#could this really be counted as nsft lmao

[sweetlovingfictionals]

Me @ Naser or anyone im married / engaged with 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

Actually ykw? Marriage kink in general. Your fave being so enamored by you that the thought of putting a ring on it just makes them all hot and bothered

[itsohh]

A Military Man into Military Uniforms

A/N: G/Nreader, I started writting this prompt and got a decent way through and was like ‘this isn’t really fitting that much of the prompt’ and when I went to bed last night I was like ‘what if hes not wearing his uniform but the one with the kink’ something that didn’t occur to me at first so lmao. So anyway I restarted this prompt completely fresh.

Day 26: Uniform

Word count: 1805    

Warnings: NSFT, smut

AO3 Kinktober Masterlist

It had been a long day, award ceremonies normally were. The sky had been cloudy, a thankful occurrence that prevented you from overheating in the green jacket. A sigh left your lips as you entered the coolness of your room, while it hadn’t been too hot outside, the humidity had made it rather stuffy. It was always nice seeing your comrades appreciated, yourself included, but you could only wish that the ceremony wasn’t so damn long. At least this time you didn’t have to make a speech.

The beret on your head was tossed on the coffee table, your jacket unbuttoned with precision pops and you let out a sigh of relief. The tie was pulled down slightly and loosened enough for comfortable wear. Before you could get too far though, a pair of arms wrapped around you, a head leaning on your shoulder. “Ah how is my leibling?” Elias placed a wet kiss on your cheek and squeezed your body.

“Ah happy to be home.” He had come with you to your home country, your home open for him to share.

“Now if you would be so kind to let go of me I need to go change.” His grip became tighter at your words, his nose pressed against your neck before he gave it a small nip with his teeth.

“But you look so good like this. Pretty.”

“Elias…”

“How often do I get to see you dressed up like this? Not very often.” One of his fingers brushed over the brass buttons for a second before he gave it a little flick.

“Yes and I prefer to keep it that way, I’m so not a fan of our formal uniform.” A whine left his lips in protest and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“But it fits you so well, you look so good.” His words were punctured, enthesis on them. “Keep it on, just a little longer.” Your brows furrowed and couldn't help but wonder why he was so instant on- oh. You were pulled tight against his chest, his pelvis now subtlety grinding into you.

“Who would have thought, a military man into military uniforms.” You teased and he pulled apart the jacket, fingers going to your nipple where he gave it a light tug through your shirt.

“Only for you.” His index finger started to lightly swirl around on your nipple, causing it to become hard, shivers running throughout your body. “It was uh, a bit of a surprise  this morning when I saw you all dressed up.” If you could see his face you would have been able to see his red ears and warm cheeks.

“Well, I appreciate you not jumping me and making us late.”

“I have some level of self-control, just a tad.” You pressed your ass against him at the end of his words, an action that made him let out a breathless little moan. “I won't though if you keep doing things like that.” Seconds ticked by as you stayed still, a cheeky smile formed on your face and slowly, you pressed against his restrained cock once again. “That's it.” Was all the warning you received before he pushed you forward causing you to stumble onto the couch with a laugh.

Elias was quick to go for your belt, undoing it and pulling your pants down and onto the floor. Your back spread out on the sofa, he knelt down on the floor in front of his, lips kissing up your thighs. As he neared your pelvis, he gave you a quick wink as his hands ran up and down the inside of your thighs. A kiss pressed against your sex which turned into light little testing licks that teased you. “Mmm.” He hummed before he put his mouth to work, sucking on the most sensitive area of it.

Elias’s hands had a good grip on you, preventing you from bucking against his mouth, his actions were merciless, pleasuring you without hesitation. He grinned against you when his name left your mouth in a breathy moan, a tug at his hair. Successfully all worked up, your eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the sensation of his mouth. Only when he parted from you with a wet sound did your eyes open.

“Ah, where do you keep your uh gleitgel?” He pulled back and you stared at him stunned for a second. The realisation that he was still unfamiliar with your house washed over you and you let out a small ‘o’ shape with your mouth.

“Side of the bed, second draw down.” He nodded and let you there.

“Don’t move a muscle!” He called over his shoulder and you started to undo the tie just a little bit more. “I mean it!”

