very close. His hand hovered near Eddie’s shoulder.

“Where’s my uncle?” Eddie asked, trying to calm his breathing. He kept staring at it. They’d at least gotten his name correct.

“He left to get some food, he’s been haunting your bedside for the past week.” Steve’s face was right next to his, trying to meet his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Steve turn his head to look at Eddie’s wrist. “What are you looki—oh.”

Steve covered the bracelet with his hand; his palm was big and warm. “It’s alright. None of the kids know.”

Eddie felt his stomach drop. “And you?”

“I know,” Steve had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I had to cut your clothes off to bandage your wounds,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “I put two and two together when I had to correct how some of the doctors referred to you.”

“And you’re cool?”

“Yeah, man, I’m cool.” Steve smiled. “I swear on Dustin’s mother.”

Eddie chuckled and then immediately cringed when his sides contracted. “Don’t-don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

Screw falling, Eddie was firmly in it now. Steve was being so casual and normal about what should have been ground-shaking information to him. Grass is green, the sky is blue, Hawkins hosts a hell dimension, and Eddie Munson has tits. Had tits, anyway.

Steve had to sneak back out before he got caught and Wayne eventually came back with some turkey sandwiches. They had a tearful reunion where Eddie explained everything and Wayne told him he believed in him the whole time.

Some men in suits came by and watched as Eddie paged through a Bible’s worth of documents. An undead Hopper stood glowering at them from the corner.

Eventually, Eddie was discharged and immediately tackled by a gaggle of young teenagers. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas apologized for almost readmitting him when he yelped and told them to be careful.

Eddie and Wayne settled into their tiny new two-bedroom near main Hawkins. Wayne grumbled that it was too far from Forest Hills, but Eddie knew he enjoyed having his own room for the first time in years.

The school didn’t let him attend class physically, but they sent him work to complete so he could finish the year. He was determined to walk.

Steve and Robin would drop by to hang out. Robin said it was enrichment for Steve since he didn’t have any other friends his age, and Steve gave her a noogie in response. Robin and Eddie bonded over their shared freak status while Steve seemed to be thinking about something very hard.

During one of these visits, Eddie found himself alone with Steve on the roof of his van. Robin had some band thing, so they’d driven out to a field armed with a six-pack or two and a small mountain of junk food.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow across the field and turning the grass to gold. The plaid blanket they’d spread on the roof was covered in crumbs and empty wrappers. Eddie watched Steve’s profile as he brought the beer bottle to his lips, as the liquid traveled down his throat. He stared at the slope of his nose, how his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks.

“Alright, it’s your turn, hit me,” Eddie said.

Steve looked out at the treeline thoughtfully. “Okay, who was your first crush?”

Eddie groaned. “I’ll tell you but don’t laugh.”

“I won’t!” Steve was already smiling.

“Promise?”

“No, I’m not gonna promise, what if it’s really funny?”

Eddie pulled up his legs and buried his head between his knees. He mumbled the answer.

“What was that?” Steve teased.

“I said it was Prince Philip!” Eddie admitted.

“From the cartoon?”

“Don’t laugh!”

“I’m not,” Steve laughed.

“It was my moms favorite movie as a kid and she took me to go see one of the re-releases. I was four and I was obsessed with him. My mom thought it was adorable.”

“It is adorable,” Steve leaned back to rest on his elbow.

“What about you?” Eddie leaned down to join him, “Who was your first crush?”

“It was, uh, Laura Jackson in fourth grade.” Steve picked at the label on his bottle. “She let me bum fries off her lunch when my mom forgot to give me money, which was all the time.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

“Yeah,” Steve huffed a laugh, “about every month. Shot me down each time.” He mimed shooting a gun into his own heart and flopped down with his tongue hanging out. Eddie chuckled and Steve resurrected with a self-satisfied grin.

“And you kept trying?” Eddie asked.

“I guess that when I know what I want, I kind of just go after it.” Steve looked over at Eddie. His eyes weren’t actually a true brown, they were hazel like the forest floor. He was looking at him with an indescribable expression. “All I have to do is figure out what it is that I want.”

Eddie looked away, heat crawling up the back of his neck, and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and let it sit in his lungs before blowing it out again.

“I think it’s my turn again,” Steve said. “Let me know if it’s too far.”

“Well now I’m getting worried.”

“Just—you don’t have to answer, but,” Steve picked a crumb off the blanket, “I noticed you don’t go on any dates.”

“That’s not a question, Steve, and not a lot of guys are lining up to gain the affection of Hawkins’ most notorious accused serial killer. Being gay isn’t a walk in the park even without the social stigma of acquitted murder. Let alone the fact that once my pants came off they’d run for the hills.”

“So you’ve never…?”

“Well,” Eddie flushed, “Let’s say I give better than I get.”

Steve seemed unfazed. “What kind of guy would you go for, if you could?”

You, Eddie doesn’t say. Instead,

“He’d have to be kind,”

“Of course.”

“And caring,”

“Naturally.”

“And totally reckless, an absolute daredevil. And ideally he would be madly in love with me, and he wouldn’t care how I was born.”

Eddie was describing the Steve who appeared in his fantasies. The one who showed up in shining armor to save the day. The one who slew monsters with his teeth. More importantly, the one who dropped Robin off at school every day, hours before his shift, just because he wanted to. The one who made sure the freshmen were safe. Who delivered fresh groceries at the Mayfield trailer every week since August.

“I need to confess something.” Steve broke off Eddie’s train of thought.

“What?” Eddie started running through a million possibilities in his head but before he could really process them, Steve spoke again.

“Robin didn’t have a band thing.” His face was so close to Eddie’s, he could see dust on his eyelashes. “I asked her not to come.”

“Why? You two are practically attached at the hip.”

Steve’s eyes flickered back and forth between Eddie’s like he was searching for something. “I wanted to do something together, just the two of us.”

The sun was kissing the treetops across the field.

Eddie had the all-too-familiar feeling that he was missing a crucial bit of information, a tickle in the back of his mind that often occurred when he was staring down a blank test or missed a social cue.

Steve plucked the cigarette from Eddie’s slack mouth, took a deep pull, and placed it gently back on Eddie’s lower lip all without breaking eye contact. Eddie let it fall to the blanket, holes be damned.

“What’s going on here?” Eddie demanded, sitting upright. “You know I’m gay, you can’t do shit like that to me.”

Steve copied his position and exhaled the smoke, taking a second to check that the camel was put out. “My god, Eddie, I’ve spent the entire evening hitting on you and you haven’t said a damn thing!”

Eddie closed his mouth with a clack. He blinked to recalibrate his brain. “I thought you were straight?”

“We spent an hour last week ranking the asses of male musicians. I still say Springsteen deserves first.”

Eddie flailed his hands, “I don’t know! I thought that’s what straight dudes did with their friends. Everything you guys do seems incredibly homosexual, how is a poor guy like me supposed to tell the difference?”

“I sang to you on the ride here!” Steve said through an incredulous smile.

Eddie recalled the slightly pitchy but otherwise impressive rendition of “Your Kind of Lover”. Thinking back, he should’ve noticed the emphasis Steve had put on the chorus, but he was a little distracted by the way Steve’s hair had bobbed as he nodded his head to the beat, fingers tapping on the wheel.

Now, under the weight of Steve’s gaze, the attention felt like too much. It wasn’t fair how the setting sun illuminated Steve’s tan skin. The man was fucking glowing like Helios himself. A drop of sunlight pooled in the hollow of his collarbone just above where a thatch of hair peeked out of Steve’s white undershirt. Eddie nervously licked his lips.

He let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "You like me," Eddie poked his finger into Steve's shoulder.

"Nice of you to finally catch on," Steve poked him back. "I was starting to think I misinterpreted all your ogling."

"I do not ogle," Eddie sniffed, "I admire. You haven't seen yourself from behind; if you had a music career, I'd rank you above Springsteen."

"You sure know your way to a man's heart." Steve said flatly.

"Ya know, when you gave me CPR in the Upside Down, I thought you were giving me true love's kiss." Eddie confessed.

"That's adorable."

A siren whooped in the distance. Instinct took over Eddie's body as he scooped bottles and wrappers into his arms and tried to scramble off the roof. He registered Steve doing the same next to him, and in their haste they knocked into each other, slipped off the van, and tumbled into the grass.

Eddie ended up laying on top of Steve, holding one of the beer bottles at the base of his throat.

"Hi," Steve said breathlessly.

"Hey," Eddie let the bottle roll to the ground. They'd landed on the side away from the road. He watched through his van's tires as the police car sped past their location without a second glance.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I'm fine."

Crickets started chirping in far-off woods and Eddie thought he might've heard a bullfrog croak.

Steve tucked a piece of Eddie's unruly hair back in place and settled his hand against Eddie's cheek. The sun had just set and Steve's eyes were huge in the low light. Warmth bled through his shirt where it pressed against Eddie's bare forearms.

"D'you know how long I've liked you?" Steve whispered. His breath ghosted over Eddie's lips.

"Tell me," Eddie whispered back with a smile.

"Back in school, I thought you were kind of an ass-"

"I thought this was about how you like me."

"I'm getting to it. I thought you were a jerk, but after I became friends with Dustin, I noticed how much more comfortable he seemed. You made him a space where he could be himself. That's what you do. You make everyone around you more comfortable in who they are because they watch you be proudly yourself.

"You're the bravest, smartest, kindest man I know. I think I started falling for you when you told me you were wrong about me, you know, being an asshole. No one I've dated has ever recognized how much I've changed. You saw me, the real me."

Steve looked so sincere, eyes wide as he held Eddie's face. Eddie wanted to hide in his hair.

"You're gonna make me fall in love with you, Harrington." Eddie warned.

Steve grinned, "You promise?"

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

"Okay."

Eddie didn't have nearly as much experience as Steve, but he held his own. His hands raked through Steve's hair, felt him do a full body shiver when he tugged.

Eddie smiled against his lips.

“Shut up,” Steve murmured.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Eddie was pulled back into the kiss by the back of his neck. He tilted his head, coaxed Steve into opening his mouth. Steve did something with his tongue that would’ve made Eddie go cross-eyed if his eyes were open. One of Steve’s hands crept up Eddie’s thigh until it rested on his hip, a thumb touching Eddie’s side where his t-shirt had ridden up.

Eddie moved to properly straddle Steve as he switched to latch onto the side of Steve’s neck. The hand on his hip gripped him tight as Eddie settled. Steve made a desperate noise and arched his back, grinding up to meet him.

