#i need to spread them to everyone so please help

[prettycalla]

|| litatio ||

Pairing: Geta/Reader/Caracalla

Summary: You have heard tale of the monsters that lie within the Palace walls. Little do you realise, they have their sights set on you.

Word count: 6k

Tags and warnings: Vampire AU, smut (not terribly explicit, but still very obvious), horror elements, mentions of blood and death (but nothing too graphic), biting, this is not emperor shipping - they're solely interested in reader, reader has the "mark me down as scared and horny" vibe, reader is she/her, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(All of this started as comments about Geta that got way out of hand, and well, here we are. Whoops. @getaapologist also has a fantastic Vampire AU, please check out her work! She's like, the Queen of writing Geta to me.)

Masterlist || Taglist

There are rumours that echo through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Whispers passed quickly between servants.

Of the monsters that lurk within the grand walls.

Try as you might, it is difficult to ignore them. At first, you had thought they were merely the overactive musings of bored kitchen workers. But now…

A third person has gone missing. Stolen from their bed. If the violent scene left in their quarters is anything to go by, it was not quick.

Whatever it is, it knows what it does.

You do your utmost to keep yourself safe, keeping solely to the kitchens and the servant’s quarters as best you can. The Palace is deathly silent at night now, and everyone travels together in pairs or more where they can.

It is strange, but even with all of your safety measures, you cannot help but feel as though…something is watching you. It makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. You try to convince yourself that it is the collective fear of those around you that is causing these deluded thoughts, but it does not work.

The feeling persists. You are losing sleep. The paranoia continues to loom and spread like a disease.

A fourth servant is soon found to be missing from their bed. They, too, met a violent end.

You mention the idea of passing the information along to the Emperors. It is immediately dismissed.

“As if they would care about what happens to us” is the sentiment you are met with, again and again.

“Perhaps if it were to be framed as concern for their safety,” you argue, but still you are met with resistance.

You decide to take matters into your hands. The next morning, you rush through your tasks as best you can, so that you may have a little time to slip out and make good on your word, at least to yourself. You tell no one, wanting to avoid the ridicule that would certainly follow.

It is a long walk, made longer by the dread that sits like lead in the pit of your stomach. It is not purely from why you must make such a visit to the Emperors - it is the Emperors themselves that leave you filled with apprehension.

Geta and Caracalla are the most feared men in the Roman Empire, and you, lowly servant that you are, have never been in a room with them alone. It has always been at grand banquets and festivities, pressed against a wall and hidden in the shadows until you are called upon. Never have either of them called upon you personally, and so you have yet to see them other than from afar.

You can feel the palms of your hands growing clammy from the very thought of it.

When you finally reach the throne room, you are met by a pair of large, intimidating Imperial guards, standing on either side of the grand doors. They cast a brief glance in your direction, but say nothing.

You muster what little courage you have.

"Excuse me," you say, your voice smaller than you would like it to be. "I need to speak with the Emperors."

One of the guards raises an eyebrow at you, before returning to a neutral expression once more.

You try again, determined to complete your task; however scared you may feel.

“Please, it is an emergency,” you beg, your hands clasped tightly to your chest.

The guards give you their full attention then, looking over your form before casting a glance at each other. They seem to decide that you alone are of no threat, as they push the heavy doors open to announce your arrival.

You immediately cast your gaze to the floor, for fear of incurring the wrath of the Emperors before you have even started what you have set out to do. You carefully make your way across the room, stopping a few metres short of where the Emperors sit, and greet them with a low bow.

"Speak," a voice commands.

It is low, with a smoothness to it. Geta, you realise.

"My Emperors," you begin, your voice already beginning to tremble.

A wild laugh interrupts you, high-pitched as it echoes through the high-ceilinged room.

"Are we really so frightening to look at?" this new voice asks.

It is Caracalla who speaks now. His voice is hoarse, with a rougher edge to it.

You reluctantly raise your head to look at them, keeping your gaze just shy of theirs. Both sets of eyes watch you carefully - it is intimidating, to say the least. Now that you are so close, you are able to see the differences in them. The fullness of Geta's mouth, the curve of Caracalla's nose. You knew them to be handsome, of course, but this...You are finding yourself growing distracted.

Geta sits on the right, elegant and composed in how he presents himself. Caracalla, by contrast, is almost slumped in his throne on the left, legs spread with his hand resting on his cheek. His robes mercifully provide him with some modesty, you cannot help but think to yourself.

"What business do you have with us?" Geta asks. "We do not have all day."

"My Emperors, forgive my intrusion, but there have been attacks in the servant's quarters of late," you reply, clutching your shaking hands tightly.

Caracalla lets out another high-pitched giggle. You hold your tongue, in spite of your irritation.

"We are concerned, Emperors, that you may both be in danger if this...creature is not stopped," you continue.

"Creature?" Geta asks. "What makes you think it is a creature?"

"The...The deaths," you manage to say, your voice failing you for a brief moment. "There is such violence to them. It cannot possibly be mortal."

There is a moment of silence then, that stretches long and uneasily across the grand room.

Caracalla sits up suddenly, as if he has realised something. He leans in close to his brother, whispering something in his ear that you cannot decipher. A small smile tugs at the corners of Geta's mouth. It sends a chill down your spine.

"I must thank you for bringing this matter to our attention," he says.

His tone is different now, but you cannot quite place why. It is still calm, even pleasant, but...

Whatever it is, it escapes you.

“You will certainly be rewarded for your efforts,” he continues, with a little bow of his head.

Caracalla's smile is too wide as he looks at you.

“Yes,” he says, nodding enthusiastically. “Most certainly rewarded.”

You cannot help but feel uneasy at their words, but you dare not show it. You bow politely instead, with a gracious smile.

“I am most grateful for your time, my Emperors,” you say. “I will leave now to return to my duties.”

It takes everything in your power not to run from the room the moment you have turned your back to them. As soon as the grand doors close behind you, you take off, scurrying back to the safety of the kitchens.

You say nothing of your visit, and no one is the wiser. You hope that you have been able to make a difference. Something has to change, things cannot go on as they are.

Your thoughts are unfocused as you go about your work. You cannot stop thinking about the Emperors. You knew them to be unsettling in their presence, but even so...

Something eludes you. Something that feels important.

You are unable to sleep as you lay in bed that night. The two other servants who share space with you have since fallen asleep, their soft snores echoing through the otherwise silent room. Normally it is soothing to you - you find comfort in knowing that you are not alone, particularly recently - but now your mind knows no rest. You think back to the events of the day, of meeting the Emperors. Of Caracalla's cruel laugh when you relayed your story, of the disconcerting smile Geta had given you.

