#from my brain loins

[fionnegan000]

nothing in my head but late night blorbos

[sweetimpurity]

☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ day 11! yayayy! I blacked out for this one 🥵

wc: 2.2k cw: bondage, breeding ;) enjoy!! ☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

“Shit…” He sighs. Running a hand through his hair, the talons peeking out slightly. They’ve been coming out and going back in all day, little pin pricks aching at his fingertips. Sensitive when he touches anything, pissing him off. Like he can’t control it. He’s been cooped up in his office all day. 

“Lyla. Update.” He demands in monotone, brow furrowed and focusing on the levels and charts on the holographic screen in front of him. The hovering pixels refresh as the levels increase and decrease. Numbers calculating. “They’re on their way back… just finishing some cleanup.” She replies. Hovering over his desk before settling, ‘leaning’ on a coffee mug from a few days ago. He hasn’t done anything, hasn’t eaten or drank anything since you left on that damn mission three days ago.  He should have remembered. That this specific time would have him aching for you. And now you’ve been gone. It’s his own damn fault and he’s been beating himself up over it. Feeling heavy, feverish, angry. He’s been tracking his levels every hour. Hormones and brain activity. Why must his warped genetics plague him in this way?

“Lyla I…I thought the serum was supposed to help…” He sighs, brow twitching, eyes closing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It will… but you only took one dose. It’ll be more effective after a few more.” She replies. Watching him with a raised brow. His behavior. 

He sighs again, a slight growl in the back of his throat. Pacing back and forth on his platform and crossing his beefy arms, like trapping his restless hands under them. Finally sitting down in his chair. His legs spread wide. It’s the only way with the pressure in his loins. With the need to be released. He’s in rut. As embarrassing as it is. And you’re not here. It’s like the perfect storm. 

“Oh- just landed…” Lyla chirps, popping up by him and displaying the portal chamber surveillance footage right in front of his face. Too close to his face, lighting his angry features up in a yellow glow. “Lyla!” He growls, trying to grab at her pixelated form. His hand went right through. But his eyes finally land on your form. Walking through the main portal alongside some other spider people. The team he sent you with. You’ve just entered the building and he can already smell you. Your pheromones. You’re floors and floors down and he’s already getting hard. The pressure in his suit tightening. “Lyla. Go.” 

She giggles. Floating around, teasing him. She’s all too familiar with his behavior by now. She puts up with so much. “Have fun, bossman…” She snarks, her hologram dissipating in front of his frowny face. A huff of relief leaving him once she’s gone. Leaving him alone. Waiting for you. 

He groans. The ache. His cock hard and hurting for you. Glancing over his shoulder at the door. Not yet. His hands go down, cupping his erection, only to whine softly at the pain he inflicts. Just the smallest of touches and he’s keeling over in his desk chair. “Ay… Fuck…” He sighs. Sharp canines biting down hard on his lip.

“Heyyyy!” Your voice breaks through the silence of his office. Your scent is stronger than ever when you push the door open. The stimulation goes straight to his dick, like it’s begging for your heat. Begging to be soothed in your slick warmth. Desperate to fill you up. To mate. To breed you. 

“Oh my god, you should have seen me out there… I was pretty good if I do say so myself… got the bad guy and all that. Even got a few common crooks while we were staking out…” You explain, jumping up on his platform. Bringing the box of equipment to his desk and setting it down. It’ll need to be cleaned and assessed. Some pieces to be fixed before they go back in rotation. 

His eyes darken. Watching you walk by. He’s glad you’re back. Of course. He loves you. But his mind isn’t on that right now. Right now he’s thinking about how good you’d look swollen and full of his babies. Full of his cock. Dripping with his potent seed. 

“Ben was a perfect alternative, he stepped in and really helped us out… Peter thought so too…” You keep going. Going over everything that happened over the past few days. “That’s… good…” He manages to say. His voice low and hushed, a croak. Watching your back, your ass. Moving from behind the chair, standing a few feet behind you now. He swallows hard. 

You glance up at his screens. He must have been busy as always. Keeping himself busy. Your hands slow down as you place machinery pieces on his desk from the mission supply. Spider senses tingling. 

In a matter of seconds, he’s pressing up against you. His chest against your back and his nose burying in your hair, in your neck. Inhaling your scent. His hearing picks up on the rise in your heart rate. The way you react to him. 

“Missed me, hm?” You hum, smiling and leaning into him. 

“More than you know…” He huffs. Pressing himself into your ass. Letting you feel just how needy he is. Your suspicions were correct. It’s that time again. Your senses never let you down. 

“That’s good because I missed you…” You whisper. Coaxing him. Leaning your head back on his shoulder. Letting him grind into your ass. Rubbing his erection into the soft plushness. And you hear the releases of breath from his lips, like he’s been pent up so long. “I love you…” He whispers by your ear. One of his big hands wrapping around, splaying across your tummy, imagining himself burying deep, all the way to your womb. 

“I love you too…” You can’t help but smile, rubbing back against him, hearing the slight hiss at the back of his throat. “Remember that…” He hums, something of a warning. The words stir something inside you. And you know what’s to come. This kind of fuck only comes once in a blue moon. Because normal Miguel would never allow himself to be so cruel. 

“Remember.” He hums in your ear. Turning dials on his watch this whole time. Smashing the screen and your suit instantly retracts. The confrontation of the cold on your skin makes you shiver. It’s too much for him. Your scent is stronger than ever. His dick leaking and crying to be inside you already. A strong hand on your back pushes you down to the desk. Tits smooshing and tummy contracting on the cold glass surface. A shiver and gasp filling your body. His hands work fast. White stringy webs leaving his wrists. Letting them bind and wrap around you. Working them around your torso, across your breasts. His webs, decorating your skin, wrapping you up. He wraps them around your wrists like ropes, only stronger, harder to break. Beautiful web designs scatter along your arms, wrapped around your body like a fly in a spider’s web. Like you’re the spider’s final meal. A loud thwip and he’s mounting webs on two opposite walls, letting it connect to your arms and spreading them wide. You can’t escape, you can barely move. Hanging, dangling, ever so slightly. With only the desk under your belly for support. But then there’s his hands. 

His big warm hands, suddenly bare of his suit. His dark tanned skin, fingers running up your hips, down your ass and delivering a gentle smack. Making you whine. Your pussy aching for him at this point. And he can smell it. He can smell your slick, he can almost taste it in the air. Like a drug he knows by taste alone. It’s taking all his willpower not to pound into you just yet. But the rut does not cloud his judgment to that extent. He could never forget that he loves you and would never dream of hurting you. Tying you up in his webs, that’s a different story. 

His hand wraps around, fingers running up your slit, parting your folds and collecting your slick on his fingers. Bring the fingertips to his mouth to wet them further, tasting you and groaning. “Oh baby- fuck so good… so so good…” He mumbles, his hand going back down between your thighs and running along your slippery sex. His fingers teasing your hole before plunging inside. Making you shiver and shake. Pulling on the webs you’re restrained in. One finger, then two. Dripping down his fingers and onto the desk. His hormone levels are off the charts. His mind going crazy. Wanting to come. Wanting to spill his seed but needing it to be inside you. He won’t waste it. He needs to get you pregnant.

“Oh Miguel!! Ah! Mm-ngh…!” His fingers work their magic, bringing you to glorious orgasm. Your juices dripping down his knuckles as you moan and whine. The webs straining and tensing under the pressure of your pull. Panting for breath, your knees pulling up and hitting against the edge of his desk. Bent over, tied up and needy for more. 

When you come down from the high, his fingers pull free. Bringing his fingers to his lips. He’s quiet. In a trance. Hazy and half gone and he hasn’t even gotten to the good part yet. His eyes flutter and roll back at the taste of you on his tongue. Sucking on his fingers ravenously and you can only hear the sucking sounds mixed with his groans. Crimson eyes blowing wide, bashing his watch for his suit to disappear entirely. Instantly grinding his hard, pulsing dick along your puffy pussy. Teasing his tip around your entrance and sucking on his fingers like it soothes him. Pacifies his ache even a little bit. 

“Baby- babe you want… I want- you’re so good, baby, taste so good…” He murmurs incoherently, whining. Pushing his cock through your folds, up to your clit, making your toes curl, knees drawing up. Wrapping your hands around the webs binding you. “Ngh just take it all, okay? I’ll fill you up and-and… and… Dios…ah, te amo tanto… no puedo vivir sin ti…” He whimpers. The softness of your pussy against his needy tip makes him crumble. Keeling over and pressing his mouth to your shoulder. Massaging his dick through your slick. Savoring the feeling for a moment longer. “Ay mami…” 

He bites down on your shoulder. Using his fingers to guide his cock to your core and slipping in. His brain short circuiting at the tight wet pressure. “Fuck!” He growls, instantly spurting hot white. His voice hoarse and needy. Grabbing your hips in the front and pushing in all the way to the hilt. Pushing you up the desk, the webs straining as your arms pull. His body practically mounting yours. Stretching you out on his girth in one go. Pulling a shrill cry from your lips, moaning at the warmth flooding your belly. “Ngh-Miguel! Ohhhh….”

“Oh yes…” He hisses. Finding relief in final release. Who gives a shit if he didn’t get two pumps in before it happened. He’ll pump you with much more cum before the night is over.  

He pulls back, drawing aching whimpers from your lips. Trying to soothe you with kisses to your shoulder blades, your neck. Collecting your hair into his hand and gently pulling back. Moaning as he does it. And he plunges back in, molding you around his cock. Slipping in easier with his cum loosening you up. “T-todo lo que siempre he necesitado, mami…” His sweet words make your heart flutter. His face tucking into your neck from behind as he pumps into you.  

Moaning as he pulls back again and thrusts back in deep. Working up a rhythm, holding your hair back. His other hand wraps around to your clit, rubbing with tenderness in a stark contrast to his powerful pumps. Webs straining, the tension threatening to break the strands as you cry out for him. Legs shaking and trembling. His own moans are broken and hoarse. Full of need and desperation. All he can think of is filling you up. His cum, his DNA tainting you, mixing with yours. Making babies. Lots of them. The image of you full of his children makes him crazy. “You’ll be such a pretty mami, baby… so pretty, so so so…” He pants. His hips slapping your ass with every push, like wild animals in the jungle. His spider half taking over completely. Your soft whimpering moans fill his ears. His words shooting right to your core, making your eyes roll back and gushing on him. Crying out for him and the webs snap! Your arms dropping and you’d fall flat on the desk if he didn't grab you in time. Pulling you to his chest, pumping into you even faster. Climbing up on the desk and kneeling down for leverage. Pushing your body down to arch for him. Pounding into you with unending power. Even after you come, he doesn’t stop. Pulling one more trembling orgasm from you before he’s spurting once more. Filling you just like he promised. Finally stopping with a huff. His mind mostly gone but there’s part of him left, just for you. 

“You okay, mama? Look at me…” He whispers, turning you over gently. Admiring that look on your face. That fucked out smile. “Te amo… needa make sure it sticks…” 

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could you do caracalla marriage headcanons? Thank you !! 😸

Being married to a man who was destructive, unpredictable, chaotic and dangerous as Caracalla was a long and contiguous battle you had to fight through.

It wasn’t smooth sailing in the slightest but you try to make the best of your situation, as though you were trying to make windows within the walls of your makeshift prison. It wasn’t pretty as often times you were accused of favouring his brother, or had to deal with the aftermath of having a poor innocent person sent to their deaths just for merely being too close to you.

The blood deeply stains his hands and now they stain yours also. Whether you liked it or not.

Sure the people pitied you for being with such a man but would wholeheartedly sing their anger towards you due to your association with Caracalla, it was the only way for them in order to clear a path for someone…better suited for the position.

Geta had confided in you about his illness not long after your marriage to his brother had started;

‘His outbursts have become frequent, for the illness from his loins has now spread to his brain, and he worsens day by day.’

You knew why this wasn’t public knowledge as it would be a glaring weakness for others to expose, to lessen the claim the brothers had over Rome, so you kept quiet about it yourself.

You would take his words to heart and would even encounter a few outbursts of your own where you were held at knife point by your own husband.

‘Put the knife down Caracalla.’ You’d say softly.

‘You don’t love me! You only want him!’ He’d retort, keeping the knife at your neck.

‘I married you, no one else can win my heart when you’ve got it locked in a gilded cage with your name carved into the golden metal so possessively.’ You replied even when the tip of the knife was pressed against your neck. You were terrified but you knew that in this moment you had to talk to Caracalla in a manner that wouldn’t worsen his already deteriorating state of mind.

‘The gods would have to try harder if they wish to tear us apart, for I’m not going anywhere without you, I’ve made that vow to myself and I intended to stick by it dear husband whether you like it or not.’ You add firmly this time and you could see that you had said something to make him falter as the knife had soon clattered to the floor, but the sting from where it had cut you was a reminder from how close you were from certain death.

These moments would only grow stronger the worse his condition got, but thankfully you were more then competent to handle him at his worse, even if it did leave everlasting scars that will stick with you for a lifetime, a reminder that everything was forever fleeting and that even the things that were encased in gold was in danger of corrosion due to the passage of time.

Your bond wasn’t meant to last but it was better if you made the best of it while you could before you passed the point of no return.

However all was not bloodshed, violence -even if that was a major part of your life with the emperor- and the never ending chaos. There were moments where you seemingly were the only calm Caracalla has ever known, his hands would grip you tight as his head was rested against your neck, eyes closed shut and how all he could feel was you against him.

‘Dear husband you cling so tightly as though you’d fear I’d slip away.’ You whispered against his temple.

His hold on you tightened as he pulled away to rest his forehead against your own as his eyes pierced into your own, making you feel seen but also seen through at the same time, which was a feeling that haunted you when you realised that a quiet Caracalla was more terrifying then a one who voiced his need for bloodshed. ‘I fear that you are dream that I have yet to awake from, a dream that’ll result in my descent to madness for a being such as you feel too good to be true.’ Caracalla says with a sigh. ‘The gods play the cruelest tricks on the strongest humans to test their resilience but I fear that mine will break the moment you are taken from me.’ He adds.

You caresses his cheeks and pull away to kiss his forehead, down the slope of his nose then on his lips as a giggle escapes his lips, warming you in the process for even if a moment like this was momentarily but that didn’t stop you from taking advantage of these softer moments with him; for he was your husband and his husband he will forever be.

‘I won’t be taken from you, for why would the gods gift me to you but then take me away from you in the same breath? My dear husband I wish I could remove your worries from your clouded head and give you peace, give you love as you are deserving and heal you of all wounds if given the power.’ You whispered to him as you began to pepper his face in kisses, making him smile and laugh as your affection bled into his skin and deep into his soul, feeling as though it was burning him but in the best way possible.

Burning him in the way that had him craving more from you as much as he did violence and death.

From the way you message his temples, to the way you kiss his face as though it was moulded by the gods themselves, the chaos within him subsided beneath your touch or rather yet find itself at ease with the peace you present. Chaos and peace, cancelling each other out yet completing the other so seamlessly, which is how many saw your union with Caracalla; you cancel the other out and complete the other in ways that could be considered destructive one way or another.

Yet the destruction you were both bound to have would be beautiful and painful at the same time, you’d fear it but except it when the time comes. So until your inevitable demise you’ll embrace Caracalla as if he wasn’t the one inflicting the wounds and lapping them up simultaneously as he begs for forgiveness with blood on his teeth.

[saturnville]

for me, baby | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: in which she flips the switch. warnings: 18+ steam. suggestive content. wc: 770 something. an: one of my goals as a writer was to enhance my detail, so I challenged myself to put as much as possible within a certain word limit. hope y'all enjoy. may or may not continue this based on reception <3 remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku

"Be a good boy and say it for me, baby." 

The words coiled around his spine, wound tight like a violin tuned too sharp. She’d never spoken to him like this before. Not with that voice—low, deliberate, dripping with something too smooth to be an accident. Her sweet voice was replaced by something much darker, sensual, and commanding. 

He should’ve responded. He was quick-witted and always had a rebuttal, but for the first time, his mouth felt heavy and useless. His brain couldn’t compute a response no matter how hard the nuts and bolts fought to assist the gears in turning. 

He squirmed under her gaze. Those pretty eyes he had fallen in love with had done more than crack the cacoons that held the butterflies still in his stomach—no, they commanded a war that stirred his loins in a way he’d never experienced before. It was a delicious disruption of the status quo.

She had always been the soft one. The one who let him lead, guide, and direct; she let him dictate the rhythm of their push and pull. And yet, here she stood—calm and expectant as if she hadn’t taken Poseidon’s trident and wielded the tides so effortlessly, tilting the balance of power with a single sentence. 

His fingers twitched at his sides. There was an ache in his joints, a slow burn that grew hotter when she took a measured step closer. Close enough for him to smell the arousal between her legs. Close enough to feel the warmth of her breath fan across his jaw, which fell slack to make room for a shuddered breath to pass through. 

His pulse stumbled. Her eyes followed the thump, thump, thump that presented itself beneath his exposed collarbone. And she smiled—heaven help him—the smile that would have him handing her his wallet and telling her to swipe his card whenever and wherever. But it wasn’t innocent. Not sweet. Borderline rude if he had to admit it. She planned it. 