“Eddie,” Steve said hoarsely. Eddie hummed in acknowledgment as he laid open mouthed kisses on Steve’s pulse point, skating his hands up Steve’s arms to squeeze his biceps.

“Eddie, we gotta slow down,” Steve pulled a reluctant Eddie off his neck and stroked his cheek with a thumb.

Steve gave him a sweet, lingering kiss and Eddie nipped at his lower lip as he pulled away.

“If my giving you CPR was true love’s kiss, does that make me your Prince Charming?”

“I should never have told you that,” Eddie groaned against Steve's collar.

-

cross-posted on ao3

[catsteeth]

Sugar & Violence

Podrick Payne x reader 

+:✿ Chapter 8 ✿:+ : Bad Poetry

Prev Chapter | Chapter Index

Summary: You’re a Mormont being held hostage by House Lannister.  You are acting now as the Handmaiden for Margery Tyrell, whom you’ve grown quite close with. But it seems that a squire has caught your attention as you have caught his. 

CW: afab reader, Proposal, NSFW themes, mention of non-con, misogyny, mention of violence, mention of arranged marriages, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of NSFW themes, mention of parental death.

Word Count: 5.7k

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

After you and Podrick’s heated reunion in the snow behind the walls of Castle Black, you and Podrick attempt to resume your duties as normal. He attended his training, and you continued to pester the old Maester. 

However you came together again in your chambers that night. Now that you were near, Podrick would waste no time. Any moment he had he gave it to you. So naturally he and you coupled again. But that night he told you of what happened in the RiverLands. The dead black fish you saw in your dream was not only a black fish but the BlackFish, Brynden Tully. And that was not the end of your dreams.

That night, you dreamt of an old friend. Margaery. You thought of her long hair, the pale auburn of her hair. Only in your dream, she looked far different than how you remembered. Her hair was uncurled, her clothes were modest and dull, and her crown hung heavy at the top of her head. Her smile was gone and left was an expression of anger. 

And suddenly a flash of green, bright blinding green. And a siring, burning, all too vivid pain ripped through your skin. You saw the bricks of a great and tall building crumbling, and seven pointed stars falling with it. The green grew, and burnt through it all, through your skin, through your bone, until you finally broke free from your dream.

You woke up with your eyes still closed, screaming from the pain.  

Your screaming naturally woke up your lover sleeping beside you. He instinctively wrapped his arm around you pulling you in closer. His other hand came to your face, holding it firmly, “(Y/N)!” He shouted waking you from your dream. As soon as your eyes opened, your screaming ceased. Your eyes wide, darted around the droll room until they finally settled on Podricks face. He looked at you with his sleepy, scared, and watery eyes “What is it?” He asked in a hush tone, “What’s wrong?” He asked as he brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Green, green, green fire…” You whispered, muttering incoherently, you felt the remnants of the pain you felt in the dream. Your eyes began to water, and you began to pant and shake as your mind began to understand your dream.

He held you closer, your face nuzzled into his neck, “It’s alright, it’s alright…” He whispered as he ran his hand up and down your side soothing you.

As you catched your breath in his arms, your dreams' meaning came clear to you. 

You knew that Margaery’s life was in danger, that she was going to die a terrible death. A terrible and undeserved death. 

So you peeled yourself away from your lover's arms. Stumbling around the cold room, beginning to dress yourself. 

“What’re you doing?” Podrick asked as you dressed in haste. “The sun is hardly out.”

“I have to leave here.” You said lacing your corset quickly. 

Podrick sat up in your bed, looking at you suddenly wide awake “Leave where?”

You looked back at him as you quickly shoved your feet into a pair of boots, “Leave here, Castle Black.” 

He threw the blankets off of himself and stood as you fastened your baldric holding your sword around your waist. “You can’t-“ He asserted. 

“Podrick, I have to.” You asserted back, you felt rotten with guilt but you knew you’d no choice. 

Podrick came close, putting his hand on the back of your neck, “What did you see?” He asked earnestly.

You took a breath, “Destruction. The Sept, in the Capitol. It erupted into a wildfire.” You said with fear in your eyes.

Podrick shook his head in confusion, “Why go then?” He wasn’t angry with you of course, but he couldn’t understand why you would put yourself in such danger.

“Margaery is there.” You said with a tilt of your head.

“You could die!” He said as you moved away from him, grabbing hold of your cloak and slinging it over your shoulders.

“She will! If I don’t go, she will.” You insisted desperately attempting for him to understand. Though of course a man would not understand the connection you and another woman would have. You continued to dress yourself, shoving your hands into your leather gloves.

Podrick, knowing he’d exhausted all his options, stood in front of the door. “I won’t let you.” 

You shoved your hand into your leather gloves. You stopped and stared, completely still once he said those words, “What?” you asked with narrow eyes.

“I said I won’t let you.” He asserted with a false confidence. 

You finished placing your hands into your gloves. Then stepped in front of Podrick, staring him down, “Say that one more time.” You said softly but intensely. 

He swallowed hard, and attempted to puff out his chest, “I won’t let you leave. I refuse to allow you to try to kill yourself.” He shook his head. Attempting to dominate the situation. 

“You won’t let me leave?” You asked with a raised brow.

He nodded, “That’s right.” As soon as he said those words you turned around and opened the window shutters of your chamber, beginning to climb out of it. He must have forgotten your chamber was on the ground level. “He-“ He began before rushing over to the window that you were jumping out of, “(Y/N)!” He shouted out the window as you landed on the ground. 

“I’ll return!” You shouted back to him as he watched you run towards the stables. 

Podrick, still half naked from waking up beside you, stumbled around the room attempting to dress himself quickly enough to catch you before you left the gates. 

However by the time he was dressed and running outside, the gates were closed. And your brown horse is now gone. 

Podrick stood there for a moment just staring at the gates. Unsure of what to do next. When he looked beside him, he noticed the tall lady knight he served. Brienne was entering the courtyard for Podricks training, as they did each morning. She looked upon his helpless expression with confusion.

“She’s gone.” He said breathless and defeated.

“Gone where?” She asked, irritated with a furrowed brow. 

“Kings Landing.” Podrick said in a huff.

Brienne scrunched her face, “Hm, She seemed strange but not stupid.”

“She’s not stupid.” Podrick nearly snapped, which was very out of character, especially towards her. “She’s strong wielded.” He said more calmly. 

“Then go.” Brienne said as if it were the obvious answer… which it was. 

“What?” Podrick asked, he never thought of himself capable of it. 

Brienne rolled her eyes, “Gods- Podrick, if you fear for her then help her.” She huffed, “Honestly you thinking you’d be able to stop her was pathetically idiotic.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Your journey south was pitifully uneventful. You knew now where to avoid in the roads and what Inns would throw out day-old food. It was getting into the capital that proved to be a challenge. And you knew that getting into the castle walls would be even harder. However it wasn’t long after arriving that you had heard enough murmurs among the smallfolk that Margaery was not in the walls of the castle at all, no she was in the Sept. 

You knew then that your time was running thin. But at least in the sept there was a way in. You snuck in through the Septa’s quarters. Hiding your sword and cloak there. You dressed in the gray humble smock, and a matching gray headdress to conceal your hair. 

Soon after stumbling through the sept long enough you found where they were keeping her. 

As you looked in through the small crack in the door, you could see her curled up in a corner of the room. 

“You there!” A voice called out, 

You were startled, and jumped slightly as you looked over to the voice who called out. You saw it was a younger boy holding a tray of food. 

“Are you giving the Queen her supper?” He asked innocently. 

You nodded, and took the tray from the boy. “Can you open the door?” You asked, “I seemed to have forgotten my keys in my quarters." 

The boy rolled his eyes in annoyance, but did as you asked. 

As you entered the room you made sure that the boy closed the door behind him, and waited to hear his footsteps fade. Then you approached Margaery. 

She was curled up in the corner of the room facing away from you. You walked closer to her, placing the tray of food by her feet. 

She looked nothing like herself. Her feet were dirty, almost black, and she was dressed in a gray rag. 

“Leave it and go.” She said defiantly. It was nothing like the Margaery you knew. 

“Margaery-“ You whispered. 

She turned to face you, recognizing your voice. She pulled your headdress down, looking at your hair as it fell out of it, “What are you doing here?” She asked terrified of you. You coming here was a dangerous choice. She knew the risk you were taking was great. Not only for you but for her as well.

“I’ve come to take you away from this pious shit.” You said quickly, knowing your time had run thin, and it was now or never for her to leave this place. 

She looked at you with narrow eyes, ��This pious shit is going to let me stay queen.” 

You looked at her with confusion. Not understanding how she could possibly wish to remain prisoner. “It’s going to kill you. I saw it.” You grabbed her by her shoulders, “They’ll never listen to you and it will kill you.” 

She shook her head, looking at you with the same confusion you looked at her with, “You don’t know that.” She stood, 

You stood with her, “I do, I dreamt it.” You said with a nod. 

She stifled a laugh, “You didn’t come all the way here for a dream I should have hoped for.”

“They come true.” You said pleading with her to understand, “I dreamt of a dead black fish and Podrick-“ You began explaining but were cut off but a scoff, 

“Oh! Podrick, I am glad he indulges your fantasies. What a doting suitor he is.” Margaery said, rolling her eyes. 

“I know you’re upset with me-“

“Upset?” She asked, her eyes welling up, “You left me.” She said quietly, “Left me, for someone you loved. Someone else.” She said walking across the room, frustrated. 

You felt helpless, you couldn’t give her what she wanted, “Come with me.” You asked in a soft voice, she turned to you with heartbreak in her eyes, “Please.” You begged. 

She breathed hitched as she breathed in. She held back her emotion, closing her eyes for a moment, then finally looking at you with her head held high, “I am the Queen.” She said with teary eyes, “A Queen does not abandon her people.” 

“You are my friend.” You said softly. 

“That’s the problem, that is what I am to you.” She said, lowering her head. “That is not all you are to me.” 

You knew what she meant by it, and so did she. You always knew. And if Podrick had not come along, who knows perhaps you would have. But with him, there was only him. 

You let out a sharp exhale, “Margaery-” You began stepping towards her, 

“Go.” She said heartbroken once again, “Go with your dreams and your lover.” She said sitting back down. 

You stood there in silence for a moment not knowing what to say, “That’s it then?” You said defeatedly, fighting back tears.

She huffed, angrily, “That’s it.” She whispered in a hiss. 