What had Caracalla said to him?

You go over it all, again and again, until your eyes are unable to remain open any longer. You try your best to resist, but it grows more difficult, nearing impossible.

Just where are you hiding?

A voice, sudden and unbidden, as if from somewhere in the recesses of your mind. You know it, you are sure of it. But from where?

You sit up, straining your ears as you listen for it again. You do not dare leave the room, but you must know who it was that spoke.

Perhaps the paranoia that lurks within each of the servants has finally infected you too; yet still you sit in wait, hoping that you will hear it again.

Hours pass, and your exhaustion finally defeats you. You think no more of it, as you drift off into fitful dreams of fiery hair and dripping blood.

Time passes, and the situation is only growing worse. More and more servants are disappearing, only to be hastily replaced with new ones. Tensions rise ever higher, and no one dares even speak the names of the disappeared, for fear that it will bring some sort of curse upon them. Even you, polite as you are, barely stop to recognise the newcomers anymore, as you know that it will not be long before they are gone once more. It is a miracle of the Gods that you are still living. It is a sobering thought, and one that has cost you much sleep, amongst the many others that plague you night and day.

But it is not only that. Your dreams, having become more violent and terrifying as a result of the growing carnage in the servant's quarters, have now taken an even more unsettling turn. Almost every night since your meeting with them, you have dreamed of the Emperors. They are not unpleasant dreams, and this is what worries you most.

Of deft hands trailing across your bare skin, low voices drawling enticing, sinful words in your ear. Of sharp teeth, tearing into your flesh, rivulets of blood cascading into eager mouths.

They leave you sweating and trembling in the dark. They should leave you filled with terror, yet they do not. You speak of them to no one.

It has not escaped your notice how close it is to the arrival of Dies Sanguinis - the Day of Blood. It should not matter; surely whatever monster that lurks within the Palace does not give care to festivities. But even so…It feels too much of an ill omen for you to ignore.

The preparations for the upcoming celebrations leave everyone so busy that it is difficult to think of anything beyond the task at hand. Even you are struggling to remain vigilant when you are constantly called back and forth from various parts of the Palace.

The warning you had passed to the Emperors has clearly gone unheeded, as instructions for preparation for a full feast are passed down to the kitchens early one morning. You, of course, held no illusions as to whether they cared about their servants, but you had thought that they would care enough about themselves to reconsider the usual display of imperial grandeur. You cannot shift the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, even as you are run entirely ragged with errands.

It had been an unusually warm day for so early in the year; closer to the hazy heat of summer. Even the evening air still holds a thickness to it, and you are struggling to keep up with everything you must do. You know it is not the wisest decision, but you need a moment to cool yourself, lest you faint and make yourself an even more enticing target for…whatever it is that roams as freely as it does.

You allow yourself a brief detour through the gardens. It is simply another route back to the kitchens, you convince yourself, and there are enough people enjoying the festivities within the Palace that you feel a little safer, should anything happen.

You stop for a moment at the stone fountain situated in the centre, cupping little handfuls of water to drop across the insides of your wrists. Immediately, you feel the cloying heat that has followed you for most of the day begin to lift.

You find yourself momentarily distracted by the relief of the fountain water, and it takes a moment before you realise that someone is speaking. You lift your head. There is no one there; rather it appears to come from behind the large columns that run along the outside of the Palace.

It is a familiar voice, but you cannot decipher what it is saying.

Another voice follows, higher in pitch. A woman, perhaps.

You still cannot understand, but if their tones tell you anything, it is not a conversation you should be eavesdropping on, you quickly realise with burning cheeks.

You move to continue on your way, to give them their privacy, when-

It is then that you hear it.

A sharp shriek, followed by a sickly snap and a dull thud. Your heart is quickly gripped by terror, and you frantically whip your head up to see if you can find where the petrifying din had come from.

There.

A shadow, a shapeless silhouette lurking behind the columns. The voice you had heard before?

You try to move, to make your escape, but you are so focused on avoiding the attention of the thing that lurks in the shadows that you are entirely unaware of what is now standing behind you.

"Well, well," comes a low voice, close to your ear. "I have never had such eager prey."

With a terrified yelp, you take off running, not thinking of where you could possibly go where you will not be found. Faces are little more than blurs as you pass; so caught up in the fear that threatens to throttle you that you do not think to stop and ask for help.

I cannot be found, is what you think to yourself over and over, as you keep running.

Eventually, the stitch growing ever greater in your side becomes impossible to ignore, and you run into a nearby room. Mercifully, it is empty. You close the door as quietly as you can, wincing as it creaks beneath your trembling hands. As soon as it is shut, you slump to the ground, desperate to catch your breath. It is painful, but gradually your breathing begins to settle.

You manage to stumble to your feet once more, in the hopes of finding something that would be of use as a weapon. It is a bedroom you have hidden yourself in, you realise with a sweeping glance, and one far grander than you are used to.

As you search for something, anything, to defend yourself with, you think back to what the voice in your ear had said in the gardens, replaying the words over and over. You know that voice, you are sure of it.

And what of the creature lurking in the shadows? Were there two of them?

You have to escape, return to the servant’s quarters, warn them-

You are so caught up in the tempestuous whirlwind of your own thoughts that you do not hear the door opening.

You do not hear the footsteps across the floor.

It is only when a hand, strong and cold, slides around your throat that you realise.

You are no longer alone.

Your fingers scrabble to release yourself from your captor’s hold, nails biting into skin.

A voice shushes you, almost mockingly.

“Come now, there is no need for that,” it murmurs, low and smooth.

“Do you realise how long it took for us to hunt you down?” asks another voice, rougher around the edges.

Fear grips you suddenly, and your eyes widen.

“Emperors?” you manage to gasp out.

The wicked cackle that echoes around the otherwise silent room is more than answer enough.

“She is wiser than we gave her credit for, I must admit,” Caracalla says, amused.

“Please- I-” you try again, your voice weak.

The hand around your throat squeezes, and you immediately fall silent.

“Hush,” Geta says softly, thumb stroking gently across your skin. “Save your strength. You will need it.”

He lets go of you then, and you stumble forward, your knees hitting the ground harshly. A hiss of pain escapes you, as you frantically turn yourself over to finally look the Emperors in the eye.

Geta is as calm and collected as ever, hands neatly folded in front of him. He looks down at you with an expression almost akin to pity.

“You were most kind to come and warn us as you did,” he says. “But your efforts, while laudable, were for naught.”

Caracalla crouches down in front of you, and you instinctively pull back, moving until your back hits the wall behind you with a soft thump.

