#death is going to have to drag me down kicking and screaming

[megraen]

Chapter Six - The Lion’s Claws

WORD COUNT: 6,055

Palace of Domitian - Rome 195AD

Three days. That was how many days it took for the fallen Senator, Vopiscus Tertinius Crito, to break. Geta had been correct that a man of Crito’s lifestyle had been unable to handle the conditions of a Roman jail, especially for one waiting to die. The cells were cramped, with no beds other than the hard floor to sleep and a single daily ration of gruel made from lentils. Crito knew it well, as it’s what he fed his slaves, but they got three meals a day. He quickly found himself starving and craving wine, his body not used to living without the luxury it had grown accustomed to. There had also been the smell of the dungeons. It reeked of decoy, rot and faeces, enough to turn anyone’s nose away and sour their stomachs.

After news of Crito’s screams for mercy echoing throughout the dungeons was brought to the attention of the two Emperors, he was dragged before them, an unsightly, broken man who didn’t even appear to hold the majesty he once did as a senator. Crito had scattered towards Geta’s feet, for he was the first-born son, deeming him the more powerful, yet Geta kicked him away, looking down at the man in mortification.

“Please, your majesties, have mercy! Allow me to return home!” Crito begged, tears streaming down his face in a pitiful mess.

Geta scoffed. “Return home? The Empire has claimed everything you own. You are a hated man, Crito. News of your crimes has already spread through the city, and it won’t be long until the entire Empire knows your shame.” He slouched back on his throne, mirroring his twin’s lax pose.

“Then let me go into exile?” Crito stated recklessly, edging back towards Geta’s feet. “Allow me the honour for all the years of my dutiful service.”

Geta scowled, slamming his foot down on the hand that reached too close to him. He stood as Crito’s howls of pain resonated through the throne room, and Caracalla laughed, kicking his feet playfully like a child witnessing his brother’s torturous act. “Honour? You have no honour!” Geta latched onto Crito’s greying hair and dragged the fool close to his throne. “You offended my brother and me and sought to claim a woman who didn’t belong to you! You sought to steal this—” He forced Crito closer to the throne, practically shoving his face into the cool metal of the gold. “—from us! How long until you would have had us murdered if Lucia birthed you a son? A week? A day?” Geta screamed down at him, pulling his head back so that Crito could see the anger in the Emperor’s face, all while Caracalla was still laughing. Crito was crying even louder, still protesting his innocence. Utterly disgusted by the older man, Geta let him go with a harsh shove.

“Please, your majesties, I can’t go back there.” Crito wailed from the floor, lying collapsed on the tiles.

“We promised sweet Lucia you’d stay there for five days.” Caracalla giggled, his eyes lighting up at watching the man’s despair. “But if you don’t like it there, we can always kill you tomorrow?” He suggested. Caracalla was grinning wildly, desperate to see blood and death, to have the excitement heat the blood in his veins. Crito stared up at him, the fear wide in his eyes.

“I think we should, brother. Rome is eager to see his death, after all.” Geta smiled, sitting back down on his throne. The fallen Senator was frozen, unable to move as fear overwhelmed him. Crito had hoped to convince the Emperors to let him go and pardon him for the crimes they had placed upon him, but he now saw that wouldn’t be the case. He was to meet his fate no matter what. It wasn’t just the Emperors who wanted him dead and the Senate, but all of Rome. He had no other family, as he had waited years to marry Lucilla, and when she had married herself to the general, he had set his sights on Lucia, but even fate had denied him the daughter. “You’re choice, Crito. Would you rather die tomorrow or the day after?” Geta asked him with a smile.

Crito’s head sank. “Tomorrow…” He mumbled weakly, giving in to the fate before him. As much as he didn’t want to die, he didn’t wish to spend more time in the dungeons. The twins were pleased with the man’s acceptance of his death and with how soon they would get to enjoy his execution. With a wave of his hand, Geta beckoned a guard to take Crito away, the fallen Senator limp as he was dragged off. The twins were laughing and smiling, enjoying that events had turned in their favour. Geta gestured over a slave, ordering that the change be brought to Lucia’s attention, hoping the woman wouldn’t find any issues with the execution being a day earlier. He also had ordered for the Master of Ceremonies and the Senate to be summoned posthaste, as he needed to assume that everything would be able to run smoothly tomorrow.

Caracalla groaned. “Meetings, brother?” He questioned bitterly, not wanting to deal with Imperial duties. Geta waved him off, accepting two cups of wine from a slave and offering one to his twin.

“I don’t wish to discover that nothing has been arranged for tomorrow,” Geta spoke. “It would be an embarrassment for us if there wasn’t.” He explained, sipping his wine as Caracalla drowned his greedily. Caracalla held no concern for the same issues his twin had. He didn’t bother to think about how the public or Senate saw them, deeming them invincible, but Geta knew the truth, that one wrong action could cause the downfall of their slowly beginning dynasty. Geta, the eldest twin, had always to be the wise and sensible of the two, protecting them from any risks and dangers. Without him, Caracalla would wander carelessly into a blade or two.

“Fine.” Caracalla sighed dramatically, slouching further down on his throne.

Palace of Domitian - Rome 195AD

Lucia sat at her vanity, patiently waiting for several female slaves to attend to her. She was dressed in an elaborate golden chiton, looking as much like a princess of Rome as she had ever looked. The last time she recalled looking this regal was when her stepfather went to conquer Numidia. She had been only eighteen then, yet it felt much longer than the five years it was, almost a lifetime. Lucia sighed at the thought.

“Is the hair not to your liking, Domina?” One of the slaves asked.

“Or your makeup?” Asked another.

“No. They look acceptable.” Lucia spoke, ignoring the nervous glances sent her way. This was to be Lucia’s first public appearance, and with all of Rome’s eyes on her in the Colosseum, the slaves had to make her look like the Roman princess she was. Her hair had been perfectly styled and curled, with two long curls hanging loose over her right shoulder. There was a small headband of gold leaves and pearls resting atop her hair, a relatively minimal version of golden laurels, but still something that showed her status as one of Rome’s elite.

As one of the slaves was finishing up the rouge on her cheeks, made from crushed and powdered rose petals, Lucia had reached forward to grab Acacius’s necklace off her vanity, but a slave stopped her, taking the pendant away with the excuse it was too ‘simple’. Lucia’s jaw tightened. She didn’t like being told she couldn’t wear something that meant so much to her. Standing up with a jolt, sending the stool clamouring to the ground and startling the slaves, Lucia turned suddenly on the slave that had taken her pendant, backhanding the young woman hard across the face.

“You do not touch that!” Lucia hissed, picking up the pendant from the floor after it had dropped from the slave’s hands. “Get out!” She continued to yell at this particular slave, towering over the cowering woman. The slave wasted no time bolting away, fleeing from the chambers before she could incur more of the princess’s wrath. “Fix the stool.” Lucia hissed over her shoulder, carefully lacing the long chain of the pendant over her head, doing her best not to disturb her hair.

The remaining two slaves quickly fixed the stool and stayed quiet as Lucia sat back down, not even regarding them with a look. They didn’t wait to be told to resume their work, one continuing to style Lucia’s hair while the other took over finishing the woman’s makeup. Both slaves were extremely nervous. They’d heard of the drastic shift in Lucia’s personality, that she had become cold and harsh towards many of the slaves within the Palace, yet to see it firsthand was bewildering. Lucia had always been kind and gentle; now, she was completely different. When the women were done, they stepped back; their heads hung low as Lucia admired herself in the golden mirror. She didn’t show any outward appreciation towards the hard work the slaves had put into making her ready to meet the Roman public.

“It shall suffice,” She finally commented, making the slaves swallow thickly. Lucia picked up a pair of pearl earrings, silently hooking them into her ears. She inspected herself once last time before standing up, ignoring the lingering pain in her bandaged feet. She made for the chamber doors yet stopped before them, sending a seething look towards the slaves. The women darted forward, opening the doors for her, their eyes still downcast and avoiding Lucia’s harsh gaze.

Lucia made her way to the throne room, where the Emperors were waiting, before taking the short route to the Colosseum. She didn’t glance at any guards or slaves as she passed them in the halls, just focusing on moving ahead. Everyone knew how to give the woman a wide birth. She walked with her head held high, yet a permanent scowl was plastered to her face as if she was constantly smelling something foul. Stepping into the throne room, Lucia found it void of the two Emperors. She snapped at a guard, demanding to know where they were, only to be informed that they were still getting ready. Lucia groaned and rolled her eyes as she began to pace, clearly impatient.

Turning sharply, she gazed at the two golden thrones. They weren’t the original Imperial thrones that her grandfather and uncle sat on, nor where Severus sat when he was Emperor. These two had been commissioned back when Severus announced his twin sons would be his heirs and rule Rome as co-emperors. These thrones didn’t seem to hold the same level of majesty as that sat upon by previous Emperors, which had been elaborate in design. The twin thrones were simple in design, covered in gold and emblems of lions. Lucia took a step closer to them but didn’t dare touch them. She knew what an offence it was to do so.

“You look every bit the princess you are…”

Lucia’s eyes flicked up to the side, and her brows furrowed at the sight of her mother. There was a strained smile on Lucilla’s lips, stretched tightly across her beautiful and aged face, yet her eyes didn’t show a flicker of happiness. Walking close to her daughter, Lucilla circled her, taking every aspect of her appearance. It was perfect, the very image of regality, except for the pendant hanging low around her neck. Acacius’s pendant. Lucilla’s eyes softened at the sight of the old coin, finally showing positive emotion.

“You’ve become quite a woman…” Lucilla praised, reaching out with both hands to make minor adjustments to Lucia’s appearance, as any mother would do with a child.

Lucia smacked her mother’s hands away, startling Lucilla. “I do not need your pestering.” Lucia hissed, eyes narrowing. Lucilla blinked repeatedly, shocked by her daughter’s cold demeanour. “Have you come to talk me out of going again?” Lucia asked scornfully, stepping back from her mother. Since Crito’s verdict, Lucilla had openly voiced her disagreement with Lucia going to the Colosseum to witness the execution, constantly trying to talk her daughter out of the idea, but Lucia held firm. Only the Gods could stop Lucia from witnessing her attacker end. If she had to sneak out and risk discovery, she would.

“The fights of the Colosseum are gruesome feats and—” Lucilla started to speak, but Lucia cut her off with a snort and eye roll. “What has become of you?” She dared to ask, a bite rising in her tone. “You have become so cold to me.” Lucia only stared back at her, her blue eyes ridged and unmoving. Without saying a word, Lucia turned sharply, ignoring her mother, and went to the front doors of the throne room that led out to the front courtyard, where two Basterna waited to carry them to the Colosseum. She did not want to speak to her mother or hear the woman’s lectures. Lucilla called after her, but Lucia still didn’t acknowledge her.

Standing at the top of the long staircase, Lucia gazed down at the vehicles below and then at Rome, which lay over the high walls. She hadn’t stood there in five years, the last time she had watched Acacius descend to a waiting chariot below that had taken him off to the port. Staring down at the steps below, Lucia slowly took each step, holding her breath as if afraid the guards would stop her from being forward. Upon reaching the bottom, slaves were beside her, guiding and assisting the princess into the awaiting Basterna, a litter carried by two mules. Sitting down inside, Lucia finally released her breath. She was finally getting the opportunity to leave the Palace and experience a faction of Rome with the permission of Geta and Caracalla. A smile formed on her lips briefly, but it was quickly swiped away when her mother entered the Basterna, sitting opposite her.

“You hate the Colosseum and its games.” Lucia hissed, annoyed that her mother was joining.

Lucilla just smiled back with a false smile. “I want to ensure your wellbeing.” The response had Lucia’s jaw tightening. The princess sat back in her seat, gazing out the small-windowed door, spotting the two Emperors descending to their own Basterna. Once they were situated inside, both Basternas would be escorted to the Colosseum under heavy guard, protected by the Praetorians. The Basterna jerked as the mules started to walk at a reasonable pace, stopping the Basterna from rocking too much. Lucilla had travelled this way before her brother’s passing, but for Lucia, it was her first time. Lucia’s hands gripped either side of the cushioned seat, trying to keep herself stable. If Lucilla noticed her daughter’s unease, she didn’t comment.

It was a short traverse east to the Colosseum, having been built close to Palatine Hill to ensure the safety of the Imperial family when games were being held. The Basternas were escorted into a private, closed-off area where only the Emperors and the Praetorians could enter. The yard was secured with high fences, unable to be climbed and concealed anyone in the space so that no projectiles could be thrown or a bow fired.

Lucia was eager to be the first out of the Basterna, needing to create space to escape her mother. No sooner had she left the vehicle, Emperor Caracalla had called out to her and came excitably jogging over, the jewels around his neck and hanging from his right ear jiggling.

