#dead dove december is already over

[90frogsinatrenchcoat]

"Come here" he said. His arms were strong, he was so much bigger than you were. And he knew it. He knew he could crush you, that he could rip you in half in an instant. And you knew it too. You should be scared. You were in danger. Yet.. his touch was soft. Caring. As if he had been in this exact position a thousand times before. "I won't hurt you like he did." His thumb on your cheek. "He won't touch you ever again" You felt your limbs shaking, your muscles tensing with utter terror. Was he being serious? How could anyone promise that? Wasn't.. wasn't it normal? What you had gone through was normal, it was.. it was necessary. That's what he had said. That it had to happen. That he wouldn't do it again. That he was sorry. That he would stop. But.. this was different. You could feel it. This one wasn't like the last.

Yeah a blurb

[runa-falls]

after dark

summary: he wants you. and he knows you need him.

pairing: geneticist!miguel o'hara x intern!reader

rating: explicit [18+] - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

cw: dark!miguel, dub/non-con elements, somnophilia, dacryphilia, drugging, afab!reader, stalking, obsession, smut, slight size kink, piv sex, creampie, breeding kink, gaslighting (?), a bit of dumbification, miguel's nano-suit in action!

wc: ~1.7k

a/n: this is my submission for @romana-after-dark's dead dove december event!

masterlist

---

Despite the obnoxious number of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals on your bed, your body is completely uncovered. A sweet scene reserved for his eyes only. 

You're curled up with your shirt shoved up to your chest, displaying your barely there panties that cling to your curves. Your body shivers unconsciously as a shadowed form cascades over your sprawled figure. He steps closer, his broad body blocking the moonlight that streams in through the window.

So unsuspecting. So…pure.

You nuzzle your face into your pillow with a sleepy sigh, body soft and relaxed, completely unaware of his presence. His claws dig into his palm as he holds himself back from touching you. 

You've always been a tease, showing up to work with those naive eyes and sweet smiles. More than once, your fingers have brushed against his as you shyly handed him a cup of coffee, mumbling an adorable, "For you, Dr. O'Hara", before scurrying away.

Red eyes glow as you move to lay on your back, legs falling apart to show him how the fabric of your underwear presses perfectly against the softness of your cunt. Your arms lazily stretch above your body, resting against the mess of your hair on the pillow. He seethes at the sight of your tits, barely shielded by your t-shirt.

You want this. 

He's sure of it. 

You're practically begging for it with how sweet you smell.

A hand lightly brushes against your abdomen, moving methodically so the sudden touch doesn't accidentally wake you. A finger hooks the underside of your shirt and tugs it over the curve of your tits, revealing your pebbling buds to the cool air. Sensitive.

He swallows down a groan as he captures a tit in his hand and softly squeezes the soft mound. You arch your back against his thumb as it barely flicks over your nipple and a soft whimper slips from your pouty lips against your pillow.

His other hand palms over his covered cock as it throbs desperately at the sight. Damn, you're a heavy sleeper.

Miguel lets his touch drift lower, teasing at the waistband of your underwear. He traces that cute little bow in the front, a symbol of innocence above a needy cunt. You’re so cute, acting all pure when all you really need is a big cock to fill you up. 

Two fingers press gently against your covered folds, prodding where you need him the most. You’re already wet for him, drenching the light fabric with your slick. He lightly tugs the underwear out of the way, needing to feel your sloppy cunt suck around his thick fingers.

Pulsing fangs dig into his bottom lip as he reveals your pussy, glistening so ethereally under the moonlight. He spreads your slick over your folds, mesmerized by the mess as you drip nectar onto the mattress below. God, you’re soaked. Even unconscious, you’re a desperate slut who’d take anything to be filled and bred. 

He attempts to push a finger inside of you, tenderly nudging at your entrance until he can ease the tip of his index finger inside your hot core. About halfway in, your body stiffens and your legs instinctively spread apart. 

You’re trying to let him in. You’re inviting him.

With more space, it’s easier to push in, to bury his finger until you’re wrapped around him. You feel so good, so wet and hot, perfectly tight around his finger. He can’t wait to feel the vice of your cunt around his cock.

Slowly, he pulls out, staring at the glistening tops of his knuckles, your mark on him. You let out a pretty sigh, so light and pleasurable and real that he’s afraid you woke up, but still you don’t open your eyes. 

Miguel pushes back in, just as slow, but this time at an angle. The tip of his finger drags against the top wall of your cunt and your pussy flutters around him. This time you let out a rough moan, involuntary, but so delicious. You’re so responsive to him.

His mouth waters as the heady scent of your lust calls him to coax more pretty sounds and messy slick from your body. He nearly turns you over to shove his cock into you, needing to feel your cunt swallow him until you’re staining your pillowcase with drool and tears.

He needs more. But he also needs you to cooperate. 

He leans over the side of the bed and hovers over your figure. His fangs throb under his top lip as he gets closer to you. He brushes your hair to the side, exposing your neck, eyeing the spot where your throat meets your shoulder. 

He presses a gentle kiss against your shoulder before laving his tongue against his target area, your sweet taste egging him on. Your body shivers with sensitivity as his hot mouth works over your skin, but you stay asleep. Your lack of awareness gives him the confidence to take the bite.

An involuntary moan rumbles up from his chest as his fangs sink into your soft skin. Miguel has to hold onto your arms before he gets carried away from the feeling. Your head involuntarily tilts to the side to give him more access to your neck as your body throbs, and you groan as a wave of pain, pleasure, and shock fills your senses.

Your eyes flutter open when the bed dips next to you announcing his presence, but all you can see is scarlet eyes staring down with curiosity. Your mind is foggy as you try to sit up, but your body stays flat on the mattress, feeling heavy and helpless. 

"Hmn…?"

Miguel coos lightly against your shoulder, “Shh…don’t worry, cariño. I’ll take care of you.”

You recognize that drawl, but you've never heard him so low and rough, “O’H-Hara?” You try to cover yourself with your blanket, slowly moving against whatever is holding you back, but he holds onto your wrist to stop your movements. “Wha–” You choke on your words as a sudden bout of heat spreads throughout your body.

The tingling hot sensation is overwhelming as it settles onto the surface of your skin. It makes your head fuzzy and susceptible.

"Let me help you..." Miguel settles over you and grinds his hips against yours, pinning you against your bed. He's hard against you, thick cock perfectly outlined by the thin fabric of his suit that's barely acting as a barrier between you. Your ruined underwear is still shoved to the side as he ruts himself against your cunt.

"Doctor..." Your body is immediately on fire, reacting mindlessly to his touch. You mewl wordlessly, arching your back and pressing harder against him. You don't know what's happening to your body. All you know is that you need more. "Please." It's a broken plea that leaves your tired lips.

There's an unbearable heat between your legs, but his body prevents you from pressing your legs together and reducing the intense feeling. He squeezes your wrists as you squirm under him, huffing in lustful frustration.

He whispers something above your ear that your scrabbled mind can't decipher, "Suit, Code Zero, Confirm."

But it doesn't really matter what he said when his bare body is finally pressing against you. He doesn't even have to line himself up before his aching cock is rubbing against your dripping folds, tip bumping so softly, yet earth-shatteringly, against your clit. “You don’t have to beg anymore, baby, I’ve got you…”

You cry out when he notches his cock against your entrance. He presses in slowly, letting you feel how completely he stretches you out. Miguel bites back a smile when he feels your legs shake against his hips. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, mi vida?" His voice is nearly a growl with how it drips with darkness.

You nod, eyes blearily searching his, wondering when he'll finally bottom out. Miguel watches your eyebrows scrunch together as you struggle with the intense pressure of him pushing in.

Adorable.

He groans when his hips finally meet yours, filling you to the brim. He doesn't waste time before beginning to move against you, fucking his cock into you over and over until you're eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

He doesn't stay gentle for long, easily losing himself to the feeling of your perfect little pussy wrapped around him. You can hear the distinct sound of his hips smacking against your thighs complimented by his rhythmic sopping jabs as he fucks you baselessly into your mattress.

It's all so much that you don’t even notice the tears that run down the sides of your heated cheeks onto the pillow under your head.

But he does.

"Feels that good, hm?" He teases, "Such a weepy baby. Can't even take a good fucking without cryin'." A raspy groan vibrates against you when your cunt accidentally flutters around him, unable to hold back against the pleasure he's forcing into your body. "Tell me you need me, cariño."

"I--" You try to hold yourself back from the edge, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of playing your body so perfectly, but then he rolls against you so fluidly, hitting that explosive spot inside of you.

"Go on, baby." Miguel encourages, "Say. It." He punctuates each word with a stabbing thrust right where you need him.

"Mngg..." Your cunt tightens impossibly hard around him as white fills your vision. A grated moan is squeezed out of your throat as you reach nirvana, every ounce of energy pushed out in one final bout. 

You don't mean to cum, you don't even want to, but you have no control over your body.

You go boneless as he continues to fuck you, harsh strokes against your weak body. "Mm, I’m gonna fill you up so good, cariño." Your body stiffens, quickly pulled out of your temporary state of euphoria from his words, "...Gonna fuck a baby into this pussy so you'll never leave me."

You try to shove yourself out of his hold, but his hold is too strong.

"W-wait, Dr. O--"

"It's Miguel." He growls out.

"Don't -- not inside --" Miguel ignores your pleas, letting go of one wrist to place his hand over your mouth. You can't do anything against his large body as he frantically ruts into you, taking everything he wants and more.

"You want this," He huffs. "You need me, baby. Need to be filled up and taken care of." He gives a few more hard, sloppy thrusts before shoving himself deep inside and painting your cunt with his cum.

[witchywithwhiskey]

to save me from tears

pairing: DARK!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you thought you were going on a weekend getaway to the cabin of the guy were seeing, but it turned out bucky barnes had no intention of ever letting you leave. now, one year later, it's the anniversary of an important milestone in your relationship, and he knows just how to celebrate the special occasion.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), dark themes and elements, non-con/rape, abduction, drugging, imprisonment/captivity, sexual exploitation of reader, forced camgirl work, live-streaming sex, smut, rough sex, painful sex, unprotected sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, oral cockwarming with a dildo gag, squirting, sex toys, bondage/shibari, sadism/forced masochism, ass spanking, degradation, objectification, dacryphilia, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (doll, winter slut), mind break, reluctant stockholm syndrome, reader passes out during sex, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, if i missed something please let me know!

word count: 5.6k

a/n: here's my second entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: Has it been a year already? my last fic was so sweet that apparently i had to balance things out with the absolute darkest, filthiest fic i've ever written. i guess i was feeling some type of way, idk!! anyway, i hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” played softly from a speaker in the corner, the chords lilting serenely through the cold basement, the choral harmonizing of the background singers becoming a soundtrack to the depravity you were forced to endure. 

It occurred to you that you might wonder how you’d ended up where you had, but you knew exactly how—you’d trusted the wrong man.

Bucky Barnes had been charming from the moment you met. The former army sergeant had wooed you with ice skating dates and trips to the book store, regaling you with stories from his childhood growing up in Brooklyn over cups of hot chocolate and herbal tea. 

He’d seemed perfectly normal, like the kind of man you’d want to settle down with, and you found yourself wanting to start a new life with him. It hadn’t been long, but you thought he was the one, and you began planning what that new life would look like in your own imagination.

Apparently Bucky had been determined to give you a new life as well, but he hadn’t given you a choice about what that life would look like. While you’d been picturing a cozy apartment in the city before buying a house and moving out to the suburbs, he’d been planning something much different.

It had all started that weekend in December, when Bucky had invited you for a weekend away at his cabin upstate. You’d been seeing him long enough that you trusted him, and you were excited, hopeful, even, that your relationship would deepen on the trip.

You were so happy about spending a whole weekend alone with Bucky that you didn’t think anything of the darkness in his voice when he’d warned you to never, under any circumstances, go into the basement of the cabin. 

Then, after a weekend filled with delicate kisses and gentle lovemaking, you’d been packing to return to the city when a soft cloth had covered your mouth and nose and you’d smelled something sweet. You hadn’t known it at the time, but that was the end of your old life, and you didn’t even have the time or the strength to fight.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you’d woken up in the cold basement that would become your only home in the months to come. A thick leather collar had been wrapped around your neck, connecting to a chain that was attached to the heavy wooden frame of the bed you lay on. To your horror, you’d realized you were clad in lingerie that wasn’t yours, some cheap set that still managed to fit you perfectly.  

Bucky had been waiting for you to notice him at the foot of the bed, standing next to a camera aimed directly at you. 

“Welcome to your new life, doll,” he’d said, a depraved smirk spreading across his handsome face—and expression you’d never seen before. “Time to earn your keep.” His blue eyes had been glittering with dark excitement as he’d clicked a button on the laptop linked to the camera and crawled onto the bed with you.

That had been the first moment you’d seen the real Bucky Barnes, and he’d spent every day since then showing you exactly how vile and perverted he truly was. He’d kept you in the basement of his cabin and forced you to fuck him on camera, using the money he made from it to buy you more cheap lingerie and all manner of toys to use on your body.

The sharp, cracking sound of a palm meeting soft flesh filled your ears, the subsequent stinging sensation reverberating from your ass through the rest of your body effectively dragging you back into the moment of your latest debasement. 

The pain of Bucky spanking you with the full force of his strength only joined the other aches already living in your body—but you knew better than to complain or cry or whimper. You’d made that mistake early on, but Bucky had only seemed to soak in your pain like it fueled him. 

The first time he’d spanked you, you’d begged him to stop. Instead, though, he only hit you harder, grinning ear to ear while he’d told you that you had no idea what you were in for yet, fake pity dripping from his tone.

But in the present moment, your pain wasn’t only coming from Bucky’s palm. 

Your shoulders ached from the way your arms had been tied behind your back, your hands gripping your forearms and constrained by intricate knots of cords wrapped around your body. To further restrain you, your calves were tied to your thighs, leaving you bound and unable to move with your ass high in the air while your face was shoved into the bed.

In honor of the holiday season, Bucky had traded in the coarse rope he typically used for a long string of multicolored Christmas lights, one end plugged into the wall so your skin was washed in shades of blue, red, green and yellow. 

The string of lights was much more uncomfortable than the rope, even though that had burned. The wire holding the lights together was so thin, and the small bulbs dug painfully into your skin. If you didn’t know your discomfort was exactly what Bucky wanted, you might’ve let him see how unhappy you were with your current predicament.

Instead, you hid your face in the blankets of the bed, trying to focus on anything except Bucky’s big cock fucking into your cunt at a bruising pace. 

Unfortunately, it was impossible to ignore him, his hard length plowing into your body. Not even the cheery lights wound around your body or the Christmas music playing out of the bluetooth speaker in the corner could distract you from the feel of his cock inside you.

Another jarring smack resounded in the cold basement a brief second before the sting of Bucky’s spank quaked through your body. The strike was hard enough that you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out. You didn’t want to give him that, even if it would’ve been muffled by the blankets under your face.

“How many times do I gotta tell ya, doll,” Bucky huffed, his voice patronizing and impatient, like he was talking to a misbehaving child. “Look at the camera when I’m fucking you.” He spanked you again, so hard you felt your entire body tremble under the weight of it, then he grabbed and groped your ass cruelly enough to leave marks. “Our audience wants to see your face—don’t ya, fellas?”

That last part was directed at the camera. You turned your head, tipping your face toward the lens just in time to catch the reflection of the rakish grin Bucky shot to whoever was watching. 

The chat box on the screen of the laptop set up just out of frame lit up, the audience for your daily stream with Bucky telling the both of you just how much they wanted to see your face while you were fucked by his fat cock. 

Your eyes caught a few of the filthy, degrading messages before looking away. You refused to believe the way your cunt clenched was in response to what you’d read. You absolutely were not getting turned on by the depraved life your captor forced you to live.

Bucky’s large body curled over your back, his hand wrapping around your throat and lifting your head from the bed so the camera could better see your face. The position shoved his cock even deeper into your cunt, ramming painfully against your cervix and, against your will, your face contorted at the twinge deep in your body.

The chat lit up, chimes dinging fast and furious as the messages came in, and Bucky reached for the laptop so he could read what your viewers had written. 

All the while, his hips kept grinding idly against your ass so his cock rubbed even harder into your cervix, making you let out a little whimper of anguish. His fingers tightened around the sides of your neck, enough to cut off your ability to breathe, and your whimper turned into a desperate, scared little keen.

You felt Bucky grin against your cheek, and you could’ve kicked yourself for giving him exactly what he’d wanted—a reaction. But at least his grip loosened, though you knew it was only because he didn’t want you to pass out too soon.

“The chat says you look like such a pretty little toy when I fuck you all tied up like this, doll,” Bucky cooed in your ear, grinding harder into your cunt. 

You sunk your teeth deep into your lower lip as your whole body trembled under the assault of Bucky’s thick cock. Despite yourself, you felt your cunt clench hard around his stiff length, wetness frothing and gushing from your hole as he made a mockery of your protests. 

Before you’d met Bucky, you would’ve sworn you didn’t like pain. You’d have said you hated it, in fact. 

But after so many days and months of being speared open by his fat cock, all three of your holes ravaged by his hard, unrelenting manhood in his need to dominate you, to conquer your body in every way possible, you couldn’t help your pussy’s response to it.

You told yourself it was some kind of defense mechanism, that your body had begun to react to pain the same way it did pleasure. It was the only explanation you could bear to endure. Because if you admitted you’d begun to like the way Bucky fucked you and abused you…

“Ohhh, listen to this one,” Bucky crooned excitedly, drawing you out of your thoughts and giving you a distraction from the way he was working your body toward its undoing. “‘Happy anniversary to the Winter Soldier and his Winter Slut!’”

The names were, of course, fake ones that Bucky had chosen to give the audience of your streams something to call you both. His was based on his past as a sergent, combined with the season when he’d taken you captive, while yours showed his ownership over you.

You hated it. You didn’t want anyone thinking Bucky owned you. 

But Bucky either didn’t notice or ignored the way you grimaced when he read the fake names aloud. He turned his eyes, filled with cheerful wickedness, toward the camera.

“Has it been a year already?”

The question was full of charm, and you could almost imagine it coming from the Bucky you’d originally met. The one who might’ve celebrated your one-year anniversary with a recreation of your first date, ending with a heartfelt proposal that the two of you move in together. 

Instead, the question hadn’t even been asked to you, but to the camera—to the audience of loyal, degenerate perverts who watched your streams. 

The quick, successive chimes from the laptop drew Bucky’s attention back to it, and he hummed in acknowledgement as he read through the messages. 

His fingers squeezed around your throat, making you choke harder for the camera, adding to the small sounds of anguish that were slipping from your lips while he kept up his merciless grinding, his cock bruising your cervix.

A new sound, one like a cash register, joined the dinging chimes of the chat message and your heart sank. 

That was the sound of people in the chat sending extra tips on top of the subscription fees they paid to get access to your streaming channel. It meant they were making requests for Bucky to do something new—and that never resulted in anything good for you.

Before you could glance at the laptop to try to get an idea of what was coming, Bucky sat back on his haunches, hauling you up with his hand around your throat. Between gravity and the change in position, it felt like Bucky’s cock pushed even deeper into your cunt, pressing against your cervix so hard it stole the breath from your lungs.

“It’s the one year anniversary of your very first stream, doll,” Bucky announced gleefully in your ear, using his free hand to slap at your tits. They were bound between two strings of the Christmas lights wrapped around your body, your soft tits highlighted by the shining, multicolored hues. “Do you have anything to say to our audience, my little Winter Slut?”

It was clear Bucky wanted you to thank them for their loyal viewership, but resentment held your tongue. Memories assaulted you of the very first stream you’d been forced to do.

Bucky had pinned you down on that very same bed, using nothing but his strong hands and large body to pin you to the mattress while he tore your cheap lingerie off your body. Then he’d ravaged you, slapping and groping your tits before biting them so hard you’d started crying. 

It had been the only foreplay he’d offered you before he’d shoved his cock deep in your cunt. He was so big and your body was so unprepared that you’d screamed, which only made Bucky laugh. He’d told you, mockingly, that there wasn’t anyone around to hear you scream—only the audience on the dark web where he was streaming your defilement for who knew how many people who were just as vile as Bucky.