“You need not have warned us of the “monsters” that lurk within the Palace,” he says, almost gleeful, “for they stand before you now.”

He grins, and your blood runs cold as your gaze drops to his mouth. Glinting in the low light of the lanterns are two elongated teeth, sharp as knives and equally as vicious-looking.

Fangs.

"What- What are you?" you manage to stammer out.

You feel as though you are about to choke on your heart. You have never felt terror like it.

"We are as the Gods made us," Geta replies.

The simplicity of his answer surprises you. That cannot be all there is.

Caracalla is still crouched in front of you, blue eyes eerie in how closely they watch your every movement. His gaze flicks from your face to your neck, over and over. It makes your skin crawl.

"You...are the ones responsible," you murmur. "For the...For the deaths."

Geta hums in response.

"When you are made as we are, there are certain rules that must be followed," he explains. "We cannot eat as we once did. So, other...arrangements must be made, shall we say."

Caracalla bares his teeth once more, as if to impress upon you the point Geta is making. It is not necessary.

"And now that you have seen us..."

Geta trails off for a moment, as if savouring his next words.

"...I am afraid that we cannot allow you to leave."

You shake your head vehemently.

"Please, I- I will not tell a soul," you beg. "I swear on my life. I will keep your secret until my dying breath. Who would even believe me?"

Geta tilts his head, dark eyes watching you closely, as if in appraisal.

"You misunderstand," he replies. "While there are certain loose ends that must be tied up, we are not entirely concerned as to who you might tell of this. No, it is more than that."

Caracalla leans closer to you still, shaky breaths passing his parted lips.

"It is you," he murmurs with an unsettling smile.

"When you came to us, to warn us," Geta says. "It was then that we realised. What we had been searching for."

"Where you had been hiding," Caracalla finishes.

"Me? What are you talking about?" you ask, brows knit together in confusion.

"The servant's quarters are small, and there are so very many of you," Caracalla replies, "I have had great difficulty in seeking you out."

Your head feels as though it is swimming. With each new piece of information they provide you, you find yourself understanding less and less.

"Why me?" you persist. "It does not make sense."

"Oh, but it does," Geta replies. "My brother and I have particular tastes, myself more so. We are Gods, we do not drink swill."

He smiles then. For the briefest moment, his face contorts into something beyond your worst nightmares. You quickly blink, and he is once again as handsome as he ever was. You cannot have imagined it, surely.

"You will be far sweeter than anything we have yet tasted, I can already assure it," Caracalla says, bringing your attention back to him.

He is much closer now; his cold breath ghosting across your skin. You cannot move, entirely trapped as you are.

Your pulse is thrumming beneath your skin. Erratic, convulsing. How the air feels just before Jupiter strikes the sky with his mighty ire. In this very moment, you are little more than a rabbit, cornered by a hungry wolf.

And Caracalla…

Caracalla is ravenous.

He moves then, with a swiftness you cannot possibly have anticipated. He presses close to you, his mouth not quite touching the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. You dare not move, for fear of what he might do. Trembling sighs escape him, sending shivers through you and leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

He is fighting for control. With what exactly, you cannot say, but he appears to be losing.

He breathes in; a long, shaky sound that leaves your blood running cold in your veins. In an instant, he rises, dragging you to your feet as well. His hands grip harshly at your arms.

“Caracalla,” comes Geta’s voice, low and commanding.

Warning.

He is closer than before, but no longer within your line of vision.

Caracalla snarls in response, a gust of breath beating against your skin, and you jolt in his hold. Your heart stammers, and his grip on you tightens.

“How long do you expect me to wait?” he demands. “Let me take-“

“No,” Geta interrupts harshly.

Fabric rustles against the marble floor as he draws closer still. Finally, you can see him. Your eyes meet, and the little safety you felt at his presence quickly wanes. His eyes are dark, almost black now; his gaze hypnotic in its intensity. You cannot bring yourself to look away.

He reaches out to you, taking your chin in his hand. His thumb gently strokes across your cheek, before dragging across your lower lip.

“You will wait,” he says lowly.

He is addressing his brother, yet his eyes never leave yours.

“Why should I?” Caracalla snaps in response.

He is close, so close to losing his temper, yet Geta's words still hold him in place.

“It will be all the sweeter for it, I assure you,” he replies.

A smile spreads across his face, exposing the sharp fangs that lurk within.

If it were not for Caracalla’s unnaturally strong grip on your arms holding you up, you would surely have fallen to your knees by now. Your pulse thrums beneath your skin so violently, it leaves you lightheaded.

“Perhaps we might…indulge her first?” Geta suggests, his gaze raking over you as he does so.

Caracalla draws back then, however reluctantly. His bright gaze roams across your face, sharp teeth biting at his lip.

He looks feral. No other word can possibly describe him better.

“Yes,” he replies thickly. “Yes, we…we should.”

You cast a glance between the two of them, hoping that perhaps they might explain themselves, as your mouth is so dry from fright that you are unsure if you can even form words.

Geta’s hand has not left you; his touch leaves your skin scorched.

“Tell me,” he begins, finally addressing you. “What thoughts have you had of us?”

Your eyes widen. He laughs then, as if he is mocking you.

“Do not pretend as if you are a Vestal,” he says. “There is no use in hiding it.”

You try to swallow, anything to make your mouth move-

“Did you know that each of us has a different gift?” Geta asks.

Each of us.

There are more of them.

“My brother has a sense of smell that could rival a shark’s,” he continues. “That is how we were able to find you in the first place.”

He leans in, his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth.

“And my gift…”

Caracalla lets out a giggle. He knows, of course he does.

“…is the ability to read thoughts.”

You feel your stomach drop at his words.

“So, I will ask you again,” he says lowly. “What thoughts have you had of us?”

He tilts his head.

“Or perhaps, you have had thoughts of only me,” he says with a smirk.

Caracalla snarls as he rounds his attention on Geta.

“Either way,” Geta continues, not even acknowledging his brother. “You may keep them to yourself. But I will know.”

You desperately try to keep your mind blank, but your thoughts betray you, and an image comes to you in a flash, unbidden. Of you, between the Emperors, undressed and entirely at their mercy. Of the dreams that have been haunting you, night after night.

Geta’s smile widens.

“My, my,” he murmurs. “What filth you keep locked away from us.”

Caracalla looks between the two of you, as impatient as he is frustrated.

“What thoughts does she have?” he demands. “Tell me.”

Geta shakes his head with a small smile.

“Surely you can sense it, even without my help,” he replies.

Caracalla pauses, before his mouth splits into a vicious-looking smile.