“Sweet Lucia!” He sang, stopping before her, his eyes mapping her form. “You look delicious.” Caracalla purred shamefully, uncaring that his words came off as lewd. Behind Lucia, Lucilla frowned and glared at the man, unpleased with his forward nature towards her daughter. Lucia didn’t acknowledge the Emperor’s seduction, as it was typical of Caracalla’s nature. He continued to stand before her, his eyes gazing over her hungrily.

“Brother,” Geta spoke, clasping his twin’s arm gently, following Caracalla’s eyes. He smiled at Lucia, admiring her more subtly. “You are certainly fitting of your station, princess,” Geta stated, observing the golden fabric of the chiton clinging to her body and the sparkling jewels adoring her. She was indeed a vision. “Rome will marvel at the sight of you.” He smiled, gesturing for their group to head inside the Colosseum and to the secure room before the Imperial box.

Lucia didn’t speak, taking purposeful steps ahead and leading them up the staircase to the first floor. Inside, some senators who had yet to take their seats on the lowest level, reserved for the wealthiest and most powerful men in Rome, were gathered, granting them the best seats closest to the fights. At the sight of the Emperors, the senators rushed forward, bowing and honouring the twins in praises, sucking up and vying for the twin’s favour. Some had dared to approach Lucia and her mother, bowing to both women before offering their sympathies to Lucia, stating how horrible it was for her to be there and witnessing the execution of her attacker. The notion had Lucia’s blood boiling that they saw her as a flimsy flower that could break at the first breeze, but then they dared to anger her further, boasting of how they could ‘protect’ her if they were her husband.

Lucia sneered and shoved past them, uncaring if she came off as offensive. She was disgusted that these men, who claimed to want to serve Rome and its people, would offer themselves as a potential suitor during this trying time for her. It spoke lowly of their morals.

Standing in the doorway leading out to the Imperial box, Lucia gazed into the Colosseum, spotting the three levels quickly filling up with spectators. Today was a monuments day for Rome, for the population to bear witness to the death of a man who tried to rape a member of the Imperial family. To women, it was a sign of the power shift that a woman’s attacker can and will be held accountable for their actions. Lucia was amazed by the size of the structure. Peering upwards, she could see the large sunshades that were being extended to protect those below from the heat. Lucilla came up beside her, gently touching her upper arm and leading her down to the seats reserved for the two of them.

Lucia’s heart was racing in her chest as she entered the light of the Colosseum, coming into view of the public of Rome. There was a chorus of cheers for Lucilla at first, but when they caught sight of the raven-haired woman beside her, they began to cheer on Lucia. Lucia found she couldn’t sit, basking in the thunderous applause of her name, a spectacle that seemed unnatural to a woman whose very presence had long since been hidden away from the Roman public. A distant sound of Cornu horns opposite the Imperial box pools her from the haze, and the crowd begins to quiet, all eyes turning to the Master of Ceremonies as the bald and aged man dressed in grand finery takes his place at the announcer’s box. Geta, followed by his younger twin Caracalla, stepped past the guest seating, moving to stand at the front of the box, waiting for the events to start.

“Emperor Caracalla! Emperor Geta!” The Master of Ceremonies called out, raising the wine cup in his hand in a toast to the two Emperors, who held up a single hand to acknowledge the public. “Citizens of Rome! Today, we condemn the fallen Senator, Vopiscus Tertinius Crito, for his vile actions against the granddaughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Lucia Lucilla Aurelius!” The crowd ‘booed’ in response, revealing their shared disgust at the crimes against the princess.

Geta quickly turned to Lucia, gesturing for her to join them. She moved without thinking, stepping down to the front and standing before the twins. There was another chorus of her name, the public screaming for the Gods to bless her and calling her the ‘daughter of Rome’. The twins noticed that her appearance had been more well-received than theirs. Geta held back a grimace as he saw how much the public adored Lucia, yet Caracalla frowned.

“My people!” Lucia yelled out, silencing the public and having them lean forward in their seats, desperate to hear what the woman had to say. Geta and Caracalla looked at her, not expecting the woman to speak. “This is a day for all of Rome! Not just me! That any man who forces himself on a woman of Rome shall meet a swift and fair punishment! For Rome is just! And I have faith in our Emperors and Senate!” The lies fell effortlessly from her lips, just as they always did, yet as the cries of her name got louder, there was also praise for the Emperors, making the twins smile.

“You honour us, princess,” Geta murmured lowly, enough for her to hear only. The smile dropped from his lips when she turned her head, an impassive look on her face. He knew then that she hadn’t meant what she said. Lucia turned, returning to her seat beside her mother. Forcing a smile onto his lips, Geta sat down in his seat, hastily reaching for his wine and taking a sip. Beside him, sitting in his chair, Caracalla slouched back, unaware of the looks shared between his twin and Lucia. They all sat patiently as the opening ceremony began. A parade of gladiators entered the arena floor and circled, the crowds cheering for their favourites, undoubtedly having placed bets on the events. Geta and Caracalla whispered, sharing laughs as they discussed their excitement for the day.

The twins stood eagerly when the two fallen soldiers were brought out, dressed in rough spun tunics with flimsy swords and shields. It was a far cry from their former Palace guard attire, made from the finest metals and polished to shine brightly. The two men looked like every new gladiator brought to the Colosseum to fight, not yet having the prestige or the backing of a wealthy owner to buy them reasonable armour and weapons. At the sight of them, the Master of Ceremonies announced who they were, and the crowd booed, shamed that the men had betrayed Lucia for coin.

“Which one shall die first, brother?” Caracalla laughed, jumping excitedly as two well-armed and experienced gladiators emerged. “I think the smaller one.” He pointed at the smaller of the two men, who seemed to be shrinking back at the two imposing gladiators. His partner was moving into a defensive position, aiming his sword and shield to defend himself. Geta agreed with his brother. The smaller ones always died first. They were the weakest.

With every swing of a sword and clashing of metal, the crowd would cheer, eager for more. Lucilla was scowling, finding no interest in the barbaric sport. She even held a sprig of lavender to her nose to distract her from the stench of blood, wine, and urine in the air. She had offered the flower to Lucia, but her daughter had ignored her. The young woman’s eyes focused on the arena below, studying each movement. As children, she and Lucius had used sticks as swords, hitting them together and playing mock war as if they were Centurions off conquering for the glory of Rome. After Lucius left, she played the same games with Geta and Caracalla.

“Lucia! Come!” Caracalla called over to the princess, beckoning her to join him and his brother. The man was still excited as he leaned on the balcony edge, his giggles causing him to spill his wine. Lucia’s brows furrowed, but she slowly stood, coming over to join the Emperors and get a closer look at the fight below. She could feel her mother’s eyes trained on her, yet she ignored her. Lucia leaned on the balcony, watching the four men fight and barely listening to Caracalla as he explained the battle to her. Out of the two former Palace guards, the smaller struggled to hold his own against his opponent, while the other was besting the gladiator he was currently clashing with. A chorus of boos and jeers went out when the fallen guard had managed to spin out of the way of a strike, his blade lunging into the gladiator’s stomach.

Geta and Caracalla swore, smacking their fist against the stone railing. They had hoped to see both guards die, yet one of them was eager to live. After dispatching the gladiator, the guard rushed to aid his colleague, who was almost on the ground, his body covered in nicks and cuts. The victorious guard wrecked his sword through the back of the throat of the last remaining gladiator, angering the crowd further. The Master of Ceremonies quickly announced the victory to the fallen Palace guards, much to the disappointment of all spectating the fight. Lucia’s hands tightened, her nails biting into the skin of her palm. How dare they live after what they allowed to happen to her, that they had sold their duty to protect her from some measly coins. They deserved to die, deserved to suffer.

“Is that it?” Lucia hissed lowly.

“No,” Geta responded, returning to sit on his adorned chair. He sipped his wine, his eyes trained on his twin, who appeared to be sulking. “They will fight in another match. Precautions have been made.” He explained, his eyes shifting back to Lucia. Geta observed her form, seeing the tenseness in her shoulders as she gazed at the men still down on the arena floor, where the bodies of the deceased gladiators were being taken away. Geta knew what was coming next: the disgraced Senator would be dragged out into the arena with the two guards. He knew the trio would expect more gladiators, but he smirked as he had something much grander in mind.

When the Master of Ceremonies announced Crito’s name, Lucia’s head snapped towards the gladiator’s gate, her eyes burning as the older man was practically thrown onto the sand, having refused to go out there. A small sword was tossed out beside him, and the gates slammed shut before he could even stand. The entire crowd was yelling at him, cursing his name and demanding his death. Crito stood on shaky legs, struggling to walk as his eyes darted around, trying to spot the awaiting danger, but he saw only the guards he had bribed. He had run to them, the small blade in his hands, demanding they protect him, but they shoved him aside. He was no longer the powerful and wealthy Senator who could get what he wanted with coin; here, he was a prisoner with nothing to his name.

“People of Rome,” The Master of Ceremonies called out, gesturing to a small gate. I give you the majesty of the Roman people!” A chorus of cheers and celebration roared from the crowd as the gate opened, and an enormous lion emerged, its coat glittering like gold.

Lucia gasped. She had never seen a lion until now, the great beast symbolising Rome’s wisdom, power, courage, domination, and authority. Her blue eyes were glued to the creature as it stalked further into the arena, focusing his hungry gaze on the three men, no doubt smelling the fresh blood. When it roared, Lucia leaned further over the balcony railing, transfixed. A lion was deemed a beast of duality in Rome, spanning from Africa and through to the Mediterranean; they were a ferocious animal that scared even the greatest of warriors when encountered. As the lion drew close to the three men, Crito bolted back to the gladiator’s gate, banging on the doors, begging for someone to save him, earning laughter from the crowd. Even Lucia laughed, a moment of joy finally flooding her system.

“No shit or piss yet.” Caracalla giggled, leaning in close to Lucia, but there was a tone of expectation in his voice, an eagerness to see Crito soil himself. Lucia shared those sentiments. She wanted to see Crito as a feeble mess, shamed under the eyes of the Roman populace.

Behind them, still sitting in her chair, Lucilla’s eyes were glued to her daughter, watching Lucia laugh and cheer on Crito’s suffering. A haunting feeling came over Lucilla, one she hadn’t felt in fifteen years, not since her brother was alive. Seeing her daughter, with raven hair and pale skin, she saw Commodus laughing as he had done back when he had crowned himself Emperor. The notion that Lucia was a visage of Commodus was a troubling thought that had Lucilla afraid for her daughter. It made Lucilla feel violently ill. She pressed the flower harder against the skin of her nose, inhaling deeply, letting the rich notes of lavender calm her senses and distract her mind.

“Now the show truly begins,” Geta spoke with a smile, standing back up and joining his brother and Lucia. He leaned on the balcony, his eyes watching as the lion circled the two guards, craving to sink its teeth in the smaller, bleeding male. The Emperors and Lucia watched as the lion lunged at the men, the more prominent male dodging away, but the smaller was too slow, the lion biting and ripping into his calve. His scream of agony echoed through the Colosseum, and the crowd cheered. The more prominent man stroked at the lion, trying to save his friend, yet it turned the beast’s attention onto him. Angered, the lion chased him around in circles, never tiring until it had taken down its prey. There were louder cries of joy from the crowd as the lion pounced, crashing the man down onto the arena floor with the weight of its body and its jaw ripping into the man’s throat. He couldn’t scream as the blood filled his throat and lungs, making him choke.

The lion lay there, ripping into the flesh repeatedly to enjoy its well-won meal, but there was still one more target left in the arena. Crito was huddled against the massive gate, trembling from fear and unable to move while staring at the lion that was too focused on eating.

“Kill him…” Lucia hissed lowly, her fingertips gripping into the balcony, her knuckles turning white. She wanted the lion to forget the fallen guards, to turn its attention to the disgraced Senator and claw into his flesh and leave him a mangled mess.

“Patience,” Geta smirked, his eyes flicking down to the other trap doors around the arena walls, knowing that a dart blower would strike, angering the beast and causing it to seek out the one that had attacked it. It had happened fast, the lion releasing a startled roar as he jumped to its paws, his head darting around to catch what dared assault it, only for its eyes to land on Crito. He banged harder on the doors, begging for someone to save him. The sight was pitiful. Crito was a powerful Senator of Rome only days ago, and now he was a weak and scared little man.

Lucia smiled wickedly as the lion stalked closer and closer, its hungry and aggressive eyes on Crito’s back. And then it launched, its claws digging through the rough fabric of his tunic like a ship cutting through the water. Crito howled in pain, spinning to face the beasts with his measly sword outstretched, clearly not knowing how to wield a weapon as the lion struck again, tearing into his front and pulling him down to the floor, biting into his chest. Crito continued to scream out as his stomach was ripped open, his cries turning to gurgles as blood filled his lungs.

“Extraordinary!” Geta cheered, laughing with his twin. His eyes flicked to Lucia, proud that she didn’t flinch away from the gruesome sight. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and she laughed with the twins. She had her vengeance, witnessed by all of Rome.