Defeated, and now already mourning the friend you loved. You nodded, wiped your cheek, and headed for the door. 

As your hand touched the handle of the door, Margaery stopped you. Grabbing hold of your hand. Startled you turned around to face her, 

“Your hair.” She said as she handed you the gray headdress. Before you could take it from her hands she began putting it on herself. Tucking your hair into the headdress, you stared at her face. She was holding back tears as she smoothed out the fabric for you. 

You couldn’t help it, you wrapped your arms around her, hugging her close. Her arms did not embrace you for a moment. Hesitant to give into your gesture. Until she heard your quiet sobs in her ear, she finally embraced you, closer and harder than you did to her. 

You wanted to hold her forever, your dearest friend, who you knew would soon parish. But who you knew you had no sway over any longer, and you were unsure you ever did have any sway.  

Before you could pull away, Margaery, while still embracing you, opened the door behind you and pushed you out of the room, closing the door behind you. 

No goodbye.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

You managed to find your way back to the Septa’s chambers, gathering your things, and leaving the same way you snuck in. 

As you walked through the streets of the capital, you couldn’t help it but let your tears fall down your face. Knowing that you’d failed and that your dearest friend would soon be dead. You felt even more guilty for leaving Podrick, and even more ashamed to face him again. You knew that you would be dreading it your whole journey back to Castle Black. 

Only what you didn’t know is that you wouldn’t have to wait the whole journey to see him. 

As you walked in the streets, a hand grabbed your arm from behind and pulled you into an alleyway. You yanked your arm loose, and pinned the man against the wall with your dagger. 

With your dagger pressed against his throat, “It’s me!” Podrick said

As soon as you registered it was Podrick, you dropped the dagger. “Oh-“ You said shocked, you held his face, “I’m sorry-I’m so sorry- I was stupid-“

He grabbed your face, “You’re not stupid.” asserting. 

You shook your head, “I’m sorry.” You said, beginning to cry again. Though he did not wish to hear apologies, because he did not need them. He pulled you in close and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was passionate, and desperate. 

Your kiss was an apology, and a proclamation of devotion. 

As you pulled away, you looked around and noticed that the crowds around you were paying more attention to you. “We’d better move.” Podrick said, taking your hand and pulling you along. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You and Podrick we're now on the rode together for the first time. You aimed your bow and arrow at a rabbit, far into the woods. 

“Sh- If you’re too loud you’ll scare it.” You said as Podrick kneeled beside you as you tried to get your aim perfect. 

Podrick looked out into the woods, “Think we might be too far-” before he could continue, you let your arrow loose, and it flew across the woods. Piercing through the rabbit's skull, “How’d you get so good at that?” Podrick asked in astonishment.

You shrugged, “Time… Lots of it. Boredom.” You said standing and approaching the rabbit. 

Podrick shuffled to stand, and followed you into the woods, “I had time, and lots of boredom. Never had anyone to teach me.”

“My father taught me some before he up and left and then my brother taught me some before he up and left too. Then my aunt.” You continued, holding your skirts as you walked further and further into the woods. 

“Most girls get taught how to sew, needle point-” 

You took his hand, “I can do some of that. Sewing up wounds and all that.” You said as you turned his palm over, showing him his scar of the wound you stitched up. Making him smile. You kept holding his hand as you continued, “My mother was a young bride. From what I hear she would have taught me to make dresses and embroider silks. But…I killed her when I came out of her.” Before Podrick could respond to what you had said, you got to the dead rabbit in the woods. You picked it up, holding it up by its legs, “Do you know how to skin a rabbit?” 

That night, Podrick, somewhat in an attempt to impress you, built you a fire, and cooked you that rabbit. However much he had improved he was not much of a cook. Though you appreciated the gesture all the same. 

As you ate it, you attempted not to grimace, “It’s not bad.” You said to Podrick, who knew you were being polite. “I like mine burnt anyway.” You shrugged and he smiled at you softly, “You don’t need to know how to cook to be a knight.”

“Suppose not.” He smiled, taking another bite of his burnt rabbit. 

“You came for me?” You looked back at him.

He looked back to you, “Course I did.” 

You placed the burnt rabbit down, and snuggled up closer to him. “I am sorry.”  You placed a hand on top of his, “I should have listened to you.” 

“People usually don’t.” He shrugged, genuinely not seeing the issue.

“I should.” You asserted, you leaned in closer to him “Your words mean a great deal to me.” You looked down in shame, “I don’t understand this thing. If I cannot change its course, then all it does is torment me.” You said somberly. 

He took your hand, “I want to help you understand your gift. Whatever it may be.” He brought your knuckles to his lips.

You smiled at him as he kissed your hand, “And I want to help become a Knight.”

“You do?” He asked with a giddy smile.

You nodded, “Of course, as long as you’re not a KingsGuard. I can’t have you swearing to chastity. It’d be a great waste of your talents.” You jested.

“Talents?” He stifled a laugh, 

“Your talents that are renowned around all the brothels in westeros.” You teased, and he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him, “Ah!” you giggled,

As you settled on top of him he looked up at you with adoration and warmth, “You’re the only woman I’ll ever touch.” He said earnestly. 

You smiled and stifled a laugh as you ran your hand through his hair. “Well, I am sure all the whores in the realm will be quite disappointed.” He did not say anything, just continued to look up at you with loving eyes, “What?” you asked innocently. 

His smile tugged on the corners of his mouth slightly, making him smile wider for a moment. “Would you take me as your husband?” He asked you, his grip around your waist tightening ever so slightly. 

You smiled warmly, placed your hands on his cheeks, now covered in an unfamiliar stubble. “Of course, you imbecile.” You thought it was obvious. You abandoned him once, and now we’re determined never again. You pressed his forehead against your own, “You and me.” You whispered. 

His hand that caressed your back, trailed up to hold the back of your neck. Pressing his lips against yours. You rocked your hips teasingly against him, and his hand tangled into your hair. Your hands roamed his chest, and his arms, admiring how strong they’d gotten. He did the same, his hand pawing at the neckline of your gown. 

You were content on ridding him of his pants, and riding him, but you were interrupted by the sounds of twigs snapping under the weight of a person's feet.

You pulled away from him, looking out into the woods. “Sh-“ You hushed him before he could even speak.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“Footsteps.” You replied. You got off of him, and pulled him up to stand. 

Soon the footsteps grew louder as they approached. And soon, a man appeared on a great black horse. A man in Bolton colors, with a Bolton sigil on his horse.  

“Hello there.” The man said with a disingenuous smile.

It was silent for a moment. You were unwilling to respond, simply glaring at the man who spoke to you. Podrick however did, “Hello.” he said in an attempt to ease the tension. 

The man, noticing your glare, smirked, “My Lady.” He said in greeting to you, once again.

“Can I help you?” Podrick asked, attempting to get some of the attention away from you.

The man still looking at you said, “She your lady?” 

Podrick looked at you, noticing your hostile glare, he let out a small sigh before saying “Aye.” 

“Not much of a talker is she?” The man’s eyes still did not leave you, you rolled your eyes at his comment. 

Podrick looked back at the man, “She can choose when she speaks. Can I help you with something?” Podrick asked, trying to understand what the man wanted. 

“No. But maybe, I could help you. Where are you traveling.” The man still holding up his pleasant facade.

“You can’t help us.” You interjected, knowing the man was “Will make our own way.” 

“Not a polite birdie, are you?” The man asked, grinning at you. 

“He asked what you wanted.” You said, your eyes hard and narrowed at the man. 

The man bit his lip, and stifled a laugh. He shrugged, “I want to know what you’re doing here.” “Then we can’t help you. Now fuck off.”  You said with a tilt of your head. Podrick felt a dread growing inside of him. 

Your words riled up the man, he huffed and began to speak again “Listen-” 

“Stop talking.” You commanded, 

The man was thrown off by your words, it angered him, “I will not stop talking, woman. If I have something to say-” 

You aimed your bow and arrow at the man, “I said stop talking. Leave.” 

“You let your woman speak for you?” The man asked mockingly, looking at Podrick. 

“He’s one of Bolton’s men.” You said to Podrick, in a low tone.

“And I take it you two aren’t?” The man said with a crooked grin.

“She told you to leave.” Podrick said, reaching for the hilt of his sword.

In return, the man pulled out his own sword, and pointed it towards Podrick. 

Your eyes narrowed, “I don’t like men who don’t listen.” You just released your arrow. It flew and hit the man in his eye, killing him just like the rabbit you killed earlier that night. 

You looked at Podrick, who looked at you in awe. Never having seen you kill another person. “We’d best keep going then.” 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

By the time you had arrived back to Castle Black, tensions between the Starks and the Boltons had risen. As soon as you set foot within the walls of Castle Black Jon summoned you. He handed you a letter written by Ramsay Bolton. A letter threatening killing, pillaging, raping, burning, and varies forms of torture to all tratorus houses. 

“Like bad poetry.” You said as you finished the letter. 

“We’ve been threatened with war. If we are to take back Winterfell we will need an army, an army we don’t have.” Jon said with a brooding face. 

“You want the Mormont army? You’ll find it to be lacking in numbers, no doubt. Though our men and women fight harder than any other army.” You said proudly. 

“So you’ll give us the men?” Jon asked, you could sense the desperation in his voice.

You shook your head, “I have no sway. Lyanna is the Lady of Bear Island, not I.” 

“You are the eldest living inherited Mormont, you have claim-”

“Out of the question.” You interrupted him, “Lyanna stepped into her role admirably in place of my aunt. She’s served the house well. I will not return just to take it from her. I do not want it.” You asserted adamantly.  

“Convince her then.” Jon pleaded with you, “Lyanna Mormont has been unwilling to provide aid to anyone.” He said as he handed you another letter. 

As you unscrolled the letter you read the words, “Bear Island knows no king but the King in the North, whose name is Stark." In your cousin's writing. 

You smiled at her writing, “She is just like her mother.” You rolled the scroll back up and handed it back to Job, “I’ll go. Though I am not sure it will help you. Mormont’s hold grudges, and I left them holding a rather large one.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

And so you did. You got on a ship with Davos Seaworth, Jon Snow, Sansa Stark, and of course her sworn sword Brienne, and her squire Podrick. Who was now your intended. 

As your ship approached the docks of Bear Island, you looked out the front of the ship at the giant green island you were approaching. You felt uneasy, like your stomach aches. Nervous for what the people of the island would say. But you’d never let that show.