His teeth found his bottom lip, dragging across it as he exhaled slowly and shaky. “Where are you going with this?” He murmured, though his voice lacked its usual tenor and conviction. 

She tilted her head slightly, considering him. Her hair draped over her shoulder as she took another calculated step toward him. She lifted a single hand with excruciating patience and ran her fingers down his chest. They fell at his belt, clutched the leather, and fingered around the buckle. 

He was lost. Completely and utterly lost. 

It was no longer her words but how she looked at him. She got under his skin with the most straightforward look. Her long eyelashes, which guarded doe-like brown eyes, brushed against the high points of her cheeks. And those lips, wet from the tongue he deeply desired to feel against his skin, begged for his on hers. His pride warred with his curiosity. With his intrigue. With the way his body betrayed him, answering her before he opened his mouth. 

Her fingers skillfully slid along his buckle, loosening it just enough to allow her hand to slide in the space between his abdomen and waistband. She threw a leg over his, her throbbing center settling above his. He fought hard to contain any sounds, but a measly whimper passed by his lips and ascended to her ears, fueling the newly inflated ego she displayed. 

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his ear, tracing her tongue around its shell before nibbling on the tip. Kelvin’s head fell back, and a rush of wind escaped him. “Say it,” she whispered again. He exhaled sharply through his nose, tongue dragging over his bottom lip as he swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands slowly crept up her thighs, but she pushed them away with a heavy hand. "Good boys get to touch. All you gotta do is say it for me, and you can have me any way you want, baby."

His stomach clenched deliciously. His instinct was to push back, reclaim the control that seemed to wane rapidly and remind her of who set the pace between them. She gave him nothing to work with—no space to flip the script—just a slow, steady pressure of her expectation. 

He was almost humiliated at how easily she had him on edge. Was this how she felt when he toyed with her until she was a withering, blubbering mess beneath him? He must have been a fantastic teacher if she had learned to subdue him with nothing more than a single well-placed touch. 

It was barely above a whisper, but when the word left his mouth, she smiled in full—slow, wicked, victorious like she’d won something big. 

“Please. I wanna feel you.”

Because she did. 

[he3ts]

LOSE CONTROL

pairings: nam gyu x reader

warnings: porn, no plot, smut, dom and sub dynamics, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, nam gyu calls reader "venus"

You were the sun and he was the midsummer rain. A verse, a poem, the cursed earth, a breath too short. The organs, the heart, the brain, then nothingness. You were created by the universe to make mistakes, but be flawless in your sinful destiny, finally flourish and live all from the original state.

A demon who fed on the happiness of others, to the point of fainting, hiding part of your face behind a dry smile. You had been planning revenge for years, months and days, and who was he to calm you down?

Beautiful Hollywood brought delirium, a bad place, where the devil took every soul and abused its fame. Where a million simply wasn't enough to be happy, where life was glitzy, exaggerated, an environment so different from his neighborhood and his group of friends.

You had planned everything in your head, every encounter, as if your love had died, but it was alive, like a flame, extinguishing it almost impossible. You were pain, a reptile dressed as a human being, he could still want you. He could fully understand you, he had no intention of betraying his politics, and you were.

He could not tell if you were happy, sad or just too high at that time. Worthless memories were inside his head, it was that time of the year where the temperature exceeded human endurance and tempers were getting more and more agitated between you.

"Loita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: The tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth"

So went Vladimir Nabokov in the opening of his most famous work, delicate with every word that adorned that page by the author's desire. He often asked himself that question, practicing over and over again the stage name he gave you: Venus. There was nothing hard about that word; it came out of his throat like nothing and stuck to his heart.

Smiling like an infant, he touched a page of the book, settling his body on the bed. Flipping through the pages, one by one, he had been completely thunderstruck by Nabokov's raw, yet flowing writing. You had recommended it to him to the point of exhaustion.

Like a daydream, you had arrived next to him, lying on the bed. You giggled to yourself, moving the book from his hands, crossing your legs taking a deep breath.

“Lolita, light of my life,” you had recited, crawling on the bed in front of his four-legged body. You had a generous cleavage, your immaculate neck, perfect and free, wrapped in a necklace. He saw you radiant, a bright smile, hips in the air. He looked again at your dry face, a feeling of longing crossed his stomach “You disturbed my reading, Venus"

You had tilted your head toward him. "Am I disturbing?" you huffed like a feline, continuing to crawl toward him. "You're hurting me, honey"

Nam Gyu had looked away, biting his lip, he looked at you with eyes filled with desire as you ran a hand through your hair, "I know your intentions" You had smiled, that smile that led to no good.

You were close enough to slide down his legs, he had patted your side as he settled you more securely. "My intentions? Don't you want to?" your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, fingers wrapped in his long hair, you swiped your nose against his jaw in total bliss. He, as an answer, placed a kiss next to your collarbone, he had heard you moan, smiled devilishly.

"Venus"

"Liar" a second kiss under your ear, "just a liar"

"You are out of control-"

But his words were interrupted as you had leapt forward, pressing your lips against his. Almost out of spite. A point of no return. His eyes went wide as your soft lips opened against his, licking them uncontrollably.

Had he shrunk so miserably just for your affection?

"Lie down, now," he added, still attached to your lips. You had slid your body onto the bed, watching as he positioned himself better over your hips, your breasts practically protruding from your low-cut T-shirt were a deep temptation for him.

You had mumbled sloppy words against his lips. You could no longer stop seeking his affection.

"Shut up, little girl," his hand clung to your neck, and before you could protest, your lips were already attached for a second time. He had smiled.

"My Venus" you had felt his hand grab your breast, groping it through your shirt. “You make me unstabl"

The dirty words that came out of his mouth excited you in the strangest way. You were a mess of emotions as verses of pleasure spilled from your throat. You had begun to move your hips against his, then shift your pelvis. "Venus" had closed her eyes, but opened them again a moment later.

"What?" more movements, you were trying to torture him in the slowest way possible "Don't try to get out of it now"

"Fuck you, woman" he gripped your hair in the palm of his hand, bringing your foreheads together, "What do you want me to say?"

Silence. Pause. Endless.

Then you had squealed as his other hand grabbed your fabric-covered breast, inviting you to talk to him, "N-not much. The truth. I'm more interesting than that book, right?"

You had bitten your lip, your heart began to beat at an accelerated rate, "Well?" he asked, wanting to kick the words out of your mouth

"Do you need attention?" he added, "I can't give it to you if you don't talk to me" he stroked your cheek.

"Yes, I need you," you had stammered to a second wave of pleasure. By the time his intent was much clearer, you were already lost, he lowered his head, licking your jaw as your hands slid down his waist, crumpling the edges of his T-shirt.

You were quick at anything, and soon your shirts along with your bra were over like a sheet on that cold floor. You had leaned forward, whimpering as his hands moved over your hard nipples. "It's not fair," he murmured, "you're so beautiful"

You were blushing, which was absolutely rare, hearing those innuendos from him was always a great honor. "Then undress me" you had no more shame, Nam Gyu giggled then making your chests match as one skin.

"Um," he mumbled, as he kissed your jaw, "I'll do it even without your orders"

He hooked his thumbs around the button of your pants, making them snap, your pretty underwear poking out from underneath. Your cheeks burned as he removed your jeans, sliding them to the floor. Only your panties separated him from his intent, and another scream came from your throat as Nam Gyu began to press his lips against your legs. Your long, smooth legs walked one in front of the other, slowly advancing toward his mouth.

"These panties need to come off" he murmured, humming against your legs. "I want to see you"

His right hand ran along your smooth belly. Your left hand had moved against his long locks, playing with them as you arched your back with each miserable shudder.

"Nam Gyu"

This was his first wake-up call, as you emitted an amused giggle, he was sliding your panties further and further down. Your naked core was dripping, wet. He had never experienced such feelings before, you were giving him a set of pleasures all at odds.

From passion, to love.

"Stop teasing me" you had turned red again, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck. "I want your touch, properly"

"Do you want it?" he asked, sliding his thumb and forefinger inside your opening. You felt so pathetic when you had managed to murmur that slight "yes"

Having him so dominant over you was driving you crazy, alternating the chemistry in your brain. You had smiled again as his hand crept between your legs. Your pussy trembled as he ran his fingers between your wet folds, unexpectedly your hands clung to the sheets as your body trembled with bliss. Irregular breaths escaped your lips, moaning his name, smiling. He ran delicate fingers along your vortex.

Circles on your clitoris, sliding up and down through the growing wetness. He gave himself momentum, giving you a kiss on the lips, his fingers still inside your womanhood. You felt your stomach turn over. Immense pressure formed inside you, growing as his fingers were like snakes inside. Pleasure ran from your head to your feet; he pinched and rolled your nipple between his teeth. Everything felt so good, you almost wanted to scream.

"Venus"

Your nickname whispered like that sent you over the edge; you had responded with a moan. Only moans muffled by breaths. Erotic moans and dirty talk echoed through the room. You trembled violently, his hands rubbing incessantly and touching your clitoris as you came. Pleasure exploded inside you, pouring ecstasy and juices all over his hand.

Your body went limp, sweating and trembling from the intense orgasm that racked you. The traces of pleasure still made your clitoris tingle with excitement. He rubbed his hand over your stomach, leaving a small trail of your masterpiece against your skin.

But you weren't finished. And he couldn't get enough. You were still exhausted heavy breathing, but you had turned your roles so fast that he was paralyzed by it. Now it was him lying there, black hair splayed on the pillow with half-closed eyes, gripping your hips with possession.

Your wet intimacy was like an ointment against his cock, he sighed as he looked down at you, your hair in front of your exposed tits coming out of your bra, and your shirt lifted over your hips. You had sagged against him, applying pressure by crawling back and forth, "I can't take it anymore, Venus"

You were straddling his legs with the dirtiest intent, with him only wanting to have his lips on your skin.

"I'll take care of you, Nam Gyu" you had murmured against his ear, kissing his neck. You had grabbed his boxers only to slide them down further and further. Your eyes never left his.

He thought he was going crazy as he watched you wide-eyed, wrapped you around the base of his veiny cock and pumped you a few times, his inebriated gaze watching every inch of your perfect, imperfect body. You had slid your hands from his neck down to his chest, sighing when you had felt your palms ignite with each touch between our intimacies.

“Fucking bitch,” he managed to say before gripping you tightly, dragging your swollen, glistening lips against his, a light touch that ignited every internal organ. He understood no more as you hopped on his stomach like a bunny, your lips glued together. You could feel his cock stretching and filling every part of you; he grabbed your bottom insistently, rage. His face smothered in the pillow, he didn't like that, he had always enjoyed dominating you instead. A giggle had escaped you, your hips bobbing up and down and your stomach in turmoil.

"You like that?"

"I like you," he grunted at you, before completely losing control.

“I need you,” he whispered in your ear, you still had his member inside when he reached his limit. You had always needed him.

MASTERLIST.

[pedge-page]

I loved your Mother Who Indulges fic. Never read a lactation kink fic before and the combination of Joel liking the breastmilk so much that he actually gains weight from it was really good.

The way you wrote Joel enjoying the milk, the scene with him sneaking to the refrigerator, getting off on the sensation of his bigger body and then surprised that Reader helps him finish drink off the milk glorious.

I was wondering if you would be interested in writing more fat!Joel feeling good as a bigger man (Has Tommy said anything to Joel about his weight gain?).

I was wondering if you'd like to write a scene where Joel is enjoying a meal, then he has to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants because he's getting uncomfortably full.

Thank you !! I'm glad to have introduced you to some new combination of kinks and concepts for Joel! Idk if you meant for this ask to be smutty (probably not) but my brain just kept writing so I hope you still enjoy!

This can be read with Mother Who Provides and Mother Who Indulges, or as a standalone

Extra Helpings

Fat!Joel x F!Reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, feeding, cockwarming, talks of weight gain, breastfeeding, food play, vaginal fingering, oral f receiving, cum eating, dom!Joel this time around, slight anal fingering, brief daddy kink

18 + ONLY

- - - -

Now that Joel was a few sizes larger than last year prior to your baby being born, neither of you really let it deter your fun. In fact, he seemed to be in a much chipper mood than before. Having more energy with you and the baby, smiling bigger and brighter, and --not that its a big deal or anything--much much hornier.

Its as though before Joel wasn't really giving himself the right kind of nutrients. Just eating enough to get by, not really paying attention to vitamins or fats or anything.

When he looks in the mirror now, he feels... good. In a very odd sense. With his near beer gut middle pertruding out, he would not even come close to "fit" physically, though his line of work still gets his heart pulsing and muscles flexing better than most his age. But the sheer effort it takes to get up, the way he lumbers and feels the weight of himself shift...its like his ego is blooming physically. He's a bigger man for it.

Joel tucks his hands underneath the swell, giving himself a good lift. Shit, he really has gotten thick. Bouncing lightly on his heels , he turns to his side in the mirror just to see the vast amount of space his profile now takes up.

It makes his loins ache. Especially how you were begging him to fuck you missionary, feeling his new body up and caging you beneath him with no room to escape but to take it all...

Hes gonna get a boner before dinner even starts.

He's gotta say, beastmilk was like super serum, and not just for babies but for grown men too. Now that he was bigger, that also meant a bigger man with a bigger appetite. and you were very happy to indulge.

Joel plops down heavily at the dinner table. You had been chopping some taco ingredients and marinating chicken all day, so he was exceedingly excited for dinner. rubbing his hands together, you set down his plate of 10 warmed tortillas and enough fixings to feed a large family.

He smiles back up to you as you stroke his rosy cheeks. "There's more on the stove if you run out, I'll heat it up for you."

He kisses your palm. "You're so good to me."

you giggle and take your seat. "Eat up, big boy."

And he did. Joel woofed down 8 tacos easily in the first few minutes, grease and bits of melted cheese dribbling down his fingers and wrists before slurping it back up and sucking his digits clean. You ended up making half dozen more before he started to slow down, adjusting himself in the chair.

Joel coughed, raising himself uncomfortably then sitting back down with a wiggle. "Shit, m'gettin--kinda full."

"Don't force yourself, baby, when you're done, you're done--"

Instead, your husband leans back in his seat, his tightened flannel shirt riding up his ridiculously pronounced belly. he skillfully slits hiis fingers below his pudge, and the click of his belt comes undone, followed by a relieving pop of his jean button. "ughghhyeah--" he groans, his belly, no longer restrained, doing the rest of the work by forcing the zipper down fully so that all his extra stuffed gut can breathe.

Your jaw is still open, eyes refusing the depart as you watch it bounce and settle. He's a little proud of himself by your dumbfounded look, smirking and wiping his mouth with a napkin. He gives you a show by sitting up and letting you marvel at the little extra jiggle.

"What? I like ya cookin," he chides, getting you to blink and resettle your focus a little higher again. It doesn't help how blown wide your pupils are, the way you shift and clench your thighs. His eyes glaze down your body, licking his lower lip slowly as if he's about to have his main course. Palming his growing bulge, he grunts, "How bout desert?"

"I--made--made you--uh--" your face was warm, legs squeezing together, unable to stop your gaze from drifting downward every so often at the enormous swell in the middle and his brazen display of pants drawn open at the dinner table.

Joel's large chunky hand glides up along your thigh, the heat of it making your insides churn deliciously. he keeps riding it up, up, up, under your little shorts and towards your center.

"Can ya spread for me? Always make me such nice things to eat. Can't stop eatin what ya put in front of me. Wanna give this one a taste," he whispers darkly.

You part your legs as two fingers slither through your soaked folds. Despite your gasp, you spread wider, letting Joel play and pat your wet juices. He curls his fingers inward, scooping some of your arousal before withdrawing and shoving the sticky solution into his mouth with a moan.

"mmmm oh babygirl, that's so sweet," he hums, eyeing you from the side with a devious smirk as he boldly licks and sucks his fat digits clean. He smacks his lips with each one, savoring the salty tangly flavor--the best taste in the whole world.

"Ya said you made me somethin too?" he asks softly, rocking back and patting his belly casually as if he wasnt just fingering you under the table and sucking your juices clean.

"i--cookies..." you choke, wondering why you feel so empty now. "I wanna feed you cookies."

He shurgs and gestures for you to get on with it, and you don't wait a second. Stumbling into the table slightly before gathering the fresh warm plate you had just baked from the oven.

Joel claps his hands together like a giddy child. With his legs spread wide, you straddle his thighs, your stomached pressed against his lower belly. He wraps one arm around your waist and pulls you flush, whining as the hardened, wet print of his clothed cock kisses your warm pussy.

"Take this off." He helps you shuck off your top, leaving your swollen breasts exposed. "oohhh yeah..." he rolls his tongue, clicking at the beautiful sight of you naked on his lap. You can feel his hands instinctually take their place on your tits, cupping and massaging them in his beefy grips.

You giggle, moaning a little before taking a larger chocolate chip cookie and presenting it to his greedy lips. Joel opens his mouth as wide as possible with a dramatic "aaahhh" as you slot it in for a generous bite.

"Milk n' Cookies!" he grumles through his chewing.