Colosseum - Rome 195AD

It had been a risky endeavour to sneak into the bowels of the Colosseum, seeking out the space where the dead were kept. The chambers smelt of death and decay, the rotting iron of blood lingering in the air. The workers in the room spared a glance up at Lucia as she entered the room. They paused at the sight of her, not expecting the Roman princess to be where they kept the dead. Bodies of fallen gladiators and prisoners were brought here to be prepared before being taken away, to be either cremated or thrown into a mass grave.

When Lucia spotted Crito’s mangled body, half torn open from where the lion ripped into his flesh, she was emotionless at the view, not even her stomach turning sour at the blood and gore.

“Domina…” One of the workers addressed. They knew who she was and who the man on the table was to her. “You’re not meant to be down here…” He side-eyed a colleague, who was currently stripping the body of one of the soldiers who’d sold Lucia’s protection of the armour he wore. The first worker wasn’t sure if he needed to summon a guard to escort the princess away.

“I needed to see him, to know he was dead,” Lucia spoke, stepping closer. She gazed down at Crito’s corpse, the face still twisted in terror from the moment of death. There was a weight lifted from her soul at seeing his body, knowing he could never harm her and any other woman ever again. “What will become of his body?” Lucia asked, not looking away from the corpse.

The worker’s brows furrowed. “His body will be displayed outside Palatine Hill as a warning, as per the orders of our Emperors.”

Lucia breathed. It was a final act of humiliation, but it wasn’t enough. “Remove his cock.” She ordered, causing the workers to pause and stare at her. “If he is to be humiliated in death, I want his removed manhood to add to his shame,” Lucia added, turning swiftly and leaving the room, not even bothering to get a confirmation from the worker.

She knew she had to return to the Imperial box to watch the rest of the games, where other prisons were being let loose into the Colosseum, fighting for their chance at freedom within the arena to become gladiators rather than slaves. Lucia had seen enough for today, for she had seen what she had come to see. Returning to the sealed Basterna yard, Lucia ignored the confused stares of soldiers and slaves. They knew more matches were taking place in the arena and could hear the crowd cheering, yet she was here.

“I wish to return to the Palace.” She ordered, not even waiting for the guards or slaves to respond. Two slaves rushed to her side, aiding her into the Basterna, knowing it was better to act now than face punishment later.

Lucia sat back in her seat, her gaze hardened. While the joy she had felt watching Crito and the guard perish had been the first bit of happiness she had felt in days, it had been short-lived. She felt empty again, void of the merriment she had before her attack. Her mind was filled with the crude words of the Senators, who had chosen today to make a stake on her hand in marriage. It made her sick that with everything that was happening to her, they still only desired to fuck her and put their son in her womb.

Her hand rested over her flat stomach, and Lucia scowled. Lucia was done, done with the rich and pompous Senators, done with cruel Emperors, and done with Rome. The plan was already forming in her mind of the risk she had to take, but she knew if she didn’t, her life was the Gods to take. Lucia would head north, into Germania or Samatia, escaping the Roman Empire. She would leave her mother behind, blaming Lucilla for cursing her for such an ill fate. Lucia should have gone fifteen years ago with her brother, Lucius, to vanish into the world beyond Rome and never be seen again. Death was a far kinder fate.

@barcelonaloverf1life @quuinyoung @justnobodynothingmore @sarai-ibn-la-ahad

[grumpyghostdoodles]

So. About to go into surgery, that directly affects my mobility, so no physical way for me to draw. Legit no idea when Ill be back to drawing, could be two weeks, could be a month and a half, it all depends on the outcome and rehabilitation. DO NOT WORRY, I will be fine, this is a long time coming surgery, and it all will turn out fine.

Ill still be around in tumblr, checking my notifications and such, just not able to draw (which is gong to drive me insane, I just know it lmao).

Anyways, Ill be back soon-ish. Cheers! <3<3<3<3

[homunculus-argument]

A scene for a random story I have no context for:

A group of people including a small kid are on their way somewhere, and the kid suddenly digs their heels in and absolutely refuses to do something the adults know is perfectly safe and aren't scared of. The more the kid's mother tries to drag the kid in kicking and screaming, the more obvious it gets that this child is willing to fight to the death over this. And another person in the party goes "wait, let me try" and swoops in, getting down to the kid's level, saying

"look, I know it's scary, and you don't have to go the whole way if you don't want to. All I want for you to do is to take this one first step, and see how how that feels, ok? If it's still scary, you can go back and we don't have to do this."

Meanwhile the kid's mother starts scoffing in the background, of course they're going to drag the kid kicking and screaming if they won't comply. And the person who was talking to the kid stands up and turns around, going

"CAN YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP WHEN I'M TRYING TO RAISE YOUR KID FOR YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL COW."

Like it's not even a question. Not a request, just a statement. And since now the whole party is staring at the person who was trying to help in startled silence, they internally go "oh shit, the kid", and turns around to check on this skittish child who must be twice as terrified now.

...and the kid is just standing there, beaming with awe and adoration, because nobody's ever done that before. The kid has never met someone who isn't scared of the mom, and they're now ready to follow this hero anywhere.

[rookiesbookies]

The boys catch their ladies reading smut, originally this had the books I was basing this on in them but I hadn't got the time to read the books so I remove the book titles and authors. I hope you enjoy <3

Price: Yeah, she’s younger than him. This book is like 100% just breeding kinks. So she was reading this book about a man breeding his young woman and being super obsessive and clinging… while sitting in their living room… with her fuzzy, super obsessive, newlywed husband. “What are ya readin love?” He said, swiftly snatching the book from her grasp as he sat down on the couch next to her. He kicked his feet up on the couch and laid so his back was against her shins under the blanket she was bundled in. “Nothing important! But you really should give it back!” She panicked, reaching for it. “Holy bloody Jesus, love. This is a casual read for you?” “... yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows while looking up to see her. She put a hand in his face and took her book back. “You almost made me lose my page.”

Soap: Being bent over and defiled by a hot Scotsman in a kilt? Oh hell yeah. How could you refuse?

“Jesus, Bonnie, why are ye readin about this shit when ya could get the real thing with me?” He chuckled, flipping through the book she had poorly hidden in her nightstand. “My kilt is in the closet, give me less than 10 minutes to get me socks and straps on and I’ll rock yer world harder than some words on a page ever could. You’ll see, donnae worry.”

He did indeed rock your world harder than pages ever good.

You claim and cry that you want to finish it for the plot, he says you can only read “that filth” when he’s away on deployment.

Says its a waste if you have a real heavy, hairy, and thick Scotsman at your disposal on the daily.

Ghost: Reading a story about a man whose face was painted like death and has charm that causes hormonal riots? Sounds exactly like her Simon. She lay on their shared bed as he packed up for their walk to the park. Her legs kicked up in the air as she read. 

He raised an eyebrow at what could have her so giddy so he effortlessly snatched the book and was met with a nasty surprise when he looked over the words. “Take it you’d rather stay home than go to the park,” he mumbled with a smirk before bending down to kneel in front of her now with a red face. 

“No- no I think a walk in the park will be fine.” She nervously chuckled.

Konig: Hot giant caveman dragging a woman away to have his way with her? Basic Konig when he comes back from missions.

Grabbing his sweet girl and pulling her into the dark cave that is their bedroom, only letting either out once he’s had his way with her and showing her just how much he’s missed her.

His face was red flushed as he read over her shoulder though.

“Oh meine gut, Schatz."

The scream she let out even made him fall back.

“Don’t scare me like that!”

He pressed a kiss to her temple in apology. 

“This book made me horny, can we fuck?” She asked straight up, knowing Konig preferred her blunt. She didn’t need to ask him twice.

Gaz Hot british guy? Her standards were so low for her choices in literature as long as it was someone she could imagine her Kyle as. Hmmm easy.

So when she was leading her walk with her audio book in her headphones she was more than busy. When he got a hold of one of her airpods while at the gym and she forgot he had the other one, he looked over at her with wide eyes. He texted her, “I didn’t realize you were interested in being folded like that.”

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil

Part ii

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

[warning: angst: mentions of death: death?]

Your movements became sluggish. The wound on your side bleeding more and more with each movement, and swing of your angelic weapon. “Can’t even hold a weapon.” Adam mocked, as she glared at him. Already tired and she looked down at her wound. “Who would’ve thought a fucking human, making a deal with the devil.”

“Was it for dick? It was for dick wasn’t it?” Adam laughed, and mocked. You let out a battle cry flying towards him.

You screamed in pain, as the yellow light shot right through your wing. Your wings started going weak, as you struggled to keep up with Adam’s attacks. He laughed and cackled, taking enjoyment in your struggle.

“Where’s your little boyfriend huh?” He mocked, as more and more yellow shots kept hitting your body. Until you could barely keep your body up, “awe, is he not coming to scared to show his fa-”a fist punched, Adam in the face. Causing him to let go of your chin, but you didn’t fall instead.

A pair of familiar arms held you, “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t be here sooner,” said Lucifer, as he nuzzled his head against his partner. Then lifted his head and glared at Adam, eyes fuming with rage.

“Sorry, for being so stubborn.” You mumbled, knowing this was the reason he didn’t want you to fight. Even though, he gave you some of his powers. You were still a human. He nuzzled, his head against yours once more. “It’s okay,” He said, as he landed on the rooftop.

He handed you off to Charlie, his daughter taking your injured body into her arms. She looked down at you worriedly, as you took shallow breaths. Your face battered cuts and bruises covered your face, and your right eye was swollen. Landing on the rooftop, walking towards Adam.

“Huh? Okay? Seriously?” Adam panted, as he stood up slowly. “How many of you freaks do I have to fight?!” He shouted, glaring at them.

Lucifer rolled up his sleeves, as he walked towards Adam. “Oh, I’m the only one that matters.” said Lucifer, as he looked up at Adam angrily.

“See, you messed with my daughter and my partner.” his eyes burning with rage. “and now I’m toning to fuck you!” he shouted, and everyone went silent as they stared at him dumbfounded.

Charlie leaned over, “It’s fuck you up dad?” Charlie whispered, and he looked confused as he raised his eyebrow, “Wait what did I say?” He said, and then Adam flew towards him sending them both into a wall. But Lucifer transformed into a white snake.

You could barely keep your eyes open, as the pain became worse. You didn’t know how much blood you were losing, but knew it was a lot. You were just a mere human, a human who fell in love with the king of hell. Him inevitably giving you some of his power in an act of love.

Your memories of how you ended up in Hell, a blur. You still figuring out a way to at least see your family again. But now that seemed to be in vain. You wondered if this was how it was going to end for you. You wondered, what would happen to you a human dying in hell?

Would you be dead forever no second life? Or would you just enter purgatory?

“So, this is what you’ve been up to since Eden?” said Lucifer, taunting him.

“Gotta say, you really let yourself go buddy.” He said, as he taunted Adam.

Adam laughs, as he grabbed Lucifer by the tail. “You judgin’ me?” He shouted angrily, as he tried to throw him. But he transformed again, this time into a duck. “You’re the most hated being in all of creation.” Adam shouted, angrily looking at him.

“Well, your first wife didn’t seem to hate what I had to offer.” said Lucifer, as he made a V shape with his fingers and dragged it downward from his mouth.

“or the second.” He said looking Adam straight in the face, “Bow-chicka-wow-wow.” He said, as he backed away making a thrusting motion with his hips. Adam lunched at him, and Lucifer transformed into a horse. Kicking him around, “I’ll fuckin’ end you!!” Adam shouted.

Your vision started to blur, as you leaned your head against the wall You didn’t want to die not like this, not without seeing your parents again. Wondering if they’re worried about their missing child, who they haven’t seen in almost a year.

You’ve been stuck in Hell for that long. Lucifer and You, still figuring out a way to get you back. But you always promised that you’d stay in Hell with him, and visit your friends and family once in a while.

Maybe this was to be your fate, dying in Hell. Where would your soul go? You couldn’t imagine the heartbreak your death would bring to both, Charlie and Lucifer. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing them cry, you’ve grown to love them so much. Seeing Charlie as a child of your own.

Lucifer your partner. The best thing to ever come out of being trapped in Hell. He was so kind and caring, when he found out about your situation. Wanting to help you anyway he could, which led him to falling in love. How his heart swelled whenever you smiled at him, turning his cheeks red.

How seeing you cry made his heartache, knowing you missed your family and friends back on earth. How when that ‘Red Bastard’ at the Hazbin Hotel, took your hand and kissed him while staring mockingly at Lucifer. Boiled his blood.

A smiled grew across your lips, as you grew tired. You were too tired to even notice the beam of light, heading straight towards the hotel. Towards you. Everything went dark.

Y/n?

Y/n?

Y/n!

who’s calling my name?

[chronicowboy]

Buck doesn't know how long they sit there in that café just talking. He's never had that before. The last time he'd done this, sat across from Natalia in the midday sun, he'd been excruciatingly aware of every passing minute as he tried to be fascinating to her, spun yarns of deaths and near-deaths and deathly comas. Here, now, Buck just exists and that seems to be more than enough for Tommy.