Bucky’s fingers digging deep into the sides of your neck brought you back to the present moment, small gasps falling from your lips as he cut off your air again. Your pulse pounded in your head, but you still managed to notice that Frank Sinatra’s “Silent Night” had given way to another Christmas song, the festive music so at odds with the dread and fear pooling in your belly.

“I guess my Winter Slut is feeling ungrateful today, chat,” Bucky said on a laugh. 

His tone was mocking in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you refused to believe it might be anticipation. Your body quaked when his soft mouth brushed against your cheek, the gesture almost like a kiss as he turned his head so he could murmur in your ear.

“Our audience wants to see something special for our anniversary, doll,” he cooed. “They want to see me break you.” 

Unease and something else flooded your veins, the conflicting emotions warring for dominance as you struggled to make sense of the way your cunt had clenched around Bucky’s cock when he’d said he was going to break you. You pressed your mouth into a grim line, still determined not to show your reaction to Bucky or the camera, especially when you didn’t understand what was happening to you. 

In the year that you’d spent as Bucky’s personal cam star, you’d endured a lot—and if anyone had asked you, you’d have said you hadn’t enjoyed any of it. But over time, that had begun to change. You’d been fighting it, fighting your body’s responses to Bucky and every depraved thing he did to you. It was becoming so hard, and you were growing so tired of fighting, of pretending…

 “I have just the thing—but first, let’s fill this slut’s mouth,” Bucky was telling the camera, and you forced yourself to focus back on the moment to prepare yourself. 

Bucky shifted to the side, grabbing something from the basket of sex toys he kept next to the bed during streams. When you saw what he pulled out, you bit your lip against a helpless whimper.

He’d pulled out a penis gag, but it wasn’t just any normal penis gag—it was one he’d specially ordered for you. Instead of having a two or three inch dick attached to the strip of leather that would tie around your head, there was a full-sized dildo replica of Bucky’s cock. His big, thick cock.

You tried to keep your mouth closed when Bucky pressed the tip of the silicone cock to your lips, but he only tutted at you with a patronizing click of his tongue. Shifting his fingers from your throat to your cheeks, he dug them in until it hurt. Your jaw gave way.

“That’s a good little cock slut, open for your Winter Soldier,” he cooed patronizingly, shoving the fake dick into your mouth without preparation or remorse.

You gagged as the stiff dildo invaded your throat, tears beginning to flow from your eyes and spit dribbling from the corners of your mouth. Your arms yanked against the Christmas lights holding you bound, but that only forced them to dig deeper into your skin, making your struggle hurt that much more.

While you were distracted by trying to adjust to the silicone cock shoved deep inside you, Bucky secured the leather strap around the back of your head, tying it into place and making it impossible for you to do anything but hold the dildo in your mouth and breathe through the way it bulged in your throat.

Then Bucky was dumping you unceremoniously on the mattress and pulling his cock from your cunt, leaving you to fall face first into the blankets while he hopped up off the bed. You were thankful you could muffle your whimper at the loss of him in the sheets, even as you knew that whatever he had planned would be so much worse than him just fucking you while tied up and gagged.

“I was going to save this one for Christmas,” he was saying from behind a privacy screen beside the bed. It was set up to make sure the camera would only show viewers what Bucky wanted them to see—which was you, and everything he did to you. “But since it’s a special occasion, I’ll let you have your present early.”

When Bucky stepped back into view, your heart nearly stopped. 

A leather harness was strapped onto Bucky’s hips, a dildo attached so it hung below his cock. The contraption, which had clearly been specially ordered because you’d never seen anything like it, wasn’t what shocked you, though—it was the size of the dildo. 

The fake dick was easily twice the size of Bucky’s cock, bigger around and just as long. Staring at it with wide eyes, you genuinely didn’t think it would fit in any of your holes, no matter how roughly Bucky tried to stuff it in. But your cunt was between your thighs like it couldn’t wait for him to try.

Despite your dedication not to give Bucky or the audience any kind of reaction, you couldn’t help the, “No, no, no, no, no,” that came from your mouth. You couldn’t fathom the massive dildo fitting inside you, let alone you enjoying it, no matter how much your body warmed at the prospect of being fucked with it.

Your protests were muffled by the gag in your mouth, to the point that your words were indiscernible, but their meaning must’ve been understood because Bucky chuckled as he walked back to you.

“I know what you’re thinking, doll,” Bucky said conversationally while he climbed onto the bed and retook his place behind you. “There’s no way it’ll fit.” 

He grabbed the knotted string of Christmas lights where they crisscrossed between your shoulder blades, pulling your torso up off the bed so your face was level with the camera. You tried not to look at your reflection in the lens, your mouth split open around the dildo in your mouth and your eyes round as saucers, but it was hard not to stare at the look in your eye—the look of something like fear… or excitement.

“But that’s what’s so fun about it,” Bucky went on, dragging the hard length of the silicone dick through your dripping wet folds, coating the fake cock in the mess of wetness your body was leaking against your will. “It will fit—and it’s going to ruin your cunt.”

Once upon a time, you’d thought the same thing about Bucky’s cock. 

The first time you’d had sex with Bucky—before the cabin and the basement and the camera—you’d taken one look at his cock and whimpered in fear. But he’d been so gentle, promising you that he’d take it slow, that your pussy was made to fit his cock. 

He’d taken his time, kissing your lips and cheeks and all over your face while he worked his cock into your pussy, giving you another inch only when you’d adjusted to the last and relaxed in his arms. Slowly, and with what seemed like an endless amount of patience, he’d opened you up for him. 

That night, he’d made love to you in deep, toe-curling strokes that had wrecked you. He’d seemingly rearranged your body to be the perfect fit for his cock, and then he’d given you the best orgasm of your life.

No wonder you hadn’t stood a chance. 

More than a year later, the memory felt like a dream. It was so faded around the edges, aged by the months spent taking Bucky’s cock roughly, furiously, whenever and wherever he wanted, all while he streamed your debasement for the audience on the dark web.

“You’re going to be so loose that you won’t even feel my cock anymore, doll,” Bucky was saying as he dragged you back to the moment by thrusting his own hard length into your cunt, soaking himself in your juices. “You’ll have to beg me to fuck you with this massive dildo just to feel anything again.” He paused, chuckling to himself as he bent over you, pressing a kiss to your spine between your shoulder blades before murmuring darkly, “That’s your Christmas present this year.”

Then, without anymore preamble, Bucky sat up and pulled out. You didn’t even have time to beg or whine before he lined his cock and the dildo up at the entrances to your tight holes, then shoved both into you at the same time. Bucky buried himself inside you so deeply, so thoroughly, that it felt like he was pushing into the very core of your being, conquering your soul just as completely as he’d conquered your body.

The intrusion was so sudden, you never had a hope of preparing, and all you felt was the devastating sting of being stretched past your limit, the overwhelming ache of being stuffed full beyond what you thought your body could ever take. 

Pain eclipsed any semblance of pleasure you might’ve gotten from having both your holes stuffed full, and your eyes rolled back in your head, a piercing cry tearing from your throat. A white hot burn scorched through your body, and your mind went entirely blank, leaving nothing but depraved annihilation in its wake. 

“Oh fuck, fellas, she’s so fucking tight like this,” Bucky groaned, talking over your head into the camera. “I can feel the fake cock splitting her open—it’s making her ass so fucking tight.”

Humiliation and shame swept through your body at his words, turning the burn into something slightly more bearable, almost pleasurable. There was something about being ignored, being treated like nothing more than a fleshlight or a fuck doll while Bucky completely decimated your body that was so… 

You shook your head. No. You weren’t going to finish that thought.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long ‘m gonna last,” Bucky was grumbling, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your audience.

The words should’ve sounded like music to your ears. You should’ve been happy the torture was almost over. Instead, you felt a pang of disappointment deep in your heart. But you didn’t have time to unpack what that could mean because then Bucky started fucking you.

His hips pulled back until only the tip of his cock and the dildo were still in your ass and pussy, then he plowed forward, shunting his entire length and the fat, massive fake cock into your holes once again. The pain of being split open was already starting to fade, an all-consuming pleasure creeping into the edges of your awareness against your will.

On Bucky’s third thrust, you moaned. 

Your mind was hazy with a mixture of pain and pleasure that was leaning more toward the latter, and with the cock gag in your mouth, you were helpless against the reactions Bucky was wringing from your body. The sound of pleasure slipped from your lips unbidden, and your face heated in shame, which only served to add more fuel to the fire burning through your body.

“Did ya hear that, chat?” Bucky crowed, slapping your ass painfully hard—hard enough that another muffled cry was wrenched from your mouth. “Our little Winter Slut is enjoying her Christmas present! She loves getting her cunt ruined, don’t ya, doll?”

He slammed deep into your body as he asked the question and you were powerless, incapable of doing anything but moaning obscenely for the camera, tears streaming down your cheeks and joining the spit that coated the lower half of your face. Long strings of drool and tears were hanging from your chin, dripping onto the bedsheets below.

Distantly, you heard the chimes from the chat log and the cash register sounds as messages and money poured in. They were coming so fast and so furious that you couldn’t even begin to fathom how much money you were making for Bucky while he broke you with his cocks.

Bucky must’ve heard the sounds too, because he doubled his efforts. He picked up the pace of his thrusts, fucking you hard and fast, spanking your ass mercilessly while his other hand still held you up off the bed by your Christmas light restraints. It meant that your face was framed perfectly in the camera frame.

It occurred to you that you should let your gaze drift off, let your mind retreat somewhere deep inside itself where you could hide from Bucky and what he was doing to your body. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the camera’s display panel.

There, you could see the scene Bucky had constructed—your body tied up in glittering, technicolor Christmas lights; your face covered in tears and drool, lips spread thin around the base of the cock gag; your throat bulging from the fake dick buried deep in your mouth; your tits bouncing between the strands of lights.

Behind you, with a look of deeply depraved joy on his face, was Bucky Barnes. 

He was naked save for the harness belted around his hips and the santa hat on his head. His big body was on display just as much as yours, his broad chest swathed in pale skin and chiseled muscles, his arms bulging as he held you up and spanked your ass. 

Bucky’s dark hair was falling into his handsome face, but the strands didn’t hide the merry grin on his lips or the way his blue eyes glittered with wicked delight as he stared down at the place where his cock and the massive dildo were brutally fucking your holes.

It was too much to watch your defilement. It was too depraved and too…hot.

God help you, but something must’ve finally broken inside you because it was so fucking hot to watch yourself be violated on camera while jaunty Christmas music played in the background and hundreds, if not thousands, of perverts watched Bucky have his way with you. 

Your pussy spasmed and clenched around the fake cock in your hole as you thought about those people watching you. It turned you on that the audience knew Bucky was fucking you against your will and not only were they doing nothing about it, they were taking their own pleasure from watching you be ravaged. Your cunt drooled even more.

Bucky Barnes had officially broken you. 

That was the only conclusion you could reach, because when you’d met him more than a year ago, you never would’ve imagined that your pussy would be creaming all over a fat, girthy dildo while Bucky fucked your ass and held you tied up with Christmas lights for anyone on the dark web to watch. 

But after a year of being fucked hard in every one of your holes, Bucky had finally broken you down until you’d joined him on his level. He’d torn away every ounce of shame, every bit of what had made you you, and remade you in the image of his perfect toy. You were a doll, his doll, just like he called you.

The realization filled you with a sense of peace you never would’ve expected, your body relaxing as your mind went blissfully blank. It was easier this way, you told yourself, as you breathed a sigh of relief. All that was left of you was Bucky Barnes’ perfect doll—his Winter Slut cam star.

Bucky must’ve felt or somehow sensed your submission because he groaned a filthy sound of pleasure and shoved his hips flush against your ass. He paused for a moment, his hand groping your ass possessively before pulling back and ramming home again, burying himself even deeper inside you, the massive dildo bullying your cervix as he pounded into you.

“That’s my girl, take your Winter Soldier’s cock like a good little fuck doll,” Bucky purred, his voice taking on a tenor of contentment you’d never heard before. It was like he was praising you for your submission, for finally giving yourself over to him, mind, body and soul. “You’re being such a perfect Winter Slut, taking me so good and crying so pretty for the camera.”

You preened under his praise, using what little strength remained in your body to shove your hips back onto Bucky’s cocks, fake and real alike, while you sucked enthusiastically on the fake dick in your mouth. Tears flowed harder from your eyes and you sobbed your pleasure, choked sounds of enjoyment falling from your lips.

You could feel the most devastating orgasm of your life building in the core of your being, and you were eager to chase it, knowing it would rewrite the fundamental fabric of your self. 

“Fuck yeah, doll, be my perfect little cam star,” Bucky rumbled, slapping your ass in encouragement, the sting of pain swirling with the pleasure he was wringing from your body and adding to the burning bliss scorching through you. “Show the chat how good my Winter Slut can cry for their money—show them how much you love feeling me ruin your holes for Christmas.”

Bucky rutted into you, pounding into your cunt and ass so hard that the clapping of his hips against your skin was filling the basement and almost drowning out the new Christmas song that had begun. It felt so good, so fucking good to be fucked and filled in every hole, that you were close—so close you could nearly taste it.

“Fucking take it, Winter Slut, take the only cock you’ll ever feel again,” Bucky growled, curling around your body and taking your throat in his hand. He squeezed tightly, grinding his cock and dildo into your body, so deep, you could feel them in your guts. “For the rest of your life, you’re gonna do nothing but take my cock and be my pretty little cam star—you’re all fucking mine.”

Something snapped inside you and you felt liquid gush between your thighs, coating the massive fake cock in your cunt. Your squirt sprayed down to soak the sheets beneath you, and all you could do was revel in the pleasure flooding your body, every limb trembling with the force of it while you gasped and cried around Bucky’s hold on your throat.

When he realized what you’d done, Bucky whooped with triumph, crowing into the camera that he’d made you squirt, that you were his perfect little fuck doll cam star. But you were too consumed by your oncoming release, which was barreling toward you with the force of a freight train. 

Before it finally hit you, and you came so hard your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you passed out, Bucky wrapped himself more tightly around your body, his chest pressing into your back and his arms wrapping around your front. He choked you with one big hand while the other groped and played roughly with your tits.

To your surprise, he brushed a kiss to your cheek in a gesture that felt affectionate.

“You’re making me so fucking proud, doll,” he cooed in your ear, and you thought, for a moment, that he sounded just like the sweet Bucky Barnes you’d met all those months ago. “You’re the best Christmas present I ever could’ve asked for.” 

Just then, your release slammed into you and you screamed—and there wasn’t anyone around to hear you except Bucky and his camera. 

Overwhelming pleasure washed through you, darkness creeping into the edges of your consciousness as your body convulsed and you choked on the dildo in your throat while your other holes clenched around the cocks that had split you open beyond your limit.

The last thing you heard before the weight of your release dragged you under was the festive synth pop chords of another Christmas song, and Wham! singing, “This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.” 

Somewhere inside you, you knew that everything was going to change once you woke up. Bucky had finally broken you, and you’d given him your ultimate submission. Nothing would be the same, but you found that that didn’t scare you as much as it once might have.

You belonged to Bucky Barnes and you’d finally accepted that as fact. He’d taken everything else, but you still had your heart left to give—and you were certain it wouldn’t be long before you gave him that too. Maybe, at least, it would save you from tears…

As you came so hard you passed out, you accepted that your thoughts, your pleasure, your mind, your body, your soul—your everything—belonged to Bucky Barnes. Then, everything went black.

december daze challenge masterlist

[romana-after-dark]

Dead Dove December 2024

Hello everyone! This December I’m hosting a multi-fandom event that I’m calling, Dead Dove December! From 12/01/2024 - 12/31/2024 I’m encouraging others to create something that expresses their deepest and (most importantly) darkest desires. I will be reblogging all pieces of art or fanfiction, and will post a masterlist in January. or whenever i get around to it. i have not even done the pride masterlist bc I'm a disaster! But most importantly this will be for funsies.

I hosted this last year with just oscar/pedro Characters but Logan is my special guy so he's here now too <3

Details below the cut…

What is Dead Dove Do Not Eat?

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, or DDDNE has its origins in one of my comfort shows!

The phrase comes from a meme referencing the 2003 Arrested Development episode "Top Banana", in which Michael Bluth opens a paper bag labeled "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT" and, upon discovering that there is a dead dove inside the bag, says, deadpan, "I don't know what I expected." - fanlore.org

In short, what you see in the tags is what you should expect to see in the fic. This can apply for any type of fic, including the fluffy ones, but it’s usually associated with darker themes. That being said, this is your warning that this is a DARK THEMED EVENT. If you aren’t comfortable with darker topics like non-con, excessive violence, blood/gore, death, toxic relationships, 18+ age gaps, and more, then I encourage you not to participate in this event.

How to Participate

For the month of December, post your Dead Dove fanfiction or fan art on your blog. Use the tag #deaddovedecemeber2024 and tag me. You can also send a link via ask or DM if you like! I will not be posting anything for you, just reblogging and linking. At the end of December I will post a masterlist with links to everyone’s works! Side Note - Since Tumblr doesn’t really allow for NSFW art, you can post your work on Twitter or any other site that allows it and just send me that link so I can add it to the masterlist.

Rules

You MUST be 18+ to participate. I will be checking your blog/social media to be sure. Please make sure your age is easy to find. If I find that you’re a minor or if your age isn’t readily present I will be blocking you and you will be unable to participate. You can just add that you are over 18 if you don’t want your age out on the internet. As the creator and promotor of this event, I need to know I’m not interacting with minors given the nature of this event.

The work MUST be dark in some way. There’s no limit to how dark your work needs to be or can be, but it needs to contain some sort of dark theme in order to qualify. If non con isn’t your thing, dub con via stockholm syndrome or brainwash can let you write a more comfortable scene while still remaining dark. Fics and art do not necessarily need to be NSFW. last year a friend even did cnc, where it was seemingly dark but then ended with it was Marc and reader ding a scene. Dark reader or oc is an absolute yes.

Your work MUST have an Oscar Isaac, Hugh Jackman, or Pedro Pascal Character. It can be x reader, x oc,xcanon character, crosoversec. If you want Joel Miller fucking the ghoul from Fallout (or both of them fucking a reader)you can even though Eddie doesn't exist in any Oscar Pedro Hugh content. If you want Marc and Logan to fuck, go nuts. Got a series you're already writing, and wanna submit a dark chapter or a dark Au to it? That's fine too! We're pretty open here. No rpf.

Do NOT post anything before 12/01/2024. I will not count submissions prior to that date or after 12/31/2024. Masterlsit will be posted in January.

Your work MUST contain the proper tags. I won’t police how detailed your tags should be, but, for instance, if your work contains non-con, and you didn’t tag non-con then your work will not qualify. Please be inclusive in your writing where you can, but aware of POC queer and disabled people.

You may submit no more than two (2) pieces. This can include a fanfic and fanart, two fanfics or two fanarts. This is to allow someone to write a piece and make a work of art to accompany it. You can also work with another creator together.

I’m not going to yuck someone’s yum, but there are some things I’m just personally not comfortable with and since I’ll be reading/viewing/promoting all of these, I have a few things not allowed in the event. The list of what’s NOT allowed is shorter than the list of what IS allowed so here’s a list of the things that will NOT be tolerated in this event:

No underage/aged up minor content - To clarify, this includes things popular ships like - TLOU 1 or "Show Ellie" x Joel or Miguel O’Hara X Gwen Stacy. No "ageing up" minors for the purpose of a fic.

No Bestiality - To clarify, monsterfucking does NOT count as bestiality (at least to me). For example, werewolves, venom, Khonshu, e.t.c. are all allowed.

No Real person fanfiction. Can’t include Oscar, Pedro, or Hugh. This is not a moral judgement or me looking down just not in my comfort zone

No incest - To clarify, step-sibling/step-parent relationships are permitted as long as everyone is 18+. Different age of consent in your state or country does not apply here, and frankly I'd prefer 21+ but I know there are younger people than me who write so I'm not gonna say you gotta write like that. Selfcest relationships are also allowed (like Moon Knight or Miguel with his alternate self, e.t.c.).