“Oh, little dove, you have certainly been hiding that, have you not?” he sing-songs giddily, as one of his hands dips under the hem of your tunica.

You instinctively squeeze your thighs together as Caracalla’s hand drifts up along your skin. You do not want this, you think to yourself over and over.

But you are lying.

And when you meet Geta’s gaze, his expression speaks volumes.

He knows.

“Do as we wish, and we will give you everything you desire,” Caracalla murmurs, fingers tracing little patterns against your skin.

You bite your lip in hesitation. Terrified. Curious.

Wanting.

“It will not hurt,” Geta adds. “It will be as if you are dreaming.”

You do not miss the emphasis he puts on his last word. Surely he cannot…?

You look between the two vicious wolves that stand before you. You do not trust them. But oh…

How you wish to give in.

“Then give in,” Geta murmurs in answer.

Before you can even process his words, Geta’s lips are against yours in a bruising kiss, as Caracalla finally pries your legs apart and claims what is his.

Having so much attention focused on you at once, it is an intoxicating feeling that leaves your head spinning. Your thoughts halt in their tracks, and you desperately fight to remember how to breathe. Caracalla’s fingers move against you in such a way that it forces a sharp gasp to escape you. Geta’s tongue licks into your mouth, coaxing out a barely stifled moan.

Caracalla’s patience quickly wears thin all too soon, and he pulls back. You cannot stop the little whine that escapes you at the sudden loss of his touch. Geta withdraws then too, nipping gently at your lower lip as he does so.

“I cannot endure this any longer,” Caracalla says, his voice high and strained. “I must have her.”

Geta nods, holding out a hand to you. Without a thought, you take it, allowing him to lead you across the room.

It is with ease that you go, and you cannot understand why. Geta's grip on your hand is light; it would yield easily should you pull away. But you cannot bring yourself to do it. Surely it is a madness that you have been afflicted with. You have lost all sense of reason in your terror.

But there is more, more that lurks beneath the surface. More that you cannot begin to understand.

"You are but human," Geta says, as if in answer. "You will always fall victim to your baser urges."

You cannot find the strength to argue with him, with any of it.

Geta climbs onto the bed, settling himself comfortably in the centre. He truly is the very picture of royalty, lounging against the plush pillows. He reaches out for you once more, as Caracalla's hands press against your shoulder blades, urging you forward. He need not bother, as your mind is so rapidly becoming lost in your growing desire.

You allow Geta to pull you up onto the bed with him, Caracalla mere millimetres behind you. The stark contrast in the two of them is astounding: Caracalla is hasty, impatient; whereas Geta looks as though he could not care less, legs spread in a languid manner and eyes half-lidded as he watches you.

Caracalla's hands fidget with the hem of your tunica as you sit on your knees in front of Geta. He is clearly restraining himself from what he truly wants, and you cannot help but wonder how much control Geta holds over him.

"Not as much as I would like, I assure you," he murmurs, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

Your eyes widen. How many times will you forget this ability of his?

Caracalla lets out a huff of impatience, harsh against the nape of your neck.

"Undress her," Geta instructs, resting his cheek in his hand. "And mind your manners."

Caracalla mutters something obscene under his breath that under normal circumstances would have made you laugh. But this...

This was far from normal.

Eager hands tug your tunica from you, and your shoes and undergarments are quick to follow.

Geta's gaze travels slowly along your body, now bare before him. He sucks in a small breath as he stops at your thighs. You try to clench them together, but it is too late. He has seen it. The evidence of your arousal.

Caracalla's hands slide around to your front to cup your breasts. You gasp at his touch, and a moan escapes him n response. He presses closer to you, and you can feel how hard he is against you. You have a suspicion that Geta may be faring no better, though you cannot see under the folds of his voluminous robes.

"It seems you have quite the high opinion of yourself," Geta says.

Warmth rushes to your face in embarrassment.

Caracalla squeezes you harshly, as if to bring your attention back to him.

"If you two are going to continue this little charade, then I will take what I want and have done with it," he spits in irritation.

You jolt as his lips press firmly against your neck, one hand trailing up to your hair to hold you in place.

"My apologies," Geta says coolly, though he does not look in the least bit sorry. "She is just so...talkative."

You cannot help but glare at him, and he laughs, a soft sound that makes your stomach flutter. Geta rises then, kneeling in front of you. His hands ghost lightly down along your sides, to the curve of your hips, thumbs pressing firmly into the skin there as he grips you.

"Will you take her, or shall I?" he asks.

The question is obviously meant for Caracalla, but his dark gaze is focused on you as he speaks, leaving you squirming in their collective hold.

"I will," Caracalla replies, eager in his haste to answer. "You have drawn this out long enough. I will have no more of it."

Geta lets go of you then, returning to where he had been sitting before. He takes your hands in his, as Caracalla releases his grip on you, and you all but tumble into his lap. He positions you as he pleases, as if you are little more than a puppet, spreading your legs over his. He is built thicker than you had realised, hidden under so much fabric as he is, and already you can feel the muscles in your legs begin to protest being stretched across his lap as you are.

Neither of them allow you much time to adjust. Geta's hand dips between your legs, dragging across your core, and you bite your lip hard to stifle the moan that is almost ripped from you. You are suddenly made very aware of how clothed the two of them are, and your cheeks burn in humiliation.

It is difficult to focus on it for long when Geta's fingers are moving as they are against you, back and forth, too lightly, too slowly. Already you can feel yourself growing impatient. How you wish they would take already.

Geta tilts his head as he looks up at you. His smile is downright dangerous.

"As you wish," he murmurs, and before you have time to comprehend his words, he presses two fingers into you.

Your mouth drops open involuntarily at the stretch of him. You feel so full, it aches, and yet it is not enough. Not nearly enough.

He draws back from you slightly, before pushing back in again. You feel your eyes roll back at his touch.

Geta gives you a knowing smile, but holds his tongue. He allows you a moment to adjust, for which you are grateful. Caracalla presses a hand over your breast, and he laughs breathlessly.

"Her heart is beating so fast," he murmurs, a tremble in his voice. "I do not know how much longer I can wait."

It is not long before Geta is pressing harder, deeper, again and again, until you are trembling in his lap. You can hear yourself, hear how obscene you sound; yet you can no longer bring yourself to feel shame, overwhelmed with pleasure as you are.

Not one to be easily forgotten, Caracalla presses a hand to your jaw to tilt your face towards him, and you go all too willingly. He kisses you, messy and vicious and everything you need in that moment. His other hand slips down your form, to rub tight little circles where you desperately need it most.

You gasp as your tongue drags over the point of one of Caracalla's fangs. Even retracted as they appear to be, they are sharp, and a brief feeling of terror blooms in you, before it is quickly lost once more.