You tilt your head in confusion , were it not for the way he opens his mouth again, a few crumbs spilling down your chest, ducks his head lower and latches on to your breast.

"mm--mm--mm" he hums loudly between each gulp of your sweet milk.

"Fuck," you whisper, closing your eyes. Your hips work on their own, grinding down on his bulge to relieve the pressure that was building in your stomach.

He pulls away with a pop, kissing the little pebble of milk left from your nipple. "How bout Milk n Cookies with a good ol cockwarm for me?" he suggests, gripping your hips and humping you harder against him.

"Ah huh," you babble, using your free hand to pull his cock from his boxer slit and shove it underneath your shorts, aligning to your slit.

"There we go-that's it baby--that's it--sink right down--thereyago!"

You both sigh contently. With his stomach and your cunt filled to the brim, you kiss his nose lovingly before getting back to his cookie munching and titty sucking routine. all while slowing bouncing on his throbbing member.

"Joel--I can't--can't do it--"

he finishes his last swallow of your milk before helping set the plate down on the table behind you. "Ya did it, baby. Let Daddy take care of the rest."

He plants his feet flat on the floor, leaning back slightly, gripping your ass and thrusting upwards.

you fall forward, a moaning, useless mess as Joel uses you like a little fleshlight.

Sweaty and pressed fully against his large frame, comforted by the extra fat now built there, you hug him tightly as he pounds up into your squelching pussy.

"Like that, huh? Like gettin me all fat, every fuckin' day, just so you can sit on my cock and ride me?"

Yeah! Yeah fuck--fuck yes Joel--love it, love you so much!"

"Yeah? Everyone keeps askin me what I been up to, gettin this big. told em my wife feeds me, s'all. Think they're jealous, baby. They want a good little housewife who lets em suck her fat tits all day fill them up. Ain't sharin ya with no one."

You nod into his shoulder, cross eyed and too blissed to answer anymore.

"Joel forces his thumb into your mouth. Saliva and drool coat it sloppily before he draws away and spanks your ass cheek, smiling as it jiggles. The room is filled with skin slapping and your babbling pants.

His thumb brushes over your butt, inching closer to your other unoccupied hole. He presses down with the tip, the pressure againdt the rim of your hole sends jolts of pressure. Theres a moment of panic that settles over you: Joel was always blessed with strong, delft large fingers. But since his bodily change, they've only gotten proportionally thicker, ans that means extra stretch for you. He works around in circular motions before being able to slit inside, guiding you up and down with his thumb in your ass as anchor.

"Tommy even makin' comments. Kid thinks he knows shit. Told em, I said I was eating pussy, drinkin' milk, and gettin my cock sucked every hour, every day, and ya cooked me whatever the fuck I wanted. Does that sound like a bad bet? Hell no, fuckin' heaven is what is it."

"Joel, baby, I'm bout to--"

he lifts the two of you up and sets your back flat against the table, spreading your legs wide. Joel growls like a beast before letting his mouth latch on to your mound, eating you out.

its all tongue and slurping and sucking on your twitching clit. You whimper over and over again until you're gripping his hair and cumming, pistoning your pussy into his jaw as he drinks your orgasm for all its worth.

"That's my good Momma," he gasps, twisting and scissoring his thick digits deep inside you and slamming your spot repeatedly. All while his tongue swirls in fast circles around your swollen clit.

Your head rolls to the side, still heaving from your high as Joel jerks his red, beating member to completion over your body. "FUCK!" He grunts, spewing ropes of his creamy seed all over your tits.

You yelp and laugh when he crashes on top of you to lick it all clean, sucking his salty cum and your sweet cream all in one go like a messy dog lapping at peanut butter. The newly padded layers of his body cushion you securly under him, not that you minded at all. In fact, you welcomed the warm, heavy feel of him surrounding you, strong and secure, hugging him close as the two of you suck air, breathing in the table of cookies, tacos and sex.

he plants his lips between the junction of your breastbone. "You're always gonna be my favorite snack, ya know that?"

- - - -

taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

[daisynik7]

the scowl nanami had in the trailer reminded me of the safeword audio, it’s definitely his reaction when finds out you’ve been touching yourself without his permission 😩

Anon, you are SO RIGHT, and for that, I wrote a little something. In case anyone is curious, THIS is the audio anon is referring to (reddit link, 18+). It is SO GOOD. It actually gets so tender and sweet at the end, but I did not recreate that for this little piece LOL. Anyways, ily anon for your brilliant brain. I love the idea of getting caught in the act, I am SO here for it. Also, I’m going feral over mean!Nanami. This is barely edited or proofread. This is a result of my carnal desires for him taking over my fingers without a care in the world. I’m throwing feminism out the window temporarily for this, sorry ancestors. MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You’re well into your third climax of the night, the vibrator buzzing on the lowest setting on your swollen clit, the exquisite sensations resonating down to the tips of your toes. You’re so sensitive now, basically mush puddled in the sheets, skin damp with sweat, arousal smeared over your loins. There’s nothing playing in the background; no porn, no nsfw audios, not even a dirty picture displayed on your phone screen. All that you have to get you off is the memory of Nanami railing you into the mattress, the same one you’re currently drenched in your slick, pumping his cock in and out of your wet cunt. That’s all you need to get your pussy throbbing, skin prickling, belly fluttering. 

He's not home yet, still out on a mission with Gojo, doing what he does best: protecting people. Is it unfair that he has to work this hard, risking his life, while you’re twisting in the bedsheets, squirming with pleasure from a handheld toy? Maybe not. But what’s the harm in a little mindless release? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Your eyes are shut tight as you descend from your high, vibrator shut off and teetering loosely in your hand, satiated and spent from tonight’s activities. You could fall asleep this instant, but there’s so much to clean up, all the evidence of your naughty deed that you don’t want your husband to discover without explanation. As you’re about to rise up out of bed, you hear the familiar jangle of keys unlocking the front door. Startled, and still a slippery mess, you quickly wipe off the toy, shoving it beneath the pillow. It’s not quick enough because just as you look up, Nanami is already standing at the doorframe of your bedroom, scowling. 

Like a bit from a comedy movie, you twiddle your fingers innocently, completely naked and exposed on the bed. “Hi honey,” you greet, slowly pulling the covers over your body. You smile at him, acting like he hasn’t already caught you in the act. He doesn’t respond, expression serious. Dangerous.

Heat rushes into your cheeks, increasingly nervous by his lack of reaction. “Kento, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sauntering towards you. “You tell me,” he mutters, sitting at the edge of the bed, studying you carefully. 

You swallow loudly, mouth coated in your saliva. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh?” It sounds like he’s teasing you. Toying with you. You shudder with anticipation as he reaches over, hand slipping under the pillow, retrieving your vibrator. He waves it at you. “What’s this, then?”

Another noisy gulp before you answer, “My vibrator.”

His eyes narrow, his free hand tugging the blanket off you slowly, inspecting your body from your face, chest, then between your legs, squeezed together, hiding your arousal. “What were you doing while I was away?” he asks, resting his hands on your knees, spreading you apart. “Were you being a bad girl?” 

There’s no need for a verbal answer, because as soon as his eyes fixate on your aching pussy, he already knows. “So, you have been a bad girl. Look at you, all wet and swollen already.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as you hide your embarrassed face behind your hand, barely peeking at him between your fingers. “You didn’t even have the decency to clean up.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, limbs trembling, yearning for him to touch you. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” he repeats, mocking you. “You fuck yourself while I’m working and all you can say is sorry?”

“I – ”, you choke on your own spit, rendering you speechless. 

“It seems that you forgot, so let me remind you one last time: This is my pussy. Not yours. Mine. You don’t get to play with it without my permission.” He sighs, hands sliding languidly down your thighs, prodding at the tender skin. “Such a dirty girl. What am I going to do with you?”

You moan, longing to feel his fingers, his cock, anything inside you. “Baby, please.”

He licks his lips, hungry eyes focused on your sopping cunt. “I guess it’s my job to clean up this mess.” He leans forward, tongue lapping at your sensitive bud, swirling circles around it, puckering his lips to suck. “Such a slutty pussy. So sloppy and wet for me.”

You squirm above him, pleasure stimulating your every nerve. “Fuck!” you cry out, lost in the ecstasy. 

His low chuckle vibrates against your clit, pinched between his lips. “How many times did you come from this toy? Once? Twice?”

You grip his hair between your fingers, shoving his face deeper. “Three times!” you stutter.

“And you’re still so fucking horny for me, huh?” He slides his tongue up and down your folds, collecting your slick on his tongue, drinking you up. “I’m going to have to do better than that toy then for you to learn your lesson.”

The need to be used and manhandled by him overtakes you. It doesn’t matter how much you touched yourself earlier. All you can think about is how much you need to be touched by him. How badly you need his cock inside you. How insanely desperate you are for his cum to fill you up. 

So you take it. Every lick, every suck, his fingers inside you, curled and hitting that sweet spot that only he can reach. His cock bullying you into submission, body weak and pliant from overstimulation, yielding to his every thrust like his own personal cock sleeve. All the while, he moans into your ear, constantly muttering the same reminder to you. 

“This is my pussy. All fucking mine.”

[eccentricallygothic]

The Interrogation

Pairing: Captain America!Steve Rogers | Villain!Reader.

Description: Steve had finally caught you, and he knew just how to make you talk.

Warning(s): Dark undertones because it's me, interrogation through fucking, unprotected p-in-v intercourse, slapping, spanking, pinching, biting, exhibitionism, cock riding, dacryphilia, overstimulation and mentioned orgasm denial, hair pulling, degradation. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request (anon), here. 

Note: Villains in general are my jam so I loved this. Sorry this is so late. Hope you like it still <3

.

Half a choked gasp fluttered past your lips as the remaining half was eaten by the sob you let out right after, droplets of the tears that stained your stinging cheeks spraying out from the vibration of the sound waves escaping your mouth.

“Please!” Your back arched and a vein in your thighs twitched, causing the limb to start jittering as your knees pushed deeper into the chair your impaler was relaxing against while you cried and mutilated your dignity in front of all the main S.H.I.E.L.D staff that were cloaked behind the two-way mirror of the interrogation room. “Oh!” Your hair whipped a near revolution around your lolling head when your defiler's rough fingers cracked against your soft and wet cheek once more. 

Your pussy was so stretched. Oh… The consciousness of how Steve Roger's cock had your intimates spread so wide around his hot, leaking and stone hard cock made you feel uneasy when you imagined the state of your entrance. Despite how the contact of his palm felt against your face, the manner in which he so humiliatingly deprived you of such a basic bodily function as breathing, the infuriating condensation with which he pinched and fondled your exposed chest and the sheer degradation in the way he did all this in front of his people for no good reason than making you rat, you only clenched harder and slapped your ass against his muscular thighs faster. Your tears flowed at the same rate as the speed with which you imparted upon him the information that was so dear to your ambitions. 

The ratting was not the worst part though.

No.

That was the fact that despite your initial attempts to make it look like you were unwilling, that the cruel Captain was forcing his depraved will onto you, that S.H.I.E.L.D was nothing but a bunch of glorified goons, your tears were not of disgust or denial, much to your own surprise. 

Rather, they were ones of pure, bubbling and desperate need; frustration.

For just one more orgasm. Another bittersweet climax to add to the many you had had ever since Steve saw through your design; took matters into his own hands. Yet another chase through the agony of your swollen petals squelching and sucking away at the painfully prominent veins of his dick.

“Say it for me, brat” his smooth deep voice cut through you like needle penetrates cotton. Your loins closed in on themselves. So close. “Tell your Captain the name” with the way his cold blue eyes that drowned in the nimbostratus of his lust watched you, his rough fingers groped your spanked ass and guided your aching hips into yet another oscillation on his cock, your fucked out brain was forced to register his words as the only truth you knew; the only law that existed.

“C- Captain!” The word faintly stung your tongue as the mind unleashes a sensory revolt against one who betrays his conditioning. “C- Cap–!” It was the result of his torturing you before granting you your first orgasm of the session that you had willingly shattered your own dignity and accepted his command as well as title. 

Were you really to blame?

When it hurt this good?

“Say it for me, baby” he nearly whispered the pet name as he sat up straighter and pressed his nose to yours to steal a rough kiss which your hair hid from everyone else, one of his manly hands abandoning their station on your hip to trail up the side of your body to find a grip between the strands of your hair and against your scalp. You cried harder as your head collapsed against his. The readjustment of his body had pushed him balls deep inside you. “Say it for your Captain and he will give you what you need most” and that was all you needed to hear before you gave out the name of the brains of your operation. 

Steve didn't have to. He really didn't. It was the disdainful curl of Fury's lip that proved it. But the Captain finally brought his muscular thighs into motion and rocked his hips to abuse your sensitive spot with his tip so to make you cry, his fingers pulled your head back and out of his way so he could latch his hot lips onto that one spot that he had discovered right under your ear, his other hand now departed from your hips because his own had taken over, and his thumb glided over your cunt in a way that made your melted brain spin. Your myopic vision gyrated and an animalistic cry rose up from your aching epiglottis. It was barely audible but full of the hot air that your tense lungs had been compressing. 

Your weak body nearly keeled over and hit the ground from the orgasm that quaked through your muscles and organs. You shivered and shuddered, your arched form hanging from his cock that his strong legs bounced you on furiously. It was all so much. Too much. You had reached a point where the sharp and barbaric bite of his teeth on your erect nipples was barely noticeable to you because of how fugue you had become on his cock.

Your brain shut down. Whatever happened next was nothing but blurry glimpses of fleeting moments that raced by you. Every second felt like an eternity and the pulling of your limbs and the unbearable echoing of voices inside your head made you wince. You grunted and whined when your sex disconnected from the base of your impaler's cock with a pop loud enough that even you registered it.

You felt your body being dragged. The cells. You didn't have to see it to know it. They were the only fate of your like in this organization. You took a mindless glance behind you and a number of thoughts wormed their way into your disintegrated consciousness.

Did the Captain stare at every offender's dragging away with that primal hunger in his cold blue eyes? Was it routine for his own personal team to deprive a prisoner of their clothes without providing them with a uniform in their stead? Were all your fellow inmates suspended to the ceiling with their hands handcuffed to the chain hanging from it? Was solitary confinement necessary for all new convicts?

Or was it a special courtesy bestowed solely upon you by the Captain and his team? 

Something told you that you would find out.

And very soon.

[yourdadsbasement]

omg this dog playing with a cheetah is the cutest thing i have ever seen

they are children

oh boy Koki's trying to restock, i'm girding my loins

see what happens when you don't think more than two minutes into the future?

hahahahaha deserved

lmao Chris is NOT confident about what Martin has planned for him, but i personally am always happy to see gazelle Chris

haha that is what it is

bang-up job, guys

brothers who share one brain cell

would you buy a used car from these men?

Pig Power would be a great roller derby name

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut w/o plot, rough p in v, oral (f & m receiving), wry & dom Dabi, f!reader, a lot of cursing and names calling, slapping, a little degradation, hate s*x Synopsis: arranging a birthday celebration for Dabi proved to be a mistake. It ignited his anger, driving him to his room in a fit of rage. When anger transformed into desire, Dabi insisted on celebrating in his own way, marking the first intimate encounter between the two of you A/N: the prompt was Dabi's first time with his girlfriend is on his birthday This marks the last story crafted in celebration of Dabi's birthday 💜

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST DABI'S BIRTHDAY EVENT

"You little cunt!" Dabi's voice thundered, a venomous edge cutting through the air. He didn't bother casting a glance in your direction.

In response to the verbal assault, you jerked your hand free from his grip. "What's the matter this time, Mr. Know-It-All? I merely intended to throw you a pleasant birthday celebration, and you act as though I threatened to annihilate your entire family!"

Dabi scoffed dismissively, striding purposefully toward his room. "Do you think I'd give a damn fuck if you did? Of course not. And I thought I made myself crystal clear — I want no bloody celebrations. I detest my birthday. I despise the very notion of being born. What is so challenging for your tiny, stupid brain to comprehend?"

A disbelieving sigh escaped your lips. While you were well aware of his aversion to birthdays, the magnitude of his anger caught you off guard. Baking him a cake and orchestrating a modest gathering with the assistance of Toga and Shigaraki seemed like a harmless gesture to celebrate his existence, yet it had evidently ignited an unexpected fury.

Dabi came to an abrupt halt and glanced back at you, seizing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. "No response, huh?" he sneered. "Fine, little cunt. So, you're keen on celebrating the day this damn pathetic villain, murderer, and arsonist was born? Well, we'll celebrate it, but we'll do it my damn way."

He forcibly pulled you behind him, and despite your inner desire to break free from his grip, the futility of any attempt was evident – he wielded a strength far surpassing your own.

Dabi swung open the door to his room and shoved you inside, the harsh sound of the door slamming shut resonating through the air as he entered, sealing the room in an oppressive silence.

In the midst of the heated altercation, the details of the argument eluded your memory. A palpable anger still hung in the air, the exchange of words escalating to a fever pitch.