Tommy who hangs on his every word like Buck is the next Shakespeare even as he's rambling about rainbow emojis and allyship. Tommy whose smile is so big and wide that it carves the most beautiful caverns into his face that Buck kind of wants to live in. Tommy who grimaces every time he sips the coffee Buck bought him but dutifully drinks the whole thing over the course of their date even when Buck tells him he doesn't have to. Tommy who keeps muffling yawns into his fist every five minutes having just gotten off a twenty-four hour shift like he'd stay in that uncomfortable metal seat forever if he could.

It's the best second date of his life, so when Buck tells him to go home and get some sleep, he doesn't resist the urge to prolong the date for the few moments it takes him to walk Tommy to his car. With anyone else, so soon into whatever this might turn out to be, Buck would worry that it's too much too soon. But Tommy has been so loud in his affection even with how gentle he's made sure to stay. Buck wants to be as free in his wanting as Tommy as is, so he reaches out and slips his fingers between Tommy's, damn near euphoric when they begin to swing between them as they walk.

It takes a moment to drag his eyes up to Tommy's face, caught up in the feeling of a hand in his. It's not the first time he's held a hand, far from it. Not even the first time he's held a man's hand. But this isn't Eddie letting him squeeze his fingers as he screams in pain. This isn't Taylor indulging him every now and then. This is Tommy smiling softly down at their hands like he's as mesmerised by it as Buck is, the tips of his ears growing pink and sending a giddy thrill of satisfaction through him.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy says, giving Buck's hand a happy little squeeze.

"Don't think there's a limit on second date questions," Buck replies.

"Evan." And, Jesus, there's something about the way Tommy says his name. Even when it's that chiding little tone that should remind him of his parents, all he feels is an overwhelming warmth, all he can hear is fondness.

"Of course you can." Buck grins and watches Tommy's smile crinkle his face all over again like he just can't help it.

"Why'd you choose that abomination of a coffee for me?" And Buck groans just to hear Tommy laugh. "Really? What even was that?"

"Black coffee four sugars," Buck mumbles, kicking a stone across the sidewalk sheepishly.

"Jesus, Evan." Tommy's laugh is something special, loud and unrestrained and the sound of sunshine maybe. "Why?"

"I-I don't know, I panicked!" Buck doesn't realise he's drifting away from Tommy until the man pulls him back in by their joined hands, and Buck lets the bump of their shoulders calm him. "Just thought, you know..." Buck turns towards Tommy's car, but Tommy drags him gently towards the Jeep, leaning against the door when they reach it.

"You just thought..."

"I don't know." He shrugs, heat rising to his cheeks under the weight of Tommy's bright-eyed attention, lowers his voice all the way. "It reminded me of you."

"What was that?" Tommy grins, using the excuse to move in a little closer.

"It reminded me of you," Buck repeats, clearer this time, more confident. "You know, bit foreboding on the outside, but all sweet on the inside."

"Christ, you really are adorable," Tommy breathes, sounding as effected as Buck feels.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies swarms in his stomach, delightfully unfamiliar to him but already intoxicating, almost addicting.

It's not two men stood on a busy sidewalk in the middle of the day then. It's just Buck and someone he really fucking likes, someone he hasn't been able to stop thinking about for a week, someone he's only kissed once somehow. And suddenly that's a fact that absolutely should be rectified.

Buck steps forward, leaning up just ever so slightly on his toes, and kisses Tommy right there in the middle of LA. And it just feels right. Overwhelming in the best of ways. It's a quick press of lips, something more suited to the schoolboy he feels than the very adult man he is, not the kiss he wants but the kiss they both need. Chaste and lovely. A hello again. A beginning.

Tommy's free hand ghosts against his jaw, a flutter of a touch as Buck falls back onto his heels and takes a breath. It takes Tommy a few moments to open his eyes which means Buck gets to watch them flutter open, dazed and delighted.

"Get some sleep, Tommy," Buck tells him, finally letting go of his hand with a squeeze. "Text me when you wake up."

"Yessir," Tommy murmurs.

And Buck can't resist another kiss then, just as quick and chaste, anything else dangerous to Buck's self-restraint, before he unlocks the Jeep and climbs in. Tommy waves him off, and Buck glances back just in time to see Tommy's hand falling down to his lips as if to chase Buck's touch.

[thought--bubble]

Upon his Brother's Table

Aemond X (Aegon's betrothed Reader)

Warnings below

Word Count: 1,748

Canon Aemond Master List

Full Master List

MDNI Banners & dividers by @arcielee

*Just a little something i put together for @queen--kenobi 's table sex event. I had to contribute to the petty. It was too good!

Warnings: Infidelity, choking, unprotected P in V, Dub-con. Potential spoilers of future events

Aemond paces back and forth, his heels clicking against the cold stone floor in the council room, his face is flushed, and his composure is nearly gone. Not a look one would usually see on Aemond, but his patience has been pushed to the brink.

"I served him... LOYALLY!" The anger radiates off him in waves as you stay seated, quietly allowing him to vent his frustrations.

"I gave everything for his cause. Would have died for his cause. Almost did die for his cause and this ...... this is how he repays me? By taking from me that which is rightfully mine?"

You flinch as he brings his fists down harshly upon the council table.

You were speechless, shocked by this turn of events. Your betrothal to Prince Aemond at the start of the war was nothing more than a political match. A way for the crown to guarantee that your father's armies and banners would ride for King Aegon II and not the pretender Queen Rhaenyra.

When Queen Heleana perished during the war, you never thought King Aegon would then change your betrothal from his brother, the prince, to himself, though your father was elated. With the deaths of his sons, the King needed an heir, and with you as his betrothed and soon to be wife, it would be your duty to give him one. Putting your family's blood on the throne. A thought that had your father salivating but had the one-eyed prince seething.

You sat disinterested as Aemond hisses in anger, pacing the length of the council table in continuum.

"All of these things are his because of me." The amount of hatred stitched into each and every word that comes from his mouth is evident.

"The red keep is his because of me, the kingdom is his because of me, the throne is his because of me......"

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you. His one violet eye pierces through you, causing you to stiffen in your seat.

"You are his because I dragged him from death's door and brought him here." He clenches his teeth tightly, the muscles in his jaw flexing with the tension.

"And he sees fit to take you from me? As if I lost nothing fighting this war in his name!" He stalks toward you, pulling you up to your feet by the thin material of the front of your dress.

"My prince!" You squeak out in shock at his brazen move.

"I will have what is mine." With a growl, he lifts and tosses you on the table. Papers and other random items scatter to the floor as he climbs up onto the table, hovering above you.

"Your maidenhead was promised to me." He shuffles the layers of your dress up to your hips hurriedly as you lay still beneath him.

You know you should scream, kick, tell him to stop, but a type of morbid curiosity keeps you silent. Your eyes follow his fingers. Making a mental log of each movement they make from rucking up your skirts to the quick movement of curling around your small clothes and the subsequent tug of the material down your legs.

"Will you not try and stop me then?" He huffs as his grip tightens around the flesh of your thighs.

"I believe you are a good man, Prince Aemond. I do not believe you will go through with this. Thus, there is no need to fight. " You portray confidence in your words, only the slight tremble in your legs gives away your nervousness, yet the clever Prince Aemond is never one to miss signs such as these, no matter how subtle.

He smirks, it would be beautiful if it weren’t so condescending.

"Then you are more of a fool than I took you to be," he pulls your thighs up around him, resting one on each side of his hips while he leans back on his haunches.

"I am going to take you, my lady. Right here upon my brother's table." He lifts one hand from your thigh and slides it against the sleek treated wood of the table beneath you. "The table that is his only due to my own efforts."

He brings one hand to the laces of his breeches, skillfully taking apart the small knot, keeping them closed and tight to his lithe frame. His other hand remains on your thigh, intermittently squeezing at the soft flesh there.

He grunts quietly as he frees his cock from its confines, slowly pumping himself to full hardness.

"I will not be gentle, so I advise you to hold on."

He reaches down to your heat with his free hand, rubbing your clit with his thumb in rough circles.

You can't help but release a small gasp at his touch.  As your brain was telling you to stop this, to make him stop, your body was betraying you.

Your back arched up off the hard table beneath you, your hips canting into his rough touch.

"We...... should not. " You finally huff out between wanton sighs.

"But we shall," he growls back, removing his hand from your heat and gripping your hips tight, slightly lifting your bottom half from the table and into his lap.

Your eyes slightly roll back when you feel him press the fat, throbbing tip of his cock against your entrance.

"You mustn't!" Even as you say this, you make no moves to get away from him, even as you feel him continue to push into you, splitting you apart in a way that is painful yet satisfying.

"Oh, but I must," he says through gritted teeth, pushing himself further into your clenching tunnel. "A point must be made."

He lets out a low growl as he bottoms out, stilling inside of you. You take this as a small gesture of kindness. He must not want to hurt you. That is, at the very least, a good sign.

As the pain starts to subside and is replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fullness, you move your hips, and he chuckles.

"Ahh, I see you are ready now, my lady" he pulls his hips back his cock sliding effortlessly out from you before he pistons himself back into you, his pace growing more fervent with every thrust.

The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through the otherwise quiet space, the only other sounds being your heavy breathing and the squeaking of the table legs beneath you.

"Tell me, sweet girl," he snarls as he grips your hips tight, slamming into you harshly. "How does it feel to be fucked by the great Prince Aemond? Mighty warrior? Hmm?"

You attempt to focus your eyes on the ethereal man above you, sweet drips down his brow, and his eyes rest on the place where you are so intimately connected.

"I....... I" your words fail you. Only a stutter and moans can be heard.

Aemond licks his thumb before bringing it against your pearl, resuming his earlier ministrations, and chuckles darkly as your legs twitch around him.

"Speechless, I see... it gladdens me to know how grateful you are, that I have allowed you such an experience" his other hand leaves your hip and slides up the length of your body until it rests upon your throat which he uses to hold you in place, thrusting into you ever harder.

Your legs clench around him tightly as a pressure builds in your lower stomach, as unfamiliar as the feeling is you find the stronger it gets, the more desperate you become clawing at the prince attempting to bring him closer to you, to feel more of him on your skin.

"Aweeee," he coos, "and now you beg for me? How darling." His condescending smirk returns as his thrusts get harsher, and the grip around your throat tightens.

"Now thank me," he demands, his hips moving faster and that coiling in your stomach reaching a fever pitch.

"T-thank you!" As the words leave your lips, the coil snaps, and your entire body tenses.

Your back arches off the table as if you are being lifted by something unseen, and the control you have over your own body has been snatched away from you.

 Aemond throws his own head back, gripping your throat tightly as he chases his own end.

"And here is yet another gift I bestow upon my ungrateful brother." his words come out as a hiss, his thrusts getting sloppier and more desperate.

He gasps loudly as his hips still pushing himself into you as far as he can possibly go.

A warmth can be felt spreading through you, a strange yet calming sensation that sees your limbs finally settle back on the hard table beneath you.

As quickly as your calmness came, it was gone, Aemond pulled himself from your body, quickly pulling up his breeches and getting off the table.

As he fixes the strings and his doublet putting everything back into place, he finds you still sprawled across the tabletop, his spend dripping from your abused cunt.

"You need to get up and compose yourself. Someone could enter at any minute." He says gruffly while tossing your small clothes onto your stomach.

You sit at the edge of the table and slide the fabric back up your legs covering the sticky mess he had left behind.

When he was confident you looked presentable, he took a few quick strides toward the council room doors, no doubt making a hasty exit.

"What was the final gift?" The words flew from your mouth before you had a chance to think it through.

"Come again?" He turns back to look at you, his one violet eye meets yours. You see no guilt, no pride, no anger. Indifference is what it looked like. He had returned to that emotionless stoic prince you had seen haunting the halls of the red keep like a specter.

"You said earlier. That you were bestowing yet another gift upon your brother. What was the gift?"

He chuckles again, a smile that actually reaches his eyes.

"An heir, planted in your womb this day, to sit upon the throne I won him." He doesn't wait for any further response from you and opens the door, escaping out into the corridor and disappearing from sight.

Leaving you alone and visibly shaken. Your body is held up only by leaning on your arm that rests upon his brother's table.

To be added to taglist click here

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

I can only share my interest in Aegon to you, so I’ll just drop this here. (Dw, contrary to what I say next, this is not a request. Just desperation.)

Broski, I NEED reader wife who’s scared of heights and dragons but Aegon gets her to ride with him just cuz he feels like it. (My hand is probably 1/3 smaller than one of their teeth. I believe Anyone sane should be scared sh’tless while seeing a dragon. 💀)

I ONLY READ ONE FIC WHERE THEY FLY ON A DRAGON! WHY ARE THERE SO MANY AEMOND FICS OF THISS??? HELP ME FIND MORE CUZ I NEED TO HAVE A RIDE ON A DRAGONNNNN. Imagine the refreshing air and scenery. (I personally imagine the beautiful pink/orange clouds from Httyd when Hiccup and Astrid fly together for the first time)😭⚰���

.