No necro/snuff. Plain and simple.

I have final say in what I want to promote. Is TLOU 2 Ellie an adult and not technically Joel's ctual kid? Yes. technically it fits all the rules but it gives me the ick so I'm not gonna accept it. I cannot possibly prepare for all scenarios, and i want to just be able to have fun here with yall.

If you’re unsure if something is allowed or not, you can send me a DM or an ask for clarification prior to posting.

You can use any prompts you want or none, you aren’t tied to any one idea but here are some to get the ideas flowing if you need them!

Also, you can absolutely use a fic to inspire your art, or art to inspire a fic! Your inspiration piece, whether yours or someone else’s does not have to be from December, but you MUST obtain permission from the original creator before I promote your work. Most creators are happy when their work inspires others, and all my fics are open to being used for inspiration, but please reach out to the creator first.

I’m very excited! This is my second year hosting this an I've hosted other events by myself or with friends so I'm happy to keep going, this time with Hugh Jackman bc i can't get Logan out of my head.

Dividers and header made by the amazing @melodygatesauthor

Please consider reblogging to spread the word!

I don't reall know many people in the logan/hugh jackman fandom so I'd love if this was an oppritunity to get to know yall too!

Dark prompt list to come, also check out #deaddovedecember2023 to see what last year had!

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE BURGLARY

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: burglar!Joel Miller x f!reader x burglar!Tommy Miller

Summary: two men break into your house and take more than just your valuables.

TW: 18+ mdni. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NON-CON. Smut. Violence, suffocation, knife/gun play, penetration with a gun, mfm, bondage, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), a depraved game, butt and pussy slapping, unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, swearing.

Word count: 4,6k

A/n: @milla-frenchy and I wrote this fic as our contribution to Dead Dove December by @romana-after-dark. Romana, thank you for hosting this amazing event celebrating dark fic! @milla-frenchy I had so much fun writing with you! I love you, baby!❤️🫂Dividers by @saradika-graphics

If you’re sensitive to any of the warnings, do not read the fic! We don’t condone the actions of the characters. It is all fictional!

MILLA’S MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the sound of water filling the tub is calming and hypnotizing. You’re wearing nothing but a pink robe, soft and warm. You untie it and open it wide before your gaze travels down to your breasts. You cup them gently and rub the nipples with your thumbs. They perk up at the touch and you flutter your eyes shut as the waves of arousal are spreading through every nerve in your body. One hand leaves your breast and glides down to caress your tummy and then mound. You dip your finger in between your folds and swirl it around your slightly wet clit. When you open your eyes, the mirror reflects your blown pupils back to you. You contemplate getting your vibrator from the drawer and using it in the bath. Your husband is away on a business trip and he won’t be back for a few more days but the idea of waiting for him to satisfy your desire excites you so you take a deep breath trying to calm down.

You take the robe off and hang it next to the sinks. You turn around, come up to the already full tub and bend over to check the water temperature. This is when he grabs you.

The iron grip of his hand is holding your wrists behind your back. His bulge is pushing in between your naked asscheeks. He’s big and strong and you’re helpless against him. He’s keeping you bent over the full bath and then pushes your torso down. Your head is submerged in the tub and you scream and thresh about but your cries are completely silenced by the water suffocating you. Your attempts to break free are fruitless. His fist is clenching your hair and it burns like hell but the pain in your burning lungs overshadows everything else. You’re trying to free yourself from his hold, to kick him and push him away but his beastly strength doesn’t let you.

You’re about to black out when he lifts your head by your hair and your mouth finally takes a life-giving breath. You cough and cry trying to get as much oxygen as he lets you and exclaim, “No, no, stop it, please!”

He growls and pulls your torso up and flush against his chest. You’re covered in water droplets, already cold and shivering but for another reason. The stranger might kill you and the thought makes you tremble and beg for mercy,

“I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything! Pls let me go..”

You’re crying and screaming but he’s deaf to your pleas. You feel his breath on your cheek and he bites it. He doesn’t break the skin but the pain makes you wail. The man shakes your body and laughs, “Silly girl, the louder you scream the harder it’ll make me.”

Your back is pressed to his broad chest and your whole body is shaking as if electricity is going through every part of you.

“I saw you touching yourself, little slut. Made me hard like a rock,” he bucks his hips into your ass and you feel his clothed hard-on. “I coulda just taken what I wanted and left. But now I think I’ll take this pussy too.” He slaps your mound a little harder than a lover would and a whine escapes your lips.

“Started without me?”

You feel even more terrified if it’s even possible when you hear another voice.

“Nah, just gave this pretty slut a wash. Don't wanna touch her husband's crusted cum on her. We gonna leave our own.”

“Right, brother.” They laugh and you feel you might be sick. It can’t be happening. The sobs are shaking your body as you’re trying to turn your head to the side so you could see the new man.

“Please, let me go,” you plead, hoping the other intruder will be kinder to you.

The first attacker yanks your whole body to the side, turning you away from the tub so you’d face the second man. Your tears make his image blurry, resembling a dark shadow. He’s wearing all black and his face is hidden behind a balaclava. He sounds younger than the other one and is not as huge but he’s still bigger than you. He comes up close, takes your wet cheeks between his gloved fingers and pushes making your lips pout. You mewl and they both laugh. His other hand darts to your mound and he grabs your pussy squeezing your flesh with his harsh fingers. You whine and he looks at the other attacker over your shoulder, “She’s so soft and pretty. Can’t wait to use her.”

His accomplice hums in agreement, pressing his covered chin to your cheek and rubbing your delicate skin with the material of his mask, “need her to open the safe first.”

The second man agrees and steps out of the way while you’re being pushed to the door and into the master bedroom. You walk clumsily but as soon as you reach the doorframe you push all your weight to the side making your capturer crash into the door. Startled for a moment he eases his grip on you and you launch forward. The wetness of your body helps you to slip out of his hands and you’re running out of the room and along the hall crying for help as loud as you can.

Thoughts rush through your head as you realize that you need to get out of the house. So you race to the stairs but as soon as you reach them a hand grips your hair and pulls you back. It hurts and you try to break free but the man overpowers you with ease, drops his weight on you and you both fall on the floor. He grumbles and you realize that it’s the second intruder. He grabs your hands and ties your wrists behind your back with a rope.

“Stop, please, no!” you cry out, feeling pain in your scalp and body but the ache is dull as all your senses are fully focused on survival.

“Slippery bitch!” the younger man spits out and having restrained your hands, sits up on the back of your thighs panting heavily. He slaps your naked asscheek and you sob, tears soaking the carpet.

You hear steps and the first man comes up to you from the side. “Nice try, little slut,” he mocks you, pushing your shoulder lightly with the tip of his black boot. He orders to take you back to the bedroom.

You’re sitting on the floor in front of the safe in your walk-in closet. The men are towering behind you not afraid of you running away as your hands are securely restrained and you look and feel exhausted from the nerves and your attempts to break free.

The bigger man crouches next to you and his gloved fingers grasp your hair. Like a puppeteer he turns your head to him and rumbles, “Password, sweetie.” You begin saying the numbers immediately not seeing the point in protecting your valuables while your life is at stake.

“Please, take everything, just let me go… please,” you beg with a shaking voice but a carnal grin flashes in the opening of his balaclava and panic grips your heart.

“Open your pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he coos at you with a fake care as the other man chuckles and you see him bringing a knife to your face. It looks like a switchblade. You start pleading and crying again, horrifying images flooding your mind. Not waiting for you to calm down, the intruder turns the knife handle up and inserts it into your mouth.

“Hold it,” he orders, “just imagine it’s your husband’s dick. Bite it real hard, I’m sure you’re mad at him for leaving you alone now.”

He pushes your head down to the safe and you bend over awkwardly trying not to fall, knife between your teeth.

You hear the other man’s voice, “Press the buttons for us, princess, come on,” his voice is soft but it makes your hair stand up.

You sob and the knife nearly falls out of your mouth but you clench your teeth around it more tightly and bring the blade to the buttons.

“That’s our girl,” the first man mumbles, as his hand in your hair keeps you from falling.

You push the numbers with the tip of the blade and hear beeps. “You have a nice ass, baby,” the second intruder comments, apparently ogling your butt while you are bending over. You hear a click of the safe door and they push you out of the way hurrying to get their hands on the things they came for. At least you hope they came just for that.

You look up at them, wondering what they're going to do to you. You still hope they will leave, now that you've opened the safe for them.

You try not to panic and focus on your breathing. You can see their dark eyes through the openings of their balaclavas. They look at each other communicating without a word, and then the bigger one turns to you.

“How much time do we have?” he asks his accomplice, his gaze locked with yours.

“Half an hour, easy,” the other man replies.

Your hairs stand up and your breath catches in your throat. You feel that your brain is trying to convince itself that they are not going to hurt you more. You don't dare imagine what they are capable of.

The younger one grabs you by both arms and forces you to get up.

“We have plenty of time to have a little fun,” he laughs, dragging you towards your bedroom. You try to resist, but in vain. He turns around and pushes you against the wall. His hand grips your throat and you watch him in fear as he removes his balaclava. He has brown, shoulder-length wavy hair, and a mustache. The fact that he is uncovering his face terrifies you. These men don't care if you can describe them, and you wonder if you will make it out alive.

He brings his face closer to yours, to the point where your noses could touch, and leans his pelvis against you. You feel his hard cock on your lower belly and the last hope your mind was trying to cling to is now gone. He tilts his head to the side and smiles, looking at you. You hear his brother laugh behind him and say “you’re a fuckin’ psycho, Tommy.” He takes off his balaclava as well, and his face appears behind his brother. He has short, brown hair, a light beard and a mustache. You try to memorize their faces, in case you can describe them to the police. Later.

That “later” fades away when Tommy moves closer to your cheek and slowly licks his way to your cheekbone. You start shaking like a leaf and he laughs, unties your hands behind your back, and grabs your arm before tugging you after him. He pushes you onto the bed, where you fall on your back.

You try to get up, but the other man pulls a gun out of the back of his jeans and points it at you,

“You’re starting to piss me off, sweetheart, so I’m gonna set things straight. We'll fuck you and then we’ll leave. If you struggle, you'll turn us on even more. If you scream, we'll fuck you harder. Do I make myself clear?”

His icy voice, his words stop you and you lie down again. He hands the gun to Tommy and says “I’m gonna need my hands.”

You widen your eyes when he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. Thick. Much too big.

“Oh, sweetie, judging by your reaction, your husband has a small dick,” he says, laughing again. His brother chuckles too and adds, “She’s so not ready for our cocks, Joel.” He grabs your legs and pulls them towards him to lay you down.

Joel approaches the bed, slowly jerking off, and kneels on the bed at your side, before bringing his cock closer to your face, “Now you’re gonna suck me off, sweetheart. And after any dumb move from you, my brother will blow your brains out, ok?”

You nod. Your only hope now is that they end this quickly. You try to put aside another source of anxiety that is gnawing at your heart - their uncovered faces.

Joel taps your face with his cock twice before you part your lips slightly, and he says "Sweetie, open wide, or it ain’t gonna fit". You hold back the tears that are stinging your eyes, and you open your mouth wider. He slides the tip into your mouth, and you round your lips around it. He doesn't wait any longer, and sinks into you, holding your head in his hands.

He stops halfway down his member, then pulls back, before thrusting in with one stroke, making you choke. You hear Tommy laugh and can no longer hold back your tears as panic overtakes you and amplifies your suffocation. “Stop it, Tommy, you’re scaring the little thing!” Joel says with a chuckle.

He pulls out of your mouth and releases your head, and you feel Tommy get between your thighs. You murmur, “No, please”, but Joel adds, “Come on, sweetheart, my little brother needs to get his dick wet, too, right?”

Tommy rubs his cock against your folds, then against your clit. His tip rubs it several times, and to your horror you feel your pussy getting wet.

“Little slut is so wet for our cocks, Joel, can you believe it?”

“They always are. All fuckin’ whores.”

Tommy pulls back a little and looks at his cock, before slowly pushing it into your pussy, and growls "Fuck...she's tight, man." You wince as you feel your folds parted.

“Point your gun at her. I’m gonna fuck her throat, I don’t want her to do anything stupid.”

Tommy cocks his gun at your head and starts fucking you, thrusting deeper. Joel grabs your temples with his hands again, and his erect cock sinks in your mouth. He grips your head tighter, and quickly fucks your mouth, grunting. Your saliva pools against his member, and he is thrusting deeper and deeper, at the same pace as his brother is fucking your pussy. His cock hits the back of your throat, and he suddenly pauses, holding your nose pressed against his pubes.

“Don’t move, sweetie.”

You try to calm down, your mind in shock at what’s happening to you. In your home, where you should be safe. He finally pulls away, before thrusting in again, yet not going all the way to your throat.

“You’re taking us good, baby”, Tommy says, leaning over you and pressing his nose to your neck, the gun against your temple.

Still fucking your mouth, Joel tells his brother,“Stretch her with the gun. The handle. Let’s see if her little pussy can take it. Afraid I’ll split her in two with my cock.”

You want to scream, your mouth full of Joel’s cock, but only a vague moan leaves your mouth.

“And I’m the psycho?” Tommy laughs, pulling out and sitting up.

Joel pulls out too, and moves away from you with his hard cock in his hand, watching Tommy position the handle of the gun at your entrance with one gloved hand, and pressing your stomach with the other to hold you against the bed. He pushes gently and you cry out, “No, please stop, it won’t fit!”

“We’ll make it fit. You’re wet enough to take it.”

He keeps pushing, and the tip of the handle sinks into you.

“Say ‘thank you’ to Tommy for stretching you, sweetheart.”

You feel like you're going to pass out. You look at their faces, their eyes fixed on your pussy dilated around the gun, and you try to relax. A part of you wants to rebel and fight, but the other one takes over, knowing that you have no way out of this.

“Look, Joel, she's dripping. Good that we’re using the handle, she woulda ruined the barrel with her wetness,” Tommy comments and they laugh again degrading you.

“Ok, pull it out. She’s ready. Gonna fuck her now”, Joel says and adds, “Get on all fours.”

You don't move, too scared at the idea of what happens next, and Tommy points the muzzle at your forehead. Your tears start to fall again and you finally turn around, exposing your ass to Joel and standing on your hands and knees on the bed.

“I forgot that you had such a nice ass, sweetie!”

“Please… don’t do that”, you whimper with sobs in your voice.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna damage your ass. Don’t have the time for that. There’s one more thing we’ll have to do, after we’re done with you.”

You don't have time to ask or even think what they want to do next, Tommy is already on the bed pressing his cock against your mouth. Joel grabs your hips with his hands, and thrusts into you in one swift move. You suffocate under the intrusion, and Tommy pushes his cock in between your lips.

“Come on, baby, be a good girl and let me fuck this wet hole of yours,” Joel mumbles opening your thighs wider and begins fucking you with quick thrusts. Then he slides his hand down to your clit and you try to shake your head, but Tommy holds you tight, his cock buried in your mouth.

Joel coos at you, “Come on, sweetheart, wanna feel your pussy squeeze my big cock.”

You try to resist, but his finger slides against your clit perfectly. You tell yourself that it will end faster if he gets what he wants and let your mind retreat, and the emotions in your body take over. You feel your orgasm building, and your pussy begins to contract.

“Tommy… little slut is clenching my dick so hard, and she hasn't come yet”, he groans with a smile.

Tommy pulls your hair with his hand, and pushes his cock into your mouth one more time, before pulling out, gloved fingers clasped around his shaft. You moan, and cum on Joel's cock while your eyes roll back and your legs are shaking. He’s groaning, feeling your spasms around his cock, “Fuckin’ hell, little slut must be so bored with her husband.”

Tommy’s carnal gaze is sliding down your body and he looks manic when he lifts his eyes at Joel and asks with a smile, “wanna play like that time?”

Joel looks back at him, pulls out of your crying pussy and chuckles, “you’re fucking crazy, brother.”

“Why?” Tommy mumbles running his gloved hand through your messy hair. He looks right into your eyes drinking your fear and his cock twitches.

“The last one wanted it. This one looks too gentle.”

Tommy leans over you bringing his face so close you smell cigarettes on his breath and tells Joel,

“She might surprise us, brother. I’m sure she’s freaky. Aren’t you, princess?”

He grabs your pussy and you gasp. Your gaze darts to Joel who watches his brother’s fingers massage your wet folds and begins stroking his cock,

“Fuck, yeah, let’s do it. If she chokes my cock till I come… might spare her.”

You hear his words and sobs are about to break out of your chest but Tommy senses it and places his free hand over your mouth, “we’ll play one game, princess and then we’ll leave, deal?”

He’s waiting for the answer but you can’t agree without knowing what this psycho means so you just stare at him with fearful eyes.

He straightens up glancing at his brother, “Fuck, I forgot I don’t have to ask cos I have this,” he takes out a gun from his waistband and waves it at you.

“On your mark, brother,” he says to Joel and the bigger man grabs your legs and pulls you roughly on the bed towards him. His cock pushes between your folds and you moan.

“See! The whore loves it!” Tommy points at your with his gun, triumphant smile on his face and you feel a tip of a cock thrust into you. Joel’s huge member parts your folds again and you plead for him to stop but he doesn’t hold back as its head jams right into your cervix after a couple of deep and hard thrusts.

“Hey, hey, Joel. You’ll come too soon! Where’s fun in that?”

Joel pauses his movements deep inside you and you look at the men with confusion and fear twisting your face. What game are they going to play with you? And are you going to survive it?”

“Ready?” Tommy asks and you catch your breath waiting for the worst. Then Tommy leans down a little and slaps your pussy with his leathered palm, just a few inches from the place where his brother’s cock is buried deep inside you. You cry out when the pain catches you off guard and to your horror realize that it’s quickly mixing with pressure. Joel grunts shutting his eyes for a second and then opens them to glance at his brother, “Fuck, you were right. She’s squeezing me real good. Fucking chocking my cock, little slut.”

You sense your walls contract around his girthy length and you hate yourself for it. “That’s just one”, Tommy warns as he lands another blow to your tortured pussy. “Two,” he counts and you mewl, your eyes rolling back while Joel’s groaning through his teeth and plants his hands on the bed at your sides.

“What is it, brother? She’s so pretty and sweet that you’re about to come already?” Tommy mocks the man and Joel looks up at him with a pained and angry expression.

Tommy backs off with his hands in the air still chuckling and then comes back to slap your clit again.

As soon as he says, “Three” you feel warmth filling your pussy up as Joel is coming with a long growl grasping your hips leaving white marks on your soft skin. He starts thrusting into your core again pumping you full of his spend and you feel sick when your core is tightening. You won’t come. You won’t give it to him.

“Holy fuck, princess, you have a magic pussy. To make my bro bust a nut just after three slaps!” He laughs and takes your head in his hands kissing your mouth. First as a joke he pecks your lips but after parting from you for a second he comes back for more as his tongue pushes between your lips. You freeze when he’s stealing another part of you, licking into your mouth while his brother prolongs his climax with short thrusts into your swollen pussy.

Finally Tommy parts from you and straightens up grabbing his cock. “Fuck, Joel, my turn. This bitch is so hot.” He looks into your eyes while Joel pulls out his semi hard cock, and you feel his cum leaking out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole.

The men switch positions and now Joel is standing over you while Tommy gets on the bed between your shaking legs. He sits on his heels staring at your hole and says in a calm but stern voice, “Squeeze it out, princess.” It’s so sick that you’re blinking at him until suddenly he directs his gun at you and repeats his command a little louder, “I said squeeze out the cum, little slut!”

You swallow loudly and tighten your muscles. With a satisfied grin he’s watching a string of milky liquid flow out of your hole.

“We need to hurry up,” Joel rumbles, zipping up his pants.

“Yeah, yeah…” Tommy replies, seemingly deaf to his brother’s words, his gaze fully focused on your pussy.