Podrick, who stood behind you, leaned forward to hold your hand, but was interrupted by Jon’s voice. 

“Any… advice?” He asked, unsure if you would be able to help at all. 

“Don’t rely on flattery or small talk. She might be young but being called pretty will not soften her judgment.” You spoke plainly as you looked at the green mountains of the island, “Infact do not attempt small talk with anyone on the Island. Be blunt, and harsh with your words. It is the only way to get their attention.” 

“You suggest we walk in and demand their army?” He asked, displeased with your answer.

“Essentially, yes.” You nodded and looked back to Jon, “You remember how to handle my father?” You asked with a raised brow,

Jon scoffed, “You believe the girl of ten and three is as hard as he is?”

“Harder.” You asserted, looking back to the ship's port. You noticed someone as your ship docked. A man by the name of Dareon. Ser Dareon, a man who once loved you, who fucked you only once when you and he were both quite drunk. However you did not love him back. Since that day he and you shared a mutual disdain for one another. “Fuck…” You murmured under your breath.

Podrick, hearing what you said, leaned in close to you, “You know him?” You looked at him with an uncomfortable and concerned expression. 

Unable to explain it to him, and he unable to prod you for more information, your ship docked into the port. As you stepped off the boat, you looked at the knight with irritation. Irritated simply by his presence. “Hello, Ser Dareon.”

“Fuck is she doing ‘ere?” Dareon asked Jon, angry that he had brought you.

“This is my home, Ser Dareon.” You said irritated. 

“It’s your home when it suits you?” He said mockingly, he turned to some of the other men beside him, “Tell Lady Mormont, the deserter has returned.”

“I’ll see my cousin now.” You said, not willing to wait. 

“Aye, she’ll see you. Not them.” A guard from the house said. Your arrival must have been announced already. “The Lady wishes to speak with her kin, then she’ll speak to the rest of you.” He said looking at Jon, Sansa, Davos, and Podrick. 

“He comes with me.” You said linking your arm with Podrick’s. After all, if you were going to marry him, he would soon become her kin as well. 

“Who the fucks he?” Ser Dareon spat, his tone oozed with thinly veiled jealousy.

“My betrothed, Podrick Payne.” You said with your head held high, it made Podrick smirk to himself. “Now get the fuck out of my way.” You said with venom dripping from your voice as you pushed past him with Podrick’s arm linked to yours.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ 

As you entered the great hall of your home. You looked around, the familiar interior seemingly offering you no comfort as you stood in front of your younger cousin, Lyanna. You bowed your head respectfully to her, as did Podrick. 

“And who is this?” Lyanna asked, already exhausted by the situation. She sat at a large table in the great hall, the same chair your Father used to sit. 

“Some westernmen by the name of Podrick Payne, My Lady.” Ser Dareon said, intentionally wanting to get under your skin. 

“My Intended.” You added, proudly. 

“Payne?” Your young cousin said, “Of House Payne?” Her voice dripped with disdain, “The same house which raised Illyn Payne? The same Illyn Payne that took Ned Stark's head?” She attacked with her words.

“His name isn’t Illyn, is it?” You defended. Podrick stood unsure of how or when to interject. This was your home, and he desperately wished to be accepted, even if you yourself hardly were.

Lyanna’s small, and beady eyes landed on you again, “You leave us to travel across the seven kingdoms, become the Queen’s handmaiden, and return with a westerman for a husband?” She questioned you hard. 

Though her words were hard, you spoke softly. “I left, that's true. I left after I had nothing left here. I was kidnapped by the Lannisters and forced into their service. Once I was able to escape, I did.”

“Once my mother was killed.” She added. 

“No.” You asserted emphatically. 

“You want to be head of house now? Now that you’re the eldest Mormont. Eldest inherited Mormont.” She was accused. 

You shook your head. “No. Truth is I would hate to be in your position.” You spoke plainly, “And you seem to be better suited to the role.” You said earnestly.

“She is.” Ser Dareon interjected, 

“Enough out of you.” Lyanna snapped at Ser Dareon, and then turned her attention to Podrick once again, “Let’s hear from him then. What house do you fight for?”

“My Lady,” Podrick said respectfully, stepping forward, “I squire for Brienne of Tarth, the sworn sword to Lady Sansa Stark.”

“House Stark then?” Lyanna asked, attempting to get to the point.

“No, my Lady.” He shook his head, “I fight for (Y/N).” He looked at you, “My house is (Y/N).”

NOTE: I am so sorry this sucks lmao, I have the worst brain fog from covid it is insane.

Y/N: I don’t be giving no fucks. I say whatever I want I do whatever I want. I’m counting up-

Podrick: Money for fun! ☝️😜

Bambi

BELOVED TAGS:  @ryn-away @boojaynaqueen @holierthancunt @symonedoesart @siimiasoi  @evilunicorns4minions @randomgurl2326 @theunknownduck0

[leigh-kay]

time for dom tyler w a vamp gf bc he has a thirst for fear and blood and she cant die and likes pain 🤭

Close Your Eyes // Tyler Galpin

warnings: dark!tyler, biting, mean!dom!tyler, hyde comes out but not ugly bug eyes, just claws lmfao, slapping, blindfold, blood, smut (again obvi), degrading, praising, fingering, oral (woman recieving), manhandling, may make some uncomfy☝️

smut smut smut SMUT bc he deserves the hype truly

Tongue and teeth and hands and skin. Red, and white, and the absence of it all.

She relished in the feeling of the sting across her cheek, squealing at the feel of his hands gripping at her breasts, and jumping each time he let her go to grab at her again.

"Ty," she breathed, chest brushing his as he held her wrists to the wall, "can I see you yet?"

"I wanted to try a blindfold actually."

She ran it through her mind as she breathed him in, pausing before opening her eyed of her own accord.

"Why?'

His grip on her wrists loosened, soothing shapes traced where bruises would remain tomorrow, "If you can't see what I'm doing, you'll be forced to anticipate what I do next."

She read between the lines. Anticipate. Be nervous. Nerves meant fear, excitement. Fear fed the fire the hyde instilled in him, and excitement wasn't hard to come by when he had such a way with her body.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

She nodded, pressing the last soft kiss of the night to his lips, "Show me why I should be scared."

He groaned, hand tracing at her neck, "Close your eyes."

He was gone, and then he wasn't. She felt the fabric as he fastened it around her eyes.

It was light, and he tyed it tight, but not so tight it hurt.

"You," he sucked against the column of her throat, "are so fucking good for me, arent you?"

she nodded, a smile gracing her despite the handling she knew was to come.

she loved her sweet, soft eyed boyfriend when he was quiet and shy, holding her hand; she also loved her dark, careless, merciless boyfriend when he threw her around and fucked her dumb.

"Always so willing," she felt the dull point as he held it between her breasts, cutting through the thin fabric of her top.

As the fabric fell to the floor, the point still trailed her stomach. Dull enough to graze, sharp enough to cut if he so wished.

Her breath caught, head collapsing to the wall as it poked below her waistline.

"Careful. Wouldn't want to cut you, yeah?" his laugh was sadistic.

It drove her fucking crazy.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Cut me, Ty."

The burn across her face was familiar.

"You're so fucking needy. It's pathetic."

"I want you," she screamed as he dug his claws into the flesh of her thigh, "to hurt me."

She couldn't see it, oh how she fucking wished she could, but she could hear it. Feel it.

He was smiling, "Anything you want."

She was in his arms, legs wrapped at his waist as his cock hardened as her core ground against him with each step.

He dropped her to the bed with no warning, the fall catching her off guard.

As she tried to sit up, he shoved her to her back. Her thighs clenched as he ran his teeth across his collarbone. She was unsure if the substance between her legs was her own arousal or the blood from the wound he'd dug into her skin.

As he trailed across her breasts, he bit down, sending her back arching into him as she whimpered.

"Tyler!" she gasped, her own nails raking through his scalp, gripping at his hair as he worked.

As his touch left her, she whined, a pout crossing her as she felt the bed shift.

Where had he gone?

His fingers clutched around her ankles, ripping her down the mattress as he attached his lips to her center through the fabric covering her.

It sent her reeling as she jolted at the contact.

"Tell me what it is."

She lay confused, turned on probably more than she should be, eyes open under the blindfold, as if she could look for the answer.

The shock of the cold against her clit as he tugged her panties to the side answered her queries.

"Fuck!"

He ran it down her folds, pressing viciously against her clit as he pushed at her thighs to keep her down.

"Either you stay still or this ends."

She nodded, body trembling as she tried to keep herself still.

Her fingers scraped against the bed as he thrust tso of his fingers in with no warning, keeping the ice at her most sensitive spot.

He went slow, dragging through her as she moaned, "Tyler, faster!"

He gripped at her hips, mouth meeting her as he picked up the pace. He groaned as she bucked back against him, urging him to go faster still.

As her head rolled back, his teeth tugged at her, tongue soothing the burn as she writhed, the previous warning forgotten.

"Taste so fucking good," he sighed into her.

As her hormones surged and her back arched, she cried out for him, reaching desperately for him as she yanked him to her level, forcing her lips against his.

She came as his fingers never gave up, her fangs piercing his lower lip.

As she floated down his hand trapped her own two in a cage above her head, his tongue running across her neck as he bit down.

It was sick, and disgusting, the way she ached each and everytime he tore into her.

It invoked a feeling so raw, so confusing, and so fucking enticing.

He hadn't fully released her from the hold of his mouth as he pushed her up, only letting go as he flipped her to the position he wanted her.

"I'm gonna fuck you, and you're not going to cum until I say so."

"Yes, please."

His palm cracked down across her ass as he rubbed himself against her, teasing.

With slow, torturous taps to her clit, rubbing his tip along her as he fought his own sense of control from behind her.

"Goddamnit Ty-"

His hand collided with her pussy, making her shout as her back dipled further inwards.

He eased into her, allowing no recovery time as he pounded into her, his hand sneaking around her neck, pulling her up against him.

"You're so pretty when you let me fucking destroy you."

Her lip was between her teeth, fighting the sounds trying to escape her.

She felt dirty, sick, and she was. God she really was. Because she loved it.

"Letting me ruin your sweet little outfit," his fingers found her clit, "carve into you like the pain slut you are," he rubbed rough figure eights against her, grip at her neck tightening, "and now you're letting me fuck you stupid."

She gripped a hand at his around her neck, pushing further against her windpipe, her eyes drifting to the back of her head.

Her moans were strangled and the she felt so so dizzy.