“Alright alright.” You stopped your actions and briefly heard him rummaging around in your bedroom before he popped back into the living room with a grin. Elias waved the bottle in front of you with triumph. Yet his eyes narrowed at your considerably more loose tie but let it slide as he saw the rest of you were the same. The lid made a small pop as he opened it and he started to glide it over his fingers.

Of course, you had noticed something he hadn't. It was a little hard to miss, the restricted cock that was begging to be released from his dress pants. His brows raised when you leaned forward, his head tilting before he let out a small laugh when your fingers tugged away his belt. The palm of your hand rubbed against his firm tent before you pushed down his pants, freeing him to his relief.

“Lay back.” Elias always was the one to be a selfless lover, yet you did what he instructed and lay back once again on the couch. Lubricant covered his fingers as he lift them up, his eyebrows wiggling as it ran down his hands slowly. The couch squeaked a little as he knelt down on it, his pants kicked off behind him. Elias tossed the bottle on the coffee table next to you, right next to your beret, and grabbed your leg. He lift your leg over his shoulder and slowly started to prod his fingers at your entrance. His eyes looked up at yours, looking for any discomfort before they flashed down and he slowly entered his two fingers.

He started a casual pace of fucking you with his fingers, curving them inside of you. An action that caused you to shiver out and moan as he brushed against your g-spot. “Whatever you do Elias…” Your eyes were shut when he retreated his fingers, grabbing both your beret and the lube with his dry hand. The hat was placed on his head and he coated his cock with lube. Your eyes snapped open as his cock rest against your sex. “Don’t get fucking lube on my uniform.” He chuckled and continued to push in. “It's silicon-based, it will be a bitch to get out and I don’t want to explain why I need a new uniform.” Your voice trailed off into high pitched whine as his hips met yours. Elias stood there for a moment and pulled off his black shirt and you made sure to pull your own white one up, making sure the fabric wasn’t going to be in the way.

Elias smiled as he took in your dishevelled form, there was something about the iron shirt all crumpled, the deep green jacket messily undone, the tie loose around your neck. Something about it all added to the appreciation of you, something that made his dick twitch. He leaned over you, his hand reached for your white shirt but was prompt slapped away by your hand, glare on your face. He stayed there for a moment as he tried to figure out why, his eyes squinting. When he looked down at his hand he could still very much see the residue of lube coating it and he let out an ‘ah’. He nodded and you rolled your eyes before slowly undoing your white dress shirt, your chest on display for him.

A wink was sent your way, approval on his face. He adjusted his angle a little, almost completely removing himself from you. Then he slammed back in. The pair of you moaned out together, a chorus of words as he started a furious pace.  His right on your leg was hard and he used it as an anchor to fuck you. A relaxed expression consumed his face while his hips rolled into you, the angle hitting that perfect sweet spot inside of you.

A long drawn-out curse left his lips and his head tilted forward, the beret falling off his head and onto your bare chest. The sound of it had his head snap up and this tongue poked out between his lips as he looked down at it. With a hard thrust of his hips into you, he leaned over and picked it up with his dry hand before placing it on your head. Not that it would spend very long on there, his resumed pace rocking your body, forcing it to lose its spot.

Elias found the loose tie around your neck, wrapping one hand around it he tugged you slightly forward, just enough so that as he bent over you, your lips were close enough for him to plant his own against. The kiss was open-mouthed and his tongue entered your mouth, dancing with your own. A whine left your lips and he parted from you slightly, keeping up the pleasurable pace. Your head tilted back, slightly suspended by his hold on your tie. “Fuuuuck please, just- ugh please.” You babbled out, and the wire inside of you became tense. Elias nipped your exposed neck, slamming inside of you and snapping that wire.

A loud shout left your lips, your eyes watering slightly as you quivered down on the man, pleasure consuming your body as you shook. Your lover continued to pound into you, not stopping his movements when he finally reached his own end, cum pumping into you as he slammed into your body. Slowly, his pace started to finish and he pulled himself from you, a satisfied smile consuming his face as he licked his lips. The grip on your tie loosened and he lowered you back down onto the couch. “I thought you looked nice before, mm-mm I must say right now you look so delicious.” His eye roamed your body as he sat down on the couch, his seed slowly seeping out of you. “If I could encapture this moment forever I would.” He continued to stare.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” His eyes widened with glee at your joke, taken as a suggestion.