Still having his gloves on he brings his hand to your folds and pushes two fingers into your hole. Then he takes them out and climbs over your body. Without a word be pushes the leathered digits between your lips,with an order, “Clean them up, princess.” You do as you’re told, tasting Joel’s bitter cum and leather on your tongue.

“Good slut,” Tommy half praises half degrades you watching your tongue swirl around his covered digits.

“Fuck, Tommy, come on!” Joel hurries up his brother and the younger man finally listens, gets between your thighs and pushes his cock in with a growl. He slides in easily, your pussy wet with Joel’s cum and stretched out well.

“Come on, baby, let’s win this thing,” he says and you mewl, knowing what’s coming next.

Joel’s hand hits your pussy harsher than Tommy’s and you jolt from the pain. The younger man is hissing through his teeth looking at your swollen reddish folds. He shivers and grips your hips tighter. “Fuck you’re choking my cock, baby!”

Joel doesn’t wait long to stroke you again and a tear slides down the side of your face. Tommy shuts his eyes tilting his head back and as another slap lands on your poor clit you moan and squeeze Tommy’s cock so well it pushes him over. His balls tighten and he shoots his cum deep inside your core. His seed mixes with Joel’s and it’s too much cum for your poor pussy so it leaks out of you in globs pushed out by Tommy’s cock still moving inside you. When he stills panting heavily, he pulls out and announces, “Three-three, bro! Guess we’re both suckers for her pussy”. He tucks his cock away hastily and when he’s ready he leans over your swollen mound and gives it a peck, whispering, “killer-pussy!”

Joel is already gathering the things they’re taking with them and you’re lying not moving a muscle wishing for them to forget about you and leave. But soon Joel comes up to the bed and you see a phone in his hand. He reaches to your face and you flinch, “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s gonna be over soon. Just wanna take a few photos, for the memories,” he mocks you with a smirk trying to fix your messy hair and wiping your face with his sleeve.

“Give me, I’ll do it,” Tommy appears from behind Joel taking the phone from his brother. He directs the camera at your face and commands, “Smile, princess, show us how happy you’re that we’re leaving.”

You smile weakly and he takes a few photos of you splayed on the bed, marks covering your skin. He makes you open your legs and takes a photo of your pussy leaking out their spend on your marital bed. Then he’s checking the photos and mumbles talking to you ,

“You’re a great fuck, princess. Can’t believe your asshole of a husband gets to have you whenever he wants…he’ll have a hard time filling your pussy after we stretched you that good,” he laughs and adds, “we might come back for more one day.” He says it in a seemingly benign manner looking into your eyes but you see a threat rooted in his words. “Keep your little mouth shut and forget our faces or these pictures of you will be everywhere. Surely your hubby will have to say bye-bye to his political career. You got me?” His gaze is serious and intent and you nod hastily.

Your heart is beating fast when you see Tommy take black bags from Joel. Will they keep their promise and leave you alive?

“Take care, princess,” you hear Tommy’s voice as he puts his balaclava back on and walks out of the door. Joel doesn’t say anything. With his face already covered he heads to the door, stops right outside and turns his head to you. He brings his gloved finger to his lips in a silent sign, and then leaves as quietly as he came.

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!❤️

[3amfanfiction]

Bath Time with Simon

Hurt/no comfort, MDNI, dead dove do not eat (seriously check trigger warnings)

You’ve been held captive by Simon for weeks when you get to take your first bath.