“If it were not for him,” he murmurs as he breaks away, his gaze lingering on Geta momentarily in annoyance, “I would have torn you to pieces by now.”

Geta clicks his tongue. In spite of how he has you now, he is still able to appear as if he is completely in control.

“You have always been a glutton,” he replies tersely. “You must learn to savour your meals.”

Caracalla snarls in response, holding you closer to him as Geta presses into you, again and again.

They will surely ruin you. You do not know how much more of this you can take.

Geta's hand is on your jaw then, eyes swallowed black with desire.

"She draws close," he murmurs, his voice trembling as he finally begins to lose his composure.

If you had thought they were overwhelming before, you are sorely mistaken. Now they seek to devastate you, dragging you closer and closer to the edge of release you so desperately long for.

It is too much, all at once, and with a sharp cry, you feel that blinding, overwhelming, wonderful wave of ecstasy crash over you.

It is then that they strike. Caracalla is first, desperate in his need, his fangs plunging into your neck. You stiffen in pain, convulsing in his hold, before a soothing warmth envelops you, leaving you docile and dizzy, as if you have overindulged on sweet wine.

Your head lolls against Caracalla's shoulder as he continues to drink from you. Geta takes your wrist in his strong grip, and pliant as you are, you give no resistance. His tongue drags across your skin, across your fluttering pulse, and another sharp sting of pain follows, quickly dulled to a pleasant ache.

You are truly and utterly lost to pleasure; you cannot bring yourself to care if they do not stop. You would gladly let them take and take and take if it meant that you could stay in this dreamlike haze forever.

Time seems to slow, and your eyes feel heavy. It is too much to hold them open, and you wish to let sleep take you.

Rest now, you hear a voice command, as if from within your very thoughts.

You think no more of it, as sleep drags you under.

Voices seem to float around you. Faceless, bodiless. You cannot say where you are, or who you are. It is as if you are floating. It is not an unpleasant feeling.

“What shall we do with her now?”

It is Caracalla’s voice, you think, but it is hazy. As if he is cloaked in fog, somewhere far away.

A long stretch of silence passes, then-

“We shall keep her,” another voice replies - Geta, perhaps. “She is of far greater use to us alive.”

The voices fall silent once more. Another long moment passes, before you are once again lured away by the siren song of sleep.

Taglist 💖: @glassbxttless @lover-rep-fanfic @punkrockmlchael @x-vadon @dubiousmetamorphosis

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[musicalnobody]

The Ghost You Fed - Ch. 1

bunny hybrid!reader X cane corso hybrid!simon "ghost" riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 4.2k words ⋆ 18+, explicit in future chapters ⋆ tags to be added as story progresses ⋆

⋆ pinterest board ⋆ AO3 link ⋆ next ⋆

Summary: Being a service animal is all you've ever known, being spoiled as a treat for all you do for your owner. So what happens when you see something, or rather someone, you can't have? (Inspired by 'it will come back' by hozier)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, eventual smut, kind of icky simon, stalking, past character death, reader is so spoiled, drug dealing, dog fighting, breaking and entering, semi-public masturbation

A/N: WOOOO NEW FIC TIME!!! To give a little heads up, I will be using italics to indicate sign language between the reader and her owner. There isn’t going to much of a description for the reader, but your hair is fairly long, and your ear and tail color are mentioned, you are also chubby bc come on, a little old lady with a hybrid? She’s gonna fatten you right up. In this universe hybrids have ears, tails, and some have claws and canine fangs. Heats and ruts also exist within this universe but without the whole omegaverse thing. The rest you’ll figure out along the way!

Being a service animal was easy enough. Tell her when someone was at the door, translate when you were out in public, comfort her when she was having a rough day, and in exchange you got pampered. It truly was an easy life.

Agnes had adopted you when you were just a kit, only five years old. She wasn’t fully deaf at the time, able to start teaching you sign language at a young age. She was the kindest woman you had ever met. Her hearing had fully deteriorated when you were 12 years old. Crying for hours at a time when she finally broke the news to you, never being much of a tough one.

She still tried her best to teach you all that she could, cooking and cleaning as well as hobbies like reading, writing, and crocheting fun little projects. You were quite spoiled, and you knew it, having you own room but preferring to sleep at the end of Agnes’ large bed, having a whole closet filled with frilly outfits, getting to be paraded about outside.

Your crème-colored fur doesn’t get dirty anymore, baths becoming a part of your routines. Agnes brushes your hair afterwards, having you sit in front of your vanity while she does. You always feel so special when she does this, especially when she gently grabs your droopy ears to brush out as well, leaving them all fluffy for you. When Agnes starts entering you in beauty pageants, you’re over the moon, pleased that your owner thinks so highly of you. You learn tricks, you show them how competent you are, how nice your coat is.

You display the awards proudly in your room.

Despite being out so often, Agnes didn’t have many friends. Just a couple childhood friends who would visit every now and then, her kids living on opposite sides of the country. They would have tea parties, none of them having hybrids of their own so you were left to bask in their attention. The scratches at your ears and tummy were what you lived for.

You were never bad, always following the rules and orders around the house, helping when needed. You were an easy bunny to take care of, Agnes couldn’t of asked for better. You had gotten your service animal papers the day you turned 13, and Agnes had given you a frilly vest that she had hand-sewed so everyone would know that’s exactly what you were. You wore the vest until the day the seams ripped, and it wouldn’t go over your arms anymore. That’s when she made you a new one.

It was a rainy day, one reserved for baking. Today, you had decided to surprise Agnes with Manchester tarts, some of her favorites. These bite sized deserts had a shortcrust pastry shell spread with raspberry jam, covered with a custard filling and topped with flakes of coconut and a Maraschino cherry. They made the whole house smell like warm raspberries and pastry, something you certainly weren’t complaining about.

You sat up in your room, brushing out your hair after deciding what to wear. Since you weren’t going outside, you decided on a frilly pink top with flowers decorating it, a short white layered skirt with white bloomers under it, and two pink lacy garters sitting atop your thighs. You wore dangly earrings with pink raspberries on the end, as well as a pearl necklace with a matching charm that went well with your pink collar sitting around your neck, proudly displaying your name. You quickly put some mascara on and some lip tint, popping your lips in the mirror. A chill went up your spine and you flicked your eyes to gaze behind you in the mirror, attributing it to the wind from your open window.

You walk downstairs, seeing Agnes knitting you a pink and white striped sweater on the recliner. Going up to her and tapping her on the shoulder, you tell her what you’re doing.