.

Also, about the death threats, you handled it well. Really, when everyone finds out you like a hated character, it’s like they are trying to get you to sign your own death sentence. Anyway, keep doing you. You write exceptionally 🤭🫶 ily

PROMISE NOT TO DROP ME? ONLY A FOOL WOULD DROP YOU. ( HOTD x Reader )

pairing: Prince Aegon ii Targaryen x Lady-in-waiting! Reader prompt: Aegon kidnaps you to ride on dragonback, it does not go well. word count: 1, 000+ words

You had been very very firm when it came to dragon's. You were no Targaryen nor held a drop of Valyrian blood in your veins. Sure, you like to gawk at them in art. The dozen paintings, stained glass windows, and books that filled the Red Keep were enough. You would never dare to go near one in real life. Dragon’s were not natural. To ride one, to tame one, it was not natural. A lot of the things that the Targaryen’s did were not natural. 

So when you started as Helaena's Lady-in-waiting, you did everything you could to politely refuse to be near them. Need to go to the Dragonpits? The carriage was nice and comfy, no need to leave it. When Helaena offered to fly with her? Suddenly you grew ill with a cough. Helaena accepted, understanding your fears. She offered kind words and an open invitation should you ever change your mind on the matter.

Aegon was, as always, different. The word 'no'  just could not connect in that tiny little brain of his. He took it as a challenge. He would jest about kidnapping you and taking you flying. You laughed and told him you'd push him out of a window if he dared to do it. 

Of course, he had tried once with a look a little too serious on his face. After waddling away, clutching his groin from your hard kick, he learned that it would not be easy to get you on dragonback. You’d fight back. You would be a challenge, he liked that a lot.

Kicking and screaming at the top of your lungs, you did everything you could think of to get free of Aegon's hold. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist, he dragged you along to the Dragonpits, the dragon keeper's onlooking in confusion and mild horror. You could give less of a shit if they thought you mad. There was no way in the Seven Hells that you were going on a flight with Aegon. You'd rather kiss the King's rotten lips than to go flying.

"No! Put me down, you drunken oaf!" You shout, thrashing against him.

"No."

"I am going to kick you so hard you'd never be able to get it up again, Aegon! Put me down!" You bellow, yanking at his hair.

"Not a chance, we are going flying." Aegon brushes off your threats, "You will enjoy it. Tis' delightful."

Letting out a loud scream into his ear, he did not falter, running off of pure spite and stubbornness. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact he was dragging you along to go flying. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. Gods damn it, why did he have to be strong? Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way.

"Please, please, Aegon." You beg, "I'll give up my desserts for a whole moon. Just let me go."

"Tempting." He chuckles, a smirk on his face.

"Please, Aegon. I do not wish to fly." You beg, on the verge of tears.

"I fly all the time. Once I even did it drunk, tis' nothing dangerous." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

Shaking your head frantically as his grip tightens, he drags you into the dark cave, the stench of dragon thick in the air. The few torchlights in the cave illuminated enough to see his dragon, Sunfyre, burrowing into his rocky nest. Feeling tears of fear bubbling up, you go deadly silent, losing your voice. This was your worst dream come true. Face to face with a dragon. Holding back the whimper in your throat, Aegon presses a kiss onto your temple, refusing to let you go.

“He won’t harm you. He’s used to your scent.” Aegon whispers into your ear, “I brought him one of your dresses to smell.”

“Let me go.” You whimper out, voice full of pure terror. 

“Come on, you’re already here. Let’s just go for a quick flight.” Aegon argues, shaking his head dismissively. 

“Aegon..”

Slowly letting go of your waist, you go to bolt for the cave exit, only to be swept back up into Aegon’s arms. He carried you like a toddler who had a habit of running away. Letting out a loud cry as he refused to put you back down, he wags his finger mockingly, a half amused look on his face. Hearing Sunfyre stir in his nest, you try more desperately to get away, the rumbling of the dragon echoing loudly in the cave. 

“No, no, no.” He scolds, “Bad Y/n. No running away.”

“Put me down! I want to go back to the Red Keep!” 

“No, if I have to attend Court, then you cannot escape this.” He suggests, “Consider this your duty.”

“Fuck duty. Put me down, Aegon!” You sob, bottom lip wobbling. 

“Ooh, so now we do not care about duty, hm?” He mocks, shaking his head with a smirk.

Pressing a gentle kiss onto your temple, he carried you closer and closer to Sunfyre, until the two of you were right in the dragon’s face. Feeling your grip tighten on him, he slowly smiles at the feeling, like see you so unlike yourself. This had to be the first time he had seen you act so improper and anxious. It was refreshing, amazing, and amusing all at the same time. 

Smiling bright as Sunfyre stirs away, the golden dragon huffs at the two of you, his two large green eyes staring back. Puffing his chest out in pride, he hoped the sight of his dragon would impress you and make you swoon. His dragon always got compliments. Looking down at your face, there was not an ounce of admiration or awe or anything positive, only terror. 

“He’s pretty is he not?” He gloats proudly, “You know, they say he is the prettiest dragon to have ever been hatched.”

“If I survive this, I am going to kill you.” You whisper out, face pale.

“Stop speaking as if you are going to die. Sunfyre would not dare to attack, not whilst I am here.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ve seen your dragon, can we leave now. I want to go back to the Red Keep, Aegon.” You whimper, tears bubbling up in your eyes.

"No. Don't you dare." He argues, "Don't you dare do the whole crying trick on me. I am not foolish like Helaena and can be swayed."

Watching as you sniffle and whimper, his grip tightens on you, not wanting to give up just yet. Seeing the big puppy dog eyes you give him, he grits his teeth, tensing up. He falter's for a moment. He was always sucker for those big puppy dog eyes of yours. You knew how to make him crumble.

"No, no, no, don't give me that look." He tries to resist.

"Please, Aegon."

"No. Stop that." He shakes his head, "Stop that right now. I demand you stop that."

"I..I want to go home, Aegon. Please, take me home." You beg, sniffling.

Letting out an exasperated groan at you begging and pleading to go home, he begrudgingly agrees to it, knowing that it would be no fun if you cried the entire time. Scowling like a child who had its toy taken away, he loosens his grip on you, putting you back down onto your feet. One day he’d get you on dragonback. Sadly, just not today.

"Aegon, please, I want to go home." You whimper, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Fine, fine, stop crying.” He grumbles, “But next time, we are going to actually get on the dragon.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

[emocheol]

comfortable

contains: soonyoung x reader, fluff, reader wears high heels

“soonie, my feet hurt…” you pouted, thinking you were going to get an earful about how he told you to wear comfy shoes and you chose to ignore him.

sure, comfy shoes are practical but high heels were cuter with your outfit.

he immediately stopped walking and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head at you. “i told you not to wear those shoes!” he scolded lightly before he began unlacing his own shoes and taking them off.

he then got down on his knee and tenderly helped you out of your shoes, placing his own on you right away so your feet never touched the ground.

your tried to kick him away since you didn’t want him to have to go through all the trouble but he held you firmly and tied his laces tight on you so they wouldn’t slip off.

“you don’t have to do that…” you said softly, “it’s my fault i didn’t wear good shoes,” you mumbled, knowing you were telling the truth though it was something you didn’t like to admit.

you felt bad that your poor planning caused soonyoung to sacrifice his feet for your comfort.

“nothing’s your fault, sunshine,” he said with a cheery smile, “plus now i get to wear your shoes,” he said, slipping them on.

he struck a pose in your shoes that completely clashed his outfit and his style— plus they were clearly too small for him.

“i bet i could walk in heels better than you,” he teased, trying to lighten the mood since he could tell that you felt bad.

“you’re ridiculous, your feet are gonna hurt if you wear those,” you laughed softly. though you couldn’t deny that he was good at walking in heels, surprisingly so.

soonyoung just pulled you into him and planted a kiss on the top of your head. “better my feet than yours! what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you walk around in pain?” he questioned, being absolutely appalled at the thought.

a sudden realization dawned and you, “what if you twist your ankle and you can’t dance?” you ask, looking up at him with a panicked expression, you hadn’t even thought of that before.

he looked at you with a deadpan expression, “if i twist my ankle then you have to nurse me back to health, i’d call that a win,” he said with a cheeky smile, continuing to drag you along and walk with him.

“i’m being serious, soonyoung,” you said with an eye roll, “i’d feel terrible,” you said honestly.

“and i’m being serious too! watch!” he exclaimed, letting go of you and breaking into a run, the clack of your heels echoing off the pavement as he ran forward.

your mouth dropped open at his actions and you put a hand to your head. “you will be the death of me, kwon soonyoung!” you called out to him as he continued to run.

“race you home! last one there has to give latte a bath!” he called over his shoulder, giving himself a head start.

this made your ears perk up, it was impossible to coax your dog into bath time and he knew it. you started to run after him, his bigger shoes being on didn’t stop you from attempting to catch up to him.

“no fair! you’re cheating!” you yelled after him, watching how he just turned his head back to you and stuck out his tongue.

so here you were, just a guy sprinting in high heels and a person running after him in huge sneakers yelling expletives while laughing.

now soonyoung had successfully distracted you from feeling bad about switching shoes, and your feet were nice and comfortable.

sure, his feet were also in great pain thanks to your very uncomfortable shoes plus the fact that they were too small for him. but, whenever he looked over his shoulder he was met with your laughing face which seemed to cure his pain.

all he wanted was for you to be comfortable and if sprinting down the block in high heels that made his feet scream was the answer, he’d do it a million times over.

a/n: this is so short and i could not think of how to end this for the life of me sorry T-T

[hqbaby]

two — are you in?

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.8k content. profanity, alcohol consumption, sukuna being gross, drunken shenanigans

In your defense, you’re quite drunk. Not much of a defense, you know, but it still counts for something, right? Why else would you be at this party, standing in front of your ex, with your best friend at your side claiming that he’s now your boyfriend?

That’s right. Sukuna, catching you in a moment of weakness, dragged you with him to a party you had no intentions of going to. Sure, if you were feeling any better, not dealing with a major heartbreak, you’d go to the party with him, no questions asked. But you aren’t feeling better, you are heartbroken, and you don’t want to be here.

But who can say no to Sukuna?

You couldn’t say no to him when he forced you to get dressed—“No, you’re not wearing those pants, they’re hideous. Try this dress.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he pulled you to his car—“No, I do not have a used condom in my backseat.”—you couldn’t say no to him when he offered you a bottle of vodka—“Don’t get all prim and proper on me now.”—and you definitely don’t say no when you get stuck in an awkward encounter with your ex and Sukuna asks, “We were just waiting to get together, right?”

The three of you are in the kitchen. There’s a couple about to do it on the counter beside you, but you pay them no mind. You’re standing by the fridge with a stale beer in your hand and Sukuna is right beside you, his arm draped over his shoulder as he stares down Satoru who you’re pretty sure is going to pop a vein in his forehead.

“Really?” he asks, looking at you and pointedly not looking at Sukuna. “You’re together now?”

It’s Sukuna who answers for you. “Yeah, two weeks going strong.”

If he didn’t have such a death grip on you, you’re sure you would have kicked him in the crotch by now. Alas, there’s nowhere to go, no way to move, not with the way your best friend is clutching you to his side.

Satoru glares at him. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her.”

When he looks back at you, you can feel Sukuna’s grip get tighter. It’s something like twin telepathy, the way you’re able to decipher what he means just by a simple squeeze. Without even looking at him, you already see the snarl on his face. You can hear him screaming, This is your one chance to make him feel bad. Don’t be an idiot.

The kitchen door opens and you catch a glimpse of the party outside. It’s bedlam out there, that’s why you and Sukuna sequestered yourselves to the kitchen in the first place. Yet, despite all the chaos, you manage to see her.

The girl who, when you walked into the party, was stitched to Satoru’s side. Who had her tongue down his throat. Who he held by the waist, the same way he held you not too long ago.

The door closes, the guy who opened it in the first place probably realizing that the room is in fact not the bathroom, leaving you alone—save for the couple coupling in the corner—with Satoru and Sukuna and the terrible tension that’s managed to descend upon your little anomalous group.

You glance at Sukuna. He looks at you expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Are you going to do it? he asks.

You turn to Satoru. He’s ready to laugh in your friend’s face, already anticipating your denial of this whole charade. I know he’s lying, he says. Like you could ever be with him.

The words fly out of your mouth before you even realize it. It’s like something has taken over your body, an unbearable force, an innate sense of pettiness that you can’t quite control.

Be a big girl, it tells you. Grow up. And pretend to date your friend.

“We’re together,” you say. Your arm finds its way around Sukuna’s middle and you pull him closer to you as you smile. It’s wicked and charming and honestly doesn’t feel like you, but you do it. “Is that a problem?”