Cw: Hurt/no comfort dark fic, drowning, noncon, unrealistic sex, abuse, implied kidnapping, implied torture, bodily fluids, peeing yourself, Simon is mean in this one folks—I’m not joking

~~~~~

Simon pulled you into the grimy bathroom just as the sun was setting.

You watched him fiddle with the taps as the tub began to fill, doing your best to avoid looking at the mold growing where it met the wall.

The whole room was nasty—soap scum stains along the bottom of the bath, rust spotting all the metal fixtures and a sour smell filling the air.

You had only had showers in the weeks you'd been here. Often times perfunctory, sometimes not, and the thought of soaking—even if only for a few minutes in a disgusting tub—sounded too good to be true.

Seemingly satisfied with the temperature Simon finally turned around.

“Strip,” is the gruff command, the look in his eyes bored.

It's just you and him in this house; you haven't seen another person in weeks. The isolation doing as much damage to you as the physical things Simon seemed to enjoy.

It had been . . . rough when you first woke up here after a night out drinking with your friends. The cuff around your foot leaving no doubt as to your forced confinement.

When he had initially stepped into the room you had woken up in you'd nearly passed out in fear. He was large, thick all around, and had a mean look on his face from the start. His cold eyes watched you cry emotionlessly, only truly lighting up when you stepped out of line.

What followed was days of 'training'. Like you were some pet that couldn't learn not to piss on the carpet, one who was always chewing on things. Simon had a heavy hand and he made it known he didn't put up with attitude and as much as you wanted to snark in those early days, you knew what lay at the end of that road.

And you hadn't resigned yourself to that fate yet.

You shiver as you pull your sweater off, just as much in fear as due to chilled air dragging its fingertips over your skin.

Was it still November or was it December now? Surely it wasn't January already. Please don't let it be January.

Are people still looking for you?

Why did he take you? What did he see in you that made you a good candidate for this fucked up situation? Share with the class so that it can be excised.

You quickly remove your pants when you notice his eyes narrowing, not wanting to piss him off any more than normal, and fold them neatly—making a pile with your sweater next to the yellow tinged sink.

Shuffling slightly on the cold laminate, your feet ached, chilled and tender where the bruises along the bottoms press into the floor with your weight.

You wait for the tub to fill, trying your hardest not to look up at him. You know he's staring at you, he's always staring at you. His gaze feels like a physical weight, brushing over your skin, peering into every crevice, seeing every weakness.

At the sound of a zipper being lowered your shoulders hunched. So it would be one of those baths then.

Your eyes flick up, taking in his figure where he’s leaned against the wall—feet kicked apart with his jeans pulled open, his cock and balls cradled in the v of his pants.

You watch him spit into his hand, a thick foamy dollop landing in his palm before he reached down, giving himself a slow stroke.

He rarely bothers with things like lube. He's made it knows that spit, blood, or spend are all the slick you're going to get and you should be grateful for it.

In the quiet you notice his gaze is focused on your chest, where your nipples have pebbled with the chill. You slouched even further in avoidance while still staying semi-upright. He didn't like when you hid from him and you weren't about to mess up this bath.

His gaze moved down to the curls hiding your mound, his hand maintaining the steady shlick shlick rhythm of strokes, using your body as nothing more than a visual aid.

After an eternity of being leered at, playing with himself all the while, he reached over and closed the taps—the squeaks bouncing off the tiled walls until only dripping water remained. A snapped finger and gesture towards the tub is all the direction you’re given before he crosses his arms over his chest, cock still standing proudly between his legs.

Edging closer cautiously, limping slightly with each press of your foot, you lean down to dip your fingers into the gently steaming water before committing to the step in.

As soon as your hand submerges you yank it back sharply. Turning to Simon, you open your mouth and you know it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words form on your tongue but you're incapable of pulling them back. It's as if you'd been set into motion, on a runaway rail car with no way to brake.

It's too hot.

You don’t register his movement as it happens. One second he’s leaning against the wall, pants unbuttoned and unzipped with arms crossed—the next you’ve been slammed painfully onto your knees, the cold tile and grout pressing harshly into your skin which stings from the fall, a throbbing in your kneecaps following along momentarily.

Before your brain makes sense of its new position you feel Simon press up against you from behind, wide chest keeping you pinned between him and the tub, straddling your calves. Your breathing quickens in impending panic.

He's big. That was one of your first thoughts when you initially saw him. This hulking mass of a figure was a giant and he was very comfortable throwing his weight around.

These last few weeks have been a testament to your resolve to stay alive, walking the fine line between keeping what agency you could and not making Simon so mad that he played so rough he broke you. He'd come close at times and it took you a while to find the line. You would carry the scars from those first few weeks for the rest of your life.

“Can’t even be properly grateful, can you, slag?” He grumbles disdainfully, ankles hooking around yours to spread your legs as you tensed further, a softly babbled sorrysorryimsorry falling from your mouth as you tried to brace your hands against the side of the tub pushing sharply into your abdomen.

“Such a fucking princess, complaining about all the nice things I do,” he gets enough room between your legs to slam his semi-damp cock home, sinking to the base in one rough stroke.

You yelp at the painful drag of him pressing into your cunt, your hole still tender and puffy from lunchtime.

“I’m sorry Simon,” you gasp, sobs starting to creep up your throat. You knew he'd been hoping to get to punish you, that was his favorite part of the day. And he wasn't opposed to creating infractions if you didn't misstep naturally. “I didn’t mean it! Thank you, thank you, it’s perfect.”

Please please please

“Nah, too late for all that now,” is the response as his hand threads through the hair at the back of your scalp, palming the back of your head.

“Simon, ple—,” is all you're able to say, heart racing, breaths coming in gasps, before water covers your face, sound going dim—muted—as you're fully submerged.

Simon groans above you as you tighten and thrash in panic and pain, hands slapping at the water, attempting to push away from the bottom only to lose traction and slide out from under you.

Your cunt squeezed vice-like as your whole body spasmed. Riding your bucking hips, he keeps you pinned between him and the tub a pleased groan rumbling through his chest at the sensations.

The water was too hot when you dipped your fingers into it. The heat making them sting and prickle. Now that the sensitive skin of your face is immersed, it feels like you’ve been pressed against a hot stove. The water rushes into your nose, burning the sensitive lining and filling your ears as you’re fully submerged, almost bent in half over the rim of the tub.

You open your mouth in a subconscious effort to get air which allows the hot water to fill the cavity as you jerk back and forth, still trying to buck Simon’s weight off of you in a panic. His forearm pressed between your shoulder blades keeps you in place as he palms the back of your head, his front to your back and his legs pin yours against porcelain and tile, his cock barreling into your cunt, slamming painfully against your cervix with every thrust and deep grind.

Just when your vision begins to haze out around the outside edges—panic muting, heartbeat slowing—he pulls you back up to breathe. As the chilled air slams into your sensitive face you attempt to gasp and cough at the same time. The resulting hacking makes you convulse, squeezing his cock tightly with each spasm.

You had no breath to sob despite your face feeling like it was on fire—your body was triaging what was needed.

The heat from the water inflamed the nerve endings, the delicate tissue around your eyes and ears feeling like a someone had scraped you raw and then doused you in lemon juice.

Your body was concerned with getting as much air as possible during the reprieve, your vision coming back into focus as your ears picked up Simon groaning behind you in fervor, your body jostling while he maintained a punishing rhythm of thrusts. His cock harshly pressing into your cervix with each stoke.

Simon pulls you back by your hair, your eyes finally catching up and starting to stream tears to mingle with the water left on your cheeks.

"Fuck me, but there's a good slut," he breathes into your ear, coming around to trail his tongue up your cheek, tasting salt.

You flinch away in hurt as his teeth catch your skin, pain magnified to the nth degree.

Your coughing is only barely coming under control when you feel the pressure on the back of your skull again.

"Nonono Sim—" heat, almost worse than before now that your skin was already throbbing. Your mind blacked out as you thrashed like an animal, bucking at your captivity to try and reach freedom.

Elbows slammed painfully into the porcelain, body rocking back and forth as if to gain leverage that wasn't there, feet kicking and flailing where they were pinned to the floor. Your writhing was instinct, no higher thought engaged.

Simon rides your bucking hips with skill, keeping you pressed close to him, unable to move forward or back no matter how much you squirm. His cock throbbing with every spasm and clench of your channel where he was slotted as deeply as possible, head pushing painfully against the opening to your womb, causing it to bow inward with every press.

He pulled you back up sooner this time, not that you could tell.

"Thaaass it sweetheart, let it all out," he croons to you, holding you upright against his chest as you cough and heave, attempting to expel the water.

The cold air burns on your face as his fingers tighten in your hair once more.

"Poor little thing just can't catch her breath, can she?" he mocks from where he's pressed to your ear, rumbling his words directly into your brain, "Good toys need to learn how to take what their owners give them and be thankful for it," his tone changes to a growl as he pressed upwards into you punishingly.

The yelp you let out seemed to amuse him because he set out to pry the sound from your mouth again, pistoning his hips into the fat of your ass, his hipbones leaving bruises to develop where they were making violent contact with you.

When you don't say anything he gives you a hard shake with the hand fisted in your hair, frowning down at you, "where's my fucking thank you?" he grits, muscles tensing where they have you caged to the floor.

"Th'nk—" you cough, throat feeling like sandpaper, "—thank you sir," accommodating, hoping to soothe.

It's not nearly enough for him and he reintroduces you to the water.

You're not sure how long this goes on for. Some parts standing out in stark relief and some fading to the background. You couldn't tell how many times you were submerged in the tub, Simon fucking into you with abandon, enjoying your body's involuntary reactions—but it felt like years.

Simon didn't appreciate the way you were beginning to go away, hiding deep in your mind. So he course corrected to bring you back into alignment with him.

SMACK

Pulling you to the side, he delivered a strong slap to your cheek. The pain echoed through your whole body as if you'd been electrocuted, a shocked scream bursting out of you.

Your face which had been in and out of the hot water was on fire, sensation magnified beyond reason and Simon wasn't one to pull punches. Or in this case, slaps.

The pain reverberating around your brain echoed, bouncing off the inside of your skull, magnifying with each distortion. It felt like shards of glass, slicing every corner they could reach, shattering further, grinding in deeper.

"You back with me, pet? About lost ya for a second there," he asks, derision dripping from ever vowel.

Reaching down to pinch and pull at your clit, he laughs when you squeal and continue to buck, this new pain added to the symphony already playing in your body.

You know you'll be hearing his cruel laugh in your dreams for the rest of your life, however long that is.

When he moves to dunk you again the tub jabs harshly into your tender torso, causing you to expel a large portion of the breath you'd just caught.

Before you get a chance to pull it back in you're underwater again. Your thrashing was cataclysmic in nature, violent upheavals and furious rocking, searching—constantly—for a way out as your lungs burned, tightening with each heartbeat, oxygen depleting.

There had to be a way out of this, right?

Were you truly going to die here? Pinned under the body of this man while he used you for his pleasure? No more warm breakfasts, no more books on rainy days, no more shopping with friends. No more. Was this going to be your last moments? Pinned under a man while he held your head underwater?

You don't mean to but you pee yourself in fear.

You can't hear it at the times, but as the warm liquid shot out of you, coating Simon's balls and both of your thighs, he just laughed, continuing his punishing pace while bringing you back up to breathe to prolong your torture.

Swallowing great gulps of air as your heart pounds, your lungs ache. It feels similar to when you get the wind knocked out of you, chest constricting and spasming, not allowing any air to inflate them, adrenaline pumping with no outlet as you desperately try to breathe to no avail.

This time, there's hope. When his thrusts begin to lose cohesion you have a sharp spark of relief. Its almost over, it's almost done.

You're gasping in as much air as you can, lungs finally no longer seizing, as Simon gives you a brief respite before he utters damning words.

"Take a big breath baby, you’re not coming back up until I’m finished," barely allowing you a chance to follow directions before pushing you back into the hot water.

You're so tired. No matter how much you try and catch your breath when you're above water, it always seems to run out far too quickly once you're immersed. This time is no exception. Your lungs are on fire, chest tensing and muscles locking tight. This is it, you're not going to make it through this. It's almost a relief to feel that, as Simon thrusts behind you, body slamming into the side of the tub, knees being raised off the floor slightly with the strength of his thrusts.

You distantly note the bruises that are likely forming where the edge of the tub is being pressed violently into your torso with each thrust. Fragile skin pressed between bone and porcelain.

His arm was still a bar across your shoulders, fingers tangled in the soggy, knotted mess of hair at the back of your scalp. The size of his palm giving him complete control of your movements.

As you thrashed in the hot water, all your muscles tensed, attempting to lift you from the water, kicking your feet where they were pinned. Simon groaned as he rode out your spasming. You were milking his cock, the way you fluttered around him.

Things were going dark again. He was going to drown you, water filling your lungs, weighing you down to press wetly into the earth where he'd bury you. He was going to do it this time, you were sure of it.

Would anyone ever know what happened to you?

When you're positive there's no surviving, Simon slams home with a low groan, flooding your channel with come, throbbing as he continues to pump into you, slowly losing momentum.

The moment his grip on your head loosens you're yanking your head up—water, saliva, and vomit trailing from your mouth as you heaved, trying to clear your airways.

Simon moaned at the added stimulation, grinding deeply to press against the back of your cunt painfully, his tip kissing your cervix, the press of him spreading it apart ever so slightly.

Once he was finished he pulled away completely, using your shoulder to help himself stand up with a satisfied groan as his spend dripped down the inside of your thighs, chest still heaving with each gasping breath, the air feeling like razor blades dragged down your throat.

Stepping to the front of the tub he reaches in to remove the plug, allowing the water to begin draining while he picks up a stiff, rough looking towel crumpled in the corner.

He uses it to vigorously wipe himself off, from his cock to his balls, between his ass cheeks and down his thighs. Walking over to you once he's done, he huffs a sardonic laugh as you flinch back.

He grabs the top of your head, holding you still as he drags the towel harshly over your sensitive skin, rubbing firmly in long strokes, maximizing your discomfort, smiling as new tears began pouring down your face.

You were right, it was a rough towel.

He takes great joy in rubbing his wetness across your face under the guise of cleaning you up, eventually pulling back to stand straight.

Wadding up the towel, he throws it against your chest where it drops onto your legs, splayed open from where sprawled.

“Clean up your mess. I can’t believe you pissed on the floor like a dog.”

You didn’t want a bath anymore.

Next

Story Repository || Main Repository

[gomzdrawfr]

PriceGhost Week

hosted by BookieFics/Bookaholic,

the host has graciously given me the permission to share this event over here on tumblr, do visit their site and check out the fics they wrote! all prompts, images and instructions are taken from PriceGhost week bluesky account, extra notes are added by me

Date: December 1 to 7

Prompts:

The words and songs include fluff and some angst, NSFW and Dead Dove

Instructions:

🚬You can combine the words with the songs or any of the prompts as you see fit; you have total freedom of creation. Do remember to tag your work properly.

⚠️ If you don’t tag your work, I will not share it in any account or add it to the collection, so please use the right tags. ⚠️

🙏🏽Please be respectful of our writers and artists and mute the tags if you don’t wish to see any of this content.

⚠️Writers and artists, please tag your work properly and censor it if you need to.

💀Tags: #PriceGhostWeek #DDPriceGhostWeek🚬

This event will have a collection that I'll be posting here (bluesky); closer to the date. I'm less familiar with Tumblr now, but if you know anyone there who might be interested, please feel free to share the event and let me know if they have any questions or if I can help you in any way!

Have fun and don't forget to use the tags, and tag the PriceGhostWeek so I can share it here!

Notes:

The event will be primarily active on twitter and bluesky, these link will bring you to the PriceGhostWeek accounts respectively.

All content created for PriceGhostWeek will be compiled into a collection on Ao3.

There's currently no official update about posting your prompt-related content on Tumblr, but you are free to post it anywhere you're most comfortable.

However, I’ve discussed with the host that I will share any PriceGhostWeek from tumblr to twt and bluesky by linking it, so everyone can enjoy the creations across all platforms! So if you want me to share your Tumblr post, make sure to tag it with the relevant tags or @ me.

If you'd prefer your content to stay on Tumblr only (and not be shared on other platforms), that's perfectly fine! Just note that it won't be included in the Ao3 collection.

For further questions please direct them to BookieFics (already linked their socials above)

[romanarose]

WIP Wednessday

Thanks so much @gutsbys

Im doing this for Dead Dove December, marc Spector x succubus reader!!!! And special guest (khonshu) watches tee hee

a little piece!

Naked and dripping for him already, you grind your naked cunt over Marc’s grey sweat, getting him hard and aching. You could see his breathing increase with the rise and fall of his chest laid bare like he knew you were coming. Like he was whoring himself out for you, and you alone. But you weren’t alone, were you? “Come to watch, have you?” You speak, not looking away from Marc’s slightly parted lips, but speaking to the being in the corner. “I wasn’t aware you could see me, little one.” 

np tags!! @toxicanonymity @for-a-longlongtime @melodygatesauthor @sweetlummie @kewwrites @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

[ladylaviniya]

The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the  goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you.  You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don���t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

 ‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this.  You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

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11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth.  Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

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12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.  

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline services

India Helpline Services

[cresvalkyrie]

Hauyne, the Liberator

>>> Basic Info Name: Artemis Viator Alias: Hauyne, Light (by Marianette), Little Dove (by Karen) Species: Sidhe/Aura Wielder (Eikon) True Form: █████████ Age: 19 (physical), approx. 700+ (chronological) Gender: Female Pronouns: she/her (sing.), they/them (plural) Birthday: December 22 Height: 5'9" Attribute: Light Trainer Class: Liberator

>>> Gallery

>>> Backstory

TW: misogyny, implied domestic abuse, mentions of death in childbirth, stillbirth, child abuse and neglect, child murder attempt, mutilation, transphobia, alcoholism, depression, suicide attempts, death of a family member, bullying

[Birth and Early Life] Hauyne, born Artemis Viator, was not a planned nor was she was wanted child... at least, in her father's eyes. To him, life was already perfect: a beautiful subservient wife, and a high-achieving son that he was confident would one day walk in his footsteps as a military man. He never wanted a daughter; girls were weak, overly emotional, took too much money and effort to raise, and would ultimately become a burden to the family, he thinks.

So when his wife defied him and adamantly insisted on keeping the unplanned child, he was floored. He could not understand why his wife would want another, when they already have the perfect child. But despite his strong feelings on it, he eventually acquiesced, grudgingly letting his wife have her way if only not to disturb the peace in the household.

Unbeknownst to him, his wife and son did not share his lack of enthusiasm over the new arrival. If anything, they were overjoyed and excited; his son, Orion, had always wanted a little sibling to spoil, and his wife had always wanted a large family. A wish that went unfulfilled because of the threats of pain and violence.

However, it was not all smooth sailing. Her mother had always been sickly, and her condition had only worsened when she got pregnant with her. By some miracle, she managed to carry her until the end... or rather, she would have, if tragedy had not struck in the form of a fatal accident. The culprit was never caught, and the stress of it all caused her to go into labour prematurely.

The child that she gave birth to was born dead, killed when she was still in the womb, while the mother herself was barely clinging on to life in spite of her mortal injuries. It was a miracle, doctors had marvelled. A shame her child did not make it, they had said. Yet, what no one knew was that she had a secret: a secret that she had sworn to take to her grave, known only to her flesh and blood.

Her mother was not human. Neither were her children. They were all Sidhe, Eikons to be specific. And for her, she was special, because she possessed a remnant of Arceus's power within herself. And for the sake of her stillborn child, she will give up this power - the very thing that's keeping her alive - to her daughter, so that she may live.

It was a shame that the only ones to witness her passing and bade her farewell for the final time were her two children, Orion and her newly revived infant daughter. With her final breaths, she made Orion promise to take care of his sister for her, before her strength finally ran out.

Ever since her birth and her mother's passing, their lives went on a nosedive. Her father did not hear the news until much later, and when he did, he was devastated. He blamed his daughter for the death of his wife, and drowned himself in alcohol out of grief. On the days he was not intoxicated out of his mind (which were many), he would take out his rage and grief on his defenseless daughter, using whatever flimsy excuse that came to mind to justify his senseless acts of cruelty. Some days, Orion was able to intervene, although it meant him taking the blows for his sister's behalf.

To make matters worse, she was frail and sickly as a child, constantly falling ill and having to make frequent visits to the hospital even as a baby. Her father, of course, would turn a deaf ear to her cries, and would simply beat her to silence her if it got too much for him to take. Because of this, Orion was the one who raised his sister despite his young age, and the two shared a close bond for this reason.

Things eventually came to a head when Orion first came out as a non-binary when she was 5. Their father was furious beyond words when he found out, calling them a "f*ggot" and tried to make them take it back in his drunken rage... until little Artemis stumbled into the scene, oblivious to the disaster unfolding in the room. Immediately he locked on to her, pinning all the blame for his misfortune onto the girl and went after her in a dark rage.

It was only thanks to Orion's intervention that it did not escalate to a full-blown murder, but they did not act quickly enough to prevent him from blinding her in her left eye. Their father was arrested for that murder attempt soon after, and it was only weeks later that he was found dead in his cell (the cause was declared to be a brain aneurysm, but the truth was that he was ganged up and beaten to death by the other inmates).

As their legal caretaker was out of the picture and Orion still not of age yet (they were 17 when their father was arrested and sentenced to jail), the two siblings went to live with their maternal grandfather in the countryside, their only living relative left.

However, yet another tragedy struck. The train they were boarded on derailed as it was crossing the straits, plunging into the waters below. Orion vanished during the accident, and there were no known survivors. None, except for her, by some divine providence. She was found days after the accident on a beach, unconscious and somehow unharmed aside from a few bruises. After her recovery, she was sent to a foster home system, where she remained for two years - bouncing in and out of homes who treated her harshly, sometimes being forced to go to the streets - until her grandfather was finally contacted and came to collect her.

[First Childhood] Her first childhood was spent in the same fishing village her mother grew up in, with only her grandfather for company. She was shunned and ostracised by everyone, whispering hushed rumours about her being a "devil's child" for living in the supposedly haunted manor at the edge of the village... or mocking her for her unnatural white hair and making her life downright miserable. Her only safe space was the manor she lived in, for no villager was foolhardy enough to test the veracity behind the haunted manor rumours, and so she was left alone in peace as long as she remained inside.