Your gaze shifted toward Dabi, poised to retort, but the intensity in his turquoise eyes arrested your words. The pulsating vein in the black-haired man's neck became a focal point, a magnetic force compelling your desire to quell its frenetic rhythm with a kiss.

His recognition of the unspoken yearning reflected in your face halted his verbal assault, leaving his mouth slightly ajar.

In that suspended moment, the impulse to crush your lips against his neck overwhelmed you. You yearned to soothe the frenetic heartbeat beneath the surface.

As if reading your intentions, Dabi seized you abruptly, drawing you into the circle of his robust arms. It was as if he had glimpsed into the depths of your desires, a skill he wielded with uncanny accuracy. In that instant, he kissed you with the intensity you had yearned for, the clash of tongues mirroring the earlier verbal sparring. The taste of anger mingled with a surprising sweetness, and your body ignited with a white-hot desire, a fervor that only Dabi could unleash. The searing sensation surged from your chest down to your thighs, awakening every inch of your being.

You had sensed the fire kindling in Dabi's loins, the hardness growing almost instantly, and his whole body turning super hot due to his quirk.

Dabi grasped a handful of your hair, yanking your head back, and engaged in a fervent exchange of kisses, licks, and nips, each touch eliciting moans of pleasure from your slightly bruised, parted lips.

The yearning became unbearable, compelling you to crave the feel of Dabi's skin against yours. Almost as if he had divined your thoughts, he leaned back, swiftly discarding his shirt through his hair. His hands reached for your blouse, and with a forceful yank, he tore it open, sending buttons scattering across the tiny room. Despite the intimidating aura that surrounded Dabi, you harbored no fear.

Even though you were aware of his desires, the topic about sex was returning like a boomerang, resurfacing every few days. It had been over half a year since you both became a thing, yet you had not crossed the threshold into a physical relationship, and this restraint was gradually driving Dabi to the brink of madness. You suspected that today's outbursts were fueled, in part, by the previous night's rejection when, amidst a heated make-out session, you had declined his advances as his hand ventured into your shorts, teasing your folds through the fabric of your knickers.

Yet now, a curious mixture of emotions surged within you. Somehow, you found yourself yearning for him with an intensity that defied explanation. Despite no longer being a virgin, a concern lingered about the potential discomfort of engaging in sex with Dabi.

Dabi's lips sought yours once more as he simultaneously released the front clasp of your sheer bra. He took one of your nipples into his mouth, the exquisite pain of his teeth on your flesh intensifying the smoldering embers between your legs into a searing white-hot flame of desire.

"Dabi..." you whined loudly, rolling your head back, resting it against the wall, slipping one of your hands into his hair.

His impatient hands slipped under your skirt in a quest to discover your most sensitive spot. The intensity of his anger and desire surged as his hand encountered obstacles on its journey - your panties. Finally, locating the waistband, Dabi forcefully burnt your panties away, being careful enough to not hurt you. Free from the hindrance, his hungry fingers found what they sought.

Dabi inserted a finger into your wetness, gliding it upward over your swollen clit after finger fucking you for a moment, eliciting moans of ecstasy from you. Simultaneously, his lips continued their exploration, savoring the taste of yours, tracing a path from your lips to your earlobes and down to your neck. "Fucking little cunt," he sneered. "I'll certainly educate you on how I desire my birthday to be celebrated. Perhaps it will penetrate that thick, stupid skull of yours at last, you little whore."

Your moans of pleasure intensified, your hands exploring the contours of Dabi's body. His skin felt sensuous and super warm beneath your fingertips. Before long, your hands discovered his pierced nipple. Gently, you pinched it, coaxing a primal sound from Dabi's lips as he worked diligently on marking your neck, signaling to the world that you belonged to him.

The heightened arousal compelled you to push him away slightly. You replaced your fingers with your mouth after leaning forward, nipping and licking his chest. The tip of your tongue traced along his tensed muscles, whether concealed beneath healthy skin or adorned with scars and purple patches, relishing the taste that was undeniably manly and salty, yet sweet as nectar to your senses.

Dabi's fingers fucked you more, and had rendered you incredibly wet, your clitoris throbbing with anticipation, swollen with both pleasure and need. Seizing your chin in his hand, Dabi kissed you roughly, propelling you back against the wall. He then descended to his knees, lifting your skirt, and trailed his tongue up one thigh and then the other, savoring the juices that had escaped during the fervor of his fingers' endeavors.

Dabi's warm tongue resumed its task, leisurely stroking your sweet, swollen spot. He inserted a finger, moving in and out, synchronizing the motion with the skilled strokes of his tongue. His tongue circled around your sticky clit, while his finger worked diligently to pleasure your pussy. Suddenly, he sucked on it with a hunger reminiscent of a baby latching onto its mother's breast. Your moans grew louder, the sensation of his sucking propelling you closer to the edge, teetering on the brink of no return.

"Yes, Dabi, oh! Just like that!" you gasped, attempting to keep him in the spot to grind your pussy against his face, but Dabi swatted your hands away and rose to meet your gaze.

His eyes mirrored yours, smoky with unbridled lust. "Oh, no, no, little dirty slut. Not yet. No matter how you beg, you'll come when I say," he declared, denying you the release you sought as he asserted control over your pleasure. "Suck me off like a good slut and I'll think of rewarding you."

The overwhelming urge to taste the most manly of flavors had consumed you, leading your hands to fumble with Dabi's thick, white belt. Finally releasing it, the snap and zipper undone, you descended to your knees in front of him, pushing down his dark pants. Dabi's hardened member sprung free, pulsating with the burning lust, a little pearl of precum adorned the slit of its tip. Your cheeks reddened upon noticing the piercing just beneath the tip. Your tongue explored his shaft, moving around and under, tracing the prominent vein, finally reaching the head and swirling around it. It was moist, and the salty flavor was a delightful sensation, spilling all over your tongue. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you took him between your swollen lips, bobbing your head back and forth eagerly, moaning around him.

Dabi's sharp intake of breath signaled the pleasure coursing through him as he felt your lips on his dick. "That's it, dirty whore, suck that fat cock."

You sucked and licked, the intensity of his moans guiding the rhythm of your movements. The sweet labor of tasting your boyfriend drove you into a state of pure ecstasy.

With a resounding pop sound, you withdrew his dick from your mouth, using one hand to jerk it, spreading your saliva across the length of his shaft. Pressing the erect member against his abdomen, you then lowered your head to cradle his heavy balls in your mouth, delicately pressing on them with your tongue.

"Fuck," he growled, closing his eyes for a moment. "You're a fucking whore. My private fuck toy. You're nothing more than a whore, spreading your legs so willingly f'me right now. Look at you. And two days ago you were whining that you're not ready to let me fuck you just yet. Pathetic."

His lewd words elicited a moan from you as you resumed the task of sucking his cock. Ensuring to swirl your tongue around the head, you then proceeded to kiss along the vein running beneath the shaft before you pushed his dick back into your mouth, bobbing your head eagerly.

Suddenly, Dabi reached down, seizing your arm and pulling you up. "Enough, cunt. Time to fuck that pretty, little cunt, yeah?"

"I am so ready for you to fill my belly with your fat cock, daddy," your words quivered with desire.

Dabi grinned wryly. "You're a pathetic bitch, princess. You think with your fucking cunt. So disappointing."

Pressed against the wall, Dabi gripped one of your legs, lifting it up. In one fluid motion, he drove his cock deep inside you, easily bottoming out in your pussy.

"Dabi!" Your scream of pleasure echoed long and loud as the painful stretch overwhelmed your mind.

He lifted your other leg, picking you off the floor, impaling you against the wall, never losing the rhythmic, frantic thrusts.

One of your hands glided down from Dabi's shoulder to your wet clit, skillfully massaging it as he thrust into your pussy. He felt like a white-hot spear inside your pussy. You and Dabi stared into each other's eyes. Both your hands now rested on Dabi's shoulders. You arched your back, rolling your hips in his embrace to synchronize with each of his strokes. "More, more, more!" you begged, your tone pathetic.

Dabi encircled his arm around your ass, using his free hand to deliver a sharp slap to your face. "Look at me, bitch! Look at me!"

It proved challenging for you to maintain focus on his face, especially with every forceful thrust causing the aggressive tip of his cock to brush and nudge all the right spots deep within you. "I… I can't, D… Da…"

He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, responding by slapping your other cheek. "I. Said. Look. At. Me!"

Moaning unabashedly, like a cheap whore you apparently were in that moment, you gazed at him through teary eyes. The singular thought that occupied your mind was the anticipation of his cum, filling you to the brim.

Dabi intensified his rhythm, his buttocks flexing with each forceful thrust. He nibbled on the column of your neck, emitting guttural grunts. "Fucking bitch. Your cunt belongs to me. You belong to me. You fucking naughty whore."

In the final few thrusts, as Dabi's movements became increasingly erratic, he reached the peak of his release within the warmth of your pussy. "Take it, bitch, take it, take it," he growled through gritted teeth. The temperature of his skin soared, accompanied by wisps of dark smoke and the faint scent of burning flesh as he briefly lost the grip on his Blueflame quirk.

His hot seed spilled into your pussy, intensifying your own climax as your pussy clenched tightly around his throbbing shaft. "Dabi!!!" you screamed, the overwhelming sensations pushing you to the brink of consciousness, making it difficult to catch your breath.

Dabi lowered one of your legs, and then the other. Clinging to each other, you leaned against the wall, neither trusting your legs to support you. Dabi's semen mixed with your juices slowly traced down your shaking legs, leaving a trail of slickness in its wake.

Dabi cradled your chin between his thumb and forefinger, planting a tender kiss on your lips. "Now, you've been the good girl you are, princess. Satisfied with the fucking celebration?"

You trailed a series of soft kisses along the contours of his sharp jawline. "Yes, but… are you still upset with me, Dabi?"

Dabi scoffed, theatrically rolling his eyes. "No. I fucked away all the stress, yeah?"

"You burned my favorite panties," you complained, making a sad face.

He leaned down to hoist his pants back up, tucking his flaccid cock back into its confines and adjusting them before fastening the belt. "I'll buy you a new pair, just stop whining."

Dabi flopped onto his bed, sliding both hands under his head as he gazed up at the cracks on the ceiling.

Climbing onto the bed, you curled into a ball by his side, resting your head on his chest, attuning yourself to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I'm sorry for riling you up."

"It's fine," he grumbled. "Let's not talk about that, doll."

A few moments of silence hung in the air before you whispered, "I just want you to know that I genuinely love you, every fiber of your being."

Dabi remained unresponsive initially, but after a prolonged and piercing silence, he wrapped his arm around you, leisurely stroking your shoulder. "Thanks, doll face. I love you too."

[buckets-and-trees]

Okay this sparked my whore brain, so! Which CE!water monster babe (but sexy lollll) emerges from the depths of the lake, so beyond thirsty, and has you on the shore over and over again until his thirst is quenched? 😏

Siri, I've thought about this for the last week since you dropped it in my box...

That imagery is GORGEOUS!

And perhaps that's why you were drawn in and totally unaware of the predicament you were putting yourself in...

Bolotnik Curtis spends most of his time in the cold, dark bottoms of the lake, but the humans nearby have been encroaching more and more on the territory of his people with their shipping trade, affecting their way of life below the water's surface.

content/warnings: NON-CON TO DUB-CON, kidnapping, deflowering, vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, teratophilia/monster fucking, tail sex, nipple play, breast worship, tail riding, cock warming, light cum play, finger sucking, anal play, breeding/no protection, breeding kink, somnophilia

He emerges from the lake a few times to take stock of the situation.

A human village, but none of them seem particularly foul - merely unaware of him and his people.

He can easily inspire fear and cooperation.

And when he sees you, daughter of one of the elders, he now not only knows how he will do it, but relishes in the possibility.

Curtis helps the medicinal flowers to flourish even more abundantly than usual on the shores of the lake. It draws you and a few others to take on the regular foraging and collection of them.

One of the evenings when you go out to collect, he draws you away from your companions by creating tiny, sparkling lights that hover and dance over the surface of the water, drawing you closer to the edge and further down the lakeshore line until you're alone.

You had come out so many evenings now that you weren't at all worried about being separated from your companions.

Tonight was like any other night.

Except that it wasn't.

Curtis had watched you more than once.

Had been waiting.

Because tonight was not like any other night.

Tonight he could smell that you were at the peak of your fertility cycle.

And so he finally emerges from the watery shadows of the shoreline, hoists you effortlessly over his shoulder, and his tail wraps around your mouth to smother your sounds of protest and fear.

Once he's pulled you into the cluster of trees, you're both hidden from view, and he puts you none to gently on the ground.

"We should be far enough away no one would hear you, but scream and I'll make you regret it."

But the hulking creature looming above you is so fearsome and alluring that it has your brain stuck for how exactly you should react at all, so your nod to be silent is all you can manage.

Parts of him are covered in mud and algae, but there are also luminescent fish scales over patches of his skin.

Skin you see much more of within seconds as he rips away his clothing, and you find yourself laying beneath a broad chest with rippling muscles that taper down to a narrower waist and his bare loins, and the hard cock that waits there has your suck in a sharp breath and look back up into his eyes in fear.

He wipes a tear away from your cheek. "I would tell you not to fret, but I do intend to use your body until even after your last ounce of energy has been expended, sweet virgin. But perhaps at some point this night, you'll cry in ecstasy instead of fear."

He thumbs away another tear, but then that thumb draws down your neck, over your collar bone, and then his hand pulls at the neckline of your simple blouse, popping buttons off, until your breasts are bared for his eager mouth.

While he lavishes feverish attention to one nipple, then the other, and back and forth again, making you writhe beneath him, his free hand pushes your skirts up, and between his hand and his tail, he rips your bloomers to shreds.

You cry out as he forces your legs apart.

His fingers play with your labia until your clit is stiff and pulsing and you're hole is slick and wet for him.

But its the tip of his tail that slips into your vagina first, and you whimper, but he's insistent in his motions. His lips and his fingers work to drive you to distractions of pleasure.

And once he switches his tail for his cock, it's still a painful breach, but one that has you arching beneath him on a silent scream, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He sheathes himself fully inside of you, but only gives a few slow ruts in and out, rocking his hips, wanting you to be filled and feel the intrusion of his cock. Once settled, your painful grip on his arms relaxes slightly, and that's when he goes to work making you forget that you hadn't wanted or asked for this.

He rubs little circles over your clit until your walls clench and you shake with your first orgasm.

He slips his fingers into your gasping mouth and rests them on your tongue, forcing you to suck on them and taste your own juices.

The sucking soothes and lulls you into being more pliant for him. He fingers you to another orgasm, and when your second one crests and breaks, so does the rest of his lust.

He fucks you into the ground. He rolls you over and takes you from behind. He leans up against the tree and has you ride him. He torments your clit with his tail. At various points in the night, that tail also teases the tight ring of muscle between your plump ass cheeks, which he relishes in kneading.

He relishes in kneading and sucking all the spots of tender, warm flesh on your body.

You fall asleep on his chest, thoroughly exhausted, his cock still inside of you.

In the middle of the night, you wake up to his long tongue between your legs, plunging into your core, and his moans speak to his approval of the taste of your combined spend.

You whimper, and he raises his head.

"This night is far from over," he promises. "You will continue to take my seed until the dawn breaks, because I will have you growing with my child this night."

Boneless and exhausted as you are, he moves your body to his whims and desires. He has you riding his thigh, riding his tail, begging for him to fill your aching hole even though you know you shouldn't want more, but he's experimenting and ultimately exploiting every pleasurable spot of your human body, driving you to crave and keen for him.

He spills his seed into you more times than any human man could in one night.

When he draws you into the water not long before dawn, you whine when he makes to slide you off of his cock, your arms tightening around his neck and your legs around his waist. He chuckles in dark satisfaction.

"Pushed you past pleasure and into desperation, my sweet little human? Can't think of not being split open by my cock?"

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, lust and confusion battling out in your head.

He cleans you as well as he can, then carries you back to the secluded spot in the trees and lays you down on your side.

He holds you against him, petting you, cooing into your ear until he lulls you back to sleep as the sunlight breaks.

And just before you lose consciousness, he vows to come back for what's his against your brow and seals his ominous promise with one more dangerous, intoxicating kiss.

go to the fic this inspired: Never Going Back

Well... um.

I certainly didn't know exactly how that answer would go when I started, but here we are. 🥵

A/N: I wanted to do a water creature that really spoke to the imagery Siri sent in the original ask, so I scoped out some Wikipedia and ended up doing a very rough base off of the Slavic Bolotnik. So it's a "real" mythical creature with its own folklore.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[seven-seas-of-rhye-bread]

Ahh... Lucius Verus x F!OC

Sorry for the lame title, but my brain is exhausted from writing this fic.

This was inspired by that scene in the beginning of the movie when he's sitting in that bath-- it was so rude that it only lasted a minute!!

Warning: Pure smut ahead, 18+, minors DNI please!!

Disclaimer: I am but a dreamy horny bitch, this is not historically accurate besides what I could google ( and I only read the top result, so who knows how accurate). I am here for a GOOD time not an ACCURATE time.

P.S. sorry it ends abruptly, I'm chronically bad at endings, weee.....