“May I?”

[letsasoiaftogether]

She-Kraken’s Sailor...

IMAGINE...being a crew member of a merchant ship that is attacked by the crew of Asha Greyjoy’s longship, Black Wind

Author’s Note: I don’t really know where this idea came from but I hope you all enjoy it! (sorry for the title of the imagine, i thought it was clever lmao)

Word Count: 3,781

Warning: OOC!canon character! SMUT/NSFT/Degradation, Choking, Blood/Bruises (it’s ASOIAF/GOT, it is what it is lmao)

Other: Male!Reader/Please don’t skin me alive for a poorly written Asha Greyjoy! I’ve written Yara (in a wlw type of way) a handful of times, but Asha is a little new to me!

*

The trip from the Free Cities had been quiet and unproblematic. The deals made through trading with the Braavosi had gone better than your captain could have dreamt of, and the winds remained steady to and from Volantis. Ever since war broke out in Westeros, sea travel had been twice as difficult as when Robert Baratheon still sat the throne.

You didn’t care. Difficult or not, all you wanted was to get back to the Vale and rest up. You had been fortunate enough to remain out of the conflict between the noble houses, something was probably conceived through greed and stupidity, and you had every intention to keep things that way.

Thank the gods for keeping the Vale out of the nonsense.

Even at Gulltown you heard the whispers about Lord Arryn’s widow, but that didn’t stop you from being grateful that she had kept her fighting men out of the War of the Five Kings. You could win a bar or brothel fight, but sword or bow weren’t your area of expertise and it wasn’t like you had a decade to learn.

With a sigh and one last look over your shoulder at Volantis, you slipped below deck to try and get some sleep while you could.

Kicking your boots off and pulling your tunic over your head, you settled into your hammock situated in the corner and groaned as your body relaxed. It had been far too long since you had had a proper bed and a proper night’s sleep.

What I wouldn’t give to have a warm body pressed to mine…

The two of you wouldn’t even have to be naked…

*

Who knew how long you had been asleep, but it felt like you had only been lulled into unconsciousness by the sway of the ship when the sound of clashing swords and screams ripped you from your dream of beautiful women.

For a moment you considered hiding. You weren’t about to risk your life against some pirates if you could hide and wait it out.

And then you were cursing yourself for being a coward and grabbing the sword from next to your hammock. It was a simple blade, nothing special, and it had never drawn blood from another person before.

The main deck was chaos. Bodies, blood, and the last few men of the crew you had served for nearly five years were doing their best to fight the invaders, but it was obvious they were no match.

You swung at the nearest enemy and got lucky to catch them off guard (they had only just been turning to face you), the blade of your sword cutting into his side and drawing blood that immediately covered his side as you shoved him aside and dove (stupidly) into the fray.

Outnumbered four to one (probably closer to eight to one), you fought your way toward the body of your captain – an older gentleman who had been stern but never uncaring toward those who made up his crew. It appeared as if his throat had been slashed and nothing further. You couldn’t help but think of the mercy in that as you dropped down beside him, a quick prayer slipping from your lips as you closed his eyes.

“Y/n!” Your head lifted and landed on a pot belly of a man that had been pressed against the side of the ship with his stomach split open and his insides slowly spilling out. His face was familiar but you couldn’t remember his name.

Momentarily stuck staring at the man in horror, you watched as one of the marauders stepped forward – laughing in what you could only describe as delight – and shoed the pot-bellied man overboard. In the common tongue, he shouted something about being “food for the kraken” which caused the others of his crew to burst out into laughter as they finished up their own fights.

Just as you went to stand, or to attempt to stand as your legs felt unsteady (a feeling you hadn’t had in over a decade) suddenly, you felt hot breath on the back of your neck and left ear. A chill went down your spine, any ounce of courage left you as you knew you had been bested and to try and fight for your life was pointless (in that moment at least).

“Are you enjoying the show, friend?” Her voice was rough, but not unattractive. It was sort of gravelly, low and rough, with an obvious mix of amused mockery. Her fingers, long and rough, wrapped around your throat from behind and tilted your head back until you were staring up at her.

She wasn’t unattractive, but she didn’t have the traditional sense of beauty neither. Dressed in a brown tunic with long sleeves (wet from either the sea or blood, probably both), black breeches that clung to the muscles of her legs and ass, and a pair of black leather boots that stopped just below her knees. Her hair was dark and short, and her eyes were dangerous.