You spy the tiniest clench of Satoru’s jaw. Imperceptible to anyone else but you, the girl who has loved him for a whole year and will probably love him for the rest of your life. You almost want to break right then and there and deny what you’ve just said. You don’t know why you said it. It must be the booze. Satoru, please come back.

But you don’t. You’re a lot of things, but you are not weak. And you’re definitely not going to break now. Definitely not over him.

“Yeah,” Sukuna chimes in. You don’t even need to look at him to know that he’s got a satisfied smirk on his face. “Is that a problem, man?”

Satoru gives you one last look, one last chance to take it back, and when you don’t he turns to Sukuna, your apparent boyfriend.

“Nah,” he says. His voice is so cold it startles you. Has he ever sounded this terrifying before? “Goodluck.” Even if he isn’t looking at you, you know that you’re the one he’s talking to. “You’ll need it.”

He leaves the room and you immediately push yourself away from Sukuna.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Don’t fucking laugh!”

He doubles over, holding up a finger to signal that he needs a minute because, god, this is so ridiculous, isn’t it?

“Your fucking face!” He cackles, turning his finger to point at you now. “You looked so shocked!”

You step forward and bite his finger. Just chomp. It seems like the right thing to do in the moment.

“Kinky.”

You jump away and spit on the ground.

“Why did you do that?” you demand, stepping forward to attack Sukuna. You don’t know if you want to punch him or kick him, but you have to do something. And because you’ve been so lucky tonight, the bottle of vodka that you polished off a few minutes ago, hits you right then and there and you stumble.

Sukuna catches you by the wrist and his laughter only gets louder. “You’re kinda pathetic, you know?”

You push him away and steady yourself on the kitchen counter. “Why’d you tell him that?” you ask, closing your eyes as you try to stay upright. “He’s gonna think I’m stupid.”

“Stupid how?” he prods. “Because you’re dating me?”

Your eyes shoot open and you scowl at him. “I’m not dating you,” you say lowly. “And I never will.”

“Way to make a guy swoon.”

You give into your drunken stupor and sit down on the floor. You try not to think about the fact that it feels sticky beneath your thighs and try harder not to think of the possibility that you’re not sitting in spilled alcohol but something much more vile.

“Hey.” And he’s sitting beside you now. “Sorry, alright? But that guy had some nerve making out with his new bimbo for all the world to see.”

“Don’t call her a bimbo, that’s offensive,” you chide. You fold your legs and pull them to your chest, allowing your head to rest on your knees. “And he’s allowed to do that. It wasn’t his fault.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you say slowly, “I broke up with him.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

Sukuna chortles. “Good for you, tiger,” he says. “The guy’s dead weight anyway.”

You turn your head over to look at him. “Well, now he probably thinks I broke up with him to be with you.” You slam a fist on his leg, ignoring him when he yelps. “That’s a really terrible reason to break up with someone, dude.”

“You wound me,” he says. “I’m not that bad.”

“You have at least five girls on speed dial for when you wanna get it wet.”

“I have needs. Sue me.”

You groan and shake your head. “What am I gonna do?” you ask. “I just lied to my ex and told him I have a boyfriend that I do not have. How much more pathetic can I be?”

You feel his hand reach over to the top of your head. And he… pats it.

“I guess I have to be your boyfriend then.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh, sure, because you’re such boyfriend material.”

He raises a brow. “What?” he asks. “You think I can’t do it?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. “Are you serious? ‘Kuna, you wouldn’t know commitment if it shot you in the face.”

“I resent that,” he tells you. He turns his body towards you and grins. “Come on, how bad could it be?”

“Seriously?” you laugh. “God, it’s fine. I mean, I’ll figure something out. No need to commit to the bit.”

The look he gives you is so earnest, it almost scares you. “I can be your boyfriend,” he tells you firmly. “Let me do this for you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not.”

You’re waiting for him to crack, to start laughing at you again, to say, “Did you seriously think I was gonna pretend to be your boyfriend? Grow up, bro!”

You wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And, “You’re not joking.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not,” he tells you. “It’ll be fun! A little experiment. I’m so down, tiger.”

“You,” you point at him, “want to be my pretend boyfriend.”

Without hesitation, “Yes.”

“I don’t get it.”

Sukuna beams at you, touching your hand with his. “We’ll pretend to be together for like a month, so Satoru doesn’t think you’re a loser who can’t move on like he has,” he says, laying out the plan like he’s already thought it over in his head. Screw him for being able to think properly while intoxicated. “Then, we break up. And all the girls who have been avoiding me because they don’t think I’m relationship material will come running and I get my happily-ever-after. It’s a win-win!”

You gape at him. “You’re gonna pretend to date me so you can get more girls?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It’s the perfect plan.”

“You’re a pig,” you tell him. “You’re like the biggest pig ever.”

“That’s no way to talk to your fake boyfriend,” he says. “Plus, I’ll also be abstinent the whole time we’re—” he uses air quotes, “—‘together.’ And you know what they say, sex is always better when you’ve been deprived for a while.”

“I am so telling on you to your mother.”

He nudges your shoulder. “This is a one-time offer, tiger,” he tells you. “So? Are you in?”

You think about the many, many ways this whole situation could go wrong. You think about the fact that Sukuna has no self-control whatsoever. You think about the fact that your friends will not like this plan at all. You think about the fact that you’re still very much heartbroken, unable to put yourself through this much stress right now.

Then, you think about Satoru kissing that girl. You think about your heart splintering into a million pieces. You think about that day, at the steps of the science building, when you realized what you had to do.

Are you in?

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s do it.”

notes. and so it begins ;) on another note, i'm actively ignoring the leaks like i KNOW what's happening but i'm just gonna plead ignorance

[revelboo]

HOLY SALMON MILK COW- TFA BLURR!??? IN MY FYP TRANSFORMERS X READER CONTENT??? OMG YES!!

THANK YOU,,, for adding blurr content because my goddd,, my starve for him is so NEEDED rn.

Thank you for feeding the blurr fans dear revel🙏

Zippy needed some love

A-Ok Pt 2

TFA Blurr x Reader

• Scrap. Darting into a shadowy alley, he feels your frantic squirming to get free as the shock wears off. Head tipping up to stare at the tiny, innocuous CCTV camera mounted on a wall. Scrap. How fast had he been moving? Fast enough it hadn’t caught him? Wincing as you start screaming, the sound not nearly muffled enough by the helmet, and he almost drops you in surprise. Scrap. “No. No, no, no,” he groans as you kick at him. Because everything’s gone sideways now because of one impulsive decision. He’s supposed to be beyond this. Calm, rational. “Stop, please.” Can’t think with you thrashing about making that noise and he needs to think. Desperately. There has to be a way to salvage this.

• Freaking out, adrenaline shaking through you, you try to claw at the buckle to your helmet. Can’t get enough air, can’t breathe as your mind struggles with this. You wrecked. Drag racing with that little blue car, the stalled truck. You lost control. Right. The sports car coming apart, transforming into a giant robot and grabbing you. Bike going over the side of the viaduct without you on it as the robot had moved you to safety with shocking speed. Yep. And that brings you to dangling from the giant robot’s arms. Finally you get the buckle loose and shove the helmet off, gasping as it hits the concrete and bounces. And you can breathe. Try to assess. You’re still alive. It saved you. Right? “Hey, Zippy? Put me down, please.”

• That calm, little voice cuts through his panic, stroking over him and he looks down in surprise. If he does set you down, you’re going to run. Of course, you can’t outrun him, but still. What’s he supposed to do with you? His mission, his cover all in danger because he couldn’t resist a little fun. Because he’d been bored. “That’s not my name,” he says finally, shifting on his peds. Turning to look and see that the alley dead ends at a low chain link fence on the other side. Can clear that easily enough. There might be another camera, though.

• “Well, what is your name?” Too nervous to shut up, you just keep going. Because if he’d wanted to kill you or hurt you, he’d have let you wreck. He hadn’t. Choosing to believe that means you’re safe, makes it easier to calm your racing heart. Turning in a circle with you still trapped in his arms, legs swinging with his quick movements, you think of a kitten being carried by a hyper toddler. Realizing he’s ignoring you, muttering softly to himself, the words too quick to catch. “You saved my life, right, Zippy?” Adrenaline starting to ebb, you feel strangely buoyant. Almost giddy.

• “Still not my name.” Why does that calm voice make it easier to think? To focus? Slowing him down some. Venting softly, his servos flex on you. “If I put you down, you’re not going to run.” Not really a question, but he still waits until you nod before he lowers you. Tensing when you take a step back, but you’re only retrieving your helmet before looking up at him. You’re not panicking, not screaming and it eases his own tension even if he doesn’t understand why you’re coping with him so well. Just able to roll with not only a near death experience, but meeting an alien. “Name’s Blurr.” Watches you turning the helmet over in your hands, muttering what sounds suspiciously like a ‘sure, Zippy,’ before your hands start shaking, you drop the helmet, and then you crumple as he grabs for you.

Previous

Next

[take-it-on-the-run]

The End

Wally Clark x Reader

Two people died on September 23rd, 1983. One laid out on a football field before hundreds of people, and the other left behind on the cold floor of the boy's locker room.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Sexual assault, semi-graphic depictions of SA, including: almost direct aftermath, reader is naked in the beginning, mentions of blood, and implied loss of virginity via SA, flashback to SA; death, reader's death is overlooked, ANGST

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC)

Read it on AO3!

A/N: The Doors title. Hey ya'll. I cannot believe the love I've been getting on this page, and it's driving me past my writer's block more than anything. With school starting, I can feel the academic anxiety kicking in, but I use my writing as a coping method when I can. This story has very intense topics (as stated in the tags) and is not meant to idealize any topics in any way. This was inspired by @general-fanfiction's Hopes and Fears series (GO READ IT RN), and @whoopsyeahokay's October Sun series (ALSO GO READ IT RN). If this story is well received, or I just feel the urge to, I'll probably turn it into a series (bc this sucks as a one-shot). As always, please heed the warnings, and read only if you're comfortable.

Part 1 | Part 2

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood was everywhere.

It slid down your legs and dribbled onto the cold floor of the locker room. Every inch of your skin felt like it was too tight for your bones, and all you wanted to do was reach down your throat and rip out your heart.

Copper flooded your mouth. The tang brushed against the back of your chattering teeth, and all you could think about was how you wanted to crawl to the nearby shower and let it run until one of the coaches found you and dragged you out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Move. You told yourself. All of your limbs ached. Nothing felt real.

You didn’t want this to be real.

It was supposed to be kind. Gentle. An act out of pure love.

Standing up proved to be hard, and it was like no one was able to hear you screaming out for help. Filtered out by the people flooding the halls, hustling to the big homecoming game going on that night.

The tiled walls provided little help as you brought yourself to a standing position, walking slowly as you felt your feet brush against the pile of your shoes, pants, and underwear on the floor. The touch stopped your heart, breaking a new tier of hate and regret across your body.

He said he loved me.

You turned on the shower, cranking the knob to the hottest setting, knowing that the water wouldn’t get anywhere near warm. Water slid harshly over your body, and you felt it pelt against spots of dried blood on your thighs.

You wished you never come to this stupid football game.

You wished you weren’t as ignorant, or as gullible, or as love-blind as you had been in the past three months.

You wished you never met him.

His face felt bitter and sharp in your head, poking and prodding, as if trying to stick the memory of his hands on you for eternity.

Time passed irregularly, no one came in or out of the locker room, and you were sure that the football game had to have reached its end by all of the cheering and yelling you heard outside.

After using all of the hot water in the gym wing, you slowly walked to the lines of lockers, trying even glimpsing in the direction of your clothes. tried to open every locker until one popped open, revealing a pair of grey sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a muscle tank, blue gym shorts, and a matching varsity jacket with #57 stitched on the arm.

You grabbed the matching sweatsuit, balling it in your arms and silently apologizing to the boy you’d never return the clothing to.

He probably won’t even notice, you told yourself.

You turned the corner around a line of lockers and you could swear you were going crazy. A bare foot poked out from behind the last line of lockers, limply tilted against your pile of clothes, painted a chipped wine red.

You blinked hard, looking down at your own chipped wine-red toes, and you clutched the clothing you stole to your naked body. The cotton was soft compared to the cold tile bracing against your feet, and you brought your eyes to look back to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Bile pooled at the back of your mouth as you hesitantly stepped closer to the foot that hadn’t disappeared. You’re going crazy, you told yourself, but the more and more you stared at the limp, pale body - your limp, pale body - whose features were more of a brutal mass than a face, the less it was going away.

You barely made it past the urinals and into an open stall before you dry-heaved into a toilet.

You were dead.

You couldn’t be.

As you zipped up the stolen hoodie and sweatpants, you tried to remember it all. Kissing under the bleachers before the game, him asking you to come with him while he grabbed something from his gym locker.

Every agonizing second you asked him to stop, to stop pressing you into the lockers because one of the locks was digging into your back; his decrepit hands sliding at your waistline, pushing and prodding past the fabric of your clothes.