“Going to make us treats today” You signed as you smiled. You watched as Agnes returned the smile and nodded, indicating that she was going to continue knitting. You skipped off to the kitchen, since you were a bunny hybrid, you were only about 5 feet, and that was on the taller side. This meant that you often had to use the stool to grab different ingredients. You looked behind you again as another chill went up your spine, but this time there wasn’t a window open. You chalked it up to the heating not being high enough after not seeing anything.

Throwing the flour, diced butter, white fat and icing sugar together, you began the pastry. Mixing in the water, you then let it set for 30 minutes, idly watching the tv. When the timer finally went off, you leapt up, running to the kitchen. You opened the window behind you so the kitchen didn’t get too hot when you turned on the oven, setting a towel in front so that rain didn’t get on the floor.

After pre-heating the oven to 190°C and putting the baking beans in the tart, you twirled around and put the tart in the oven for another 20 minutes. After taking the baking beans out and letting it cook for another 7 minutes, you took it out and spread the jam along the bottom, sprinkling the coconut atop of it.

You made the custard, boiling the mixture and adding vanilla to taste before pouring it through a sieve. You stirred it for a few minutes, letting it cool, before pouring it into the tart. You sprinkled the top with the rest of the coconut before setting it out and letting it cool. These desserts were something that Agnes had spent plenty of time teaching you how to learn, so much so that you could do it by heart at this point. You set the timer for four agonizing hours and then pranced over to Agnes, kneeling beside her chair to receive the occasional pet as you began your own little crochet project.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon had known the streets long before he knew the regimen of the military. When his mother had passed and his brother fell into drugs, he left. Hybrids like him weren’t treated too kindly, as he wasn’t easily trainable, he wasn’t as obedient and desperate to please like some of the others. Simon found spots in alleys, abandoned buildings, and the occasional hybrid-friendly motel if he saved enough money. But that never lasted long.

When the military found him, he’d had a run in with some old “tamers” that were trying to capture him, he had fought back and paid the consequence, long lashes scattering his arms and back. Price had taken him right under his wing. Teaching him how to be a proper K-9 unit, watching him surpass that and being let on the field without a handler. Being able to be trusted with gun. Everything was going great for Simon. Until the death of his best friend.

Soap’s passing had left such a vengeance in his heart that he was forced to be honorably discharged, they feared what a man like him would be able to do if set off. They had tried to get him housing but nowhere would take his breed. The only option being those damned trainers and underground hybrid fighting rings. Simon quickly realized he could make a quick buck by entering these fights. Learning that he didn’t need a handler when he already knew how to fight. He had plenty of offers, but always snarled at them, telling them to fuck off, that he knew what he was doing.

So, there he was, a world-class soldier now turned into a common stray. Resorting to illegal fighting and other ventures to line his pockets. There was a fresh bruise blooming under his eye, the last fight ending just a couple hours ago. Simon would find a place to sleep for a few hours before moving again, not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

When he woke up to the rain, it was just another day for him, though he noted he would have to stop by a laundromat for his current clothes, thankful for the extra outfit in his backpack. It was early in the morning when he was hopping the roofs of the city. Most of the lights down because of the weather. It wasn’t until he stopped to catch his breath that he noticed the house across the street.

A small baby blue house sat in his line of sight, a lamp illuminating a room on the second story. Having been perched at the far end of the building across the street, he crept closer to the edge. That’s when he saw it, or rather, you.

You were brushing your hair with a brush that looked straight out of the Victorian era, like you were a princess. You were sitting in front of your vanity in an outfit that had Simon snarling. The garters that were sitting on your thighs were things he wanted to take off with his own teeth. He sat there, staring at you as you brushed out your, oh. Oh. You were a little bunny hybrid. He hadn’t noticed your tail tucked under you before, or your floppy little ears until you pulled them out to brush. If your window wasn’t open, Simon would’ve started to howl, but for fear of scaring your owner, let alone you, he didn’t.

He watched as you shivered, ducked as you turned to look out the window. His call sign proving its significance at this moment, his ability to disappear within a blink of an eye. He peeked his head back up, watching as you left your room and bounced down the stairs, truly getting a grasp of how small you were. He groaned, long and heavy. You were perfect. Your skirt was tantalizingly short, bloomers covering what he wanted to see most.

When he lost sight of you in the living room? Well, it was time to move. He snuck down, thankful for the bushes that surrounded your house, and peered in. He noticed your hands moving animatedly until it actually hit him. You were signing. Your owner was deaf. Simon quickly thanked whatever God was out there that he had less of a chance of being caught if he was howling, less chance of getting caught when sneaking around. He watched as you went into the kitchen, moved to the window next to him so he could see you better.

Simon was aware this made him nothing short of a creep, but he was addicted to you. He watched as you stood atop your stool, watched as your body realized someone was staring at you while he ducked down. The thrill was enough to get his breathing ragged, grateful that there weren’t windows open next to him. Popping back up to watch you throw together the dough, hiding when you opened the window next to him. Staring intently as you waited right next to your owner, wanting it to be him giving you all the desperate pets you wanted. The smell of your baking was starting to become more prominent as you put the pastry in the oven.

He could smell the raspberry jam being spread on the tart, matching your cute little earrings that he was getting a close eye of. He watched as you sprinkled the coconut on the tart before starting on the custard. The smell was fantastic, and Simon had a pretty good idea of what you were making by now. A Manchester tart. He hadn’t tasted one in years. His mother had used to make them when he was younger, holiday dinners and such. He was damn near ecstatic when he realized that’s what you were making, already looking for the weak points in your house.

⋆🐾⋆

Waiting for the tart to cool was agonizing. No matter how much crocheting you could do or how much music you could listen to, you were moping around the house bored. Agnes took pity on you, looking down at you as you tapped your foot against the ground,

“Impatient, love?”

“I just know they’re going to taste so good!” You signed back, emphasizing your words by making fireworks with your hands. Agnes simply chuckled before ruffling your hair.

“Good things come to those who wait” Her famous line being signed as you went to lay back down, continuing your little project as you waited for the timer to go off.

When the timer finally pinged, you jumped to your feet. Grabbing the pie slicer, you cut the tart into 10 equal pieces, dishing out you and Agnes a piece. Grabbing your signature mini fork and handing Agnes her piece, you dug in.

Your teeth sunk into the tart, a happy noise coming out of your mouth, it was delicious. The buttery crust melted on your tongue, the tart raspberries pulling it together, and the coconut adding a hint of extra flavor. “It’s so good” You signed to Agnes as you continued to eat. Agnes simply smiled at you before grabbing a slice of her own, making her own noise of happiness when she sunk her teeth in.