P.P.S-- only lightly proof read, my b

xx

Cassia stood over the amphora straining the oil from the herbs and flowers it had been stewing with. An intoxicating bloom of iris, myrrh and cinnamon floated up from the mixture and she inhaled deeply. She might be a lowly servant at Rome's most exclusive thermae, but whenever she strained the oil Cassia liked to think she smelled like an empress. 

Alba, another thermae servant, opened the door and peered around it.

"Cassia? You're needed." 

"I'm needed?" She asked, confusion clouding her face. She was never needed-- there were plenty of servants, why would someone need her specifically? Unless-- oh. It was him. The champion gladiator, Hanno. Her heart quickened, remembering the last time he was there. 

It was after his first victory, he was treated to the best private caldarium in the baths. When she first laid eyes on Hanno he was standing in the middle of the room, facing the bath beyond him, the steam rising from the hot water. He was still dressed for battle, and his shoulders rose and fell with quick breaths as if he was still fighting. Cassia was silent as she made her way into the room, as servants were only to serve and not to speak unless spoken to. As she reached up to undo his armor, Hanno snatched her wrist and turned towards her. His eyes were wild with rage and confusion. Cassia wanted to cry out in pain, his grip was more than strong, but she remained silent, afraid someone would hear. 

In a moment he realized where he was-- that he was not in the coliseum and she was not another gladiator intent on killing him. Hanno's eyes softened with concern and fear as he let go of her wrist and saw the red imprint that would soon bruise. 

"I--I'm so sorry. I didn't mean--" his words trailed off as his hand fell back by his side. 

"It's alright." she assured him with a quiet and calm voice, though her wrist ached already.

"Is it okay if I..." Cassia started to reach up to his armor again. Hanno nodded and turned back to face the pool. She was careful with him, noting the way he winced as she raised up his arms and took off the heavy chest plate. She averted her eyes to the side as she removed his belt and loin cloth, before kneeling to remove his shin guards. 

Cassia stepped back, putting his armor and cloth aside. Hanno stepped cautiously, painfully down the stone steps into the water. He hissed as he fully submerged himself in the cerulean water, a trail of blood leading from the wound on his shoulder. 

Cassia blushed when Hanno let out a satisfied, relaxed moan as he sat back against the side of the pool. She had done this time and time again when there were games happening at the Coliseum, but she had never felt bashful like this before. She stood quietly in the corner-- her eyes fixed on the mosaic floors. 

After a long moment Hanno spoke, "what's your name?" 

"Cassia" she answered quietly, her eyes lifting to meet his. 

"Cassia..." he repeated, his eyes looking heavy, now that he was relaxed. He winced when he reached up to his hair that was matted with sweat, dirt and blood. 

She went over to the  edge of the bath, taking a small amphora from the bathing kit, filling it up in the pool and pouring it over his head. A small moan escaped Hanno's lips causing a flush to creep up Cassia's face. He was sitting at an awkward angle from her so she pulled him closer to her and poured more water over him, massaging the grime from his hair. Cassia took a small palmful of clay shampoo, and worked it into his hair. His head was lofty in her care, lolling around in the sublime comfort of being bathed. 

After his hair was clean, she positioned Hanno's head back to rest on a rolled towel and took a wet cloth wiping it gently at the blood and dirt caked on his face. She thought he had fallen asleep, but then his eyes fluttered open. Hanno reached up and tucked a loose strand of her flaxen hair behind her ear. It was such a gentle action from someone who had just killed multiple competitors. Cassia could see in that moment, he wasn't meant for violence.

Hanno pulled her face gently down and kissed her. It was deep but soft at the same time, and she would have continued kissing him, if her arm that was propping her up didn't slip on the wet stone ledge and land in the water. The hot water brought Cassia back to where she was-- and what she was doing. She stood up quickly, an embarrassing crimson shadowing her face. 

"I- I have to go," she said as she avoided Hanno's gaze which followed her as she laid out towels and a clean tunic for him. 

It had been more than a fortnight since that day, and Cassia avoided him at every one of his visits since then. Though she would be lying if she said she didn't take note that he refused assistance from any other servant, a fact that quelled a jealousy she didn't know she could feel for someone after one kiss. And now, tonight-- Hanno was asking for her. 

Cassia tried to keep her breathing calm and even as she walked down the Portico to the private bath he occupied, but her heart was beating too fast to breathe calmly. 

She knocked gently before entering the caldarium, forcing herself to meet his gaze in the candlelight. He was already in the pool, sitting in the corner, his arm hanging over the side.

Cassia didn't know what to say, nor if she should speak at all. Hanno watched her intently as she stood before the bath, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted. 

"Sit" he ordered in a quiet voice and she obeyed, taking a seat on the ledge. 

Hanno sat up, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. He slowly reached for her hands, bringing them to his face, inhaling deeply. 

"Your hands smell... like a goddess's," he said after a moment. 

Cassia smiled to herself, "I was making bath oil..." 

"Sorry to have pulled you away from your task..." he said with an air of cheekiness as he once again relaxed back against the side. 

He asked, "what are your duties with me?"

"my duties?" Cassia asked, her eyebrows lifting slightly.

"What are you to do for me?" he rephrased his question.

She bit her lip and looked down to the bathing kit that sat by the ledge. 

"I'm to assist you with bathing..." she answered, surprised that she was not as intimidated by such a suggestive question.

Hanno smiled at her, "so you're not to join me? You cannot bathe with me?" 

Cassia shook her head, but a hint of a smile couldn't help but grace her lips. 

"Would you get in trouble?" Hanno asked, reaching out to touch the collar of her tunic. 

"I... I don't know, but I don't think my master would be pleased" 

He then looked her in the eyes and asked, " aren't I your master in this room?" 

She was at a loss for words, but that was no matter as he sat up and kissed her. It was more intense than their first kiss, more desperate and hungry, and it lit a fire in her.

"Join me..." Hanno whispered enticingly, his breath hot and ticklish on her ear. 

Cassia stood up, her heart beating wildly as she walked back to the door. She hesitated for just a second before locking the door. When she turned back towards Hanno he was smiling. 

She undressed slowly, enjoying the way he watched so intently, she could tell he was stroking himself as she got fully naked and walked towards the pool, descending slowly into the hot water. Cassia had never been in a bath that was warmer than tepid, and she gasped as she fully submerged herself in the water. 

Hanno reached out and pulled her into him, his leg resting between hers. She could feel the length of his cock against her thigh, instantly making her wet and lusty with desire. He moved her over to the ledge and with a small gasp from her lips, he lifted her up onto it and went between her legs, spreading them. Hanno looked up at Cassia as he planted a slow kiss on her inner thigh, and another and another before licking a strip up her wet lips. 

Cassia moaned, her eyes shutting tightly as he began working her with his tongue. She wasn't inexperienced in sex persay, but a man had seldom done this to her-- they typically only cared of their own pleasure. She felt Hanno separating her lips with his fingers before slipping one finger and then another inside her. Cassia gasped and covered her mouth, afraid that someone could have heard in the relative quiet of the thermae at night. 

She felt blinded with ecstasy as Hanno continued to lap at her and move his fingers in and out. Before long Cassia was seeing stars, and slowing Hanno's hand-- her orgasm rising through her so intensely she instantaneously became sensitive. She let herself breath for a moment, coming down from the high as he placed gentle kisses on her thighs once more. 

Cassia slid back into the pool, her head still swimming with the intense orgasm. Hanno grasped her hips and pulled her into him again, letting Cassia taste herself on his lips. She felt oddly delirious with desire for him, her orgasm making her hungry for more of him.

Hanno rested back against the side of the pool and Cassia wrapped her legs around his waist. He angled himself into her, and he cried out at his first thrust, burying his face into her neck, biting gently at her soft wet skin. 

Cassia rocked her hips back and forth, his cock stretching her walls with the slightest bit of pain that soon turned into nothing but pure pleasure. Hanno fingers dug into her fleshy hips, pulling her up and down on his cock, slowly and rhythmically, as if trying to make it last forever. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his wet curls, their kisses gentle but still hungry, as if neither of them could get enough. 

Hanno's thrusts became frantic while still deep, ramming his length into the very depth of her cunt so that she felt breathless at each one. He came with a stifled cry into Cassia's neck and she could feel all his muscles tense with his orgasm under her touch. They stayed still for a long moment like that, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing and the water trickling down from their skin. Cassia eventually pulled herself off of Hanno, and settled down next to him, his strong arms strung around her shoulders. 

They stayed just like that for some time, not saying anything, just being with each other. She felt like she could fall asleep in his arms, and with a slight pang in the pit of her stomach, she actually wished she could. 

[pinguwrites]

The Doll's Burial ⸻ Jonathan Crane

READ DISCLAIMER

pairing | jonathan crane x reader

summary | You knew Jonathan Crane was meant for you from the moment you laid your eyes on him — a brilliant man, filled with wit and curiosity and youth. So perfect, in fact, that you have to take him away from the rest of the world and make him yours, your darling doll. He’ll like it, won’t he?

word count | 9k

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, dark!reader, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, reader’s delusional and sick and sadistic but sweet ig, religious (specifically Christian) disdain from Jon , murder/torture towards jon/in general, jon isn’t scarecrow au, slightly ooc jon, p in v sex, househusband!jonathan, PROCEED WITH CAUTION - DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Disclaimer: This is part of my unfinished works. I don't write anymore, but I still wanted to publish what I have. I'll use bullet points to explain what I planned to happen at the end. Also note that this is heavily unedited, there will be a lot of mistakes.

i.

You didn’t know what beauty was until you met Jonathan Crane that fateful winter’s night, a night where the season’s gentle touch had left windows glazed with frost, and the late evening coated in a thick, gloomy darkness. Crystal flakes were falling from the sky onto your body like specks of dust, but it was nothing compared to the way it looked on him, his dark hair contrasting with the white, the snow melting upon the touch of his skin. His breath was coming out in puffs of smoke before dissipating into the bitter air, his square glasses glinting in the light of the street lamps.  

Time had frozen still at that moment, as though your brain had gone numb, much like the cold was numbing your ears and toes and the tips of your fingers. Licking your lips, you observed as the man — whose name you did not know then — glanced at the slim watch on his wrist, shivering ever so slightly as a breeze brushed him by. He was wearing an elegant suit, colored charcoal, the dress shirt underneath thinly striped, and his shoes polished and new, no doubt recently bought. He seemed to be an educated man with wealth, maybe a doctor or lawyer, but you guessed doctor, because he struck you as a scientific mind, curious but practical. 

He wasn’t married, as he had no ring, which led you to believe that his profession took up a lot of his time and effort. After all, how could a man as gorgeous as him not be desired? Even the thought of him in bed with you set your loins alight, not to mention the slightest notion of him being yours until death do us part.  

“Silly,” you had murmured to yourself, though there was a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re thinking too far ahead, like always.”

But it really wasn’t your fault. He was so delightful to look at. Almost like a doll, with his plump pink lips and blush-dusted cheeks. You could imagine it already: a domestic life. He needn’t not lift a finger, not think a single thought, as long as he allowed you to hold him in his arms. How was it that someone who had not done anything at all to warrant such attraction, found himself at the center of your obsessiveness?

There’s something about him. Something different I cannot deny. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, anyone you would ever see in the future. It was strange how humans worked, heart so easily manipulated. What was it that caught your attention in the first place? you wondered. The aesthetic of the scene? His simple presence in the emptiness of the street? Did it even matter anymore, now that you were so hopelessly captured by him?

“Hey, excuse me, ma’am!”

Heart thumping against your chest at the sudden noise, you answered hesitantly, “Yes?”

The man, who was raising his voice so he could be heard across the street, gave you a wary look. “Do you know when the bus will arrive? I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes — the sign said it would arrive at seven.”

“I’m not sure,” you lied. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you. The event felt out of control, like you weren’t sure what was going to happen next. It bothered you, but if anything, this was a sign. A sign that perhaps he was the one. “I’m waiting for it as well,” you continued. “Do you mind if I cross?”

“I don’t.”

After you made sure there were no cars nearby, you walked across the road and finally got your first view of the man, finding his features, his mannerisms, his everything to be just as breathtaking as it was from a distance. He had a relatively low voice, around a medium pitch, and it was grated, almost like a vocal fry. He had these little freckles scattered across his face like distant stars in the sky. If it was possible, you would have plucked out every single one of them to store in a jar.

“I usually don’t take the bus,” you said smoothly, trying to start a conversation, though all you could focus on the way he was looking at you, his gaze piercing and icy, “but my car’s in a workshop. I thought I’d try my luck here before heading to the subway.”

Your car wasn’t in a workshop. It was in the garage parking lot just diagonal of his view. You had only gotten out because you wanted a quick coffee at the local café. Eternally grateful that you spotted him along the way, you weren’t sure what you would have done if you hadn’t. It had only been a few minutes, and you were already in love.

The man hummed in response, not seeming to take much of an interest. “I’m in a similar situation myself . . . I’ll be on my way, then,” he said, clearing his throat. 

He started walking down the sidewalk to the nearest subway station, a walk you knew was going to take about a while. And in those clothes? He was most certainly going to catch a cold. If it was proper to do so, you would have offered him your own coat, but in a city like this, where no one trusted, you didn’t need to make him suspicious of your kindness. People were like animals, small critters. Approaching them too fast would scare them off. You had to be subtle, ease into it before you did anything too rash. 

“Are you coming?” he asked, turning around, waiting for you to follow him. His tone was expectant, and almost humorous, like the thought of you continuing to wait for the bus was amusing to him. It made you amused. There would be work to do with his arrogance when you finally take him away, you made a mental note of that. 

“No,” you responded. “I’ve changed my mind, I’ll have a friend come pick me up.”

“. . . Are you sure?” he pressed, concerned. He was concerned for you. It was so sweet. 

“I’m sure,” you repeated. If you were with him for a second longer you would have gotten down on your knees and proposed. 

He considered your words, then nodded. “Well, have a nice day, ma’am.”

“You as well . . . I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Crane.”

“Jonathan,” you repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with ease. Jon-ah-thun, meaning God has given, gift of God. A gift to you, surely, or why else would he be here, standing in your presence if he wasn’t meant to be taken away? To be polite, you gave him your own name, hoping he liked it as much as you liked his, and simply said, “Have a nice day,” hiding the butterflies inside your stomach that flew around like hail in a blizzard. 

Jonathan Crane, my very own doll.

+++

The chains clinked against the others in the link, the cuffs tugging against the skin, pulled so hard it restricted the blood flow. It was only then the noises stopped, and a defeated sigh left your doll’s lips. His head leaned against the wall and his posture slumped, as though he had given up. It was a shame, too. The sight of him struggling was exhilarating. It filled you with such excitement and arousal that you wished he kept going.

Currently, you were working, with your laptop placed out in front of you on your desk, some oatmeal to your right. The camera system was hooked up to the large monitor, so from here you could watch Jonathan’s movements. He had been awake since the break of dawn, the time he usually got up for work, except he wasn’t at his house today, he was in your basement, body against the cold floor, trembling like a scared bunny.

The planning was the most difficult part of this endevour. You had never actually kidnapped someone before. When you were a child, the local police suspected you in the mutilation of a few small critters in your apartment complex, and in college you were involved in the accidental death of one of your fellow students (he fell down the stairs and hit his head, nothing that anyone could prove was your fault), but to actually kidnap someone was entirely different. 

It would be an ongoing investigation until the case was classified as cold, and even then some cold cases were picked up again after years; you had to make sure no could connect a link, because some people were too narrow-minded to understand how true and unconditional your adoration for him was; and not only that, but the amount of research — or stalking, as some might call it — that you had to do was exhaustive; but really, it was worth it, and Jonathan would fall for you just as you did for him within a few months, maybe a year at most. He would come to realize just how much you cared about him, and just how wonderful your life could be together. Once you arrived at that point, things would flow seamlessly. You had all the precautions in place. Even if he did try and escape, you always had a sedative in your pocket, and all the doors to your house was just as secure on the inside as it was on the outside. 

The only thing you worried about was witnesses. See, Jonathan was usually very careful not to go into secluded alleyways or dingy locations on his own, which made it difficult to take him. So, you had to bump into him in a coffee shop — a coincidence, you had told him — and from there lure him out.  

You sighed lovingly and gazed at Jonathan through the screen, deciding that it was time to bring him breakfast and lay out the ground rules.

After a few more minutes, you crept down the stairs with some food and water, careful not to step on any of the parts that would cause a creaking sound, and unlocked the basement with the passcode. When you opened the door, Jonathan raised his head, scooting his body away from your figure until he backed into a corner.

It was a dingy little place. It used to have carpet, but you removed that in favor of plastic tarp on the floor, nothing that could indefinitely stain the cement underneath. The walls were covered in that as well, and there was no window or clock to let him know the time. There were blankets to the side, and a small toilet to the other corner of the room. It was a good enough place for now. You hated seeing him in these conditions, but only once he proved responsible would you update him to a secured bedroom. At this point in time, he wasn’t capable of understanding things, and would only try to run away if you gave him more freedom. 

Jonathan stayed quiet for a long while, and so did you, but then he scoffed. “I’m not eating that.”