“See something you like?” she laughed harshly just before hitting you across the face with the butt of her axe, knocking you onto your stomach before shouting out orders to her crew.

Spitting a small wad of blood onto the deck, you watched the way she commanded the group and the way they listened without question. Clearly, this woman had been in charge for some time and was capable enough to have hardened, mean looking men at her disposal.

You could have tried to run. At the least you could have managed to get overboard, but you would be stranded in the middle of the Narrow Sea. You doubted they would leave the ship without setting it ablaze first. You could have gotten away, but you would have then drowned or dyed from dehydration and starvation if some sea creature hadn’t eaten you first.

There was also the curiosity that had planted itself in you at the fact she hadn’t immediately killed you. Sure, maybe she enjoyed playing with her kill first, but why would she choose you over the captain? Or over one of the more seasoned (and better looking) men?

They killed every member of the merchant crew except for you and the cook.

Even the dumbest of pirates know to leave the cook alive.

The cook was taken below deck to cook a meal for the winning crew, and you were retrained in the Captain’s cabin – your arms behind your back with the ropes digging into your bare chest and wrapped around the single wooden post in the center of the room. A piece of dirty cloth had been shoved between your teeth and tied at the back of your head, muffling any noise you attempted to make.

So, you didn’t bother to make any.

Not so patiently, but with no other choice, you sat there with your legs crossed in front of you and your eyes on the door waiting for her to return.

Her.

Greyjoy.

You may not have been a noble, but you weren’t a lackwit.

Anyone who traveled the seas knew to look for the kraken banner, and you had spotted it clearly when you were being dragged to the cabin.

You didn’t know her name, but you knew her family. And you knew how dangerous it was to be captured by her.

They left you alone for what felt like an eternity. You had never been great at keeping track of time, and the pain in your jaw from where the woman had hit you with her axe was enough of a distraction that even if you tried, you would have lost count a hundred times.

The irritation and nerves had just begun to become too much for you, your body shifting back and forth as if it was actually possible to get yourself free from how tightly they had bound you with the ropes, when you heard the sound of approaching footsteps from outside.

It was her. The steps were heavy, sure, but not heavy enough to be any of the men you had seen up to that point.

She was wearing a smirk when she stepped through, shutting the door with a mocking twirl of her axe before moving closer to you. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? That cook of yours made a beef stew. It smells a bit like shit, but it’s filling enough.” As she spoke, she grabbed a chair from somewhere behind you and moved to place it in front of you.

You didn’t bother to hide your gaze as you watched her straddle it. You figured, if you were going to die soon, you might as well get some enjoyment from watching a woman’s figure before you went to answer to the gods.

“I bet you want to know why I haven’t killed you yet.” She said, tossing her axe onto the bed that was nailed to the wall some feet away, “To be honest, I thought about it when I came up behind ya, was just going to slit your throat and be done with ya.”

You raised a brow, silently asking her why she hadn’t. Not that you weren’t a little grateful that you were still breathing. You were still looking forward to getting home, to your cottage, and your bed.

“Perhaps I’m a bit like my Uncle Euron. Perhaps I just like to play with my food before feasting.”

The back of her hand hit your cheek, just as you had expected, and then she was grabbing your chin and pulling the gag from your mouth. Her gaze was piercing as she glared at you.

“Uncle Euron?” you managed to ask past the dryness of your mouth, “Is that a pet name or is there real relation?”

She punched you that time. Thrice.

She may have been a woman but…

You had to compliment her after spitting more blood from your mouth and noting your lip had been split open, “You punch harder than my pa used to.”

You didn’t see a reason for it, but she hit you once more for that.

“Are there any sorts of treasures on board? Anything my crew wouldn’t have found?” She asked after a few minutes of silence. The chair had been abandoned (it seemed to irritate her that it prevented her from hitting you as hard as she wished to), and she was instead crouched down in front of you – your mouths a mere four or five inches apart. “Gold, jewels? Fuck, maybe even rare, rich silks?”