She could smell the adrenaline, sense her own nerves as he could do anything he pleased with her. She could nearly taste the anger and the rage seeping out of him as he buried himself inside of her.

He dropped the grip at her neck, feeling her clench around his cock, "dont you dare cum without permission."

His thrusts grew deeper, his hands ravaging her body as he took what he wanted.

He was beautiful, she didn't need to see physically to see him in her own mind.

Head thrown bad, the low growls ripping out of his throat revealing he was just as close as she was.

The way he ripped himself from her to throw her to her back again only solidified what she'd known

"Tyler, right there, please!"

He kept his pace, stabbing st her g spot with each and every thrust, "Please- let me-"

"Say my name."

"Tyler," she gasped.

"Whose fuck toy are you?"

"Y-yours," her lip bled with how hard she bit down, "I'm yours!"

"Now!" he demanded.

She broke.

Her lips met his neck as she dug her teeth into the skin of his neck. Her mouth rushed with his blood as she came apart on him. As she savored his taste he lost himself, cumming inside her.

The shocks sent the two of them into a spiral, reaching and gripping and gasping.

As she pulled from his neck, he rushed his lips to hers, tasting his own blood, running his tongue across hers to capture the taste.

He ripped at the blindfold, revealing her eyes before kissing her once more, his hold on her waist not faltering.

"I love you."

He slowly withdrew from her, gentle hands as he brushed the stray hairs from her cheeks, "I worship you."

author here to let everyone know i do take request :) and id love to hear your ideas

[mikashisus]

EMPIRE OF BLOOD

01. when does a man become a monster

TAGLIST ! @https-sourlimes @ughscara @yourfavoritefreakyhan @wystiix

NOTES: first chapter yippee!! i actually adore this chapter and it'll be hard for me to have a new fav chapter after this. i think the only chapter that could one-up this one would be the ball chapter, which... will not come until wayyy later. i already wrote half of it. this whole fic has been written out of chronological order LMAOO

WC: 4.3k

masterlist | next

You were eleven years old when you first killed a man. 

The searing pain under your skin did nothing to help the immense shock you felt upon watching as the light left the man’s eyes. 

With shaky hands that were stained entirely in fresh, warm blood, you released him from your grip and watched as his lifeless body fell to the ground. His head lolled to the side, his neck almost completely detached from the rest of his body. 

The ghastly sight made you feel like you were about to vomit. You gagged, a few coughs following after before you wrapped your arms around your middle and hurled up your half eaten breakfast. More coughs followed and you wiped your lips with the hem of your ragged dress. 

A sense of panic welled within you as you realized what you had just done. You scrambled away from the dead body of a Mondstadt nobleman. A few helpless screams left your mouth, loud enough to alert a group of knights nearby. Your throat was burning, your screams coming out in hoarse chokes. 

Finally ripping your eyes away from the man’s maimed body, you stared down at your shaking hands. Your vision blurred as you tried to steady your breathing. It was to no avail. The air in your lungs felt thin, and your throat felt like it was closing up. Your lungs tightened, and it became increasingly harder to breathe. 

At the lack of oxygen, you panicked even more. One of your hands reached up to claw at your throat, leaving trails of crimson stains in its wake. 

A soothing voice pierced your ears amidst the loud ringing. 

“You are not alone. I am here. Breathe. In… and out…” 

You attempted to follow their instructions as best as you could. When your eyes opened, you finally caught sight of your savior— it was a green-clad figure. The voice made it hard to tell their identity, or perhaps they were just androgynous. The image of them was blurred from the tears gathering in your eyes, but you could briefly spot their lips pulling up into a kind smile. 

You glanced behind them at the dead body. The air in your lungs felt thin once more. You wanted to leave, to run far away and never have to see such an ungodly sight ever again. 

Fate had other plans as a comforting hand rested on your back. The androgynous figure was now gone, replaced with a dashing woman whose features were threatening in appearance only. Her pitch black eyes with crimson X’s in the center showed deep concern, accompanied by a frown. 

She gently wiped the tears from your eyes. You blinked rapidly as she did so, the sharpness of her nails just barely stabbing you in the eye. You were able to get a better look at her now that your vision was cleared. 

She was a most gorgeous woman, with fair skin and her hair a mix of black and white. She wore blood red lipstick that contrasted her skin tone. She wore a gray suit with black and crimson accents. The cuffs of her sleeves looked similar to swan feathers. A pin in the shape of a butterfly sat on her collarbone, the deep ruby red gems glowing like menacing eyes under the light of the moon. 

Her hands, also black like the night, were careful as they settled on your shoulders. Three of her nails on each hand were painted red. The other two were black. 

This woman appeared scary, but her comforting touch and her kind words were far from that. Just from her presence alone, you could tell that she was not a threat to you. She was not here to harm you or drag you into the knights’ custody. 

You could tell just from her expression and her aura. 

“Relax,” she whispered. 

Her voice was authoritative, commanding, but there was an underlying softness in the way she spoke to you— as if she knew how to handle children your age. She brushed the hair out of your eyes. 

“There is no need to cry anymore. There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.” 

The kind words of this strange woman surged through you right to your heart. Your lip trembled, and your eyes gathered with tears once more. You shuffled towards her kneeled body, grabbing onto the blazer of her gray suit with fervor. You dug your face into her hold, your cheek resting against her stomach. 

Sobs racked through your tiny body. She did not push you away like you expected. Instead, she knelt into a more comfortable position and gently patted your head as you cried. 

You did not want her to leave. You were desperately hoping that this was not a dream. If this was a dream, it was a cruel one. A child of your age needed a parent right now, and your young mind latched onto the only adult figure that cared enough to show you sympathy. 

“Shhh. It’s okay.” She shushed you. “I won’t be going anywhere.” 

You snuggled into her further. Despite your attempts to cling to the only adult figure that showed you mercy and comfort, she did not reciprocate affection like a parent usually would. She had the ability to calm your nerves and soothe your mind, but she did not seem capable enough to coddle you like a mother would to her newborn baby. 

She opted for little physical affection and let her words do the talking instead of her actions. 

It was very fatherly. Not like you would know; you never knew your father— or your mother, for that matter. 

“Come home with me.” She muttered. The words came out more like a statement, a demand, instead of a question. “I will raise you like a strict and unfeeling father.” 

That was how you ended up in a foreign nation’s orphanage, more commonly known as the House of the Hearth. 

The House wasn’t the best place. You came to find that many of the children were wackjobs— some more than others. But the orphanage was better than being thrown into jail for murdering a Mondstadt aristocrat. 

The woman—  Arlecchino, her name was —assured you that your background would be wiped clean. She promised you she would take care of everything regarding the matter of the aristocrat’s murder. You did not know whether to trust her judgment or not, but seeing as there was a roof over your head, food on your plate, and clean clothes at your disposal, you chose to trust her for now.

After all, this was the most attention you have received from an adult in your entire life. You never had more delicious food. In fact, you have never had this much food in your life. Instead of scrounging for scraps in alleyways and stealing more than a few apples from a vendor’s stall, you had three meals a day— including some snacks. 

You no longer had one article of clothing. Arlecchino gifted you with lavish dresses that your younger self could only dream of wearing in her wildest daydreams. You were finally able to wash your body regularly without relying on the nearest river. In fact, you had a whole bathroom with a pristine bathtub, a fluffy towel, and hair and body wash that completely cleaned your whole body. 

Instead of bunching up newspapers to sleep on and shivering in the brisk night breeze, you had a twin sized bed with comfy sheets and a bouncy mattress. Your pillow supported your head and neck, and you got a proper night’s sleep. 

It was like a dream come true. You wondered when this fantasy would end. Indeed it did end— but briefly. 

A few weeks after you settled in, Arlecchino came to have a chat with you. She ushered the other children out of the room and they obeyed without hesitation. She told you the first day she took you in to call her “Father,” to which you did so. But you couldn’t truly start addressing her as such when you did not know how a parent acted towards their child. It was something you would have to get acquainted with over time. 

Of course, she was not going to force you to do anything until you were ready. Except this… 

“This orphanage belongs to a Snezhnayan organization called the Fatui.” 

She did not sugar coat her words, and perhaps that was a greater mercy than lying straight to a child’s face. 

Your frown deepened. Ever so sharp, she caught the action. However, she said nothing. You let out a sigh and looked down at the polished marble flooring of the playroom. Your feet dangled off of the chair you were sitting on, not quite reaching the ground. You always were a bit smaller than your peers. 

Perhaps it had been because of your previous living conditions. 

A soft, “I see” left your lips. 

You knew all about the Fatui. They paraded around the streets of Mondstadt as if they owned the place. The talk of the town always gave you information you wished to know. By hiding in the shadows and listening in on conversations, you quickly learned that the Fatui had close dealings with Mondstadt. 

They were even close allies with impeccable trust five hundred years ago. The same could not be said today. 

Today, they used Mondstadt’s mistakes as leverage for their own gain. You had been tossed around one too many times by a snobby Fatuus that barked at you to “watch where you’re going” and threatened to throw you in jail.

Their threats were no more than harmless jokes in your eyes. You did not care about their words. You were more scared of the Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius than you were of some high ranking Fatui officer. After all, what authority did a Snezhnayan officer have over a Knight in Mondstadt? 

Nothing; Unless they blamed someone else for their wrongdoings and chalked it up to being another one of Mondstadt’s mistakes, further getting their Harbingers or even their Queen involved. That would then lead to foreign affairs with paperwork and more work that had the Knights complaining about how much they hated the Fatui. 

“So you must be a Harbinger then.” 

Arlecchino was surprised by your ability to catch onto things quickly. She silently praised you in that regard. 

“Yes, I am.” She answered your rather rhetorical question. 

“I know what the House of the Hearth is,” you heard about it a few times in passing, “you take in children from all over and raise them to be foot soldiers and sleeper agents for your poor excuse for a Queen.” 

The way you spat out those words was commendable. Arlecchino couldn’t scold you for your raw display of distaste. After all, you were a child of Freedom. You were used to having free will and free speech. 

“I would rather work as one of those deplorable Knights than be a part of your organization.” 

Arlecchino decided she would let this one slide. You hadn’t become an official member of the House yet, so it was unfair to punish you for words of betrayal if you didn’t even officially belong to this organization. So… she let it get swept under the rug just this once. 

Next time, she wouldn’t be so forgetful… nor would she show any mercy. 