“I think you’ve learned how to make it better than me.” Agnes signed back at you, a look of proudness on her face. You smiled, big and wide, happy to please your owner so much. This was the best Manchester tart you’ve ever made, and you knew it. Putting the rest in Tupperware and putting it into the fridge, you shut the door gently.

“I’m going to go take a bath!” You signed to Agnes before bouncing upstairs, opening the door to the bathroom. Opening the window a tad, you started to strip your outfit off, making sure you had 2 fluffy towels to welcome you when you got out. You started filling the tub with hot water, just a bit hotter than comfortable so it wouldn’t get cold too fast. The large claw-foot tub held you easily as you stepped foot in the hot water. You sighed heavily and swung your other foot over, gently setting yourself down.

You began your routine by shampooing your hair and ears, the strawberry shortcake scent starting to permeate the room. You lathered your hair until it was soapy, scrubbing at your ears gently. You went to rinse your hair and felt the familiar chill down your spine despite the water being hot. You wanted to close the window, worrying that that was the problem, but you know the room will get too steamy if you do, so you decide to leave it open.

You then moved onto conditioning your hair, the matching scent adding to the smell in the air. Your hair and fur instantly felt silkier, the bubbles now surrounding you. You grabbed your scrubbing brush and put your vanilla scented soap on it before beginning to scrub yourself down. Using your hands on more sensitive areas, you traced over the area lightly, mewling softly.

Draining the water and closing the window, you pattered over to your room. Putting on a cute little matching set with a sheer pink nightdress on top, you pranced around the house feeling like a princess. You skipped down the stairs to see Agnes. Who simply smiled at your appearance, your hair still drying.

“You look beautiful my dear.” You smiled right back at her, all teeth and giggles. You pranced over to the cabinets, once again grabbing the stool to grab one of your pink bowls with white bunnies all over it. You set the bowl on the counter before grabbing the tub of neapolitan ice cream and scooping 3 large spoonsful into your bowl. Putting the tub back before grabbing a spoon and glancing at what Agnes was watching

It was one of her soap operas, a tale of a hybrid and her handler who lived out in the country, escaping from the crime they were used to. In this particular episode, the avian hybrid was being approached by a large feline hybrid from the opposing organized crime group, you tried to avoid the screen, the scene starting to cause you anxiety.

“More sweets?” Agnes signed as she smiled warmly at you, making sure you knew she wasn’t being judgmental. You nodded, offering her a bite before trotting back upstairs.

Sitting on your bed watching tv, you were kicking your feet in the air as you shoveled spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, letting out little mewls and moans at the delicious taste. The movie was just starting, an old silent fairytale that you had seen over and over. Despite the film being old, there were still hybrids in it, having them be the two helping hands that assisted the soon to be princess in getting ready. The scene made you happy, not often getting good representation in the media, hence why this was a comfort film.

But your mind started to become occupied with other things, the movie not holding your attention very well. You tried to write in your diary, writing about how you had baked for the day, coming up with ideas on how to modify the Manchester tart. You wrote about how nice your bath was, how you needed to get more bubble bath solution. You wrote about all the mundane things that happened throughout your day, talking about how you were excited for the summer trip only a few months away, really trying to wind down.

That was until a too familiar chill slipped down your spine again, and you had enough. You stomped overed to your window, thankful that Agnes wasn’t able to hear your steps, and glared out into the open sky.

“Will you stop that!” You said loudly, looking at the moon as the rain that had been pouring down all day continued.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon crept around the house for another hour, successfully finding the back door unlocked and a way to access the upper roof so he could peek into your window. He would come back once the Manchester tarts were done cooling off. For now, he had stuff to do. At least, that’s what he told himself as he tore his body away from the window.

He was a simple man; he had to make money somehow. At least, that’s what he told himself as he gave the next sorry soul another dose of whatever high they were after. If the military could see him now, they’d be ashamed, but pushing drugs was an easy and quick fix. It wasn’t weird to wear hoods that hid his ears and masks that obscured his face, especially when he was dealing with heat suppressants, some of the most illegal drugs on the market.

When hybrids first started appearing in the general market, heat and rut suppressants were encouraged, often being prescribed when a hybrids cycle was especially rough or aggressive. But as more side effects got added and other alternatives were created, they slowly withdrew from popularity, now only being used as heavy birth control. There were also multiple brands that were illegal, brands that Simon was all too familiar with.

While he also pushed “normal” drugs such as coke or weed, there was a much higher demand for suppressants. The more he sat and thought about his profession, the more he thought about you. Wondering if you even had a heat anymore, or if they took your glands away from you when you were deemed unfit to be anything more than a pet, yet another solution they had come up with.

Simon had been offered the surgery when he first entered the military, but he flat out refused. He didn’t like his ruts, as they often fell under the aggressive category, but he would often have someone accompany him or at least keep him locked up. He had found someone that he consistently spent his ruts with, and that’s when the military’s offer came to taunt him, asking after the death of—

He shook himself out of his train of thought, busying it with you again. How your room had been covered in bows and frills, pink and cream, florals, a princess’s dream. How although not in a great part of the city, your house was still perfectly put together. So fitting for the two of you. The yellow and white kitchen looked like it came straight out of a 1950’s nostalgic catalogue, and suddenly he was imagining himself behind you as you baked sweet treats for them.

He was yet again getting too far ahead of himself, hell, he didn’t even know your name. Strays like him weren’t welcome in homes like that, he didn’t have the manners to stay within that little home. He would sink his teeth in to rip and tear at the seams. He would destroy anything he touched. And with him not being a proper working dog, well he just couldn’t let you into this life. That’s when he decided he would stay far, far away from you. Watching you only when it was safe to do so.

After three agonizing hours of wandering around the city collecting clients and thinking to himself, Simon realized that he could return to your neighborhood, return to his bunny. Ducking into his position in the overgrown bushes, he watched as you placed the first bite into your mouth, hearing the faint sound of your overjoyed squeal at the success of the pie. Your voice was a melody he was already getting accustomed to, wanting to be the reason why those sweet sounds came out of your mouth.

He watched as you finished your slice of the tart before signing something to Agnes and bounding up the stairs. It was his time to strike. Pushing open the window his was ducked under, Simon hastily climbed into the kitchen, his hulking body making too much noise for his comfort, once again grateful for Agnes’ lack of hearing.  He quickly swung open the fridge door to grab one of the Tupperware containers before dipping right back outside.

It wasn’t until he made his wander into the backyard that he realized what you must have signed to Agnes. A bath. You were bathing yourself. He couldn’t see much from the backyard, thanking the cramped alleyways of Manchester allowing him to climb the roof of the house behind yours. Giving him a perfect view into— Oh.