Nothing would come up from your stomach.

Could ghosts vomit? You asked yourself, slowly standing to your feet and walking back over to your dead body.

Conversations started to flood the hallway, every muscle in your body coming briefly to attention before you flew out the door and screamed into the rushing crowd of students.

“Hello?” You called out, reaching your arm into the crowd, only to watch it get run through like something out of Star Wars.

Your body became hot, and even though you knew deep down that no one could see you, you pushed your tears back down your choking throat and felt your cheeks heat up with shame.

You walked into the crowd, who was thinning out the further you got from the hallway. Your body tensed for a moment, seeing the lights of police cars and ambulances pulling up to the school. Expecting to see the paramedics rushing toward your body, you waited for them to split the crowd, to start heading toward the school, but they were bolting the other way.

Straight toward the football field.

This school has to be fucking cursed.

One of the players was splayed out on the field, his head gently being lifted as paramedics were tugging his helmet off his head. The football team from whatever school yours was playing against was sitting on the bench, whispering and pointing to another one of their players who was talking to a police officer further down the field.

57.

The number sewn on the jacket hanging among the clothes you stole stood out against the dark blue of the player’s helmet. People gasped and a woman cried out as the paramedic set the helmet aside, revealing the face of the school’s resident golden boy; a dark bruise crawled up his neck, and his mouth guard slid between his lips as his limp head hung unnaturally over his shoulder.

You walked closer, straight through the forming line of police officers, and looked into the field. At the edge of the bleachers, waving his arms around and yelling into a silent group of people, stood Wally Clark.

Wally Clark is dead.

Just like I am.

You took off running, the activity coming easier to you when you were alive.

Alive.

“Wally!” You called out, and the football player snapped his body to your voice, his eyes wide and seeming relieved that someone was talking to him.

You stopped, resting your hands on your hips as he hopped down from the bleachers.

“What’s happening? Why- why is no one talking to me? What did I do?” He asked, skipping the formalities. He came to stand on the field before you, the football gear he was wearing sending a rush of debilitating shame through your body.

You faltered for a moment, his face flashing in your eyes before you rubbed your face back to reality.

“You didn’t do anything, Wally.” You managed to push out, pushing your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Then what is happening? I feel like I’m going crazy, one minute I’m running with the ball, and boom- I’m at the bleachers, trying to get my mother to talk to me and she won’t even look up at me. I know she’s pissed at me about going on the bench, but I mean I got back in the game, and now I’m guessing coach is pissed at me on insisting to get back in and-”

“You’re dead.” You cut off his rambling, forcing yourself to meet his face without looking away after a second, “I mean, I think we’re both dead.”

First, he smiled. Like what you said was some kind of joke. After you said nothing, he started toward the sidewalk, where his mother was now alongside a stretcher being lifted into an ambulance. You could see the tears on her face from where you were, each step you followed Wally, the easier it was to see her sorrow.

Then, as he was following his mother, he suddenly was gone, like he was plucked off the Earth by God himself.

That was until you turned to see him standing on the football field, right where his body was previously lying, tugging at the roots of his hair.

You hovered your foot, leveraging that if you stood on the sidewalk, you would be slingshotted back to the men’s locker room.

You decided to trust your gut and instead talked to Wally.

“I can’t be dead, I mean, that would mean you’re dead, and I literally saw you in the hallway this morning,” Wally said as he paced in a small area before you, “and I know for sure that I saw you because you were hanging around Dalton’s locker, which was weird because everyone on the team thought he had some college girl or something he was hanging out with-”

You didn’t register some of the words he was saying, instead you tried to control your thoughts from ripping you back to your last moments on earth at his name.

“-I mean, do you even know how crazy this sounds?”

You took in a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your face to poorly conceal any emotions that unwillingly spread onto your features, “Yeah, but that’s the thing, Wally. I am dead.”

Saying you were dead for the first time out loud was a lot heavier than you thought it would be.

You’re pretty sure that if the insanity of Wally being killed hadn’t overridden your brain, you would be somewhere huddled up and screaming for some greater power to give you eternal rest.

“What? That’s not possible, I mean, the people you were here with would’ve noticed you were gone. Dalton would’ve noticed you were gone.”

You didn’t want to give his name as much power as you did, but your body tightened up hearing it. You didn’t correct him, instead opting to stare at the dark woods on the far end of the field, your eyes burning once more.

“Y/N,” you were a little surprised that he knew your name, and even more when he stood in front of you with the most gentle expression you’d ever seen, “what happened after school? How did you die?”

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : They don’t realise that you can’t swim

Peter Pan x Reader

Summary : The Lost boys go swimming at mermaid lagoon, they toss you in and you nearly drown

Warning : Near death experience, drowning

“Come on, [Name]!”

You stood on the sidelines of the lagoon, fingers nervously twisting with the hem of your shirt. It was a bad idea for you to have even joined the Lost Boys in the mermaid lagoon, because you knew they’d want to swim deep and would drag you with them.

It was with this very thought that you resolved to back out, to announce that you were tired and you’d return to the camp.

But you were suddenly grabbed from behind.

You craned your head back to see Devin. His arms squeezed your waist as he lifted you up, your feet kicking wildly in protest. You gasped as he started to near the edge of the rocky slope, the deep water too close for comfort.

“No! Stop!” You shouted, wiggling your shoulders back and forth for release.

Devin snickered. “It’s a bit of water! Lighten up!”

Then, he threw you into the water.

The waters surface broke as you sank towards the bottom. Your entire body was stiff and tense, and you felt awfully like a rock in that moment. You let out a scream, air bubbles leaving your mouth as no sound came out.

You blinked, eyes stinging at the murky greens and blue of the lagoons depths. You couldn’t see the surface any more; you couldn’t see anything at all.

Surrounded and suffocated by the water, you felt your heart hammer wildly out of beat at the thought of dying in the mermaid lagoon.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist before you felt the water rush past your skin. Within seconds, you broke the surface and let out a panicked gasp for air. You grabbed blindly at the person who had saved you; you were far too aware of the lack of ground beneath your feet.

“Calm down, calm down—“

Who was that talking?

You were pulled from the water and pushed onto the rocky slope. The hard ground brought immediate comfort and relief, and you couldn’t help but lie flat.

There was that terrible, salty taste of water on your lips, and your eyes stung horribly from the sea water. You coughed and panted for air, your lungs burning as water came rushing out your mouth.

“Look at me, [Name]— are you alright? Breathe!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly finding the afternoon sun too bright to handle. Then, when you reopened your eyes you found yourself staring into those familiar green ones. Instead of the usual mischief that you’d see, you found only worry and what appeared to be guilt.

“P-Peter…?” You stammered, another coughing fit cutting you off.

Peter sighed loudly and pulled you in for a hug. His arms around you gave the strange sense of ease and comfort. “Why didn’t you say that you couldn’t swim?”

“I-I didn’t think it was important,” you coughed again, watching in disgust as water dripped from your face. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or from the sea.

Peter glared harshly at you, his arms giving a small squeeze. “Of course it was important,” he scolded, “you could have died.”

You lowered your head, feeling awkward and ashamed that you had troubled Peter and the Lost Boys like that. “I’m sorry, Peter. I just didn’t think something like this would ever happen.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “The Lost Boys will think twice about doing something like that again,” he muttered.

As Peter held you close to his chest, you couldn’t help but wonder why he had been the one to pull you from the water. Usually, he was so cold and cruel with the Lost Boys, never stepping in to save them if they needed rescuing. His excuse was that “all Lost Boys should take care of themselves, if they can’t then they’re weak.” It was only fair to assume that the rule applied to you.

But with one subtle glance around the lagoon, you could see that the Lost Boys were just as stunned as you.

[fic-dumpster]

How would bonten be like meeting your family? Would they get along or not or even expose some stuff by accident?

Tbh, I think something could happen and it doesn’t go as planned. Let’s pretend for this scenario that Doe has a family… 😂 . Anyway, Anonie… sorry it’s years late but here we are trying. I just rewrote this so I’ll edit it later!

Bonten x reader

WC: 1320

TW: Fluff, revers harem, sad attempt at comedy, crackfic, fb!Mochi, gun, sappy/cliche ending, kinda uh… weird. It’s a mess.

You’ve been preparing this week’s dinner for almost two months. Arranging everyone’s schedules and thinking of ways to explain to your family how you have… more than one partner.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell your family about them. It’s just that the subject was never brought up before and your parents weren’t so concerned about prior relationships, but what you had right now was beginning to turn into something more serious.

So, yeah. Here you are waiting for your parents and the guys to arrive. Which turned into you having to distract your parents because nobody was home besides you and they were not picking up their phones.

You left messages to each one of them with phrases like…

“Sanzu Haruchiyo! I swear to whatever is holy to you that I will have you maimed and hanged when you get home!”

or

“Mikey!!! I will put all the sweets on the highest shelves and throw all the stools away! See how you’ll manage! And no boobs!”

or

“Kakucho? Baby? Please pick up… I’m worried.”

Well, you were fuming and trying your best to pretend everything was in order. Until you heard the door open and steps closing in. Finally someone!

But all your relief flew out of the window when you saw none other than Mochizuki Kanji walking towards you with a big smile on his face.

Oh, hell no… they were so dead. Each and every one of them was so dead.

“Honey!” You visibly tensed as you heard Mochi’s boisterous voice greet you like that.

“Mo-Mochi! Ho-honey!” And so playing along it was.

You were actually grateful at the end of the night. Mochi was such a great guy. You would have cried if you didn’t have to act too. He treated your family so nicely and your parents loved him.

Mochi had your dad enchanted with his baseball and stock market talk. Then your mom was so in love with him too. No complaints at the end. On the contrary, they were so proud of you for finally finding such a wonderful person.

As happy as you were for a successful dinner. You were internationally seething.

Once your parents left and the house was cleaned. You arched your eyebrow and directed an inquisitive look at Mochi.

“So?” You asked after a while.

“Something happened… I know, I know.” Mochi dragged his hands over his face and sighed. “You have every right to be mad, but let me ex—“

Just then, the sound of the door unlocking alerted you of their arrival, and multiple footsteps followed to confirm the quantity.

In a flash you had Mochi’s gun in hand, the poor man panicking after you and not even the devil himself could stop you now.

“Are any of you injured to the point of being at death’s door? Are you all alive and kicking?” You asked in a solemn voice. “Well?”

“We–we’re good…” said Kokonoi who was the closest to you watched a very worried Mochi stand behind you and shake his head in silence. Was he warning them not to do what?

“Good,” and with that, you pulled the gun that was too big for your hand.

A bunch of screams and alarmed voices came in from the seven men standing at your entrance.

“Baby— wait! Baby!”

“We– it’s not– Y/N!”

“Woah! Woah! Woah!”

“Y/N, put that down before you hurt yourself.”

So you took the safety off which earned you more screams and Sanzu hid behind Kokonoi, Rindou took cover in Ran’s back and Mikey was lost in the tumult of panicking men.

“Mochi why did you give her your gun!?!” Takeomi asked as he harshly pushed against the door by Sanzu trying to get as far away as possible from the barrel of your gun.

“I didn’t! She took it!”

“This is your fault!” Ran blamed it all on Sanzu. “You taught her how to use one! We were against it!”

“Shut up! All of you!” They all went quite deadly fast. “I had dinner with my boyfriend!” As you spoke, you moved the gun at each one of them and they all jumped back scared it would go off. Even Mikey was eyeing your shaking hand like a hawk. “So I don’t know who you all are! Go away!”

Again, you pointed the gun, they jumped and they also crushed Takeomi against the door for the tenth time. While the other screamed, Takeomi was grunting in pain at this point.

“Can we explain?” Kakucho asked with his hands up to show he surrendered.

“And you are?” You saw hurt flash in Kakucho’s eyes once your words were out, but you needed to stand your ground. They had done it this time. “Sure, explain unknown man.”

“But please can you put the gun down?” Kokonoi was sweating buckets from the way you waved the gun everywhere.

“I’m not gonna—“ and just like that it went off against the wall where the Haitani brothers stood. You heard Rindou screaming and Ran cursing every color of the rainbow.

You crossed eyes with each one of them and threw them a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, maybe I should put it down…” putting the safety back on, you handed it back to Mochi with a second apology in tow.

With your attention back to the group in your entrance you saw Rindou having a… moment…

“Oh my God! I almost died! Raaan! I saw my life flash through my eyes!” Rindou was crouched down hugging his brother’s leg. Said brother had a tired face on… like this was a common occurrence.

“Sanzu, this is your fault too,” Kokonoi added to the

“How is it my fault?!” Sanzu exclaimed with indignation and fury.

This calmed down after a bit. Reluctantly, you let them in and sat down to explain. You heard their excuses, the emergency at work and called bullshit until Mikey spoke last.

“We were scared.” He began with his signature seriousness and almost sad eyes. “Look at us. We aren’t the guys you take home to meet your mother.” As he kept talking, you saw how one by one they all turned their eyes away, sour looks and empty faces. One after another. “Mochi at least has the looks to pass as a normal civilian.”