Frowning, you bent down to his level. You placed the bowl in front of him, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and honey filling the stale air. “It's not poisoned, you know that.”

Jonathan did know that. He was smart enough to realize that a person wouldn’t go through all the effort of bringing him here, only to poison him. There needn’t be a conversation over this. He didn’t reach for the bowl yet, but you knew he would when you left. Eventually, hunger would get to him. 

“Are you in love with me?” he asked next.

Yes, yes I am. I love you as true as the air you breathe, as blue as your eyes gleam, and as certain as the beat of your heart. 

“Why do you ask?” you said instead.

“Your eyes are always dilated, you can’t keep them off of me. Not at the bus station, the coffee shop.” He paused. “You’re sick. I’m not in love with you. Whatever fantasy you have is not real.”

“You may not be in love with me now, but you will be soon.”

There was no point in hiding your intentions. 

He scoffed again, head down. “Realize this, I have nothing. Whatever you want from me, I can’t give you.”

Reaching out to him, you rubbed your thumb against his skin. He was cold. Again. 

“You need to learn how to keep warm,” you said, concerned. “There’s some blankets. Use them.”

Jonathan pulled away, though you could tell he wanted you to keep doing that, because for a brief moment he almost leaned into your touch and warmth. So, you did just that. You gripped his chin and forced him to look at you. He put up a bit of a struggle, but in the end, he relented, and let you caress his skin. Letting your fingers trail up his cheek to his nose, you quickly made your way to his eyelashes, his long, thick eyelashes that fluttered like a black bird’s feathers. 

“I did a bit of research on you,” you said. “Just enough to make sure no one would come looking for you right away, to learn your patterns and your habits, or any other important bits of information . . . like the fact that you have a therapist.”

Jonathan looked straight into your eyes. It was almost as if, at the moment, he was more concerned about what you might have read about him than his current predicament. He didn’t want anyone to know his past, his secrets, his weaknesses. It was embarrassing, and you knew that because you read in his file — which took atrociously long to obtain — how ashamed he was of himself, how conscious. 

He shoved you away, and you backed off.

“Don’t be mean,” you frowned, hurt. “It was necessary. Watching you through your window wasn’t enough to truly know you. And even now, I’m sure there’s so much I’ve missed. It’ll be nice. As long as you listen and don’t cause trouble, everything will be okay.”

“You’re delusional,” he scowled. “I’ve known enough people like you in my life to understand how you work. Once you’re tired of me, you’ll dump me and get someone new to torment.”

“That’s not true, and you’ll see that,” you protested. It broke you to know that he thought of himself as expendable. “. . . I know you need some time to think. I’ll come down in a few hours with lunch, alright?”

You took his silence as a ‘yes’.

“Good boy.”

+++

A few weeks had passed by. The snow was beginning to melt, turning into a mushy, brown sludge that you had to trudge through every morning to get to work. Admittedly, you were quite busy with your job, but you made as much time as you could for Jonathan. Your doll was in a sour mood the entire time, and after calling you a bitch and a unintelligent, perverted whore — such colorful language — he started begging you to let him go.

I won’t tell anyone. I’ll give you money. Please, I’m begging you. All clearly signs of emotional distress.

It hurt you a lot when Jonathan rejected your affection. More than you thought it would. He should be grateful that you took such an interest in him, but instead he was disgusted. Of course, he would fall for you soon, but it made you wish that he had already done so, and that too on the night you two met. 

Wouldn’t it have been romantic? Love at first sight. Did you not deserve something like that? For someone to look into your eyes the way you did his and think, This is the one I want to marry. Again, you knew it would take time, but the wound still cut deep. 

He was eating, which was good. One less thing to worry about. But when you checked his wrists to see if the cuffs were still locked you found them red with marks. It worried you a bit, so you applied some cream to them — or at least, tried to, with the way he was struggling and all. You did other things like bathe him, but despite how desperate you were to see his pretty cock, you never went beyond the waistline, and encouraged him to clean himself down there instead. You hoped it established some sense of trust between you two, because at least Jonathan would realize that you would never do anything to make him uncomfortable. 

When you were researching Jonathan Crane — before you took him — you learned that he was a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. A professor at Gotham University first, but either way, it seemed that his heart lied with the sciences. You did a little internet digging and tracked his book orders, then picked something you thought he would like and was sure he hadn’t read yet.

One book on chemistry and its applications on brain science, and another on psychology, a look into real-world examples written by a doctor from the late twentieth century. 

Carefully wrapping it up in light blue paper, you tied it with a navy-colored ribbon and made a bow. Your fingers lingered on the box, a little nervous about handing it over to Jonathan, but you walked downstairs with it anyways, opening the basement door and watching with satisfaction as he scurried away once again.

“It’s just a gift,” you laughed, setting it down in front of him. He watched it warily. “I want you to open it. I hope you’ll like it.”

Jonathan’s lower lip quivered, and you had a sudden desire to kiss him. Lips upon lips, heavy and sweet. Sometimes, you felt as though the only way to get close to him — truly close — was to peel off his skin and wrap it around you. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? He would die, which you didn’t want, but to think about it was enough. It was so intimate it made you hot all over. 

“Please,” Jonathan muttered. “Please let me go. I’ll do anything.”

You sighed. “I don’t want to hear this again. I’ve been really patient with you. Can’t you just . . . be normal?”

“Normal?” 

Oh, dear. He’s about to go into another one of his fits.

“How can you expect me to be normal when you’ve got me locked in chains?” he frowned. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t getting upset, but rather more submissive. He wasn’t scowling or spitting in your face, but rather his head was downturned and his body language more open. Was this it? Was this the point of breaking? 

“I have nothing,” he continued. “No bed to sleep in, no touch . . .”

Touch. Well, he had you, didn’t he? 

“You don’t like it when I touch you,” you said.

He looked away, almost embarrassed. This doll of a man had you completely enamored, fooled, like a hopeless soul waiting for the heavens. Anything he did, anything he said, would make you fold in a heartbeat. If he asked you to go get the moon, you would die, frozen in the vastness of space just trying. He could make you do anything, except perhaps let you go, but only because you knew that deep down, he didn’t really want it.

Jonathan didn’t make an effort to come closer to you, and you didn’t either. Despite your devotion, you wanted to see him make the first move. You had waited long enough. All you wanted was to be loved by him, and you knew that he had it in him to show his affection. He just feared you, feared that you would hurt him.

. . . Maybe a few more days. A few more days of waiting until you would take drastic action.

+++

Laying on the couch, you turned on the TV, opening up the Gotham news channel as background noise while you dozed off. There were a few errands to be done, but you decided to put them off until tomorrow as the weather had gotten worse. It wasn’t raining anymore, and the snow was still brown and mushy, but it was freezing, and you made the stupid mistake of leaving your car outside. 

After ten minutes of just lazing around, you were abruptly woken up by the ring of your doorbell. With a groan, you got up off the couch and unlocked the door, only for your nerves to jump and a nervous chuckle escape your lips.

“I — well, hi. Can I help you, officer?” you asked, looking the man in front of you up and down. He had wispy brown hair that was covered by a fur hoodie and a kind smile painted on his face. He didn’t look like he meant any harm, but perhaps this was just a facade to get your guard down. For all you knew there could be police officers stationed all around your house. Or were you being too paranoid? Yes. You probably were. 

“You can,” he said, voice a little gruff. “My name is Peter Wright, I just wanna ask you a few questions. May I come inside?”

You hesitated. “What's this about?”

Wright chuckled, but didn’t answer. “Do you know a man named Jonathan Crane? You may have just passed him on the street — he had dark hair, glasses, clean-cut . . .”

Your mind ran through all the possibilities. There was absolutely no way this man could know you two even met. You were so careful — so unbelievably careful. Was there something you had overlooked? Something you had missed? Maybe someone saw you with Jonathan and reported it to the police once they realized he was missing.

“. . . No.”

Wright smiled. “No need to be so tense. We just wanna know where he is.”

You smiled, trying to be friendly. “I’m sorry, sir, I have no clue who that is. You probably have the wrong person — ”

“ — yeah, figured,” Wright interrupted, flashing another smile. “He’s been missing for a while. You’re not in trouble, we just have to check every lead.”

“Oh, I understand completely,” you said. “May I ask, why have I become a . . . lead?”

“Just some security footage on a date of interest. You had crossed the street at a bus station.” Wright paused for a moment, seeing if you remembered anything. You did, but you kept your face blank. It was better to pretend. It made you relieved, however. This was nothing serious, and nothing that was your fault. “He wrote it down in one of his journal entries, that’s why we checked.”

“Journal entries?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yes. That’s how all these smart people are like, or so I’ve been told. Methodical, pattern-orientated.”

Was he even supposed to be telling you this? It seemed like this man was more loose-lipped than he first appeared. Perhaps you could pull some information out of him, turn on your charm. 

“You know what? Come inside. It’s cold, and I can make you some hot coffee.”

“Really?” Wright raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re getting let me in?”

You gave a playful glare. “I’m not gonna ask again, sir.”

Wright obliged, and for the rest of the evening, he divulged information about the case, a little too flirtatious for your taste, but it got the work done, and by the end of the day, you learned that they had nothing on you, and nothing on this case. 

+++

“Jonathan,” you cooed as you entered the basement with a plate of mashed potatoes and steak. You immediately noticed that his knuckles were bloody, and realized what he was trying to do — he must have heard another person upstairs and banged against the concrete walls in the hopes that he would’ve been heard.

What a stupid boy!

“Hold on,” you muttered, annoyed, placing the food down. “I’ll get you some bandages — ”

“ — Can’t you just be here?” Jonathan said shakily, his voice hoarse. “You said you loved me but you never spend time with me, you’re always upstairs . . . I’m going insane.”

Your heart leaped. Finally. Finally! It was happening. He was beginning to see, to truly see the connection you both had. You could envision it already — a wedding, with only an eficator there to make things legitimate, with flowers and a beautiful background, perhaps a sunset or beach, or maybe some mountains — topped with snow. That would be perfect, absolutely wonderful. Oh, you would have to start making the plans now! 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” You snapped out of your thoughts. “Oh, no. No, darling. I’m just so excited, I’ve been waiting so long . . . Here, can I hold you?”

Jonathan nodded with a sniffle. 

Not wasting a single moment, you wrapped him up in your arms, watching as he delicately snuggled his head in the crook of your neck. The feeling of his hair brushing up against your skin was exhilarating, making you shudder and shake like you were about to lose it. About to lose it and take him right then and there, all romantic like, with nice words and the scent of rose petals . . . Maybe your first time could be in a bath, with lit candles, cleaning each other off. It was —

Hold on. Where was his chain?

Jonathan’s arms were around your waist, but you couldn’t feel the metal. You looked to the hook on the wall and saw that it had broken off, next to it the psychology book you gave to him, heavily dented. 

Chasting yourself, you felt Jonathan tighten his grip around your body. You should have checked — you should have checked for the chain like you did every time you came down. What was wrong with you? This one simple mistake could ruin everything . . . 

Trying to think as quickly as you could, you looked around the room for the other book, but couldn’t find it anywhere. You had a sedative syringe in your pocket, but you couldn’t get to it without alerting him. Alas, you finally felt something poking you in the side, something sharp like an edge, and within seconds you had been tossed to the floor and hit over the head.

+++

When you finally woke up, your head was reeling. You had a massive headache, and everytime you tried to sit up your vision would go a little dark and you would give up. Before you could try again, you had a hand against your throat. You felt a horrible surge of anger, and in the midst of your emotions, a slight sense of arousal.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” you cried out, voice choked. You could feel a shift in movement, because after Jonathan realized he was hurting you, he loosened his grip, but it still wasn’t enough to get out of his grasp. He probably tried to open the basement door but couldn’t, so waited until you came to give him the passcode. You couldn’t rely on the hope that he wouldn’t hurt you. He was desperate. But so were you.

“Everything you’ve done,” he repeated with a low murmur. “You know how humiliating it is to be trapped in a basement for a month, forced to bathe in front of you because I can’t even be trusted with a flow of water? Have to piss with chains on? I’m a doctor, I shouldn’t have to submit to your delusion.”

“You should and you will!” you screeched, squirming. “You finally have someone to love you, to adore you, someone who would do anything for you, and it’s still not enough. Or you know what? Maybe you like that. Being sad all the time, not having anyone to care for you. Probably used to it, huh? Distant parents, bitch grandmother, no friends, no lovers . . .”

Jonathan tossed you to the floor and pinned you down, his nose close to yours, breathing heavy, eyes a little glossy. Then, without warning, he slapped you. The sting was both painful and pleasurable. The little whimper you let out was more of a light sigh, but you didn’t let that distract you. All you needed to do was reach into your pocket for the syringe, which he clearly hadn’t noticed was there. If you could drug him just a little, you would be able to get your power back, your control.

“I want the code. That’s it.”

“I want a kiss.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just one kiss. A nice, long one.”

Jonathan thought for a moment. His breath tickled your skin. Then, he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and brushed his perfect, pink lips against yours. He was so easily manipulated, so eager. Even when he had all the power, he still fell for your little antic. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

While he was distracted, you swiftly took the syringe out and stabbed him with it, pushing half the liquid in. He pulled away and gasped, but then his eyes started drooping, and his movements became more wobbly, and he fell into your arms, disorientated and dizzy.

“Mm . . . what did you do?” he asked. 

You grabbed his hair, making him wince in pain. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard to be patient, not rushing you, making you feel as safe as possible” You paused. “But sometimes people aren’t grateful for what they have. That’s okay, it happens. You just have to learn. I’ll be patient again, just for you.”

You laid him on his back and started unbuckling his pants belt. He tried to stop you, but his movements were too weak and groggy.

“Don’t — don’t,” he pleaded.

You stopped, but only for the time being. You lifted him up onto his feet and let him lean against you. His feet were dragging a little against the floor, but he managed to walk. He pulled himself away from you when you made it to the top of the stairs but stumbled. He just wasn’t strong enough. You unlocked the passcode.

You led him over to the bathroom on your first floor, where you opened the tub’s tap and let the water flow. Jonathan’s eyelids drooped slightly, but you could see — smell — the fear in them. He knew what you were going to do, and he was helpless to stop it. 

Taking off the rest of his belt, you pulled his cock out. White, soft, a little big, but other than that it was perfect, just like every other part of him. You brushed your finger across it, watching the way it twitched in your hands. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned down and gave the head a small kiss, but that was the last bit of kindness Jonathan was going to receive today. In fact, receive for a long while.

You dipped your hand in the tub, which was steadily flowing with water, and gave his cock a hard squeeze, making him whimper in pain. “That’s the closest to lube you’ll get,” you said. “Now come on, don’t fight me. Dip your face in.”

Pushing his head down into the tub wasn’t much of a struggle, but Jonathan wasn’t making it easy. Your doll, your poor doll. He didn’t want to be hurt, but that was what had to happen. And it would keep happening until he finally admitted that he loved you. 

When Jonathan’s nose touched the water, he groaned, his head dizzy. It was cold, but by the time he could even register the temperature, his entire head was in, held by your hand as your other stroked his cock. A few air bubbles came up, but you didn’t give in. You wanted him to struggle, you wanted him to be in pain. He was like a fragile mouse caught in a trap. Only you could let him go. Only you had the power to.

After a few more seconds, you lifted his head up, watching with glee as he gasped for air, coughing and sputtering when he could spare it. 

“Aw, baby boy. You don’t like that very much, do you?”

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him. You just shoved him down into the tub again, feeling your body tingle. You swiped your finger over that little hole where you would soon force cum to shoot out of, and pressed down on it hard. Then, you found your way to his balls, slightly pulling at the small hairs there. Pinching and squeezing. His thighs shook, so you slapped them. They were another beautiful part of his body.

You continued pumping, up and down, steadily, then pulled him out. You could feel some pre-cum on your hands . . . even when you were torturing him he couldn’t control his biological reactions.

When he came up for the second time, he begged, “Please — I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . . Mercy, I can’t!”

His hair was wet, sticking to his forehead, and water was running down from his chin to his chest underneath the plain white shirt you had given him. His nipples were perked, probably from all the adrenaline, but you liked to think that it was because he was aroused. 

“You can and you will,” you growled. “Take it. Take it!”

+++

When you were finished with him, you took him back down to the basement, his cock hanging limp through the zipper area of his pants, and tossed him to the floor. Noticing one of the books you gifted him on the ground, you picked it up and threw it at him. It hit his leg, and within seconds, he passed out. 

You locked the door and left him like that for the next few days. No food, no water, no nothing. Through the camera you could see that he was barely moving. He only got up to use the toilet, but other than that, he was like a slug. It was on the third day that you decided to go down again and nourish him, otherwise he might die, and you didn't want that, not after all this hard work. 

ii.

Jonathan Crane was respected throughout the city of Gotham, a known and reputable psychiatrist amongst others in his field, as well as connected with higher elites who often funded his projects, his small passions. Never did he think he would ever end up in someone’s basement, that too the basement of a beauty. 