She opened her mouth, a deal ready on her lips, when you abruptly continued. “However… you have given me a bed to sleep on and healthy food with proper meals. You have given me a place to bathe and you even let me play with real toys. I suppose… living here wouldn’t be so bad.” 

You were only a child. She thought you were a bit more mature for your age before, but considering how you completely disregarded the House’s initial purpose, she now believed otherwise. 

You were looking forward to living in a real home with a real family. You did not consider that you were selling your soul to the devil— that you would be bound to this organization for the rest of your life. If you tried to leave, well… betrayal wasn’t taken lightly here. 

“If you stay,” Arlecchino began, her voice stern like usual, “you can never return to the life of freedom you once lived.” 

Was she giving you an out? It sure didn’t sound like it earlier. You searched her eyes, only to find nothing. She was adept at masking her emotions. 

A sigh left your lips. “I would take here over how I lived before. I had nothing.” 

“You had freedom—“ 

“How much of that did I really have if I was slowly dying before you found me?” You looked up at her, a hopeless expression dancing in your pupils. 

She reconsidered her thoughts once more. Maybe you were smarter than what she gave you credit for. 

With the deal sealed, she stood from her seat next to you and nodded curtly. “Alright,” you were now one of her children, “welcome to the House of the Hearth. From this day forward, I am officially your ‘Father.’” 

The other children in the House were more than excited to have a new sibling. However, you wanted nothing to do with them. 

To you, they were crazed animals with unusual interests and an unwavering loyalty to Arlecchino. Most of them, actually. Not all of the children saw her as their savior. 

Even so, you were not intending to make friends or get close enough to call anyone your sibling. You stayed in your corner, staring at the wall more often than not, and wondering why you chose to stay. 

It was not like you had anywhere else to go, though. You were a child, you could not support yourself in the real world yet. And if you were sent back to Mondstadt, who knew what would happen to you. You might not even make it that far out of Fontaine before getting killed. 

Based on the way you mutilated that aristocrat though, you might have a chance. But your option to leave was now severed. You were officially a member of the House. If you tried to leave, you would lose your life. That was one of the most important rules of the House: betrayal was punishable by death. 

Your legs dangled off the side of your twin sized bed. Gently knocking your feet together, you stared down at your flats. This was the first pair of shoes you ever owned, and Arlecchino had been the one to give them to you. 

White with black lace trimming and a small black bow on top. The design engraved into the sides of the shoe resembled that of a swan’s wings. The flats fit you perfectly, as if they were made for your feet only. 

A small smile graced your lips as you continued to study the shoes with a great deal of admiration. You would cherish these shoes with every ounce of care you had left in your heart. 

Two figures stood outside the doorway to the bedroom that you shared with three other girls. Arlecchino had her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you silently. You refused to talk to any of the children, and although the desire to be alone was something she greatly understood, she felt a small ounce of worry settle in her gut. 

If you did not make friends, then you would have no allies… and no allies in a world filled with threats coming at you from every angle meant you were completely alone with no one to help you in times of need. 

Problem children were a common occurrence in any family. You happened to be the newest one on her roster. Your refusal to just about everything was beginning to make her aggravated. She tolerated it the first two weeks because of your upbringing and severe trust issues, but now it was getting out of hand. 

Disobedient children had to be punished. 

“Stop staring daggers into the back of the poor girl’s head.” The pompous voice of her coworker entered her ears. 

Signora crossed her arms over her chest and sent you a sympathetic look. A sigh left her lips. “The poor girl. Another child abandoned by the Wind. If she harnesses that hatred and fuels it into revenge, she—“ 

Arlecchino let out a long sigh and briefly closed her eyes. “She has no need for revenge, Rosalyne. I am merely giving her a home. If she desires to be great, then I will make her great.” 

The blonde woman let out a scoff. “Why am I talking to you like you’re a proper parent? You’re not even twenty years old yet.” She waved Arlecchino off. “No matter. I shall talk to her.” 

With that, Signora sauntered her way into the bedroom. Arlecchino’s eye twitched involuntarily. The two did not get on like close friends, but Arlecchino still respected Signora greatly. She watched as the much older woman knelt down in front of you. 

Maybe her words could finally persuade you to make some friends. 

The sound of footsteps made you look up from your shoes. Your gaze met the icy cold eyes of a mature woman with long blonde hair that reached her knees, and rose colored lips. She wore a long, red and white dress that hugged her curves, with a slit on both sides, exposing her long legs. Her black heels clacked along the marble floor as she came to stand in front of you. 

A large, white coat with black fur lining the hood hung around her shoulders. She was elegant and poised in everything she did, even as she knelt down to be eye level with you. 

Her white earrings jingled at her movement, as did the chains on her winter coat. You did not know why she needed a winter coat when it was currently summer in Fontaine. Surely she had to be sweating right now. 

Her gloved hands came to rest in her lap delicately as a kind smile tugged at her lips. You found it to be somewhat genuine. A trace of uncertainty laid underneath, like she had not smiled in years. 

“My name is Rosalyne,” she spoke, her taunting voice entering your ears, “may I know yours?” 

You hesitated. What was this woman trying to do? Did she want information out of you? You did not have any to give. Why was she here? A friend of your Father’s perhaps? 

“(Name).” You muttered. 

The woman, Rosalyne, nodded. “That's a beautiful name. What does—“ 

“Why are you here?” Your brows narrowed. What was she trying to achieve? 

You barely knew her, and yet you could already read her like a book. She was not as kind as she seemed to be. She was holding up a mask, effortlessly hiding behind it. 

Rosalyne huffed, her annoyance apparent with the slight twitching of her eye. She simply smiled. You were willing to test her patience to see how long she could keep up the nice guy act. 

Instead of allowing her anger to take over, she took a deep breath. Her smile vanished, replaced with a frown that you assumed to be the real her. Her voice grew softer as she spoke.

“I was also born in Mondstadt.” That line alone grabbed your attention. “But I would not consider myself a child of the Wind like other Mondstadt natives.” 

There was a passion in her voice, along with a deep rooted hatred. Every word that left her lips pertaining to the Nation of Freedom was spat out as if she could not even stand the thought, let alone talk about, her home.

You did not love the people of Mondstadt. They treated you like a disease. But the Wind always favored you. You found yourself curling up on the soft grass near the tree in Windrise more often than not. You even considered Windrise your home for a time. 

The fresh breeze was refreshing. It cooled your skin and warmed your heart. It comforted you on nights where you could not stand to survive any longer. It wrapped its arms around you and gently shushed you when you cried. 

You did not love the people of Mondstadt… but you sure as hell loved the Wind and the scenery of your home. You missed the open fields and the jutted cliffs. You missed the wide, cloudless, starry sky and the outline of Celestia in the sky when the moon crossed behind it. 

You missed the afternoon breeze and the tolling of the bells on top of the cathedral. You missed dandelions, and picking fresh berries on sunny days. You would forever miss the atmosphere of the streets of the city, and the lively songs of the bards on each corner. 

But you would never miss the people— their words spat in your face and the way they wanted nothing to do with you. 

Unlike Rosalyne, you still considered yourself a child of the Wind. You thought of yourself as such because of your close connection and love for the Wind. You assumed she did not want to associate herself with the title because of some resentment she harbored towards the Anemo Archon and the people of Mondstadt. 

You were indifferent in your thoughts about the Anemo Archon. What did it matter that he did not rule Mondstadt personally? The people could take care of themselves just fine without the guidance of a god. So why did some harbor hatred towards him for his absence? 

To you, his absence was all you knew. Besides… didn’t he return every harvest season to bless the wine and the land? What more did the people want from him? 

He had always been an absent Archon, as far as you were concerned, and you would much rather have him be absent than be a helicopter parent like Inazuma’s Archon. 

“Do you miss Mondstadt?” you found yourself asking, out of pure curiosity. 

Rosalyne’s pretty gray eyes widened significantly, before she looked away from you. She stood up and took a seat next to you on the neatly made bed. She shimmied out of her winter coat and folded it delicately beside her. She placed her hands in her lap. 

“It has been quite a while since I returned,” she said. Her voice cracked a little, so fleeting you almost missed it. Her shoulders slacked. “But I wouldn’t say I miss it. I do miss the memories I made there… but that was a long time ago. Dwelling on the past won’t do me any good.” 

You looked up at her, studying her stoic expression. There was a hint of sadness that flashed in her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came. She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. You noticed her shoulders tense once more. 

It seemed as long as she put up that mask, she could not fully relax. 

Her tone switched to one filled with affection. “I have something for you.” She dug through the pocket of her large winter coat and sent you a smug smile. “Close your eyes.” 

Instead of closing your eyes, you opted to turn your head away. You did not trust closing your eyes. The last time someone told you to… —no, you could not remember that now of all times. You wish you could forget it. 

“Hold out your hand.” 

You did as told. Something fluffy was placed into your hand, and you turned around to face her once more. Sitting in your hand was a wolf plush. It had gray fur and black beady eyes. Its tail was bushy, and its snout was long. 

A look of confusion crossed over your face as you looked up to meet Rosalyne’s gaze. A genuine smile rested on her lips as she placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“When your Father told me a child from Mondstadt arrived, I simply had to bring you a gift.” She told you, her voice dripping with affection akin to the kind a mother held for their child. “Since wolves are highly prominent to the nation, I decided on this rather than a Windwheel Aster.” 

Truthfully, you would have loved any gift she gave you.

This was the first time you were ever receiving a gift. To say it touched your heart had been an understatement, as your lip trembled and you broke out into uncontrollable sobs. Is this what it was like to be thought of in a good light? Is this what it was like to be cared for and loved? 

Rosalyne, who barely knew you for more than a half hour, had spent her own time and money on a gift for you when she did not know you yet. 

She panicked a little as you cried, her hands reaching out to grab your shoulders. You could hear her mumble “what should I do” under her breath a few times before she pulled you closer to her and patted you on the back. 

You eagerly wrapped your arms around her middle and dug your face into her side. Her whole body was oddly cold to the touch. A shiver ran down your spine from the severe drop in temperature of her body compared to Arlecchino’s extremely warm one. 

Her bare skin was even colder. The gap in the sides of her dress that revealed her fair skin made that clear. As soon as your arm touched her skin, you pulled it back to rest on the back of her dress. The freezing cold lingered on your own skin for a while after, chilling you to the bone. 

Her awkward pats on your head turned to slow strokes of her fingers through your hair, and her uneasy mutters turned to a soft hum of a lullaby from her lips. Her arms felt secure, like a warm fire in the middle of winter. 