Over time, the solitary life and the repeated bullying she faced made her withdraw into herself, no longer making any attempts to reach out. The only time she would come out is to help her grandfather manage his traditional medicine shop, and that was only when she isn't occupying herself with her studies or whatever she had busied herself with. Even then, there were stretches of time where she her childhood illness acted up, leaving her bedridden for days if not weeks.

It was during this time she picked up on a certain Pokemon fangame... and many others, in fact. And she was enamoured with it, for reasons she could not put a finger on. These games were what helped her get on with life, alleviating the crippling loneliness of her life even for a brief moment, but it was enough to keep her going. For a while, things were bearable...

But then came the day her grandfather passed when she just turned 12. To say she did not take it well was a gross understatement; up until then, he was her only companion and role model, and to lose her only loved one just like that? It was devastating. So devastating, that it was the final straw for her. And with yet another one of her episodes, she simply let herself starve to death, hoping to finally be free of this torturous nightmare... but it did not happen. At some point, she had blacked out from pain, exhaustion and hunger, and when she awoke the episode had subsided... along with a warm meal by her bedside and the door suspiciously open when it was left closed and locked the whole time.

It was baffling to her. Who would even save her? Why did they do that? She had not wanted to live any longer, so why...? Regardless, the unexpected act had gave her some hope, restoring some of her will to live despite everything. So she continued to persevere, enduring the dark life of solitude for some years to come.

When she was 17, she stumbled upon an odd silhouette hidden in a thick blanket of fog while she was wandering around the forests near her home. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, but a part of her urged her to follow the silhouette, and she did, if only on an impulse. She pursued the silhouette for what felt like an eternity, until it led her to a moonlit pond in a clearing... and the silhouette nowhere to be seen.

Curiosity piqued, she starts to investigate the pond, feeling an odd sense of deja vu with it that made her want to approach the waters... until suddenly, she felt someone shove her from behind, pushing her into the pond. And before she knew it, she was falling out from the sky... and blacked out.

[Variya's Contract, and the First Cycle] In her dream (or was it?), she was approached by Variya who proposed a contract to her. Variya wished for her to become the Interceptor of this world, to save them from a fate of oblivion and destruction. While she was initially reluctant to do so, not wanting to get caught in a destiny as large as this, she was eventually persuaded to do so after Variya brought up an enticing possibility: the chance to finally meet and befriend the people she had known from a distance for so long, this time for real.

Unable to resist that notion, she accepted the contract, thus becoming the Interceptor... and she awoke in the S.S Oceana. The first incarnation of the cruiser, in fact. In the body of none other than Aevis.

The events to come after would play almost exactly as v1's plot, but after she tried to board the train to Route 2 in pursuit of Melia... she blacked out, only to awaken once more in the S.S Oceana, back to the day she first arrived at Aevium. The cycles have officially begun.

[Endless Cycles, and the Truth] So just like that, she was trapped in a never-ending cycle. Every time she would reach a certain point, she would be forcibly returned to the start of the cycle. On a few occasions, the entire timeline of events would be different (i.e. version updates, in an out of universe context), and rendering her prior knowledge useless. A pattern she found out was that for every two major cycles, her body or "host" would change. For the first two, it was Aevis. The next was Aevia, then Axel, and then Ariana, followed by Aero and finally Alain before she was able to keep her own body.

However, there was another thing to the repeated cycles: the more times she underwent the cycles, the more integrated she became with this world. At some point, in what she would call the eighth major cycle, she was set as one of the orphaned Mieran refugees who was placed under the custody of Phoenix Academy and becoming part of the six protag's friend group.

From then on, every time a major cycle begins, she would start again as a malnourished orphan and forced to relive that part of her life until she was brought back in the S.S Oceana. After that, the minor cycles would begin from this point onward.

Eventually, unable to take the endless cycles, in the thirteenth major cycle she attempted to deviate from the "script" as much as she possibly could. All in the desperate hope of breaking free from the purgatory she and her friends were trapped in. Unfortunately, all it did was made her journey even more difficult than it should, before it ultimately met its end through the Xenpurgis breaking containment far too early and destroying everything in its path (including its creators).

She had only managed to destroy Xenpurgis by absorbing the Archetype's powers, ascending to a god, but it was already too late by then. The world was now a barren ruin, reality fraying by its threads and the Core damaged beyond repair. All that was left of this ruined world was herself.

Unwilling to accept this as her fate, she began the painstaking process of rebuilding the world, brick by brick. Once it and the Core were rebuilt, she stripped most of her powers away from herself to be used as an energy source to power the Core, before resetting the world. This would be the first and only time she had started a brand new cycle of her own free will, using her own power.

Thus, did the fourteenth major cycle begin. The current cycle, and this time, she will set everyone free. No matter the cost.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ You try being quiet, but rest assured I'll make you scream. ❞

⊱ Prompt: Clit torture ⊱ Pairing: Nári x Uinen ⊱ Synopsis: [Valinor falls AU - in which Melkor's forces manage to conquer Valinor and enslave its inhabitants] Nári has managed to catch herself a pretty water spirit and intends to savour such a rare treat. ⊱ Featuring: Bondage, fire restraints, petting ⊱ Warnings: Balrogs are their own warning, sexual content, captive x captor, non-con, forced masturbation, orgasm denial, burns; also the prompt is its own warning

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December, featuring my Balrog OC and poor Uinen. Enjoy!

"It's not fair that you keep all the pretty ones to yourself." 

Nári lowered her head to look down at Thuringwethil. She was pouting, hunger flashing in her eyes. 

"Do you want to drink or fuck?" she asked bluntly. 

"Both." Thuringwethil licked her lips. "Such treats are hard to come by over in Middle-earth, after all." 

Nári couldn't agree more. Occasionally receiving an Elf as a plaything for her troubles was fun, but it wasn't the same as bedding another Aini – most notably when it came to how beautifully they could scream and how durable they were. Incarnates died too fast and too easily. 

"I have one picked out for tonight," she informed the other Úmaia. "But you can take one of the others." With a wink, she added, "I caught one of Varda's that might suit your taste." 

"Mmh..." Thuringwethil chewed on her bottom lip, smiling as if she was already envisioning warm, sweet blood in her mouth. "That sounds wonderful. I'll take you up on this – thank you kindly, dear." 

"Always, little bat." 

Nári watched her leave, then turned towards her original destination. Indeed, there was a special prize waiting for her in her chambers, and she would be sure to savour the experience. 

Bound to a metal chair with fiery threads resembling her whip was none other than Uinen, her hands tied behind her back and her legs secured on top of the armrests, leaving her exposed. Nári smiled to herself; as difficult as it was to subdue a water spirit when one's form was at risk of being harmed by the accursed element, leaving her like this, so beautifully helpless and ready to be toyed with, had been even more difficult. 

It was rather convenient that Uinen had opted to leave her usual fishtail behind to come on land; it would be a shame if she had no legs to spread. 

Her own tail flicked impatiently when Nári circled her new favourite catch. To see one whose element always sought to snuff out the fire nurturing her and her brothers subjected to the burn of her own was immensely pleasing. Uinen's hair normally dripped with water and her skin used to be sleek, cool and wet, but both had long since dried up, leaving her without its protection. Small whimpers fell from her lips when her fiery restraints mercilessly singed her fána, and the endless, wavy tresses of her hair were losing their lustre. 

"It seems as though your husband hasn't come to save you after all," Nári said, leaning closer from behind the other Maia to purr in her ear. "But don't take it personally – I'm sure he's been captured or slain in the meantime."

The only response Uinen gave was shaking her head vehemently. Nári felt a tiny twinge of irritation; as fun as it was to mock the predictable naivety of her enemies, she had grown tired of the blind faith many of her playthings seemed to have in their spouses and partners. Ossë, admittedly, was an opponent she wouldn't enjoy fighting – but he too would have to face the combined wrath of the Balrogs, and only a Vala could hope to survive that. 

I shall have her instead. I will burn his touch from her skin until nothing is left.

Her patience waning fast, Nári knelt down in front of Uinen and between her legs, a gesture of mocking reverence. 

Water spirit or not, her new toy was beautiful – the blue tint of her skin reminded her of Melkor's fires, her long turquoise hair fell down her slender shoulders and her large, dark blue eyes were adorable, especially when looking down at her with such delicious fear. Whatever clothing Uinen had worn had been burned away a long time ago, and Nári lazily reached out to cup her chest with one hand. It was big enough to nearly cover it, and she gave the soft flesh a few experimental tugs and squeezes. 

Uinen averted her gaze in shame and pressed her lips together to force down any noises of discomfort. Her fána was so wonderfully delicate and pliable, as if it had been made for someone else to toy with, and Nári felt the fire inside her burn hotter with every passing second. This was exactly what she had been desiring for a long time now, a pretty little plaything to call her own... and one that would live long enough to entertain her. 

"You try being quiet, but rest assured I'll make you scream," she laughed and punished Uinen for her silence with a sharp tug on one of her nipples before letting her large hand glide down her torso. Only small hints of muscle, mostly soft flesh to dig her claws into – just the way she liked it. For now, however, another part of the smaller Maia's anatomy demanded her attention. 

Uinen's womanhood was the one part of her fána that retained its wetness, glistening underneath the Balrog's covetous gaze. Normally hidden between her shapely thighs, her current position put it on full display, to be admired... and to be used. 

Nári traced her folds with the tip of her clawed index finger and felt her own arousal flare up when Uinen let out a whimper. 

"You like this, huh?" 

"N-no..." Squeezing her eyes shut, Uinen then muttered one tiny, breathy, "Please..." 

"You're cute when you beg. You should do it more," was all Nári said in response. Her grin put her fangs on display. 

She took in the alluring sight in front of her, briefly contemplating her next step – she could find out how Uinen tasted or how much she could fit inside her or... how many more sweet noises she could make. 

All in due time, Nári reminded herself. For now though, she decided on the latter. 

With surprisingly gentle movements, she pulled up the small hood to reveal the rosy pearl hidden underneath, causing Uinen to shiver from anticipation. Nári drew a few teasing circles with her claw, then pressed the pad of her thumb against it and began rubbing it. The heat and rough texture of her skin brought pain and pleasure alike to her lovely captive, as she intended: It was a form of art, blending these two sensations together and watching her playthings come undone. 

Uinen was soon writhing beautifully, her muscles tense, her limbs fighting against the fiery bonds that held her. From her plump purple lips fell moans, gasps and whines alike, though no more pleas for mercy. She had accepted her fate and was trying to preserve her dignity, something that Nári would delight in taking away from her in time. 

The Balrog was relentless in her pursuit of her unwilling partner's pleasure, increasing the speed and pressure of her movements until Uinen's inability to get away from the sheer onslaught and intensity of the sensations she was subjected to had her sobbing. Her release was approaching fast – the tenseness and twitching of her thighs made it obvious – but Nári was not feeling merciful. She might have considered letting the smaller Maia climax if she had begged for it. 

Keeping a close eye on Uinen, she brought her to the very edge only to withdraw and deny her release by pinching her swollen pearl with two claws. She was rewarded with an ear-splitting scream and uncontrollable sobbing, pain and frustration alike rippling through her captive's bound form. 

Nári had to suppress a groan; the view, the sounds, her own arousal rising within her, it all felt exquisite. 

"You didn't think it would be this easy, did you?" she laughed and leaned forward. Her hot tongue greedily lapped up the wetness threatening to drip out of Uinen and teased her sensitive, abused flesh. Her slightly salty taste was addictive. 

"We'll play this game all night," Nári purred between long, indulgent licks. "And if you beg, I might eventually let you cum."

Thanks for reading! ♡

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Four "The First Virtue in a Soldier is Endurance of Fatigue; Courage is Only the Second Virtue."

Bucky is warmed up... A little too much. CW: Restraint, branding, threats of violence, temperature torture. Prompts filled: ‘Captivity’, December 4th prompt, Dead Dove December ‘Hug’ (Alternate), December 4th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Hidden Injury’, December 4th prompt, Whumpcember ‘Doctor’s Visit’, Bad Things Happen Bingo ‘“What a Gift to Relish, a Victim That Can’t Perish.”’, Five Nights At Freddy’s Bingo

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I came to consciousness slowly, trembling violently under an unknown covering, still painfully cold but with a delightful, comforting warmth surrounding me. My lids flickered open, and I went to sit up, wincing at the pain as feeling began to leach back into my limbs. Straps across my body held me still once more, but I could only sigh, eyes finding a familiar ceiling overhead before the familiar, spectacled face moved into my line of sight. “Ah, here he is…” I snarled in response, straining against my restraints, teeth bared, but he only laughed, fingers probing at my arms, eliciting a hiss when he manipulated my painfully sensitive fingers. “You can feel this?” “Да, Cэр,” I spat sarcastically, and he snorted under his breath, grasping a finger in his hand and applying pressure until I felt the bone splinter, jaw clenched to keep from yelping. “Enough of your attitude, American,” he warned, “or next time we will take more pieces.” I ground my teeth, biting back further scathing response as he moved to my feet. I’ve already lost one hand. I’ll stay silent if it stops me from losing anything else. He methodically probed and prodded, my responses clipped and cold when he enquired as to my sensation. “Even the frostbite is reversing… Fascinating.” He moved back to my head, grasping my jaw roughly as I growled. “Your capacity for freezing temperatures is high,” he murmured, a predatory smirk coming over his face. “What a gift to relish, a victim that can’t perish! Though… I imagine even you could perish if pushed far enough.” “One day I’m going to get out of here, and we’ll see how much you can survive,” I hissed, eyes narrowed into violent slits, my fear briefly forgotten amidst my rage. He simply raised an eyebrow, crossing to the furnace in the corner – lit for the first time, to my knowledge. Humming under his breath, he passed out of my vision as he resumed speaking, his voice flat and deadly. “They say the war will be over soon. But… We are Russian. Why would we have an American in our cells?” His face leaned back into my line of sight, grinning sinisterly. “We are Allies, after all…” “You’re scum,” I snarled, baring my teeth once more. “You think you can keep me here? I’m going to-” My words were cut off by a yowl of pain, thrashing against my restraints at the feeling of the flesh in the hollow of my hipbone sizzling. “You have been warned, упрямый Американский. Do I have to remove your tongue?” I clamped my jaw shut, the muscles of my throat straining to keep my silence as my scream built behind my teeth. “Better.” There was a clatter of metal as he tossed the poker back into the furnace, tears pricking my eyes at the scent of burning skin. “Get him dressed. Time for stage two.”

Stage two, as it turned out, was more torture – as utterly predictable as I found that revelation. I was dressed in a snug, woollen jumpsuit, arms secured behind my back by the biceps - so I couldn’t unbutton the high collar - by a metal strong enough that even I couldn’t pull it apart. I was clad in thick socks and heavy boots, and, briefly, I was grateful. The gratitude passed quickly. A heavy, portable furnace was in each corner of my cell when I returned, fires blazing, amateur rigging leading out through a hastily-made hole in the wall to disperse the smoke. The room was sweltering, and I broke into a sweat immediately, hair sticking to my neck, and froze in the doorway until Ivan kicked in the back of my knees, sending me sprawling, and without my hands – or rather, hand – available to catch myself, my chin collided heavily with the concrete, and I hissed in pain as the skin was scraped raw. “Enjoy the warm,” he snorted, pushing my feet out of the way as he slammed the door shut, leaving me to struggle into a sitting position with a groan.

I think I’d preferred the cold. Within minutes, I was soaked in sweat, heart fluttering desperately against the heat, my mouth dry as a desert. I was pressed desperately against the wall between the two heaters furthest from the door, trying to leach as much cold from the rapidly-warming concrete as I could. Every second dragged heavy breaths from my body, muscles shaking in a frantic effort to dispel some of the insane heat burning under the wool. Every hour or so, the door opened, and Ivan did a round of the heaters with a stern warning not to move and a gun pointed at my head. By the third, I was considering charging him, just to make it end.

The sun was going down by the time the door opened for the sixth time, the golden rays startlingly beautiful after only the flickering flames to keep me company. I opened my mouth to protest weakly, but only a shaky croak came out, eyeballs aching from dehydration. I blinked in a desperate attempt to clear my blurry vision, and sighed with relief as a blond-haired face swam into view, squatting before me with concern. “Here,” he murmured, offering me a tray with a small, dry square of unidentifiable food. “Water?” I croaked, and he winced. “Technically… No. You are on dehydrated rations and no water intake.” His hand slid inside his shirt, pulling out one of the bottles of water I’d become familiar with. “But I swiped this. I cannot- It’s not much, but-” The second the plastic found my lips, I drank ravenously, careful not to spill a single, precious drop. I didn’t stop for breath until it was empty, resting my head back against the wall and panting hard. “Th-thank you…” “They do not expect you to make it through the night before you black out.” I watched him carefully, shoulders cramping from my pulled-back arms. “Neither do I,” I admitted softly, wincing as I shifted position, the burn on my hip aching from the heat. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, and I scowled. “What?” “Did they hurt you?” I laughed despite myself, chin jerking to gesture at the room around me. “They’re trying to cook me alive. What do you think?” “What did they do?” he breathed, inching closer, those blue eyes shining with worry, and I swallowed. “Hot poker. Hip. It’s fine.” His lip curled in a grimace, hand reaching out instinctively. “Can I see?” I growled automatically, flattening myself against the wall, and he winced. With a soft sigh, I relaxed reluctantly, letting his fingertips brush the jumpsuit. With slow, trembling hands, he unbuttoned the wool, exposing throat- chest- stomach, hesitating when his fingers brushed my pubic hair, his face turning pinker. “W- Ah, which… Which side?” “Left,” I replied softly, watching him closely. It has been a long time since I’d have someone so nervous around me, and, in spite of the situation I found myself in, I found myself smirking at his shyness. He gently eased the jumpsuit to the side, flinching sympathetically. “It is not deep. You heal quickly; you will be okay…” His thumb smoothed the skin over my burn, eliciting a soft shiver that made him smile. With a pause, his hand found my chest, and I raised an eyebrow, making his cheeks flush ever darker. “I-I… I’m checking your pulse.” “Isn’t that usually done at the throat?” I teased, my heart beating just a little harder under his touch, making him laugh and draw his hand away. “… Why do you heal so quickly?” he murmured a few moments later, slowly buttoning up my jumpsuit once more, mercifully stopping halfway to let my skin breathe for a short while. “I… Don’t really know,” I admitted, watching his slender, deft hands as they returned to his lap. “I was experimented on.” “Germans?” “Yes.” He nodded once, fingers curling into fists. “Yes… Well. The полковник – the Colonel, your doctor – is interested in you. He will do this for as long as he can, you understand.” When I could only nod weakly in response, he cleared his throat. “I will do what I can to help you, but I…” “I understand,” I replied quietly, wincing. “I know. I… I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” My mouth had grown dry again, and I knew he was struggling himself when I saw his tongue catch on his parched lips. “… Go on. Get out of here. There’s no point in both of us strug-” My words were cut off as he slammed into me, arms tight around me. “You will be okay, Bucky. You will survive this.” I chuckled weakly, burying my face in his neck. “I’ll do my best, Aleksi.”

@deaddovedec @whumpcember @hurtcember @fnafbingo @badthingshappenbingo

[tsckcyomi-archived]

"I will live for you, even when it hurts... even when its more difficult some days than others." ( @ anna )

The festive days of Christmas have passed, and the bar is incredibly quiet in comparison to the hours filled with laughter, music, and yelling. Most of the clansmen headed back to their own homes to recover from eating and drinking their fill ━ or more than their fill ━ and spend the days between Christmas and New Year's with their other loved ones.

For both Anna and Takehiko, that means remaining in the bar regardless. Anna remembers one of the first times she met the other woman and, rather accidentally, dove into of her mind palace ━ feeling a palm strike her cheek, cold metal digging into her skin and leaving a mark. It was enough to never make Anna ask Takehiko about her family explicitly, enough to make her understand that, albeit their circumstances are different, they both have found their new family in the Red Clan.

The Red Clan, which has experienced tragedy after tragedy in December but a few years ago. Thus, it is a difficult month for the Red King. No, not only for her, but rather for all of HOMRA. The anniversary of Tatara's death, and the anniversary of Mikoto's death. The former falling on her birthday, the latter eleven days after. The years that have passed ever since their deaths have numbed the pain, and Anna finds that she can celebrate her birthday with a lighter heart, and enjoy the festivities in Shizume City throughout the last weeks of the year.

Yet at times she still spaces out. Moments in which she stares at Tatara's camera propped up in the shelves of the bar. Stands in the door frame leading to the room Mikoto used to occupy. Unmoving and silent.

Time does not heal all wounds. That, Anna has learned long ago already. But they become bearable, and everyone that is still with her makes them so. It's when her and Takehiko sit on the cushioned couch downstairs, mugs filled with hot chocolate in their hands, that they speak of their losses. That Anna, eventually, confesses how even though she knows that loss cannot break her, the thought of losing yet someone else terrifies her like naught else. The clans may be at peace currently, but of the many individuals touched by the Slates, some rise to challenge the Kings and their Clans, rallying others around them. In spite of her power, Anna cannot guarantee everyone's safety, and no one can guarantee hers. Yata loudly professed that no one will touch a hair on her head as long as he is still here. Only over my dead body, he said with a grin as if to reassure her. Anna believes him, and knows that he means well. But Anna wants no one to die for her, either.

Takehiko seems to understand the implication behind her words rather immediately.

Anna keeps her eyes trained on the mug in her hands while her vassal speaks, knees tucked to her chest. Even when it hurts. Even when it's more difficult some days than others. Oh, how Anna wishes she could take away the pain that Takehiko experiences. But in spite of all the powers she's been granted by the Slates, both as a Strain and the Red King, there's little she can do for her beyond nurturing their red flames sustaining Takehiko's life.

Perhaps it's selfish to feel that spark of relief that comes with hearing Takehiko's promise regardless. Anna knows not how long her reign as the Red King will last, volatile as her powers can be at times. But knowing that her vassal will ever be by her side until the very end... She thinks there are only so few things that can calm her heart so.

Anna reaches out and grasps her vassal's hand, squeezing gently. Her eyes stray to the side, out the window to the illuminated streets.

"...Thank you, Takehiko." I'm sorry.

[dashboarddiaries]

Dashboard Diaries is a production of Atypical Artists, hosted by Lauren Shippen and Cherokee McAnelly. Our theme was composed by Lauren Shippen and mixed by Brandon Grugle. Art by Shae McMullin. Transcription by Laudable.

For bonus clips, ad-free episodes, and more, become a patron at patreon.com/dashboarddiaries

Transcript under the cut!

[intro music]

Lauren: Hello, my angst-y teens, in age as well as in spirit. I am Lauren Shippen, Professional Writer, who as of this recording on January 9th have already published my first fan fic of the year. 

Cherokee: Congratulations! Great start to the year, Lauren. 

Lauren: Thank you!

Cherokee: I’m Cherokee McAnelly, Head of Entertainment at Tumblr, who has no resolutions this year, and is crushing every single one of them.

Lauren: And this is Dashboard Diaries, a podcast for you – the folks who are in this internet bunker with us. We talk about what’s going on in our favorite hell site, get into what we like to call “tumbl-lore,” do fandom deep dives, and share the times when we’ve gone feral over a new ship.

And we are back for 2023! I have to apologize for the fact that we basically had no new episodes in December. I got the flu and then with the holidays and everything it was just like impossible to record. But we’re back and better than ever! 

Cherokee, what’s been going on on your Tumblr this week? Or, really, for the last month. Any highlights?

Cherokee: Well, Lauren, I will admit I have had a very offline past month. 