“You think my Captain was a smart enough man to have some...secret hiding place? He was a widow, My Lady.” You smirked at her irritation, especially at the title, but figured if she wanted to avoid nobility labels, she shouldn’t have been sailing a longship with a kraken banner and being the clear, obvious Captain of the crew. “All he wanted was to make some money so he could be comfortable until he died.” You added, your voice a little softer now as you thought about the man and how, you hoped, he was at peace with his late wife wherever people ended up when they died.

To be fair, you didn’t entirely believe that Captain Ames was too stupid to hide things. He was an old man who had been alive for the reigns of King Jaehaerys and his successor the Mad King, followed by the Rebellion and crowning of King Robert and his son, Joffrey. He was, at least, smarter than you. And you would have had a secret compartment somewhere on the ship…just in case.

“What’s your name, sailor?”

“Y/n,” You didn’t bother to not answer her, your attention returning to her as you asked, “What’s yours, My Lady?” It was most definitely meant to be snarky and to annoy her. You were really starting to enjoy the way her face twisted in annoyance every time you opened your mouth to speak.

“I am the daughter to the King of the Iron Islands, you have the privilege to be speaking to his heir.”

“Wonderful,” None of that told you her name, however. You were a peasant. You had better, more important, things to do with your time than memorize the names of ever King and runner up Kings.

Her boot slammed into your stomach before she had a hold of your hair and had slammed your head against the wooden column behind you, “That ship out there is called Black Wind, I am its captain. Asha Greyjoy.”

You couldn’t tell if she was angry that you didn’t know of her, or just…angry in general.

Still, she was angry about something and she chose to take it out on you.

Brutally.

By the time she took a break, you had no doubt that your face was bruised – your lips were definitely swollen and you could taste the blood from them and from your nose which didn’t feel broken but was fucked in some way or another. You wouldn’t have been surprised if a few of your ribs were broken, either, and at least two fingers on your left hand were broken.

You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked like you had been tortured.

And, you supposed, technically you had been. At least Asha chose to keep her dirk sheathed and the axe on the bed.

For now.

“…okay, okay.” You panted, wincing in pain as speaking caused your chest to move and your ribs to protest, “If…if the Captain had anything...stashed away…it would probably be under the window seat. It…it lifts.” More than once, you had seen Ames pull bottles of ale from there when he didn’t want the entire crew drinking.

The she-kraken’s gaze narrowed as she pulled the dirk from its sheath at her waist and pressed it against your neck, “Any funny business…”

“I would never,” you breathed out, offering a forced smile as well as she moved away from you, over to the line of windows at the back of the cabin.

The seat being lifted was distinct, as there was a latch that had to be undone to do so. And then there was a chuckle and a small bit of noise like she was rummaging around.

You flinched ever so slightly as she reappeared in front of you with a bottle of Summer Isle rum in each hand, one bottle swinging a little too close to the side of your head.

“I want to hate you,” she admitted, leaning down so your lips were barely an inch apart “But you can take a punch and any man who will take a beating at the hands of a woman and not complain…”

“Is a smart man?” you offered as her sentence trailed off, brow raised as you watched her. Genuine humor on your tongue as you added, “Any man who sails these seas with the krakens about, you and your lot and the real things across the ocean, need be able to take a beating if they are to survive. Otherwise, these seas would be too boring. For you and for me.”

A laugh slipped from her lips as she sat down in your lap and sat the two bottles of rum down on either side of you. “You’re full of shit.”

You admitted to that without shame. “I’m a sailor, a fisherman, and a trader. I can punch but swinging a blade? Only when I must.”

Asha opened one of the bottles and took a long drink of it before pressing it to your lips, tipping it to where a good bit slipped onto your tongue a few, large drops rolled down your chin and onto your bare chest. “I noticed. No true warrior would have gotten distracted during a fight.”

“To the victor goes the spoils, and to the defeated goes a never-ending sleep.”

Together, the two of you drank through both bottles of rum.

Asha was a seasoned drinker, as were you, but the rum was strong.

The second bottle was only half emptied when the she-kraken’s long, strong, and rough fingers were wrapped around your throat, and she was whispering all the things she could do with you being restrained as you were.

You encouraged her.

What man wouldn’t want one last go-around before it was permanent lights out?

By the time the second bottle was finished, her tongue was in your mouth winning dominance as you gave what little control you had left over your person to her (not that she was exactly asking for permission).