She cradled you as if you were her own, and in a hushed tone, whispered resolutely, 

“We’ll show them. We’ll show them all.” 

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[impala-dreamer]

Save Me - Part One

A Short Story

~ Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen's fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader, Dean Winchester

7,160 Words Total. Part one: 3,209

Warnings: My kind of Super Angst. Blood. Injury. Kidnapping. It's really sad...

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "No one's coming to save you. Get up!"

PART ONE ~ PART TWO

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Her thoughts were hazy; her head throbbing from the repeated blows. The blood that had trickled down her neck had dried and she could feel how matted her hair was around the wounds.

Her muscles ached, her skin was bruised and broken in more than one spot. The cramped trunk she’d been forced into and the bumpy ride had nearly crippled her. She’d tried to count the turns they took, the miles they raced across, but disorientation and fear had been too much to overcome.

Wrists and knees bound in scratchy, rough rope and eyes blinded by a scarf, Y/N was led from the car and dragged up a few stairs. She could hear a lock turn and the hinges of a door creak. Boots on a wooden floor; the heavy breathing of her captor.

The house was warm. Heat was pulsing up from hissing radiators and the smell hung heavy in the air, mixing with the stench of stale cigarettes and rotting trash. Still, she was grateful for the warmth. January in Indianapolis was freezing and the trunk hadn’t exactly been insulated.

“Where are you taking me?” she whimpered, cringing as the fingers around her upper arms dug into her flesh.

There was no answer.

“Please! Don’t do this. We can work something out.”

When she refused to take another step, she was yanked forward and thrown into another room. Her sneakers squeaked and she recognized the sound of cheap linoleum flooring under her rubber soles.

A kitchen. Knives. A backdoor, maybe.

She twisted against the tight hold. “Please, just let me go. I swear to god I won’t go to the cops. No charges pressed. Please. We can get out of this mess.”

The giant hand gripped her harder and Y/N groaned at the pain.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

A gruff voice shouted by her ear. “Shut up!”

She bit her tongue but refused to give up. “Let me go!”

With all of her strength, she pivoted to the right, shoving her elbow hard into the solid body behind her. She heard a pained grunt and the hand holding her released. She spun around the other way and tried to run, but it was no use. Still tied, her knees buckled and she began to fall.

The hands were back, yanking her harshly back onto her feet. She screamed and fist collided with her jaw. Sparks erupted in the blackness of her vision, pain spread across her face.

“Told you to shut up!”

Y/N held her breath and squeezed her lips shut.

Tugged forward again, she stumbled deeper into the kitchen and heard a door open. Cold air hit her face and she shuddered.

“Where are we going?” Tears soaked into the blindfold. “Please…”

Hands released her and Y/N teetered on the edge of what felt like the top of a staircase.

A basement.

She panicked.

“No, no, no!”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!”

His fist connected with her temple and Y/N fell. She counted four stairs before every sensation and thought vanished.

“You sure we should be doing this here?”

Y/N looked over from the edge of the bed at Jensen who was fixing his hair in the mirror. He was primped and picture perfect for a busy day at the convention. Tight black tee under a denim jacket, immaculately ripped jeans, and brown boots. Add to it all the longer hair and a beard- he looked a little too good.

He caught her eye in the mirror and smiled. “I do. I think this is the best place to do it.”

Y/N squirmed nervously and lifted her left leg onto her knee so she could retie her sneaker for the tenth time. Her engagement ring glimmered and she sighed happily at the diamond.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

And yet-

“What if they don’t like me? Or they get mad, or-”

Jensen spun around and dipped his chin, looking at her with a stern gaze. “Then I’ll kill them. All of them.”

His voice had dropped to a deep, rough growl and Y/N laughed.

“OK, Dean.”

Jensen exhaled loudly and straightened up, returning to himself. He closed the space between them with two long strides and fell to one knee. He took her hand, the same hand that he’d held two weeks ago when he’d asked her to marry him.

“I promise,” he said softly. “They’re gonna love you.”

Her cheeks warmed and her tension eased.

“How can you be sure?”

Green eyes beamed as he smiled.

“Because I love you.”

Pain woke her.

Stabbing, white-hot pain that spread through the entirety of her left side. Though she couldn’t tell where it manifested from, several points along her body had made contact with the concrete floor and spikes of pain radiated from each one.

Her cheek was smashed against the frozen floor and her nose ached. Gingerly, she rolled onto her back. The scarf over her eyes had shifted a bit and she could see a faint stream of light surrounded by creeping shadows.

The air was frigid and damp, and smelled like mold. She shivered as the cold seeped through her thin clothing and into her soul.

Fear wrapped itself around her lungs and squeezed. Her breathing quickened, her sore jaw trembled. She tasted blood, felt every bruise, every splinter of bone. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the last twelve hours.

Late evening. The convention center. Walking from the loading dock to the back parking lot. Low hanging ceiling; giant yellow lights. Cars jammed in every spot. A dirty white van. A shiny black Explorer. An old gold Camry.

The Camry.

Something heavy hitting her head. Her ears rang. The warmth of blood oozed across her scalp.

She could feel the trunk closing around her, the thin upholstery. The stink of gasoline wrinkled her nose.

Her chest burned. Her throat closed.

She screamed.

“Somebody help me! Help!”

She thrashed against the ground; ropes still would tight around her wrists and legs.

“Help!”

Turning her face back to the concrete, she wiggled her forehead against the stone, pushing the blindfold up and away from her eyes. She blinked into the darkness and let out a hopeless cry.

The basement wasn’t big, but it was old and dark. Light streamed down from the door at the top of the staircase but she’d rather not have any.

Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, spiders lurked in corners, ghosts swept like cold breath over her skin.

“Please…” Tears flowed freely, dripping down her cheeks and onto the floor. She let go, sobbing into the darkness, lost and terrified. “Help me…”

The stage was bigger than she thought it would be; the curtains heavier. She stood off to the side, hiding in the wings while Jensen awed the crowd.

He really was something magnificent. With a tiny smile, he could captivate a crowd. One well-timed wink could send them to their knees, have them swooning and begging for more.

Y/N watched happily as he answered questions and animatedly told a few stories about his work on The Boys. He had a million stories and she would never get tired of hearing them.

She could feel the hour waning and nerves crept up her spine. She steadied her breathing and twirled the platinum ring on her finger. It was too big, she thought, but it didn’t matter. It could be a lump of camel dung and she’d love it. He’d given it to her.

Finally, Jensen cleared his throat and threw a glance over his shoulder at her. It was time.

“I’m sure most of you have heard the rumors,” he said, microphone clutched in his left hand. “So, I thought we’d put them to rest right now.”

The audience’s anticipation was nearly tangible. Hopeful silence rang through the room.

“If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to introduce you to my fiance…”

Right arm extended, Jensen gestured to Y/N and she took a deep breath before stepping out into the bright lights.

Her hands were numb. The skin around her wrists was bloody and stinging. In a panic, she twisted her hands, chewed on the knots, screamed through her teeth.

The desperate cries rang off the leaky stone walls and bounced back at her. She was sure that no one outside would be able to hear her, even if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere.

She had no idea, really, where she was. She did know that they had driven for a long while, and most of the journey had been on uneven, unpaved roads. Surely, they were well outside of the city and anywhere there might be neighbors nearby to hear her pleas for help.

Giving up and afraid of breaking her teeth on the knot, she rolled onto her knees and carefully shuffled over to the stairs. The wooden banister was old and unfinished, just bare wood hammered into place. She rubbed the rope against the edge, hoping to fray the strands and break free.

“What are you gonna do once you get those ropes off?”

Y/N froze and looked around, searching the shadows for the source of the familiar voice.

“Hello?”

“You got a plan?”

“What?” She squinted into the shadows but there was nothing there. She was alone.

“I said, do you have a plan to get out of here?”

“Who’s there!”

A deep, kind laugh. “You know who it is, Y/N/N. What you don’t know is how to get out of here.”

Her heart raced. She did know who it was, but she wouldn’t admit it. If she was hearing his voice, she was going insane. Or she was concussed, which seemed more likely.

Can you go crazy from that?

“Depends on how hard they hit you, I guess,” he said.

Y/N grit her teeth and tried to ignore him. She went back to work furiously rubbing against the post.

“Keep going, you almost got it.”

She sighed. “Go away.”

Another laugh, softer, under his breath. “You don’t mean that. You need me.”

Y/N groaned and kept at her task. Tiny specks of dust and fibers danced in the faint light and she picked up speed, forcing it harder into the wood.

The rope snapped before she could steady herself and she fell forward, smashing her forehead into the corner of the post.

“Fuck!”

Dizzy, she tore the broken twine away and sat back on her ass. She kicked her legs out and untied the rope around her legs. Finally able to move, she jumped to her feet.

The sudden movement was too much for her head and she fell onto the steps, palms crushing into the damp wood.

“Be careful…”

Y/N rolled her eyes at the phantom voice and crawled on aching hands and knees up the steep stairs.

Once at the top, she held her breath and pressed her ear to the door, listening.

If anyone was near, they made no sound.

Carefully, she stood up and grabbed the knob. Praying for release, she turned the brass but it caught halfway around. She turned it again and again hoping something would change, but it was locked.

“Hello!” She beat against the door, kicked it hard. “Help me! Hello!” Fists pounded, her throat tore. “Let me out!”

Someone on the other side kicked at the door and it rattled in the frame.

“Shut the fuck up!” he bellowed, scaring her even more.

Y/N jerked back from the door and felt all hope drain away as boots thudded across the linoleum and the lights went out.

To her surprise, the audience cheered. Smiles beamed up at her from the front row, applause washed over her.

Timidly, and with Jensen’s encouragement, she stepped up to the microphone stand and smiled.

“Hey, guys.”

Her cheeks were burning, her eyes squinting in the stage lights. She raised a hand to shield her face from the glare and looked out into the room. Every seat was filled and fans stood along the back wall. It seemed everyone at the con was in that room, watching Jensen give his big announcement.

She tried to take the mic but her hand was shaking terribly. Jensen came to her aid and pulled it from the stand. He kissed her cheek.

“You’re gonna be great,” he whispered. “They already love you, just go with it.”

Already, people were queueing up on either side of the stage, ready to ask a question should the lines be opened again.

“How’s it going?” she asked, receiving a loud cheer in reply. “Yeah, me too.” She laughed and took a shy step back. Her heart was racing, her lips hurt from smiling.

Jensen watched her with bright, loving eyes. He placed his big hand on her lower back and gave a gentle push.