Lauren: We love that, too. We support it.

Cherokee: Yeah. I went home for the holidays and spent two weeks playing Scrabble with my parents. By the way, out of ten games I won seven – if anyone is counting. 

Lauren: Dang! All right ... Scrabble Queen.

Cherokee: No big deal, no big deal. Sorry, no time for the internet when I’m crushing it at Scrabble. And when we were playing Scrabble we were sitting in the backyard while my dad named the birds. So, very, very offline month. 

Lauren: Perfect!

Cherokee: I actually don’t have much dashboard chat from the last month to talk about, which is great – due to the topic of the episode – but what about you, Lauren? How has your last month on Tumblr been?

Lauren: Well, it’s funny that you mention your dad naming birds, because one of the posts that I’ve seen crossing my dash a lot recently is this Tumblr user challenging basically another Tumblr user to name all of the birds. Like, basically, “I bet you can’t name every bird.” And then this Tumblr user does. And of course eventually it turns into a dead dove meme ... we’ll make sure to re-blog it. 

But yeah, I have been spending a lot of time on Tumblr over the past month because I was sick for like two weeks. And it’s just been a joy. There’s always so much positive energy I think around the end of the year, both in terms of casting off 2022 and having hope for 2023, which is yet still new. And I think the attitude that I saw most on Tumblr this year was kind of aligned with what you said in your introduction which is that we’re not doing resolutions. We’re not having high hopes for 2023. It’s the circumstances turned to change. (laughs) And we are just trucking a long.

So, yeah, I’ve just been trucking along. 

Cherokee: Uh, “it’s the circumstances turned to change” is my favorite thing I’ve ever heard. I want that on a cross-stitch or something. 

Lauren: I stole that from a tweet that I saw on Tumblr. (laughs)

Cherokee: Incredible. Ahh, thank you internet, it’s good to be back. 

Lauren: It is. Did you watch any Supernatural over the holiday?

For those who don’t know ... Cherokee has never seen Supernatural before. I’ve seen all of Supernatural. It is of course Tumblr’s kind of central text, I would say, and so she is watching through all of it bit by bit. So, Cherokee, do you have a Supernatural update for us this week?

[rock riff]

Cherokee: Lauren, I absolutely did. Well, technically I watched it right before the holiday in preparation for our previous episode. But I took copious notes. 

Lauren: Excellent.

Cherokee: So, I think I should be able to remember it pretty well, especially because it was quite a good episode. So, this week’s episode was S1E9: Home. This is a very special episode. I’m sure you remember it. It’s the first time that Sam and Dean go back to the old Winchester house because there’s a haunting happening in that house.

Lauren: Ohhh.

Cherokee: And so it was a good back-story episode. I love a little back-story. Was very excited about it. They mentioned that Dean (or Sam? I forget) ... I wrote Dean or Sam has the Shining ... Oh wait, under it I write “It’s Sam.” 

(laughter)

There were a lot of Shining references in this episode, which I really love – including at the end Dean breaks the door down with an axe and yells through the hole. 

Lauren: Hell yeah.

Cherokee: Look, I love a good reference. Was very excited about it. Also, there is a psychic in this episode who is Adele from Grey’s Anatomy, Richard Weber’s wife.

Lauren: Ooh!

Cherokee: So, when fandom’s collide. Love a little ... you know.

Lauren: Oh yeah, we love a crossover.

Cherokee: A little crossover there. I was very excited about it. So, they are being haunted but their mom is also a poltergeist, a presence in this home. 

Lauren: Oh, dang.

Cherokee: And she saves them from the demon that’s in this house, not before the demon sadly sucks a plumber down a garbage disposal. RIP.

Lauren: That does happen.

Cherokee: Yeah. Rest In Plumber. 

Lauren: (laughs)

Cherokee: But was very excited about the back-story episode and the fact that their mom essentially ... I don’t know if she went to Heaven? Was freed by this entire incident? I don’t know. 

Lauren: Who can say?

Cherokee: Who can say? Perhaps you could, Lauren.

Lauren: Perhaps I could ...

Cherokee: Perhaps you could. And for my sleep paralysis demon for this episode, I wrote, “My apartment?” Because ...

Lauren: Oh, you don’t know what’s lurking in your garbage disposal.

Cherokee: You don’t know what’s lurking in your garbage disposal. It’s a good thing I don’t have one. 

Lauren: I was going to say ... You live in New York City and they don’t actually allow garbage disposals there. I’m assuming for this reason.

[guitar]

And now, as we do every week – one of my favorite things to do with you is our dashboard confessionals. Where we dive back into our own archives and pull of a post from this day or around this day, however many years ago. 

Cherokee, what do you have for me this week?

Cherokee: I have a very exciting post this week, Lauren. I have a post that I re-blogged on January 12, 2015. And it is from Brittney Spears’ Tumblr. And it is like a photo of her popping into the dashboard blue space that she actually found and posted on her personal Tumblr. And for those of you who aren’t familiar, this is a really popular kind of way to post that started to trend essentially when we took the frame away from posts on Tumblr so that the edges could go straight into the color of the blue dashboard. So, people started doing posts that made it look like their posts were popping out of the dashboard. So, this is a jazzy little pic of Brittney popping out of the dashboard and yeah.

Lauren: Love it. This is actually her Tumblr?

Cherokee: Yes, it is.

Lauren: That’s incredible. 

Cherokee: www.BrittneySpears.Tumblr.com. 

Lauren: I’d love to see it.

Cherokee: She did an answer time years ago and my favorite answer in the answer time someone asked, “What’s your favorite thing to cook?” And she just said “Fudge.” 

Lauren: Fudge.

Cherokee: Fudge.

Lauren: Unmatched. We love a diva. Thanks Brittney.

(laughter)

That’s amazing. 

Cherokee: Lauren, what about you. What do you have for us this week?

Lauren: I have perhaps the perfect encapsulation of 2016 on Tumblr.

Cherokee: Incredible.

Lauren: So, yeah, I looked back into my 2016 archive and this was January 2016. So, this would have been probably a few weeks after I saw The Force Awakens. Because The Force Awakens came out in December of 2015. And this would have been about fourth months since I had seen Hamilton on Broadway, which I saw in October of 2015. Both of those pieces of media obviously got huge on Tumblr in 2016. Hamilton because that’s when the cast album came out at the end of 2015. 

And this is a video of storm pilot the ship of Finn and Poe from Star Wars, the new trilogy set to Helpless from Hamilton. (laughs) And it’s just, it brings me so much joy. And I definitely got into this ship pretty quickly after The Force Awakens. I would not say it is one of my main Star Wars ships, but I still have a lot of affection for it. And it’s just a great video. Obviously we will post both of these posts on www.DashboardDiaries.Tumblr.com. 

And there’s also somebody adding Lin-Manuel in it, so presumably this is also his real Tumblr. 

Cherokee: It is. Yes.

Lauren: So, another celebrity cameo from Lin-Manuel Miranda, writer of Hamilton. 

Cherokee: We love our jazzy little cameos. That is aggressively 2016. Wow. 

Lauren: It really, really is. (laughs)

Cherokee: Wow. And it just really brought me back to ... I listened to Helpless and Satisfied on a loop for quite a while that year.

Lauren: Oh yeah.

Cherokee: Yeah, yeah. 

Lauren: I sang Helpless at a Hamilton sing-a-long at a bar in LA that was put together. And the LA Times wrote an article about it. It was ... I also did Hamilton’s final-

Cherokee: WOW.

Lauren: ... death monologue. Listen, we all have pasts. (laughs)

Cherokee: Yep. Yeah. We all ... I feel like everyone lost their mind a little bit around Hamilton.

Lauren: A little bit.

Cherokee: I feel like we kind of lost all reason. I definitely did. And you know what? We were all having a great time. So ...

Lauren: Yeah, and I still sing Satisfied really loudly in the shower. 

Cherokee: Well, good.

Lauren: So, we’re still having a great time.

Cherokee: Exactly. We continue to have a good time. Okay, my night now ... So, we’re adding on ... I’m going to make a hot toddy and then scroll Tumblr while listening to the Hamilton soundtrack.

Lauren: You are describing literally my entire 2016. So, I’m glad to promote this agenda.

Cherokee: Nice little time capsule moment. (laughs) I’m in my Lauren era. 

(laughter) 

Lauren: So, we have a sort of new segment this week to kick us off in the new year, which is a brief mail bag.

[game show trill]

We have heard from a couple of listeners in the past month with some really fun update about some of the things we talked about last year that I wanted to share with you and with all of our listeners. The first is an email that we received from Bailey, who I actually did an interview with last year, or I guess now 2021, for their GenZine podcast. And they reached out to us because they are at college and in one of their classes the fandom scholar who teaches the class brought up Goncherov and talked about it in class. (laughs)

And so they sent a photo from the slide from this class of Martin Scorsese and the Goncherov poster. If you have no idea what we’re talking about, go listen to Episode 11: The Gonch and the Gunch to get a brief run-down on Goncherov. We are celebrating 50 years of Goncherov this year, Cherokee! Right? It came out in 1973. It definitely really did come out because it’s a real movie.

Cherokee: Oh my gosh, Lauren, you’re so right! How could it slip my mind? That classic film Goncherov turns 50 this year!? Oh my gosh.

Lauren: Classic film.

Cherokee: We’ll have to start planning the celebrations now.

Lauren: If you happen to remember what day or month Goncherov came out in, in 1973 – because I don’t know that I’ve seen anybody talking about that on Tumblr yet, please let us know so we can celebrate it properly. 

Cherokee: I would love a release date. I can’t wait to see every Gonch at their midnight screenings. 

Lauren: Watching this extremely real movie that absolutely exists?

Cherokee: Yes, exactly. Throwing their- I don’t know, oranges or whatever other item would be the toast in Rocky Horror – you know what I’m going for? 

Lauren: I know exactly what you’re going for! And it would be like oranges and ice picks and blood, probably. 

(Iaughter)

Cherokee: Oooh, buckets of blood!

Lauren: This sounds like a good time. You know?

Cherokee: Yeah. 

Lauren: There’s that whole time theme in there as well.

Cherokee: Oh gosh. How could I forget the time theme? Yeah.

Lauren: You’re always running out of time. 

Cherokee: That’s so beautiful.

Lauren: So, thank you, Bailey, for sharing that with us. It’s amazing that already ... and this email was sent back in December ... that already Goncherov is appearing in film studies classes in universities. It’s just incredible to see. 

And the other mail bag I wanted to share was also school related from our friend Lindsay who emailed us a couple of months ago asking for help on their fandom project where they had to build a website for a particular fandom for a class. And we did the ultimate fandom bracket which you can go and listen to in our feed. And Lindsay sent us this amazing website, which ... they sent it in an Ask. So, I’ll publish the Ask on www.DashboardDiaries.Tumblr.com. But it is a website titled “Our Flag Means Death To Supernatural: A Chronology of Queerness and Fandom” by Lindsay. 

So, dive into that. Add that to our agenda tonight of the hot toddy and the Hamilton soundtrack, scrolling Tumblr. Read this website. It is phenomenal. It was so fun to take that prompt from Lindsay and do an ultimate fandom bracket. And come up basically with, yeah, an Our Flag Means Death VS Supernatural is where we kind of ended up. And it’s been amazing to see what they did with that. So, thank you so much Lindsay for sharing this with us.

Cherokee: Truly. You changed our lives for the better.

Lauren: Absolutely. And I should say also, we have a little bit of a shout out on the front page. (laughs)

Cherokee: Oh my gosh. This is so exciting.

Lauren: They linked to our episode. It’s episode 7, “One Fandom To Rule Them All.” So, go listen to that if you have not already and see if you agree with our bracket choices. 

All right. We still have our entire main segment to do, which is talking about the year ahead for fandom. But first, a quick break.

[bright synth]

This week in Tumblr vibes it has been ten years since Spiders Georg, which I’m just realizing I’ve never actually said out loud before. So, Spiders JORG? Spiders GAY-ORG? Anyway ... presumably he’s still living in that cave eating 10,000 spiders a day and ruining statistics. And now, a word from our sponsor ... 

[bright synth]

And we’re back. Now, at the end of last year we had planned to do a year in review talking about Tumblr’s wonderful year in review list and things like that. But due to my flu and the holidays we didn’t actually have a chance to do that. So, instead we are going to talk about the year ahead with 2023.

[game show trill]

We have so much to talk about here. But our main focus is going to be what is going to go absolutely bonkers, bananas on Tumblr? Cherokee, what are the things that you just cannot wait to see Tumblr react to?

Cherokee: First off, Good Omens, Season II. I mean, season one came out so long ago.

Lauren: So, long ago.

Cherokee: I think 2019 it came out? Or 2018? It’s been truly so long. And so I’m very, very excited for season two. Obviously anything that Neil Gaiman does it great. And it was the number one topic on Tumblr the year season one premiered. So-

Lauren: Dang.

Cherokee: ... I know that Tumblr is going to absolutely lose its collective hive mind over Good Omens and I can’t wait to see the show, can’t wait to see Tumblr’s reactions to it. And honestly that is what ... like, we have a huge list, but that’s the one that really just immediately stood out for me when thinking about 2023. 

Lauren: That is a very, very good pull. I mean, I remember ... I mean, I still see Good Omens posts pop up and we constantly talk about Neil Gaiman, who is one of the beloved celebrities on Tumblr. So, it’s just the perfect marriage. Do we think Crowley and ... I can never pronounce the other guy’s name ... 

Cherokee: Aziraphale?

Lauren: Aziraphale. Do we think they’re going to kiss?

Cherokee: Uhhhhh, I think they are going to kiss. I think we’re going to get a little kiss.

Lauren: I do, too.

Cherokee: Yeah.

Lauren: I think we’ll get a little kiss. 

(laughter) 

Cherokee: Favorite prediction so far. 

Lauren: Yes. (laughs) I am putting my hat into the ring of Our Flag Means Death, season two, being the thing that people just go ham over. We talked about Our Flag Means Death a lot last year. It was a huge, huge deal last year – only with a couple of episodes, the same thing with Good Omens, season one, short seasons. 

Cherokee: Yeah.

Lauren: And season two is coming out sometime this year. I don’t think we have a release date yet. So, I just think that people are going to go bonkers over it in the way that they did the first season. 

Cherokee: I feel exactly the same way. I, too, will go bonkers over it and just some quick metrics, too. Our Flag Means Death was the #9 topic on Tumblr overall of 2022. 

Lauren: Dang.

Cherokee: And #1 was Stranger Things, unsurprisingly. 

Lauren: A-ha. Of course. 

Cherokee: And Our Flag Means Death was also the #3 TV show of 2022. So, I predict that Our Flag Means Death will move up. I think Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens will vie for the #1 TV show slot of the year, definitely. And also really wonderful and fun fact: David Jenkins, the show runner of Our Flag Means Death, tweeted that season two would not have happened without Tumblr. He attributes-

Lauren: Aww! <3

Cherokee: ... its renewal to the Tumblr fandom. And it was just really wonderful to see that. And he said, of course the fandom’s across other socials were so impactful as well but he said the noise and the dedication of the Tumblr community is really what made that renewal happen. So, thanks y’all for Our Flag Means Death season two! (laughs)

Lauren: The best! So, okay, Stranger Things was #1 TV show from last year. What was #2, then, if Our Flag Means Death was #3?

Cherokee: Yes. #2 was the The Owl House. 

Lauren: Oh, okay. That’s right. The Owl House is not a show I’ve watched but I’ve heard amazing things about it. 

Cherokee: Yeah, Stranger Things and The Owl House were respectively the #1 and #2 topics overall of 2022, and TV shows overall. #3 was Artists on Tumblr topics. And then #4, Critical Role. And #5, Encanto. Which should kind of give you an idea. And then #8, my personal favorite, was Eddie Munson. So, Eddie Munson, himself, got #8 topic on Tumblr. (laughs)

Lauren: That’s amazing. Well, and as it has been the case with a lot of Stranger Things seasons, with all of them really, we’re not going to have any Stranger Things this year. 

Cherokee: Oh gosh.

Lauren: It’s going to be a wait. And I think they’re aiming for 2024, but who knows when in 2024. In 2021 we had both the Robin prequel and the podcast about the Robin prequel that actually I made with Maya Hawke and John Mayer. It was really, really fun. 

Cherokee: Yes! Rebel Robin.

Lauren: Rebel Robin, surviving Hawkins. I don’t know if we’re going to get something like that again. I hope so. I would love more prequel novels because there’s one for Max, too. It would be super fun. But yeah, it’s going to be a while until Stranger Things stakes the #1 spot again. 

Cherokee: Yeah. But we have so many other incredible shows and movies coming out this year that hopefully the void that Stranger Things leaves will be more than filled by everything else that is coming up. What else are you specifically most excited for, Lauren?

Lauren: I mean, the thing that I’m most specifically excited for this year is, to nobody’s surprise, The Last of Us. Which by the time that this episode comes out will be literally two days away from coming out. I am getting inundated with ads for it on YouTube and everywhere. And my dash is just full of Pedro Pascal and Bella Ramsey’s press tour, which is slowly driving me insane. Because normally I don’t like really care much about press tours or about what the actors ... who they are outside of the roles that they’re playing, right? Because it’s like, it’s a job. And I respect the job immensely, I work with a lot of actors and it’s a really hard job. But what they say in a press tour usually doesn’t really affect my viewing experience much.

Except Pedro Pascal and Bella Ramsey have such a cute dynamic that is so Joel and Ellie, the characters that they play in The Last of Us, that I’m just like, I am not going to be able to contain myself when I see these two people playing these characters, because their chemistry is just like so good. Big dad energy. Big ... (laughs) angst-y teen making fun of her dad energy. Like, it’s just so good. Cherokee, I’m losing it. I’m hanging on by a thread now that we’re less than a week away. So, that is the thing that’s going to be consuming my personal dash and my life for the next eight weeks. I’m pretty sure it’s eight episodes. It might be ten. 

And then from there the other things I’m excited for are the return of Severance and Succession and Ted Lasso. Those are kind of the ones that I can’t wait to see the second seasons of, or the next seasons of these shows. The second season of Severance in particular I’m very excited for.

Cherokee: Me too. On every single show you just mentioned. I watched Severance twice through to get all of the little things you might miss and hints and now knowing everything it’s just so good. And I love shows that feel like a puzzle where-

Lauren: YES.

Cherokee: ... upon every viewing you kind of get a whole new perspective, which also I think I’ve mentioned this in the past but with shows like this one of my favorite things to do is upon a re-watch don’t focus on the main person speaking or the main thing happening in the scene and look at the background for the full episode and it’s wild what you see. 

Lauren: I love that you do that. It’s amazing.

Cherokee: (laughs) I am a full nerd and I embrace it.

(laughter)

Could not be more excited for the new season of Severance and the season four of Succession. I love Succession. That’s another show I re-watch. Less defined by hints and more because it’s just so bitingly funny and you miss so many little jabs and one liners throughout. I love the insults in Succession.

Lauren: YES.

Cherokee: In the same way I loved the insults in Veep. 

Lauren: Oh my god, yes.

Cherokee: I really ... At one point when I had more time wanted to do a Tumblr that was every insult from Veep and just list each post-

Lauren: Oh, that’s a good Tumblr idea. 

Cherokee: ... as a quote post and list them all out. Me and my roommate at the time were like, “We’re absolutely going to do this.” But it is just so ... there are so many episodes and so many insults. So, if anyone out there has some free time and wants to do the every insult from Veep Tumblr.... 

Lauren: Absolutely. Oh god. Armando Iannucci, the creator of Veep and The Thick of It and Avenue Five has just a way with words that defies description. You just have to see it to know what it is.

Cherokee: Truly. It’s beautiful. And it’s like insult poetry. I love it.

Lauren: It’s exactly what it is. Is there anything big that’s coming out that you’re really excited for and then are there any really niche things or less sort of big blockbuster-y things that you’re excited for?

Cherokee: So, I think the big kind of blockbuster-y if you would call them kind of things that I’m excited for are Succession and Severance. I feel like those really kind of had big moments. They’re quite popular on Tumblr. Obviously, Succession more than Severance, but I predict that Severance will trend a lot and start getting more and more in fandom when season two premieres. 

But the things that I’m excited for that may be a little more niche, though not completely niche, are Yellow Jackets ... Would you call that niche? 

Lauren: I think that falls outside of the bounds of mainstream viewing.

Cherokee: Yeah.

Lauren: And fandom. I mean, it was popular on Tumblr, but ...

Cherokee: Yeah, exactly. It felt like I was seeing a lot of stuff about it but the great thing about Tumblr is you follow the people that are posting what you want to see, right? So, and I do again think that season two will have ... the fandom will really grow around season two and that was another show that I watched twice. It’s so good! And also Hacks. Season three, right, of Hacks that’s coming out?

Lauren: Yes, season three.

Cherokee: Jean Smart and Hannah Einbinder, also Meg Stalter, is just ...

Lauren: Oh god.

Cherokee: ... one of my favorite people in entertainment.

Lauren: She’s so good.

Cherokee: She steals the show. I want her to get her own spin off. 

Lauren: Yes.

Cherokee: KLOVE spin off, you know? Or some kind of talk show on the show. Anyway ... very, very excited for Hacks. And then more on the mainstream kind of side of things, obviously Our Flag Means Death, the new Dune film, I may read the book ... but it’s big. 

Lauren: Yeah.

Cherokee: It’s big. And You. I love cheesy kind of slasher-

Lauren: Pulpy. 

Cherokee: ... camp kind of vibes. And love me some Joel Goldberg. So, excited to see. And honestly, he’s definitely what Dan Humphrey would have grown up to be. 

Lauren: 1,000%. Well, the trailer for part one of season four for you just came out today, I think. 

Cherokee: Oh my gosh. I’ll have to watch it. 

Lauren: Oh yeah. It looks nuts, like that show is. (laughs) 

Cherokee: Yeah. (laughs) I also saw that you wrote in here “Cocaine Bear” which I watched the trailer for months ago when it came out and was like, “Fuck yes! This is amazing!”

Lauren: I think Cocaine Bear is going to have a moment. I do.

Cherokee: I really think it’s going to have a moment. I’m excited to see what the moment is. I mean, because it’s just like we would think, “Oh, Cocaine Bear, what could this movie be about?” And that’s exactly what it’s about. And I just love that. I love a movie that says what it is. (laughs)

Lauren: Right on the tin. Yep. 

Cherokee: Yep. Absolutely.

Lauren: I think it’s going to have a really strong week on Tumblr where everybody is posting Cocaine Bear memes and then it will never be heard of again. Pretty much.

Cherokee: Yeah. It’s going to be just a beautiful fleeting, shooting star across everyone’s dashboard and then disappear, much like that shooting star gif that goes across your dashboard every three to five months.

Lauren: Exactly. 

Cherokee: What about you, Lauren? What are you most excited for on the super popular side of things and also on the less popular? Or not less popular, but more-

Lauren: Niche?

Cherokee: ... slightly more niche. Thank you. I know that you mentioned The Last of Us.

Lauren: Yeah, I mean, The Last of Us is definitely the headline, right? But I will say that I am also extremely excited for the Mandalorian season three. It’s been now almost three years since season two came out of the Mandalorian. Obviously the Book of Boba Fett had like two Mandalorian episodes within it, basically. But I am a huge, huge Star Wars person now. That’s still a fairly new thing over the past couple of years. And the Mandalorian is one of my favorites. 

I love grumpy dads. It’s going to be another great year of grumpy dads. Right? We’ve got Joel from The Last of Us. We’ve got the Mandalorian. The Bad Batch is back, season two. Another Star Wars, animated. You get four grumpy dads in that. So, it’s really a good year for grumpy dads. I’m excited for grumpy dads. 

Cherokee: Okay ...

Lauren: On the more niche side there are two things I’m really excited for which are by no means niche because they’re still big budget but I think that are certainly less popular fandom’s, especially on Tumblr. But I just found out the other day that there’s an Expanse video game coming out. The Expanse is an Amazon Prime sci fi show that ended a couple of years ago, maybe a year and a half ago, that I adore. And it’s based off of a book series and they’re now making a video game about Camina Drummer who is one of my favorite characters from that series. She is my wife. She can murder anybody she wants to. I support women’s wrongs. And I can’t wait to play her in a video game. I think that’s going to be incredible.

And then the other thing I’m really excited for that I got into last year because me and my partner watched all of it after watching all of Deadwood, the next natural step is to watch all of Justified. (laughs) And so we did that. And I got super into Justified. And Justified City Primeval which is the new one season series, comes out sometime this summer. We love Timothy Olyphant in a cowboy hat as a Marshall. He’s played a Marshall in like seven different things, including the Mandalorian. And it’s always nice to have him back, even if it looks like none of the other characters are going to return. But we’ll have some new folks, including Boyd Holbrook who played the villain in The Sandman is going to be playing the villain in this. And I cannot wait for him and Timothy Olyphant to go head to head. I think that’s going to be really fun to watch.

Cherokee: I was going to say that one of my favorite tropes is the kind of reluctant father who really steps up to the plate. And it always makes me think of Chris Hemsworth and Thor in Love and Thunder. He becomes that father, as you were saying, the gruff dad. First off, you should create a side blog for all your favorite gruff dads.

Lauren: I should. Listen, I have a Venn diagram ...

(laughter)

This is not something I’m going to share widely, but I will send it to you, Cherokee. 

(laughter)

Of all of my favorite broken men-

(laughter)

... and there’s one circle in the Venn diagram that’s just “has custody of a child but probably should not have custody of a child.”