He had gotten into a car accident while pulling out of Akrham’s parking lot. It was a stupid mistake, not even his fault, really. The curb was so narrow and it was difficult to see past the line of trees whether another car was coming or not, and in his rush to get home, he went ahead without thinking and collided with a red Sedan.

No one was injured, but his car was beat up, and after getting it towed, he had to walk all the way to the nearest bus station (which was very far away, as the aslyum was rather secluded). It was cold, and he wasn’t dressed for this weather at all. He tried to take his mind off the temperature by looking at his watch, the tick-tick ticking, but when he finally got there, he found that the bus was not coming at all. It had been fifteen minutes, and nothing was there. The entire street was surprisingly empty for a city as busy as Gotham, with only the occasional patrol car driving past.

He was about ready to head to the subway — another long trek — when he saw someone else standing across the street. It was a woman, he could tell from the figure, but she was shrouded in darkness . . . Maybe she was waiting for the bus as well.

“Hey, excuse me, ma’am!” he shouted out, hoping not to startle her. He knew how women could get, all scared and skittish when they were alone. He understood. Crime rates were high, rape and theft were common. Even he was on his guard right now. 

“Yes?” the woman answered hesitantly. 

“Do you know when the bus will arrive?” Jonathan asked. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes — the sign said it would arrive at seven.”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m waiting for it as well. Do you mind if I cross?”

Jonathan hadn’t expected that, but agreed nonetheless. He found it a bit odd that she was waiting on the other side of the road, but figured that she might have only just arrived. When she crossed, the light of the street lamps hit her face and he was taken aback. She was awfully pretty — beautiful, in fact. She was looking at him with almost dazed eyes, a nervous expression upon her face. He couldn’t tell if she found him attractive, or if she was intimidated by him. Most people were. 

They had a short conversation that eventually ended. Jonathan would head down to the subway station, and the woman had opted to call her friend to pick her up. He was a little disappointed. She seemed interesting, and there was no harm in continuing their conversation, but he was also tired and in no mood to convince her to come along with him. 

He was about to leave when she asked him for his name. “Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he clarified.

“Jonathan,” she repeated. For a moment, he felt ill at ease. Maybe it was the reminder that he was in the middle of an empty street at night, or the way she looked at him as she repeated his name. He shook it off, he was just being silly. 

The woman gave him her name — your name, a nice name. He didn’t know what it was about you, but for the rest of the day you were on his mind. It was enough to make him mention you in his journal, mention with a flow of compliments that ranged from beautiful to almost sinister.

+++

Jonathan had always had a bit of a problem when it came to people. As a child he was ostracized and bullied for his gangly body, and in his adulthood, he had always come off as too unnerving for others. It probably didn’t help that he was arrogant and assuming, too. When it came to lovers, he could get quite obsessive, a problem that broke most of his relationships. Apparently no one liked it when their boyfriends were possessive.

He’d had a few affairs before, but nothing ever serious. He could never find someone he liked enough to marry. On the surface, he semed like the kind of guy that was more interested in his work than anything romantic, but in the end he had been raised with typical values, and as much as he tried to shake it off, he really felt like his path in life was to work, marry, have children, and then die.

When he was a kid his grandmother, Keeny, stressed upon him the importance of finding a good Christian wife. She must be a virgin, submissive, good-natured, and so on. He was sure she had already picked someone from their small town for him, because she was oddly pushy towards this one Church girl who liked to have ribbons in her braids (that was all he really remembered of her). Jonathan wondered what his grandmother thought of him now. Despite all the bad memories associated with her, he still sent letters with money every once in a while. She responded sometimes, mostly with pleas for him to come back, but he never paid them any mind. He was done with her and Georgia. 

In his mind, his ideal wife would be an intellectual just like him. Preferably smart, but not as smart as him, who was just as clingy as he was, who understood and could care for him, and who was perhaps a little more on the dominant side. He was always embarrassed with the fact that he liked dominant women, but wasn’t going to let that stop him from finding one, or at least, hoping one would find him.

“So, you’re opening yourself up to new relationships,” his therapist, Dr. Taylor Smith said, an encouraging smile on her face. Jonathan had been with her for years, and while they were strictly professional, Jonathan couldn’t help but be slightly attached to her. It was what happened when someone gave him even the slightest ounce of affection.

“I suppose so,” Jonathan responded, not knowing what else to say.

“If you’re ready for it, I think you should go out and start talking to people,” Smith suggested. “You have a lot of colleagues, you could start there.”

Jonathan frowned. “They’ve stopped asking me to lunches.”

“Because you decline all the time?”

“Probably.”

“Then why don’t you ask them first?”

Jonathan frowned again. “I’d rather not.”

Smith gave a knowing look. “And how do you suppose to meet people, then?”

Jonathan didn’t want to answer. He knew he was being silly, but he just didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. Eventually someone would come along and ask him out, right? He just had to wait a little . . . Perhaps he could loiter around some bookstores or near the lectures he attended so he could meet a woman who was like-minded.

“Look,” Smith said, intertwining her hands. “Before we meet again next week, I want you to have made an effort towards a relationship. Friendship would be a good start.”

“I have friends. Harleen is — fine,” Jonathan relented, after seeing the glare his therapist was giving. “I’ll do that. It’ll be my homework,” he joked, but on the inside he was thoroughly annoyed.

+++

Jonathan’s first idea was to go to a coffee shop. He had been starved for some caffeine and decided that instead of making one at home he could go out and get one. He parked his car in a nearby garage and walked over to a local shop. It had a long line of impatient-looking people, moody, too, at that.

He took his place in line, inhaling the sweet aroma of the atmosphere. A few people were working, typing away at their laptops, while others were with their friends or family or partners. He tried to look as casual as possible, sweeping his hair over his forehead every once in a while, but then he stopped, feeling stupid.

He felt like a kid back in highschool trying to get a girl’s attention. Everyone here was either already with someone or rushing to get out. It was a dumb idea. He’d just get his coffee and leave.

Maybe he could just ask his coworkers at the asylum. They were nice enough, and it would probably do good on his work relationships if he made an effort on them.

When he got to the counter he ordered a small latte and went on his way, but after turning the corner he bumped into someone. They were holding a cup of coffee — from the same cafe he just went to. The cap, which must not have been applied properly, fell to the ground, and all the hot, brown liquid splashed onto both him and . . . and . . . the lady from the bus station?

Jonathan hissed at the burning sensation, but restrained himself from letting out a small scream. A few people stopped and turned to look at them. A few of them in pity, others stifling their giggles, while one man offered to go get some napkins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the woman — you — said, grabbing some napkins from the man and wiping your blouse off.

Jonathan glared.

“What is wrong with you?” he sneered, his face contorted in controlled disgust. “Are you stalking me?”

“What? I don’t — look, I’m really sorry, sir,” you fervently apologized, which made Jonathan feel a bit bad. “Here — some napkins — ”

“ — Don’t bother,” Jonathan said, looking down at his suit, though his tone was a bit softer. 

There was a moment of silence. Jonathan admired your features for those few moments, and thought back to how he wrote about you in his journal. His cheeks flushed a light pink at the memory. Imagine what would happen if you found out . . .

“Aren’t you going to say sorry, too?”

Jonathan sighed, getting annoyed again. “I’m sorry,” but it was sarcastic. 

“I want to hear a genuine apology,” you said, but before Jonathan could say anything, you continued, “That or . . . you buy me another cup of coffee and we go our separate ways.”

Jonathan was caught off guard, but he realized that it was the perfect opportunity to do what he came here for: make a friend. And she was so obviously flirting. 

“Alright. But we’ll be quick. I have to change.”

You chuckled. “Okay, okay.”

You both walked back to the coffee shop, standing in line as you looked over the menu. Jonathan wondered what to say.

“It’s quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” he said, feeling sticky as his dress shirt stuck to his skin. “We meet at the bus station, then here . . .”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused.

Jonathan couldn’t believe that you didn’t remember. “I introduced myself to you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. And you told me your name.”

You thought for a moment, eyes dazed for a few seconds, but when you looked back at him you shook your head. “I-I suppose you look familiar, but I don’t really remember . . . I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright.”

Eventually, you both got up to the front. You ordered another coffee and Jonathan paid with his card. This time, he made sure your lid was secured on properly. When he got out of the cafe for the second time that day, he felt disappointed that he had to leave you again.

At the bus station he had let you go, and was he about to do the same thing here? No. He would try, shoot his chance. If it didn't work, so what? He would get over it.

“I can walk you back to your car,” Jonathan offered, taking a sip of his coffee, which thankfully he didn’t drop when he bumped into you. 

“I don’t want to bother you,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s all the way down the road.”

“I insist,” he said. 

You smiled. It was such a sweet smile, Jonathan wished he could igraine the memory into his mind forever. 

“What do you do for work?” he asked, trying to make light conversation.

“Real estate,” you responded. “You?”

“I’m a psychiatrist . . .”

He didn’t mention the fact that he worked at Arkham. It was infamous in Gotham, and not that great of a conversation starter. Jonathan didn’t want this to turn into an interview about what it’s like to work there, how the patients were, and so on.

When you and Jonathan reached your car, he felt that odd sense of dread again. He was near a closed-off area behind a shop. It was one of those places that had parking lots for behind a store, and was shaped almost like a square. The shop was closed, and there was only one car in the area — presumably yours.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a laugh after seeing the look on his face. “There was no parking nearby. I’m actually kind of glad you walked me . . . it’s a little scary all by myself.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” Jonathan said with a shrug, ignoring his instincts. He walked you to the car, and before he knew what was happening, he was knocked out. 

+++

The chains clinked against the others in the link, the cuffs tugging against Jonathan Crane’s skin, pulled so hard it restricted the blood flow. It was only then he stopped, and let a defeated sigh escape his lips. His head leaned against the wall and his posture slumped. Since he woke up he had been trying to get out of this place — out of this basement, it looked to be. His thoughts flooded his head a million times, and it was impossible for him to produce a semblance of coherent thinking. He begged his brain to stop working, to just be quiet for a moment so he could control his emotions and focus, but it wouldn’t. It left him tired and confused and scared.

What happened to me?

Why am I here?

Was that woman responsible for this? Did she kidnap me? Oh god, she kidnapped me.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

People are going to notice I’m missing. The police will come for me, I’ll be fine.

No they won’t. It’s Gotham, no one will do anything about it.

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut. Stop it. Stop thinking.

After a while, he got his thoughts to quiet, but before he could be rational, the padlock clicked and the door opened. He backed into a corner — well, as far as his binding would let him, and his suspicions were confirmed.

It was you. You were his captor. His doom.

You placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Cinnamon and honey filled the air. It had little pieces of apple cut up, and even some chocolate chips on the side. It was absolutely heavenly, and Jonathan could feel his mouth water at just the sight of it. He restrained himself, however. He was not that hungry, at least not yet, and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t poisioned. 

“I’m not eating that.”

Frowning, you bent down to his level. “It's not poisoned, you know that.”

Jonathan did know that. He was smart enough to realize that a person wouldn’t go through all the effort of bringing him here, only to poison him. 

“Are you in love with me?” he asked next.

“Why do you ask?” you said instead. Avoiding the question.

“Your eyes are always dilated, you can’t keep them off of me. Not at the bus station, the coffee shop.” He paused. “You’re sick. I’m not in love with you. Whatever fantasy you have is not real.”

“You may not be in love with me now, but you will be soon.”

Was it wrong that for a moment Jonathan felt nice? In all his life, he never had someone care for him, but here, someone had gone through the effort of kidnapping him just to be with him. He felt stupid for thinking like that. This wasn’t some story, it was reality, and in reality, you didn’t actually love him. You were obsessed. Obsessed . . . Was he that incapable of being loved that people had to either hate him or obsess over him like an object? Was there no in-between? 

There were a few more words exchanged. You brushed your fingers against his skin, and though he pulled away, he couldn’t deny the affection rising within him. No one had ever touched him this gently before, this kindly.

You left, leaving Jonathan alone in the cold, dark room. After a few moments of hesitation, he reached for the bowl, and began eating.

+++

A few weeks had passed by. Jonathan couldn’t tell if the weather outside had begun to turn warm, or if it was still as cold as the last time he saw it. He never knew what time it was unless you came down with food, and even then, he was probably a couple of hours off. As he spent time in that basement, searching for a way out, he felt a sense of desperate hopelessness creep onto him. Would he ever make it out alive?

He couldn’t believe that he was even in this situation. After insulting you and calling you names, he resorted to fervent begging, but even that wasn’t enough to make you let him go. In your delusion you had made his life a misery. He couldn’t keep living in your basement like some sort of pet, forced to bathe in front of you and constantly monitored by cameras.

Maybe Jonathan would have liked you better if you actually gave him a nice room to sleep in. Or if you made something other than acai bowls and fruit smoothies all the time.

He could see it in your eyes that you truly believed you loved him, and it made him feel scared. While he overviewed cases like this and met people with the same mentality to kidnap and stalk, he still didn’t know what to do. In a part of his brain, he thought that maybe you weren’t so bad and that you could have been torturing him right now, but instead was being kind and thoughtful. 

You tried to apply cream to his bruised wrists, and you didn’t even scold him for trying to get out of the handcuffs. He made it a difficult process, but it was because he was afraid. He had never been touched like that before. You were making him feel all sorts of things — anger, confusion, fear. 

It didn’t help when you brought down a present for him. A book on chemistry, and another on psychology. It was wrapped in a box, which was wrapped in a light-blue color. Why were you so sweet? In all his years, he had never gotten a present as meaningful as this. His heart had wrenched uncomfortably, and he had to remind himself who you were, what type of person you were.

Maybe if he used this book to hit you over the head with, it would knock you out and he could escape. He could use it to break the chains, too. They were hardcover, and th

———

(I stopped writing here.)

The rest of this section was just going to be through Jonathan’s perspective.

iii.

You opened the door hesitantly, a wave of guilt flooding your body. Jonathan lay there on the floor, beaten and bruised, shivering in a corner even though he had a blanket around him. He didn’t smell good, but you expected it to be worse, so you took it as a sign that things could still be salvaged.

———

(I stopped writing here).

Jonathan is passed out, barely able to move. For the next few days, you nurse him back to health. You clean him, feed him, and give him better clothing. He doesn’t fight back. Slowly, he starts to accept his new environment and you upgrade him to a guest bedroom, but you still lock the doors and windows so he can’t escape.

The police officer comes back to flirt. You’re annoyed, but you know you need him for info. The police officer starts to get suspicious, and out of fear he’ll do something, you murder him. The murder is sort of the climax of the story.

After that whole ordeal, Jonathan has been completely conditioned by you, but the ending is open-ended. “The Doll’s Burial” is meant to represent a burial of his true self, replaced by a version you created, or, his actual death. It depends on you — do you get bored of him, is it truly an obsession? Or do you truly love him, and are willing to spend your whole life as his wife?

Tagging in case ya'll are still interested: @shroombloom-rry @madnessandobsession @henrywintersdearestgirl @hllywdwhre @your-nanas-house @ellebelleshelby @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

@nela-cutie

@slut4thebroken

@wild-rose-35

@madeinuk

@flwrs4aust

@httpxgray

[emmy-hunterson-schofield]

Amina (An Emperor Geta fanfiction) One-shot 🏛️⚡️⚔️🌸

"No! Don't take them! Take me instead, Imperator Geta…" Her voice faded in a fearfully soft note, echoing throughout the senatorial chamber of the palace. "Imperator Caracalla… you may take me as a captive."

"She doesn't mean that, Your Highnesses…" Marcus Acacius begged for his daughter's life with the two deranged co-emperors, feeling the silent presence of his wife Lucilla at his side, her eyes watching the teenage girl offer herself so selflessly in the midst of their betrayal.

"Silence, all of you!" Emperor Caracalla shouted, his white sleeping tunic slipping off his pale shoulder in his manic movements as he grabbed a sword from one of the nearby guards and lunged toward Acacius and Lucilla. "Slaughter him! And crucify her!"

Geta had the quick reflex of dealing with Caracalla's mood swings, the younger twin's brain slowly being eaten away by the disease simultaneously spreading through his loins… he grabbed Caracalla and held him back as the young girl stood in between her father and stepmother.

He allowed two of the guards to restrain Caracalla, the ill man catching his breath and slowly beginning to calm down. "Brother… what could this girl have to offer us? These traitors need to be punished!"

Geta tightened the sash of his dressing gown around his waist, his dark eyes locked on the youthful girl standing straight as an arrow, her head held high as her own eyes bravely met his… the emperor searching for any sign of fear or hesitation in her pleading to sacrifice herself for her family.

She forced herself not to back away from the tall flame-haired man with the fathomless orbs as he came closer to her, his towering height looming over her petite stature causing his shadow to darken everything around her… the tips of his cold fingers came underneath her chin and she shivered from his touch, blinking away tears from her eyes.

Tears of defiance or horror, he could not decipher…

"Tell me, little blossom… what you shall forsake for your deceitful family?" Geta's voice was huskily low, a slithering nasal tone of impatience, his thumb brushing along her jawline as he held her still, tilting up her face to maintain their eye contact, the top of her head barely coming up to his shoulders in their differing heights.