His touch calmed her instantly. She turned to look up at him and everything else faded away. She’d be fine, he was with her. Always.

“Well, show them,” he said into the mic.

Y/N laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Go on…”

With dramatic, mock reluctance, she extended her left hand and showed off her new ring. It sparkled in the lights and the fans went wild.

She checked the door three more times. She twisted the knob until her palms were raw. She kicked at the wood until her legs ached.

In the darkness, she felt her way down the stairs and collapsed onto the floor. Her head was pounding and a sharp, unending ring blasted loud in her ears.

She lay on her right side, shivering and sweating at the same time. Her face was clammy and her eyes felt as if they were on fire.

“You have a fever,” he said. “That’s not good.”

Y/N turned towards the voice and gasped.

Leaning against the staircase railing was a ghost of her imagination, a handsome vision in a denim jacket and ripped jeans. Red flannel peeked out beneath the jacket and his pockets were full. His jaw was shaded with light stubble; his hair was short and fluffed upwards. His forehead was creased and he crossed his ankles and arms, staring down at her.

She shook her head but her vision wouldn’t clear. He was blurry but obviously there.

“Dean?”

He chuckled. “Who else?”

She sighed painfully and closed her eyes. “You’re not real.”

The apparition pushed off from the post and shrugged. “I’m more real than anything else you got right now. Who are you gonna talk to? That rat over there?”

She cringed. “What!”

He laughed outright and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re gonna have to toughen up real quick, Sweetheart, if you’re gonna get out of this.”

“There’s no way out of this.”

Dean crouched down, set his forearms on his knees, getting close to her. “There’s always a way out. You may not like it, but there’s always a way.”

Something caught in the back of her throat and she coughed hard. Violent pain erupted across her middle and she screamed, folding in on herself.

Dean’s worried hands floated over her body; his face contorted with helplessness.

“Hey. Hey! You’re OK. Just breathe.”

She coughed again and her limbs spasmed, twisting inwards.

“Hey! Y/N/N, come on.”

She imagined she could feel the heaviness of his hand on her shoulder.

“Shh… It’s a broken rib… or six. You’re gonna be OK.”

Her eyes were wide, her skin paled. “Can’t… breathe.”

“Hey, hang on… Stay with me!”

Another cough let loose a spray of crimson from her lips and Y/N’s eyes rolled back.

Dean’s voice echoed in her head and everything else faded away.

He kissed her on stage. In front of everyone. In front of a thousand cameras flashing and videos rolling. He kissed her hard, dipped her over his arm.

Y/N was embarrassed and thrilled and in love. It was hard to contain or sort through the emotions running through her, and when they walked off stage together, she started to cry.

Jensen spun around and bent down to reach her eye level.

“Baby, no… what’s wrong?”

She shook her head and tried to look away, but two giant hands framed her face and held her there.

“What’s going on?” he asked, green eyes flooded with worry. “Did I do something?”

She smiled and sniffled. “No. No, Jen, you didn’t. I’m just…” She took a shaky breath. “I’m so fucking happy.”

She took a shaky breath and lifted her head from the frozen concrete. The chill had entered her bones, chilling the marrow and numbing her digits. Her joints ached; the breaks in her body stung. She wiped at the dried blood on her mouth and tried to sit up.

It hurt too much to move.

“I’m thirsty,” she croaked. Her throat was raw and her voice crackled.

“You gotta get outta here.”

She growled. “Ya think? How?” She pushed up on one arm and glared his way.

Dean was standing in the dark next to the stairs. Hands shoved in his pockets; bottom lip tugged harshly between his teeth.

“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is!”

He sighed. “I know.”

“Or who they are!”

He pursed his lips, took a breath. “I know-”

“Or why the fuck I’m locked in a basement!”

Dean rolled his head on his shoulders, looking for answers on the ceiling. “That’s it.” He snapped his fingers and looked down at her.

“What’s it?”

“Why are you here?”

She rolled onto her ass and slowly tucked her knees to her chest. Every movement hurt, but it was better than freezing to death laid out like a ragdoll.

“I already said, I don’t know.”

He dropped his chin, narrowed his gaze. “Think.”

She shook her head. “I have no fucking idea.”

“They haven’t touched you,” he noted.

She scoffed. “Um… I don’t know if you recall that I’ve been bludgeoned and shoved into a trunk and beaten and-”

Dean held up his hand, surrendering and asking for patience. “I mean, they haven’t… touched touched you.”

“You mean like-”

“Yeah.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“So they’re not gonna like… rape me or anything. That’s good.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He scratched his head. “So why are you here? What do they want from you?”

Y/N shrugged and winced at a new found pain. Her neck was stiff, her spine tingled.

“Think!”

She startled. “I don’t know!”

“Think. What’s missing?”

“I don’t-” Her head hurt. Her vision unfocused.

“Come on, kid. Think.”

“My… my ring.” She reached for the diamond, but her finger was bare. “My ring is gone.”

Dean hummed. “Yeah. But what’s still here?”

She took stock of herself, struggling to remember what she’d worn that morning and what was left.

“My necklace,” she answered, touching her clavicle. “My jewelry. They didn’t take anything else.”

Dean came closer as he led her thought process along. “So, they…”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t a robbery or anything. They don’t want to rape me. They… It’s got something to do with you.” She looked up into green eyes and a hard expression. “I mean, with- with Jensen.”

TO BE CONTINUED... Part Two

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67@k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05 

[liz-on-leash]

thoughts on volleyball team captain monday who gets injured and fucked rough by the trainer cause she cant get away from him?

This is the first "thoughts" type of ask that I've received. Not sure how to reply to this other than by creating a short scenario for it, lol.

T/W: Rape, Injured

(Images for visual purposes only.)

Monday, the volleyball team captain, is laid out on a wooden stool in the locker room, her slender frame barely contained by a tight shirt and booty shorts. Her ankle is swollen from a nasty sprain during practice, causing her to grimace as she tries to put weight on it.

As the team trainer, you witness her struggle and approach with a cruel grin. "Looks like someone's hurting," your voice cold and indifferent. Monday, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder, gazes up at you with fear in her eyes, aware of your reputation as a ruthless, sadistic trainer. "It's killing me," she confesses, her voice strained and pained.

Without warning, you seize her injured ankle, applying pressure. Monday screams, her eyes wide with shock and agony. "What the hell? Let go!" She attempts to kick you with her good leg, but you predict her move and easily dodge.

"Chill, captain. This will aid your recovery," you lie, twisting her ankle further, disregarding her protests. Her screams reverberate in the room, her body writhing on the stool, hands clutching the edges tightly, her pert breasts straining against her shirt.

Leaning in close to her ear, your breath warm on her neck, you murmur, "You know, Monday, I've always fancied screwing the volleyball team captain. And now, with that ankle, you're not going anywhere." She freezes, realizing your intentions, horror filling her eyes. "What the... No, please, don't be insane!"

Ignoring her pleas, you unveil your already stiff cock, freed from your pants. It twitches with anticipation, pre-cum glistening. Her eyes widen, fixated on your girth. "No, please, I'm injured. Don't do this!" She tries to scramble away, but her injured ankle betrays her, sending a jolt of pain through her leg, causing her to cry out and freeze.

You chuckle, relishing her fear. Then, in one swift move, you rip open her booty shorts, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room. Her smooth, shaved pussy is exposed, pink lips glistening with arousal despite her protests. "Look at that, your snug little snatch is ready for me, captain."

She shakes her head vigorously, locks flying. "No, it's not like that! Please, just let me go, I—" Her words are cut off by a sharp slap across her face, the sound echoing. "Shut up, slut. Your body betrays you. It craves a real man to take charge."

You waste no time, spitting in your hand and using it to lubricate your cock. Aligning your throbbing tip with her tight entrance, you thrust forward. Monday screams at the top of her lungs, eyes rolling back, back arching off the stool. Her pussy is tight and warm, clenching around your cock as you bury yourself deep in one stroke.

Her hands push against your chest, nails digging into your skin as she resists. "Get off me, you sick bastard! I hate you! I hate you!" she screams, voice hoarse. You grip her slender throat with one hand, applying enough pressure to restrict her breathing, and begin pounding her. Her injured leg hangs off the stool, useless as you violate her.

With each forceful thrust, her buttocks lift off the stool, breasts bouncing with the impact. Her cries fill the room, a mix of pain and unwanted pleasure. "That's it, scream for me, bitch. Bet your tight pussy's never been fucked this good," your voice laced with lust and dominance.

Monday's eyes are wild with panic and fury as she realizes escape is futile. Her hands grasp at your wrists, attempting to push you away, but she's no match for your strength. "No, stop, please! It hurts! You're tearing me apart!" Her words only fuel your desire, and you quicken your pace, balls slapping against her ass with each powerful thrust.

The room echoes with the sounds of your hips colliding, your grunts, and her desperate sobs. Her juices coat your cock, a blend of her arousal and your pre-cum. Her body trembles beneath you, her once-tidy shirt now riding up, exposing her breasts, heaving with each violation.

Leaning down, your mouth near her ear, you whisper, "You belong to me now, Monday. This tight cunt is mine to fuck whenever I want." She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Never... I'll never be yours... I hate you..."

Her defiance only stokes your sadistic desires, and you reach between her legs, finding her clit. Rubbing it roughly, you feel her body respond despite her protests. "No, don't touch me there! Please, I can't—!" She pleads, voice breaking as her body betrays her, building toward an unwanted orgasm.

You chuckle, her pussy clamping even tighter around your cock. "Your body says otherwise, slut. Come for me, and I might just stop." Your fingers work her clit, while you continue thrusting relentlessly. Monday's breath catches, back arching off the stool as an intense orgasm washes over her.

"Nooo!" she screams, body shaking uncontrollably as her pussy contracts around your cock. Her juices flow freely, coating your balls as she experiences a powerful release. Eyes shut tight, face a mix of agony and pleasure, she endures the most intense orgasm of her life.

Feeling her pussy milking your cock, you climax inside her, cum mixing with her fluids. Growling, you bite her neck hard, marking her as yours. Monday whimpers, body spent, violated, and bruised.

Finally withdrawing, your cock slick with cum and her essence, Monday lies motionless, body battered and mind traumatized. Opening her eyes, filled with tears and loathing, she spits at you, "I hope you rot in hell for this."

Smirking at her defiance, you zip up your pants. "Anytime, captain. Your tight pussy is always open to me." With that, you turn and leave her broken in the locker room.