You didn’t even notice that her breeches had been removed at some point in between the drinking, the choking, the dirty talk, and the kissing. It wasn’t until her bare knee brushed momentarily against your side that you lowered your gaze, locking in on her cunt and light skin atop your trousers.

Her fingers tightened on your neck, stopping any air from getting through, as her body moved against yours, rubbing her cunt roughly against the bulge in your trousers.

Groaning, you closed your eyes and let your head fall back. You were completely at her mercy, and even though you knew that you should have been fighting her, that anyone else in your position would have been cursing her to every one of the seven hells, but her hand wrapped around your throat and the roughness of her bites to your skin were far more enjoyable than painful.

You were painfully aware of her moving against you, and even more so as she took her hand from your throat and took off your trousers, leaving you bare to her. You watched her watch you, her dark gaze moving over every inch of you until coming to rest on your manhood.

You had always thought it on the average side of things in both length and girth, but the way she stood there staring at you nearly gave you an ego.

“When was the last time you had a good fuck?” She asked it conversationally, as if the two of you were just seated around a table drinking somewhere. The wicked smirk on her lips, however, shattered that illusion.

She was mocking you, trying to decide how much torture she was going to put you through as she rode you right there in the cabin of a rival captain she and her men had murdered for sport.

“You share first.” You mumbled, licking at your lips – the taste of Summer Isle rum still on your lips. Your own voice was hazy with lust and addled pain, your eyes watching her as closely as was possible when one was swelling, and half closed due to it.

Rough fingers were wrapped around your throat once more, squeezing until your head began to explode with pain and your vision darkened.

Her lips pressed into your ear as she settled herself over you, her hand wrapped around your shaft – squeezing just enough to draw a weak moan from your lips. “You should be better behaved for someone whose very life is in my hands.”

The words would have been more menacing if she hadn’t grunted in pleasure, her body tightening around the intrusion as her cunt greedily accepted your cock.

Just as the darkness in your vision began to pull you under, the she-kraken dropped, completely, down onto your lap and pulled her hand away, your hips bucking up to meet her and a long moan of pleasure running off your tongue.

There was no pause and adjustment, her lust filled gaze – one that could rival any man you had ever known – met the disoriented one of yours, and then she was rocking and bouncing like her life depended on it as you arched your hips the best you could with the ropes holding you in place.

She had the body of a woman, but she fucked like a man who hadn’t seen a pair of tits in a hundred years.

Her nails dug into your chest, drawing blood, and she moved her body against yours so roughly it was almost like she was trying to punish herself as much as she was punishing you.

Not that I would call this part a true punishment.

“Asha!” the shout of her name from beyond the door made you freeze but the she-kraken continued in her movements, “We need to go!” the deep voice called out, but the door didn’t open to the cabin.

“Give me a moment!” your companion called out just before she grabbed your chin and kissed you, her tongue brushing over your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth – greedily accepting the whimper of pleasure you let out.

You tried to hold yourself back, tried to put every inch of concentration into not finishing before her.

But then her inner walls squeezed around you and, although faint, you felt her shudder. And that was the last straw for your self-control.

Grunting, you slammed your hips upward, ignoring how the ropes dug into your bare chest as the tip of your shaft slammed as deep into her as was possible and you hit your release just seconds before she went completely still and spasmed around you.

The force of your release must have dropped you into unconsciousness for a short time because the next thing you knew a fully dressed Asha was opening the door, her and the other iron born looking over at your naked body.

“Do you want me to slit his throat or leave him to burn alive?” the man questioned, his attention now fully on the she-kraken who continued to watch you, silently.

A small groan slipped from your lips, the pure exhaustion in your body setting in fully now that all the excitement was over.

But you were still conscious enough to know that you didn’t want to die.

Not yet.

Despite being a peasant in comparison to her noble blood, and despite being a prisoner of hers, some small part of you wanted her to take you with her. You knew about salt wives and couldn’t see why there couldn’t be salt husbands as well. Fuck. You wouldn’t even need that title. You’d gladly be a part of her crew if that’s what she wanted from you.

Any other man would have slit their own throats before ever considering it, but you liked to think you were a logical man. Why choose death when you could live and have pleasure on the daily as you had there that night?

Of course, you could go without getting the shit beat out of you before each fuck.

“I paid the iron price. He’s coming.”