She swallowed a thick, aching gulp of bile in her throat, recalling the rumors she had heard of the emperors' depravity and demented excess of using others' suffering for their amusement. "I offer you… my freedom… and my virtue… I won't try to leave and I shall stay as your prisoner… but only if you let my father and stepmother go free and unharmed."

Geta considered her words, his fingers loosening on her chin as he lowered her face back down so she looked at the marble floor. His thumb caught a tear upon her fair cheek, apple-red with the warmth of blood in her veins. "You give me your word that you will stay… for the consequences shall be dire if you try to escape… I'll shatter Rome into pieces column by column to bring you back."

She watched Geta lift his thumb to his own lips, his tongue tasting the lone diamond tear from her eye… her lips were dry as she swallowed none existent saliva down her esophagus as she imagined his threats coming to light if she dishonored their bargain…

Rome aflame with destruction and chaos…

How many people would be killed in her name if the Emperors went on a vengeful rampage to find her?

Surely her family would suffer the most…

Her father would be slaughtered in the Coliseum and her stepmother crucified, a woman truly more like a blood mother to her as her father's first wife had died birthing her eighteen years ago.

She opened her mouth to speak, her voice just steady enough to keep from shaking, forming her words in a simple cadence toward the tyrannical ruler, his eyes having not blinked since his fingers had come into contact with her skin, his black pupils dilated with emotions she was too terrified to comprehend.

"You… you have my word, Emperor Geta. I will stay and belong to you." She folded her hands together in front of her stomach in a docile manner to display that she wasn't going to challenge them.

"Then our bargain is sealed." Geta spoke loudly, his voice reverberating through the chamber in an echo. "Release the General and Lady Lucilla and escort them back to their dwellings. Post more guards at every door so they don't take away what's mine."

"What?! Brother… now you'll have the whole Roman army at our door! Taking the general's daughter!" Caracalla shouted, though he was ignored as Geta had grabbed the girl's arm as she tried to reach out for her parents.

"Father! Please let me say goodbye, my Imperator! Please, I beg you!" She called out in desperation as she watched the guards block Acacius and Lucilla from getting to her for one last embrace as a family.

"No! Don't take my daughter!" Acacius bellowed a paternal borne rage as he witnessed his only child being held back in the older emperor's grasp.

"Your Grace, please! Don't make her throw her life away for our sakes!" Lucilla cried out for her stepdaughter, losing yet again another child she had loved though they were not of biological relation.

"She volunteered of her own free will to give herself to me, Lady Lucilla." Geta grasped the teenage girl around the waist to keep her from her family, his hold firm and surprisingly strong given his lithe and lanky build compared to the obviously muscular build of gladiators she had seen fighting in the Coliseum. "She'll want for nothing and her personal possessions will be brought to her chambers from your home."

"If she's harmed in any way…" Acacius' voice lowered an octave in a threatening growl, his hand reflexively reaching for a sword that wasn't there at his hip.

"As long as our agreement remains unbroken, she'll be in no danger…" Geta felt his new prisoner struggle in his arms, her energy slowly deteriorating as she was becoming exhausted from the emotional and physical toll the entire ordeal placed on her. His nose nuzzled the top of her head, his lips brushing the crown of her wild curls, his eyes meeting the enraged glare of Acacius in the mocking affection toward his daughter. "Lead them away from the palace grounds, whatever it takes. For now, it's time to give our lovely guest the welcome she deserves."

The girl had turned in his arms, her fists weakly beating on his chest as she cried and whimpered, angry with herself, her father and the whole situation she found no way out of. He ears were ringing as she barely heard her father and stepmother calling out again for her, the guards ordering them to move.

She was frozen on the spot, the blood rushing down from her head as her knees buckled…

She buried her face in her hands, truly realizing what she had given up in her haste to save her family.

Before she could fall to the ground in a feat of dizziness, her legs were swept up from underneath her, by a cold ringed hand hooking beneath her knees and two arms holding her close to a carved chest covered with a royal red dressing garb.

Emperor Geta carried her away through the dark moonlit halls of the palace and she refrained from touching him, her hands clutched together in her lap. Geta was ever the marble ivory statue come alive from stone in his build as he moved with the refined grace and effortless gait in which he walked.

Many statue busts of past Caesars mocked her with their stares as they passed through the many halls as she was laying in Geta's cradling hold.

What he lacked in physical musculature, he made up for in internal strength and cunning…

She sniffled, tiredly leaning her head on his shoulder as she inhaled the soothing scent of his bath soaps and incense.

However he yearned to give her the illusion of freedom in his home, she was still a hostage, a pawn to be used in a political game to keep leverage over the general and the queen regent. "The palace is now your home, so you may explore to your leisure. There is a garden to admire and pools for you to swim within. And anything you require, servants will attend you."

He spoke so causally as he carried her to a grand door leading to the largest bedchamber in the palace not accounting Geta and Caracella's.

"But… what will you want me for? Am I to be your concubine?" She dared ask for the specific reason for why he would want to keep her as he had been promised her virginity as well as her free will.

"We need not worry about such a matter tonight, little blossom." Geta continued to carry her as they conversed, stepping over the threshold of the door and she absorbed the grand décor of her bedchamber, a room for an empress than a general's daughter.

The emperor went toward the massive bed and slowly lowered his arms and allowed her to lay on the soft covers of the mattress, her head and shoulders sinking into the pillows as he heard her sigh out in exhaustion, a convulsing sob erupting from her throat as she looked up at her captor. "How could you not permit me to say goodbye to them… I may keep my promise to not leave, but I'll never give myself to you… not to a monster like you!"

"Oh, you will, my blossom. Not tonight or tomorrow… but you are mine. I'll have your body and your love, for that will be a greater punishment for your family than death. To see their beloved daughter as the grand jewel of the Emperor's treasure." Geta leaned above her, quickly pulling the sheets and covers over her small body in an imprisoning cocoon, the weight holding her down against the mattress and pillows should she try to slip out of bed…

The snake wrapping its coils around its prey, preparing to devour the fragile creature…

He held down her shoulders as she struggled beneath him against the pillows and she opened her mouth to cry out, however pointless the effort was as everyone would obey the Emperor's orders no matter what she said, her throat was dry as a desert, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Shh… nobody's coming to your rescue, little blossom. Just accept your fate and all will be well." Geta spoke softly, leaning close as he inched toward her face and she caught her breath, seeing his regally handsome features overwhelming her full vision, creeping closer and closer as her drive to get away began to fade, her heartbeat calming in her chest.

She moaned in her fatigue, slowly becoming intoxicated with the hypnotic method in which he spoke, their noses brushing as she saw only the dark deep brown of his irises, her reflection looking back at her, vulnerable and trapped.

"What are you doing to me?" She mumbled, her tongue numb in her mouth like she was inebriated, though she hadn't consumed any alcohol.

"Quiet, sweet one. Speak no more. You must sleep as it's late in the night." His fingers stroked along her hair, brushing the strands from her face as he watched with inner glee as her eyelids began to droop, seeing her succumb to his command. "Look into my eyes and obey me…"

He pulled the silken sheets up to her chin, ensuring she was securely tucked into bed as though she were a child rather than a girl on the verge of adult womanhood.

"Forget all you knew before tonight… Acacius and Lucilla… they are no more in your memory. There's just you and me and Rome…" He stroked her cheek with the back on his fingers, careful not to scratch her fragile skin with his many rings. "Just surrender to my voice in your ears, lulling you into sleep, dreamless and calm as Somnus would see as best for your mind."

Geta watched with silent satisfaction as she still fought to remain awake, her lovely eyes glazed over in her entranced state, half-covered by her closing eyelids. His wine-coated breath brushed her lips and he yearned to wet them… his tongue licked over the rosebud shape of her mouth and he sealed her lips closed with a kiss. A small sigh emitted from her throat as her body relaxed further into the pillows, her breathing evening out as she sank deeper into slumber, the emperor still looming over her. His shadow darkened her peaceful visage and he spoke still to her, wanting to make certain she was under his influence.

The maiden Amina being offered as a martyr to the Gods and engaging Eros' affections…

"You will be bound to me forever in marriage… as my wife and my empress at my side. Every night, I'll adore and worship you in our bed and by day you'll be given everything you desire. Jewels, gowns, nourishment, flowers, books… Anything you want…" His fingertips caressed the softness of her long eyelashes as they remained still on her face, signaling that she was indeed floating in a mental abyss of darkness.

Geta then moved his fingers down the length of her small nose, then the rosy round curve of her cheeks… her moistened lips slightly open and she inhaled and exhaled, his twitching fingers moved to touch her mouth in silent intimacy and he wanted to kiss her again… leave a mark of wonder upon her feminine beauty… as a man would do upon the woman he would claim as a bride.

She was his prisoner for now… but in time he would make her learn to accept herself as a soon-to-be wife of Emperor Geta and if she said the word, he would burn it all the ground and allow her to bathe in the blood and ashes of the aftermath.

He would see her at his side, no matter what measures he had to take to possess her. Even if she would despise him for all eternity, Geta always got what he wanted in the end.

Now, she belonged to him and he would keep her with him forever, even after Rome fell at their feet and the Gods claimed them for damnation.

Geta moved to lie down beside her above the covers, whispering more hypnotic verses to keep her in the clutches of sleep, his fingers stroking her long hair pooling around her head on the large featherdown pillows. His aching fingers touching her face once again, tracing along her chin…

"It's all coming into place now, little blossom… seeing you sinking into an irresistible sleep after such torment tonight. I admire your bravery as foolishly in vain it was. But, now you've paid the price with your freedom and your unbreakable vow. I'll take your virtue on our wedding night, for you shall be my bride. In time, you will come to see it's all for the best and you will be loved and cherished in my blackened heart as I will do anything you say… except let you go. You will be pampered and nurtured as a goddess would be… but only if you stay."

She remained dutifully silent in unconsciousness, her breaths the only response in the shadows and moonlight dancing along her innocent splendor. A wide prideful smile spread across Geta's lips as he pulled her close to his chest, enfolding his arms around her in a selfish, domineering grip of sinful need, laying her head upon his pectoral where his heartbeat vibrated beneath her ear.

"For tonight, you just sleep, little one. You're mine, now and for eternity." He bestowed one more condemning kiss upon the sleeping maiden's lips, still cradling her close and determined to never release her… "For this city will burn if you leave and Rome's blood will be on your hands."

Even her dreams were no escape, his voice hissing and seething his threat in her ear despite the gentle cage of his arms around her.

Only death would be a mercy for her if she could not be free and protect her family… and the fate of Rome.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 13: feminization with thoma from genshin impact

warnings: feminization, praise, strap/cock i’ll refer it to in both terms so everyone can feel included, hair pulling, lingerie, dacryphilia

notes: literally nothing on my brain rn. thoma’s such a puppy hhhhhh

it’s rare for thoma — the ever so loyal and obedient housekeeper of the kamisato clan — to get a day off. despite his master and young lady’s pushes and insistent efforts to let him get at least a single day of rest so he can get a proper eight hours of sleep, thoma just wouldn’t budge and refuse. but you know who can get him to budge? that’s right. his lover.

the same lover whose strap he was riding so desperately with a cute and comfortable red, lace bralette hiding his sensitive pink nipples. a matching red lace thong pushed to the side to allow his puckering hole to greedily suck you in. he even put on a matching red eyeliner and red lipgloss just to match the set he was wearing.

and absolute delight to watch.

watch as he struggles to hold himself upright, trying to continue bouncing himself on your cock as he lets out the sweetest whines. watch as the red eyeliner he struggled to perfect runs down his face, mixing with his tears and leaving a tear stain on his soft round cheeks. watch as he bites on his lipgloss covered lips, letting out a loud “anhhg—!” when you pull on his hair lightly as if to remind him to not silence himself.

what a sight for the sore eyes. but only for your sore eyes.

you’ve never taken your puppy of a lover to be the type to dress himself in pretty lingeries. saying he bought it just for you to feast your eyes on him and him as the pretty doll for you to ruin. saying he had a day off so you two could catch up on some much needed couple time. spreading his legs for you so tantalizingly, showing the lace thong that’s not even covering his hard cock already weeping at the slit.

bouncing on your cock with loud pitiful whines, thoma could feel the familiar churning feeling in his stomach. a familiar delicious heat tightening and coiling in his loins as he moans out your name.

a shaky hand reaches out, pulling yours to cover his bouncing cock with a sniffle. archons, you would do anything if he gives you that beautiful jade eyes, brimming with tears as the roll down his cheeks. he knows that and uses it so well to his advantage.

“p-please? darling, please help me out here♡︎!” thoma nearly squeals, feeling your cock graze against that familiar part inside him that makes his toes curl and eyes roll to the back of his head as he sees stars in his vision.

placing his hands on your stomach, the puppy of a man angles himself so that everytime he sinks down into the girth of your length, he could make you graze that familiar spot inside him over and over again. thighs shaking, letting out debouched moans of your name over and over, choking on his words. his final straw was when you finally decided to help him out as he pleaded, smearing his pre over his sensitive red tip.

that was all he needed to throw his head back, sobbing your name as his movements become sloppy, soiling your hand with his cum. before he could even catch his breath, you twist yourselves, now being the one on top as thoma lays on the bed on his back. blinking up at you with tear stained face and a soft, confused “m-my love…?”.

lips pulled in a soft pout, eyes wide and innocent yet the moans he was letting out of his drool covered lips were anything but. smiling at him reassuringly, you place a kiss to his forehead. to which, thoma eagerly receives with a soft content hum.

“you did a good job riding me, love. but now, let me take care of you instead, yeah?” your hand that was covered in his cum, slowly and tantalizingly move around him. hips matching the pace of your hand as you slowly pull back your strap before pushing it deep inside his puckering hole again.

thoma only nods eagerly, already dumb off of the feeling of your cock fucking him open. but his hands still wrap around your neck, giving you a cute, tear stained, heart pupil eyed smile.

[miyaagis]

 ெ˚❀ no shame in greed. geto suguru

all men are evil and will act upon their vicious nature if given the chance—and a man in love is not the exception.

explicit content‐mdni. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ phantom of the opera au, fem!reader, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, agalmatophilia, feminine pet names, unprotected sex, mentions of violence/injury

word c. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 642

kinktober m.list

it's surprisingly tender how his lips touched the juncture of your neck and shoulder, considering the coldness that met his mouth. he was used to the silence, to the lack of reactions from you, and yet it never deterred him from his goal—to make love to you.

"darling," his usually gentle voice carried a hint of desperation, breaking slightly to give room to a breathless moan. "fuck– they don't deserve you."

a string of small kisses were peppered from your collarbone to the swell of your breast, jolts of arousal pulsing through his body like heartbeats. you were so beautiful.

his shaft, placed between your thighs, moved back and forth, gliding effortlessly thanks to the streams of cum from his previous release. the engorged tip glistened with beads of pre, weeping translucent pearls onto your skin. suguru found himself gripping your waist as he came with a broken groan, rutting his hips desperately as he sloppily kissed your lips, dragging out his orgasm.

"i love you..."

he clung onto you as the last tremors subsided, his touch gentle as he gazed at your eyes lovingly.

if only the lifeless mannequin could say it back.

—

your eyes were glued to his face—wondering what hid behind the mask. his promises sounded sincere and very appealing, the gentle timbre of his voice soothing out your apprehension.

"and how will you do that?"

he smiled. it wasn't eerie nor unsettling, quite the opposite.

"you're already so talented... so beautiful," he took a pause loaded with admiration. "leave it all to me."

suguru seemed pretty harmless from what you had seen, he obviously had a crush on you. it was cute, even. so it really came as a surprise when the main ballerina got badly injured before your very eyes.

your eyes frantically looked for him amidst the chaos, the screams of pain and horror successfully concealing his shadow lurking behind the stage.

with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest, you stared at him as he placed a single rose on the floor and ran away.

he actually did it.

—

suguru found it ironic that now that he could hear you, cotton seemed to plug his ears and concealed the delicious moans you were gifting him.

"suguru... ohhh that's good," you licked your lips, your throat parched after several rounds of intense sex.

the look in his eyes was crazed, and you found his little obsession with you oddly arousing.

his heavy sack smacked lewdly against the curve of your ass, his position on top of you allowing him to be close to your face as it contorted in bliss. after a while, his pace quickened significantly, signaling his impeding release. with a thumb on your swollen clit, he circled it tenderly at the same time his lips attached to your nipple.

"they're all idiots," his grunts against your breasts were desperate, breathless chants laced with disgust directed at those who were blind to your talent. "...with peas instead of brains. you're special, gifted with so much talent, my dear. my darling girl..."

his body shivered with pleasure pulsing through his nerves, bursts of warmth spreading from his loins as he pumped his seed inside of you.

in the throes of passion and climax, his mask allowed a sliver of the tainted skin to be shown under the candlelight. the mix of horror and pleasure made your pussy flutter deliciously around his girth, squeezing every drop of semen out of him while your own orgasm took over your body.

"I will give you the world, my love." he promised in between kisses, his dark gaze heavy with love and lust. "that's your rightful stage, and this is your home. you'll be the star of every show."

after what he had already done for you, you knew you had no reason to doubt him.