(laughter)

Cherokee: That is incredible. 

Lauren: And it’s a lot of them. Oh, and actually that’s something that I have to look forward to in this Justified revival. Because Timothy Olyphant’s character, Rayland Givens, has a baby toward the end of the series, and she is now grown up. She is a teenager, and she is being played by none other than Timothy Olyphant’s own daughter. 

Cherokee: You love to see it.

Lauren: I just cannot wait to see that play out. It’s going to be so great. And yeah, grumpy dads 2023, that’s my energy.

Cherokee: Grumpy dads. Yeah.

Lauren: That’s a headline.

Cherokee: That’s an excellent energy to bring to 2023. Also, I cannot wait to see that Venn diagram. Oh my gosh.

Lauren: Unhinged.

Cherokee: What other Venn diagrams do you have, Lauren?

Lauren: This is the only one Venn diagram that I’ve made. Because a friend ... this is a tangent. Maybe this will be a bonus clip. So, a friend and I were talking about the things that we like, the tropes and themes that we find over and over again in characters that we really enjoy, and mine is just, yeah, sad, broken men. And so some of the categories in this Venn diagram, which has about 11 circles, is “Should not have custody of a child,” and “yet imprisoned on account of a bad brain,” “imprisoned on account of all the atrocities,” “body count could be a phone number,” “fucked up thing with the other guy that makes everyone’s lives harder,” “daddy issues.” Dean Winchester is on here, speaking of Supernatural under body count, daddy issues, imprisoned on account of all the atrocities, avenges a loved one. 

Yeah.

Cherokee: I love this so much. That’s amazing. 

Lauren: I highly recommend doing this. This is a wonderful evening that I spent aligning all of my characters in this weird little Venn diagram. Yeah. I’ll send it to you once we get off.

Cherokee: I recently bought a wipe board for brainstorming and it’s sitting next to my desk and I’m staring at it right now, and I’m like, “I could erase all the ideas on this wipe board and I could make a Venn diagram of some sort.” 

Lauren: Yes! 

Cherokee: Honestly, broken men is a great place to start. 

Lauren: Great place to start. As we wrap up our year ahead, I thought it would be fun to do ... I stole this from Hard Fort, a wonderful podcast about technology from the New York Times, where they did a high, medium, and low prediction. And I figured you and I could just do sort of a high confidence and a low confidence prediction for fandom in the year ahead.

We already have talked a little bit about it, but Cherokee what’s one thing in fandom on Tumblr this year that you’re pretty sure is going to happen?

Cherokee: Okay, so I did something differently. I predicted what would happen on these shows. That is unlikely or likely to happen on certain shows that I watch.

Lauren: I love that. I do want to hear that, though. And then I’ll just do fandom predictions.

Cherokee: My bad. So sorry. Did not understand the assignment. 

Lauren: You know what? I did not explain this particularly well in [crosstalk 00:31:52]. 

(laughter)

And you already mentioned a couple of predictions that you have for Tumblr.

Cherokee: Okay, yeah.

Lauren: You’re good. You’re covered. 

Cherokee: My prediction that is likely is that Blorbo is replaced with a word with 17 syllables. 

Lauren: Oh ... (laughs)

Cherokee: Yeah.

Lauren: Okay. 

Cherokee: So, that’s my spicy prediction.

Lauren: Saucy take.

Cherokee: Saucy take. But yeah so my unlikely prediction for a television show or title that’s coming out this year is for Succession. And my prediction is that Kendall quits the biz to start a rap career. 

Lauren: (laughs) Unlikely, but not impossible. 

Cherokee: Yep. Yep. 

Lauren: That’s incredible. What is your likely prediction?

Cherokee: Two likely predictions. One for a movie and one for a show. 

Lauren: Excellent.

Cherokee: My likely prediction for a show is that in You Joe Goldberg gets a stalker. 

Lauren: Oh, that is a good one. I think you’re right. I think you’re right.

Cherokee: It could happen. And my likely prediction for a film is for Barbie. I wrote that Barbie has a nice time in a quirky little journey where she learns a lesson about life, love, friendship, and fun. 

Lauren: That is such a solid prediction. And so lovely.

Cherokee: I think it will happen.

Lauren: I love that.

Cherokee: It will be nice, and I can’t wait to see it. Okay, so Lauren, what are your predictions for Tumblr and what you think is going to happen on the platform this year, both likely and less likely?

Lauren: So, my likely prediction is I guess kind of like just a little bit like general around the cadence and seasons of fandom discourse. And how oftentimes when something is really beloved in its first season eventually, inevitably there’s sort of the reaction to the reaction where then when it comes back there’s a lot of discourse around it. Like, both negative and positive, right?

And so I do think that we are going to see a massive uptick in discourse around Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens when those second seasons come out. 

Cherokee: Hundo P.

Lauren: And my sort of unlikely prediction I guess within that, I have another unlikely prediction, is that Barbie is going to spur a huge amount of feminist discourse. (laughs) I don’t think that’s actually going to happen. I hope it doesn’t happen because I do think it’s just going to be a fun romp, but Tumblr is going to Tumblr. Right?

Cherokee: Yeah, the internet finds a way, right?

Lauren: The internet finds a way.

Cherokee: I think that’s likely.

Lauren: My, I guess, unlikely prediction for fandom at large is that there is going to be the resurgence of a long dormant fandom. And I’m thinking specifically of fandom’s like Undertale and Homestuck. I just feel like there’s a renaissance about to occur for some of these cult classic Tumblr fandom’s. Those were my two that ... Undertale specifically, I feel something in the water. I feel like Undertale is going to become like even bigger this year for some reason. But I think I both would like to see, and think it’s not impossible but maybe unlikely, some completely random fandom from 2013 just absolutely bust out and take over Tumblr. So, put in your bets now around what fandom that may be. (laughs)

Cherokee: Well, I think it’s so likely and I love to see when fandom’s are kind of revived for older titles. Like Goncherov, for example, came out 50 years ago just had its moment in the sun!

Lauren: 50 years!?

Cherokee: So, what’s next? The Sound of Music?

Lauren: I love that. 

Cherokee: Fandom really comes out on Tumblr.

[gentle music]

Lauren: And now, as we end this week and every week, our Feels Corner. Cherokee, what has you in your feels right in this moment?

Cherokee: So, there are two things that have me in my feels right this moment, Lauren. First one is Abbott Elementary.

Lauren: She’s back, baby.

Cherokee: She’s back. I just love this show. And the most recent episode, I think three or four times I said out loud alone in my apartment, “Gosh, I love this show.” It just makes me feel good. I cry at the smallest most infantismal sweet moment in that show. It’s very cute. I love it. Love Abbott Elementary. If you want something that makes you feel happy, definitely watch that. 

And then if you want something that rips your world apart, may I recommend His Dark Materials because, excuse my French but fuck that ending! I know that’s how the books end. I think. I don’t know. I will admit I didn’t read the Golden Compass series growing up. But I am very, very unhappy with how that ends. Why can’t people just have their happy little ending, Lauren?

Yeah, so that’s how I feel about that.

Lauren: Yeah. Well, mine will be pretty quick then because mine was also His Dark Materials. And I will say that more so than any other series, inclusive of Harry Potter, inclusive of all the series that we grew up with that were super formative, His Dark Materials as a book series, like formed the person that ... it was unbelievably important to me. 

And so I’ve been sort of watching the whole series with bated breath. I’ve really enjoyed what they’ve done with it. But I sob at the end of Amber Spyglass every single time I’ve read it. Probably six or seven times. And I was a complete and utter wreck watching this TV show. These two young actors are just so phenomenal together. And I was just like ugly crying. It was, yeah, I can’t even really contextualize ... because I watched it on Tuesday and so I’m still just shaking like a dog at a thunderstorm about it. 

So, yeah, even if you’re not a fan of the book series, like the fact that it made you cry – it made friend-of-the-show Briggon Snow cry. He has also not read the books. I hope Briggon doesn’t mind me sharing that. (laughs) It is a wonderful fantasy series and absolutely worth watching. 

Cherokee: Yeah, really beautifully done.

Lauren: And that is it for this week. I am Lauren Shippen and you can find me at TheLaurenShippen.Tumblr.com. 

Cherokee: And I’m Cherokee McAnelly and you can find me at Chero.Tumblr.com. This has been Dashboard Diaries. And ... 

[outro music]

Lauren: May your anons always be loving.

Cherokee: Your dash always refreshed.

Lauren: Your gifs always be loading.

Cherokee: And your ships always canon.

Lauren: May the fics you’re reading always be finished.

Cherokee: And the answers you seek always in the re-blogs.Lauren: Thanks for scrolling with us!

We're back and better than ever! After the end of 2022 took a bat to our face, we have so much to catch up on. We talk fandom in academics, the things we're looking forward to in 2023, and obsessively making Venn Diagrams to categorized our various unhinged interests.

Credits and transcript in our reblog. You can find transcripts for this, and every other episode, here.

Find the posts discussed in this episode in this tag!

[romana-after-dark]

Marc Spector x Sucubus!Reader Ft. Khonshu

Join my taglist : Masterlist

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My submission #1 for Dead Dove December! there is still plenty of time, so I hope I can see at one or more other Oscar isaac Submissions and maybe a logan submission! Also, I love every single of the Pedro submissions, you are all so amazing!!!

Summary: You are a sucubus, and tonight you've come to visit one of your favorite toys, Marc Spector. Tonight, however, you have a visitor...

Warnings: Sucubus reader so reader is DARK! This fic is DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Marc is alseep the entire time so non con somno, Khonshu watches and is grossly possesive over/thinks he owns Marc's body. Dirty talk, general non con themes.

Moon Knight divider by @sister-lucifer

DDDNE dividers by @clawdee

Beta'd by @boredzillenial

1.3k words

A/N: This is my first writing Marc Spector in almost a year I think! Moon Knight for longer than that! I'm happy to see my baby again <3

He was really fucking pretty. 

Maybe that’s why he was your favorite, maybe that’s why you came back to him again and again.

Marc Spector was your favorite to be sure, a young man still youthful, maybe around 25, and you’d been visiting him for maybe 2 years now. He was handsome, an absolute cutie with dark curls, tan skin and strong build. Even in his youth, he was built thickly, even if a bit short. Standing at 5’8. He wasn’t much shorter than global average, but he was definitely average height for Latino and Sephardic men. 

But his cock… god, that’s one of his biggest draws. Sure the rest was fantastic; Marc was absolutely flawless, a sleeping beauty below you, but it was his cock stuffed inside you that brought you to ecstasy. The 9 inches was delightful, reaching deep inside your core so well you could feel him kiss your cervix at the right angle. But god, the thickness… the way he split you open, the way you felt so full as you sank down on his length, crammed up inside you as you cum hard around him, Marc’s eyes fluttering when he came inside you but never awakening.

Tonight was a little different, however. Tonight you had company.

Naked and dripping for him already, you grind your naked cunt over Marc’s grey sweat, getting him hard and aching. You could see his breathing increase with the rise and fall of his chest laid bare like he knew you were coming. Like he was whoring himself out for you, and you alone. But you weren’t alone, were you?

“Come to watch, have you?” You speak, not looking away from Marc’s slightly parted lips, but speaking to the being in the corner.

“I wasn’t aware you could see me, little one.” 

You chuckle. You knew who he was, but he didn’t know you. Of course not. Succubi, while somewhat rare, were not unheard of and there was no reason for him to know you.

But you knew who he was.

“I can see all the Gods and beings of our realm, Khonshu” You smile as you turn to the man in his skeleton-bird form, grinding down hard on Marc’s bulge and humming in contentment.

He makes no sound, simply nodding. “And you’re a succubus, I am?”

“I am. This here,” You pat Marc’s chest. “Is my favorite toy. The question is, why are you here? Just came to watch? I won’t object.” You give him a teasing smirk, but see nothing in return.

“I am the owner of this body.”

Your eyebrows quirk up in surprise as you continue to dry hump Marc’s sleeping form. Was he mad you were using ‘his’ body? “Oh?”

“And I come to summon him, only to find a stranger using my avatar.”

Ah, an avatar. No wonder Marc was so lean, so muscled and strong. “And were you summoning him to use him like I am?”

He chuckles. “Hardly, although I can’t say it hasn’t crossed my mind. No, Marc is my knight. It seems you also have plans for him.”

“Ohhhh yesss, I do.” You’re approaching an orgasm, and you haven’t even taken out his cock yet. “So many plans… Khonshu… the question is, are you going to let me use your little toy?”

Khonshu cocks his head to the side. “Only if I get to watch.”

5 minutes later, Marc’s cock was drilling your insides as you bounced on him, hands planted firmly on his chest with Khonshu watching you. He remains clothed, rubbing himself slowly underneath his crisp pressed pants (he changed from his robes for the occasion, into a nice suit.). 

“How’s the view?” You tease him, your cunt leaking from your first orgasm all around Marc's supple hips.

“Simply sublime.” Khonshu’s voice booms through the room.

“Me?” Leaning down, you kiss into Marc’s neck, taking a nibble before side-eyeing back to Khonshu in the corner. “Or him?”

“Both”

Marc lightly snored, and you look over to watch the sweet man’s nostrils flare, so unaware of what is happening, so unaware he’s being used a sex doll for one, and porn for another.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” You’re pussy clenches around Marc’s cock as you bounce, enthralled by the inherent eroticism of it all, the treatment of Marc’s body as a thing to be rented out. You run your hands over his chest, feeling his warmth, his sweat, his tensing, aching body responding to you like the goodest good boy you’ve ever had the pleasure of defiling. “He feels so goddamn good, Khonshu.”

“How deep is he inside you?” He asks, still lazily leaning back but the touches over his clothed cock taking on a speedier edge. 

“You can feel for yourself.”

Khonshu reiterates, his voice much firmer now. “How deep, little one?”

You place your hand on your stomach, right where you can feel him piercing your womb. “He’s so deep…” you whine, drenching Marc’s thighs with your slick. He deserved this, deserved to have his fat cock drained, balls emptied inside a beautiful woman. Too bad Marc would never be awake to see it.

But Khonshu is, and isn’t that the next best thing? The owner of the body, watching and getting off to his varlet being abused in his sleep. Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it abuse… Marc sure seemed to be enjoying it.

Little whimpers leave his lips, and when you reach back behind yourself, you can feel his balls tightening.

“He’s about to cum, Khonshu…” You bounce on him with renewed fervor, your stomach flipping at the thought of being filled again by his hot, sticky warmth. Fuck, he was splitting you open, your body impailed on the young man as his length is fed inside you. “Are you gonna cum? Are you gonna cum inside me?”

“Fuck yourself on my cock.” His voice was breathy, breaking down just a little, losing a modicum of self control. “Let me cum inside, let my vessel fill your womb with my seed.”

“FUCK!” Your orgasm is crashing, screaming, clawing and kicking out of you, your body shaking with delight and milking out Marc’s as he fills you up. Rope after rope, your fluids mix in an unholy matrimony, cum trickling down his legs as your cum overflows to stain his sheets. You can’t even lament what was lost, the virile young man continuing to claim you with his cum, with Khonshu's cum, and you can feel it where his cut tip kisses your womb. 

And fuck, he looks so pretty like this.

His body, tight and lightly muscled, is tense, his mouth lightly parted as little moans escape his lips. His tits flex with the intensity, eyebrows knitted together as the final spurts fill your stomach, causing you to bulge. You’ve never felt him cum like this before, and you suspect the extra seed was Khonshu’s doing. As Marc’s hips stutter a final time, he sighs a little out of his lips, a name, not yours, whispered on his tongue.

“Layla…”

You don’t want to move. On top of Marc’s now-relaxed body, you enjoy feeling him so calm, so rested, so beautiful, even if he was thinking of some woman.

“He met a girl.” Khonshu stands. Any mess he made is gone, but you can tell by the light panting that the skeleton bird had cum too. “Kill her father a few years ago. She doesn’t know that yet, but it seems they’ve begun an affair of sorts. Doesn’t matter.” Khonshu says with resolve. “That will fall apart too, just like everything else in his life. He’ll soon learn I’m all he needs.”

You huff a laugh. Khonshu’s self importance was well known in the shadow realm, but this was none of your business. You were off to carry out your night, ready to knock some girl up with Marc’s cum. You give the young man a little kiss on the cheek.

“Until next time, Spector.”

Thank you so so so so much for reading!

I really hope you all enjoyed it, I wanted to explore Khonshu's possesive feelings towards the body. I explored this a little in Your Very Being which is Jake x khonshu and i feel takes place after this.

Again, thank you!

@steven-grants-world @del-ightfulling @iolaussharpe-24 @just-a-lovebot @madamerubrum @speaktothehandpeasants @and-claudia @autofillcontact675 @yeaiamme2 @miraclesabound @sub-aro @campingwiththecharmings @ivystoryweaver

[koulakoukoula2003]

Winter on Paradis

Pairings: Levi x y/n x Erwin, Hange x Moblit, Eren x Mikasa, Marlowe x Hitch

Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Summary: (AU where nobody dies in the Battle of Shiganshina) Everybody is more than excited to find everything covered in white outside the Survey Corps HQ. The Winter Holidays are closer than ever, and you can't wait to spend them alongside your husband, and your brats in your Special Operations Squad.

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This takes place after the Battle of Shiganshina. Moblit and Hange are married. You and Levi are married. BASICALLY EVERYBODY'S HAPPY, WE NEED SOME HAPPINESS IN THIS FANDOM GODDAMMIT😭😭

Enjoy! 🥰

The next morning, everything was white outside. Everybody was way too excited. It was the 24th of December. And tomorrow was her beloved husband’s birthday. (Y/n) had to think of presents, but all she could look at now, was the whiteness that spread all around them. The snow looked puffy. Only for Connie and Sasha to step right in and destroy it's immaculate beauty. They dove right into the snow, throwing snowballs at each other, and Jean soon joined, playing like five-year-olds.

A snowball landed on Marlowe’s back and he turned, only to be met with an even larger one landing on his face and Sasha with Connie laughed their asses off.

“Aw man, look at that mess,” Hitch approached her boyfriend wiping the white snow off his face. They were all dressed in their pyjamas. They hadn’t even bothered to throw on a cloak or a jacket. Armin had barged right into the barracks, notifying them all that everything outside was covered in a thick, beautiful veil of white and everybody just had to run outside right away.

“No worries, Hitch. I’ve got this,” Marlowe cracked his fingers before he leaned down, picking a large handful of snow and tossing it in Connie’s way. Connie’s laughter ceased as the throw was so powerful, it knocked him down on the snow and Sasha only pointed down at him laughing even more.

Hitch threw another snowball, knocking Sasha down beside Connie. Hitch laughed throwing a fist in the air. “That’s what you get for sneak-attacking my boyfriend!”

Meanwhile, Jean and Eren had been glaring at each other with snowballs in their fists, waiting for the right moment to throw them. Mikasa and Armin were just watching as Jean and Eren did nothing but stare intensely at each other as if they were trying to curse at each other with just one look. Armin raised an eyebrow. Wait a minute…

“Are you guys making a staring contest?” Armin pointed out but the two didn’t answer. They were too busy with trying to keep their eyes open.

Mikasa groaned. “Seriously?! What are you guys? Five-year-olds?!”

The two ignored her and tried to keep it up for as long as they could manage. Eren was the first to give in. “AAH! MY EYES!”

Jean threw a fist in the air. “FUCK YEAH!” And then he tossed the melting snowball that he had in his hand towards his friend. He grabbed another snowball tossing it at him, and another. “Can Mikasa stop me from turning you into a snowman?!” Jean cried out.

“SHUT UP, JEANBOYYYY!” Eren launched at him and they both came crushing down on the snow, beating each other up.

By the time the veterans walked out, it was a mess. (Y/n) had chosen to put on that one thick coat that she had for such circumstances. It was brown, way too big for her small body, but quite cosy and warm due to the fur embroidered on the inside of it. Of course, she had hurried to the barracks to catch all those coats of her squad’s stuff that she recognised. She had washed those coats before. She passed all six of them around her arm and she hurried outside.

Connie, Sasha, Marlowe and Hitch were locked in a thunderous snowball fight. Mikasa and Armin were cheering for Eren whilst he fought with Jean. (Y/n) sighed and she just shook her head. Those kids were going to catch a cold, that was for sure.

“L- Lieutenant (Y/n)-” Marlowe tried to say as he stopped throwing snowballs and turned at his superior, only to be knocked down by a powerful snowball from Connie.

“HELL YEAH!” Connie cried out.

“High-five!” Sasha raised her hand only for Connie to give it a smack.

Hitch growled as she gathered all the snow she could. “You little-”

“Time-out! Time-out! Unarmed person passing by!” (Y/n) cried out as she walked between the two groups. She caught Marlowe’s hand helping him up.

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” Marlowe said as he dusted off the snow from his shoulders. (Y/n) passed his coat around his shoulders and she messed his hair pushing the snow away.

“What have I asked you to call me?” (Y/n) grinned as she settled the coat closer around him.

Marlowe started giggling like an idiot. “(Y/n)?”

(Y/n) gave him a smile. “There, there, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She handed Hitch her own coat. Hitch had just joined the Survey Corps, and she with Marlowe were making a pretty good team already.

“Thanks, Lieu- er- (y/n)!”

Connie let out a loud sneeze as (y/n) approached him and she cringed. “Oh dear,”

“It’s nothing, (y/n), seriously,” Connie said as he rubbed his red nose.

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow “Sure,” as she passed his own coat around him, and then she did the same with Sasha. “You guys continue,” She grinned. “The team who wins gets to share an entire tray of cake,”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “IT HAS TO BE ME!”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!” Hitch growled as their hands reached for all the snow she could get.

“SO BE IT!” Connie cried out and the fight continued. (Y/n) giggled as she watched them. She’d never get to make that cake. Those kids would be bedridden by afternoon with an unbearable fever and an undoubtedly sore throat.

Erwin let out a sigh as he watched (y/n) scolding Jean and Eren to death before tucking them both in their coats and then setting over to do the same with Armin and Mikasa. But then he realised he wasn’t the only one staring. An invisible smile spread on Levi’s lips as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his black, thick trench coat, and then another contented sigh came from Moblit. All three men stared at that wonderful woman whilst she mothered the fifteen-year-olds that were making a mess of the street.

Moblit received a painful smack on his shoulder, and he knew of only one woman whose hand was so damn heavy. He turned and he saw his wife. “I get it for those two idiots, but why are YOU SIGHING AND STARING AT HER?!” Hange cried out furiously and Moblit cringed.

“I- I- I wasn’t staring at her!”

“YES, YOU WERE!”

“NO, I WASN’T!”

“FUCK YOU, MOBBY! …and then fuck me too,”

Those two were kissing and making out before they knew it. Levi groaned and rubbed his forehead and Erwin rolled his eyes. Both men turned their attention away from the loudly kissing couple, and they tried to ignore Hange’s moans and Moblit’s groans. Levi clicked his tongue in utter annoyance.

I’m never standing around those two ever again.

Time Skip

“H- Hey, (y/n)?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Y- You don’t happen to have a... twin sister, do you?”

(Y/n) choked back a laugh. Connie’s fever was bringing the wildest hallucinations she had ever seen in a patient with fever. “No, darling,”

“Who brought that goat in here?” Sasha mumbled as she pointed at Hitch who was lying on a bed across from her. No matter her fever, Hitch’s eyebrow twitched in frustration.

“I know for a fact that Sasha’s not hallucinating!” Hitch growled.

“Jeez, can y’all like… shut up?" Jean cut in. "And no, Sasha, that’s not a goat, that’s clearly a unicorn,” Jean pointed out in as-a-matter-of-factedly tone in his voice. (Y/n) cringed. Oh boy. Jean was hallucinating too.

“Speaks the horse,” Eren’s voice came from the bed across of Jean’s and Jean shut his eyes and groaned. Eren was the only one not hallucinating and maybe his titan-shifting abilities had something to do with that. Still, Mikasa was beside him, tending to his fever, and Armin was all around trying to help (y/n) all he could.

“You… son of a b-” Jean tried to say but (y/n) cut him.

“Guys!” She said strictly, catching everyone’s attention. “Let’s just deal with your fever and then you’re all free to skin each other alive, how about that?”

Eren sighed as he let his head roll back on his pillow and Jean groaned. “Fine!”

(Y/n) reached Marlowe. He wasn’t hallucinating either, or at least she thought as much. He was sitting there, quietly on the bed across Connie’s dealing with his fever.

“Hey, honeybun,” Hitch caught Marlowe’s attention. His bed was beside her own. “Do I look like a unicorn to you?”

Marlowe looked at her for a moment. His own fever-induced hallucinations weren’t helping him form an honest answer. “N- No, my sweetiecake,”

“Those are like… the lamest pet names I’ve ever heard of,” Jean commented.

“It’s not like you have a big experience with the ladies and pet names,” Connie grinned. (y/n) couldn’t understand how he was able to tease even though he was in a very high fever.

“Me?” Jean chuckled. “If anybody’s got experience in here, it’s me,” Connie, Sasha and Eren started laughing and a bright blush graced Jean’s cheeks. Jean frowned deeply. “YOU GUYS, SHUT UP!”

“Oi, Jean… I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to your twin brother,” Connie said as he let his head roll back on the pillow. (Y/n) tried her best not to laugh. There he is.

“Ooohhh," Jean nodded casually. "Alright, dude, no problem,”

A/N: Thanks for reading!!! Lemme know if you like it!!! Feel free to reblog and comment below!!! 🥰