You nodded, understanding where they were coming from. Pink, purple and white hair… tattoos all over their bodies… and scars… your heart broke for them. But your fury wasn’t gone just yet.

“And you think I care? You think I care what they think?” You stood up and walked over to Mikey, holding his shoulders tightly as you spoke. “If anyone, even my own family, speaks ill of any of you, I would have thrown them out. And never looked back. Understood? I… I have my own life here… a family… that we built together.”

Even if you wanted to add more to your speech, you weren’t able to. An avalanche of bodies suddenly rained down on you and the next thing Mikey saw was a cluster of bodies on his feet.

You could barely breathe under Rindou’s arm and probably Sanzu’s leg. Kakucho and Kokonoi tried to wrench them away but it was fruitless. Both were moaning and crying about the family they built with you. Ran facepalmed at his younger brother’s behavior but smiled nonetheless.

“Wait, where’s Takeomi?” You asked having not heard the man in a while.

“Here!” Everyone saw the eldest Bonten member at the kitchen counter with a first aid kit. “I’m just patching myself up.”

“But you said you weren’t injured?” You said from the floor and in between two sobbing men.

“I wasn’t…” Takeomi winced as he applied a bit more ointment. “yeah, having six people push you against a door was awful. 0/10 would not recommend.”

Meanwhile, Mochi cried in a corner as he saw his family happy together.

[deadghosy]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇! ||𝐙𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐄!𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄

Synopsis: accidentally killing one of the most popular Slytherins, you tried to bring him back only for him to not be the same as before.

Inspired by American horror story; Coven

Viewer discretion: brain dead Theo, choking, biting, slight panic attack, Zombie!Theodore not knowing personal space, gore/blood/death mentionss.

MONSTOBER

Shit… shit.. shit…..SHIT! You don’t mean it! You didn’t at all! Your eyes are blown out wide at the dismantled body in front of you. You can’t believe you killed him…You didn’t mean to kill him. Your heart beating loudly in your ears as you fell to your own knees. You slowly felt tears prick your eyes.

You were only practicing your magic. Your own magic. Not Hogwarts, not dark magic. Your own. You didn’t hear Theodore coming from behind you. But it was too late as he startled you into shooting him. Shooting him with the magic that killed him. A pool of blood reaches to you. Scatters of brains sprayed the crisp green grass. You scream backing up, gripping your wrist as a sort of calming gesture. But it’s helping. You kept saying, “it’s not your fault.” But it is, isn’t it? You gotta fix this. You can’t let anyone know that you killed the Theodore Nott. Not a single witness.

Dragging Theodore’s body. It felt sickening. You couldn’t really pick up his damn body. He was taller than you! And with his playing quidditch, he definitely has some pounds on him.

Finally getting to your dorm. You set him on the floor, getting your magic book your folks had gave you so you could practice your own family magic. That’s where you found the spell to bring back the dead. Without hesitation you chanted the words, placing your dominant hand on the bloody chest. The lights flickered in your room, each word you chanted a green and gold aura surrounded you and the dead Slytherin. As the spell ended, you opened your eye and waited it out.

Soon, Theodore stared to groan softly. His normal dead eyes looked..more dead. You gasp shocked. He looked emotionless as he only eyed you in your dorm. His skin was so pale that you started to curse in your mind. Before you knew it, Theodore snapped and attacked you. Gripping your throat with a strong grip, grumbling nothing but mumbles. You clawed at his arm. “Th-theo! Sto-" he suddenly stopped. Loosening his hold on your neck as his eyes looked normal before returning to that dead look. He let go and sat down like a child.

You coughed holding your neck. Getting your breath back. Theo stared at you again. With that dead look that made you shiver. “I…I’m sorry Theo..you must be mad I killed you. But you’re back.” You smiled a weary expression. Theodore tilt his head, clearly confused with his own emotions. Narrowing your eyebrows you slowly moved towards him. Reaching your hand to him, he bit you. ��AH! MOTHER FUCKER!” You kicked him at his chest gaining a small groan. “Gr…aughh..” you let out a groan, getting up you checked if the bite was deep only to sigh out of relief. “Fuck…fuck…okay so you don’t really have the normal brain. Fuck me…”

You hissed still holding your bitten hand. Theodore however seemed to be in his own world. His messy brown hair sticking to his forehead after your kick. It seemed he was actually thinking for once as he’d seen you walk back and forth. You were also in your own world. Thinking about how you were gonna talk to the professors about your mess. Or more so your own people. Maybe they can make him more normal? You didn’t seem to realize a tall brooding body behind you. You turned around to only flinch.

He towered over you. Theodore opened his mouth, his lips chapped lips sticked together as he did so. “…Y…Y/N…..” your eyes widened. Backing up with each step, he stepped to you closer. Theodore grabbed your arm, pulling you close to him. “Y…y/n…” you couldn’t believe it…no fucking way. Theodore started to hug you. And you just stood there confused and scared. Was he slowly gaining his memory back? Or was it some sorta of confusion? Connection? Whatever it was. You didn’t know if you liked it or not. As whatever this Theodore was doing, he was making sure you won’t leave his side.

[chososwifey24-7]

Rutheless

Yakuza boss sukuna x fem!reader

Cw: Nsfw, 18+, blood, death, kidnapping, swearing, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), pv penetration, mating press, consensual sex, no protection (reader is on birth control), cum eating, rough sukuna, aftercare.

Run. Breathe. Survive.

That's all you could do. The image of the tattooed man entering your house and beating your father to death. The cut on your side from one of his lackeys stung on your side and burned.

Where the hell would you run? Where the hell would you hide? They had seen your face. They had seen the fear, the pain, your face.

You could only assume your father got himself into more debt. Unpayable debt. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you continued to run. Labored breaths escaping you.

Legs giving out. That's all you felt as you fell to the concrete in the alleyway you were escaping through. You scraped your knees and your palm.

Gasping. Your lungs needed air. You needed to breathe! Why the fuck wouldn't your body cooperate?

You heard the footsteps before they saw or heard you. You pulled yourself behind a dumpster, a mouse scurrying across your foot. You wanted to scream, wanted to run, but where would you go? You'd be caught.

You heard their voices up and down the alleyway. They stalked it like predators. They sounded excited, excited to finally catch their prey.

You felt more blood seeping through your shirt. It couldn't be that deep of a gash, but through all the running and escaping, you had no time to put pressure on the wound to stop it from bleeding.

That's when you heard him. The man that had beaten your father to death and enjoyed it.

"Where the fuck did she go? You two were supposed to get her."

His voice was low, gravelly, haunting.

You could feel your chest rise and fall quicker and quicker as you heard the footsteps come closer and closer yet to the garbage can.

"We tried to Mr. Ryomen. That bitch is quick."

The other man laughed at his buddies words. He laughed obviously in agreement to the statement. That's when you heard the click of a gun.

"If you can't do something as simple as catching a damn brat, you aren't useful to me."

You tried to stay calm and quiet. You covered your mouth with both hands. Your phone was still at home. You could call anyone to save you.

"No, no, Mr. Ryomen, we'll find her, we swear."

The man quickly tried to beg for his life. Plead for this Ryomen guy to spare him. That he could do better.

"No need."

You heard Mr. Ryomens voice before you felt his hand ensnared in your hair. Your eyes widened. How the hell did he know you were there?

You tried to scream and kick and punch, but this man was strong. He snapped his finger, and the lackeys of his were on you zip, tying your hands and feet together.

"No, no! Stop!"

You screamed and tried to wriggle from the tattooed man's grasp. The man you know now as Mr. Ryomen.

He simply threw you over his shoulder and a car came around the corner.

"Ah, Uraume, right on time. Perfect."

You were thrown into the backseat of the car before being blindfolded. That's all you remember before being dragged into a basement and left there.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

It had been days. It must have been. They brought you food and water ever once in a while. That's how you tried to track the days tied to a chair.

Unfortunately, things began to blur together. Things became more dull, you knew you couldn't get out of this, so why were you trying?

That's what you thought until Mr. Ryomen came into the basement and cut the zip ties off of you. Your immediate reaction was to try to fight. To throw punches.

He easily grabbed your wrists and held you with a grin. That sickening grin.

"I see you still have some fight left in you. It's surprising, but I came here to talk, not fight."

He simply threw you to the side, your back hitting a cold concrete wall before you fell to your knees coughing.

"You see, your father died because he couldn't pay back his money, and he refused to do anything to even try. So we told him we would take you. Sell you off, maybe. I haven't quite decided yet,"

He began explaining as he stalked towards you slowly and intimidatingly. You couldn't even run away, your back was against the wall, literally.

"But you're so damn pretty I thought, why not just pay me back with your body. Yeah?"

He said as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed your chin roughly.

"Because that sounds more appealing to me."

He licked his lips and leaned in closer to you. His face was so damn close. His lips planted a kiss on your cheek before he grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back.

He chuckled to himself as he watched your tears stream down your face and your eyes closed tight. He took his other hand and wiped a tear from your face and cooed in a mocking tone.

"Oh, there there. There's no need to cry. I'll simply use you until your father's debt is paid back, then I'll send you on your way."

That's when your eyes met his and you bit your lip a bit.

"How much is my father's debt?"

He thought for a moment and then turned back to you with a glint in his teeth. His smile so damn bright, but so scary attention same time.

"I think it was somewhere around 500,000 yen. Quite a bit if you ask me."

Your jaw dropped. How were you supposed to pay that back off soon. The doubt began to creep in. You thought that maybe you could screw him for a few days and get out of here, but 500,000 yen! That was almost impossible to pat back soon.

He saw your facial expression and chuckled.

"3 months. Stay with me and let me do with you as I please for 3 months. After that, I will let you go."

His deal was intriguing, but 4 months, that was a long time. Could you honestly handle him? He wasn't bad looking, but he wasn't the person you'd want to spend the rest of your life with either.

You only had this option, though. You looked up at him in the eyes with determination. You didn't want to be sold off, so you'd chose the lesser of two evils.

"Fine. 3 months. I'm all yours."

The glint in his eyes seemed even more evil than it did the first day he had caught you.

"Alright. Since I can do whatever I want with you, why wait. Let's get your debt repayment started."

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

That's how you fou d yourself on your knees in sukunas room on your knees in front of his aching cock.

It was huge, and he wanted you to fit all of that in your mouth? There was no way. You leaned forward, though. After all you did tell him yes.

Your tongue gently licked the underside of his base, and he groaned deeply. You got to his tip and began to gently suck on it before going down on him a bit more.

"Oh fuck. Keep going."

He said as he tried to push your head down a bit. You were sucking him off, and he was loving it. Your mouth was addicting.

After thrusting into your throat and making you gag, he came.

"Swallow it."

Tears rolled down your face from his roughness, but you listened to him. Swallowing it, you looked at him and stuck out your tongue.

"Oh fuck, good girl. Now, up on the bed, I'm not done with you yet."

You did as he said once again and got up on the bed laying on your back and spreading your legs.

He whistled lowly as he took his fingers and ran them ul and down your folds, collecting your slick before roughly shoving them in you. You let out a scream before he began to finger you.

The pain slowly melted into pleasure and you were a whimpering mess on his finger.

"Ah, Mr. Ryomen, oh, please! I'm gonna cum!"

You screamed out, and before that knot could break, he pulled out his fingers and began to suck them clean.

"Mmm, you taste divine. Ilm have to save that for another day, but right now I want you cumming on my cock."

He strocked himself once, then twice, then lined himself up with your entrance.

You squirmed a bit before he shoved himself into you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream before his lips met yours in a hot teeth and tongue make out.

His thrusts were hard, rocking your entire body and the bed. He pulled away from the kiss and growled lowly as he continued.

"Are you in the pill?"

He asked as he thrusted a bit quicker as he was approaching his high.

"Ah, yes, yes. I'm on the pill."

You manage to get out in between thrusts. After those words left your mouth, he was grabbing your legs and pushing them to your chest in the meanest mating press ever.

Your moans became more high-pitched, and his thrusts picked up to an almost inhumane speed. You both were getting close.

Your hands moved to his shoulder and gripped them tightly. Your vision going white and his thrusts stilling as you both came together. His hit seed filling you and feeling weird.

You laid there for a second coming down from your high, and you couldn't help but admire his tattoos. You lazily took a finger and began to trace over them. He hummed gently and let you.

You groaned as he pulled out of you and left you to run to his bathroom and run a bath.

Soon, he came back to you and picked you up bridal style. Another groan leaving your lips, your lower abdomen hurting a bit.

He slowly set you down in the warm water before getting in behind you and holding you close to him.

Your eyes were fluttering closed as his chest met your back. This felt better than the sex itself. Being taken care of.

His arm wrapped around your chest and pulled you closer to him. He gently bit your ear before whispering to you.

"Get some rest, I'll carry you to bed if you fall asleep because both know this is far from done."

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