The bathroom window was slightly ajar, enough for the faint smell of strawberries to drift over to Simon’s nose and fuck was he already planning how many pups he was going to give you, wondering if they would be little kits or pups, wondering how you would look so round and— Christ you had a way of doing that to him. Making him space out and dream about realities that could never happen with a mutt like him. Not someone so dirty. Nor someone so depraved.

He watched as you washed your hair, taking extra time with your ears, not being able to rip his eyes off you. He glanced away when you washed your body, still wanting to be respectful to you, but you made it difficult. The second he smelled that sweet vanilla body wash he came undone, writhing on the roof before tearing himself away from the picture of you, finally giving you privacy.

He walked back to the house that was across the street, perching on that roof as he ate the Manchester tart. He had to bite his tongue from letting out an overjoyed howl at the first bite, it instantly bringing him back to his childhood. He devoured it in only a couple bites, not having the patience to savor the treat. He would have to remind himself to take another slice tomorrow, before the two of you ate it all.

When he was finished with the tart, he glanced into your room, only to be shocked to see you sprawled out on your stomach in a sheer pink nightgown, kicking your feet back and forth as you ate your ice cream, one treat not enough for you. He growled quietly; you looked simply divine. Cream colored bikini cut underwear with rows of frills caressing your ass, a matching bralette holding in your pretty tits. The sheer nightgown did little to cover you, having little accents of cream-colored lace as well. It just barely covered your ass, leaving so little to the imagination that it had Simon fuming.

But then you were writing in that diary, and all Simon could think of was those pouty lips around him, how silky your hair would be around his calloused fingers, how soft your skin would be. And when you called out into the night? Trying to get his prying eyes off you? Well, he just couldn’t stop himself from cuming right into his hand, wishing he had cum into your pretty little mouth instead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist:

@hughjackmanadict

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Deleted the first post, then added to it. Now I like it more!

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

A threat in home?

★ It started with someone, or something, tearing through people's gardens at night. Then it turned to knocking over trashcans and scattering garbage around Home. After that, things started going missing.

★ You knew something had to be done once mail started getting stolen out of mailboxes. Poor Eddie was in hysterics. "What kind of monster would do this!" he cried. Poppy, wide eyed and shaken, attempted to sooth him. Clearly the neighbors needed help.

★ What kind of friend let's a creature ravage through the neighborhood? No. You had to do something. This has gone on for long enough. Don't bother telling anyone, because it might scare them. Especially Poppy or Eddie.

★ It happened at night, when everyone retreated inside their homes and wouldn't dare to leave. The cover of night provided the perfect opportunity for you to act. You heard it first, thin claws clicking against stone.

★ The creature looked like a raccoon, but bigger and made of stained grey fabric. It had the appearance of a well-loved stuffie. Its hands were thin and nimble. A sharp claw at the end of each finger. Before you could react in any meaningful way, it bolted. Running toward the trees and into the night.

★ Grabbing a wooden bat, you chased it. Adrenaline flooding your veins. As you ran, you followed the sound of sticks breaking beneath the creature's feet. It was fact. But you were faster.

★ The creature made a crack sound as you smashed the bat against its midsection. Did this thing have bones? Its hands reached out to grab at you. Leaving thin, red, lines on your skin where its claws met with flesh.

★ Blood dripping down your arm and onto the handle of the bat. You pulled away. Breath shallow, heart pounding, gripping the bat with all intention of killing this thing. It tried to grab you again. But this time you yank yourself away.

★ Swinging the makeshift weapon again, wood collided with whatever hid behind the fabric. Causing it to let out an ungodly screech you're sure woke up a few neighbors, the fabric of its mouth ripped open. Revealing a set of teeth that caught you off guard.

★ It didn't bleed. But you did. And now it's your turn to run. You don’t wait for it to recover. You don’t wait to see what happens next. The point had been made. Don't come back. In the morning you'll look worse for wear. But at least the problem is gone. For now.

★ Poppy was too scared to leave her home, so she called you on the telephone. "Oh dear, I was getting worried! Are you alright? I... I heard something. Did you hear it too?" You could lie. Or you could tell her what happened.

★ In the morning you look worse for wear. Scratches line your arms and bruises have begun to form. You don't even wake up until 11 AM. The sound of knocking at your door pulling you out of sleep. "Nighbor? Are you home?"

★ Opening the door, you find Eddie with a letter in his hand. His smile quickly changing into a look of concern as he sees the state you're in. Without a hint of hesitation, Eddie guides you back inside while asking what happened.

★ Frank does his best to treat the cuts. Thankfully you mentioned how to do this, and he wrote it down. The entire time he chastises you for being so reckless. "Honestly, first you go out during night." He pauses to put a band aid on your arm. "Then you get into a fight! What would possess you to do something as stupid as that?!?"

★ Then as word of you getting hurt spread across Home. One by one people started to visit you. Julie came to give you a get well soon card, partnered with many hugs. Barnaby showed up with Wally. And Sally came over to ask if it was you she heard last night.

[khloberry]

❝ Tequila, a hot friend, and a needy cunt? What’s the worst that could happen…❞

Blame It on the Alcohol

Nicholas Chavez x Reader | 18+ SMUT

Can we please talk?

I took one glance at the text on my phone and tossed it aside. My ex was once again begging for me to take him back. What part of ‘never gonna happen’ didn’t he understand? It had been a week since I caught him sexting another girl and left his ass. He claims that it didn’t mean anything, but since when did sending a dick pic to someone other than your girlfriend become nothing?

“I swear if he texts me again I’m gonna lose my shit.” I picked up my cup and took a long sip of my drink. After the week I had, the tequila was needed. I had planned to go out for drinks with my friend Nicholas, but we decided to just stay at his place.

“Blocking is a thing you know,” Nicholas said with a casualness that made me roll my eyes.

He chuckled. “I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“That face you made.”

I burst out laughing when he imitated the eye roll I had just given him. Just that easily, I wasn’t thinking about my stupid ex or our breakup anymore. It was impossible for me to not be in a good mood around Nicholas.

“I’m glad you find me trying to help you so funny.” Nicholas grabbed my now empty cup and headed into the kitchen. I followed behind him, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the island.

“I’m sorry.” I gave him an innocent look, and just because I knew he hated it, talked in a baby voice. “You know I wuv you, my Chavy bear.”

The death stare he gave me was expected, sending me into another fit of laughter.

“I’m this close to putting you outta my house,” he said as he went over to the fridge to get ice.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You do that shit again and you’re fucking out of here,” he warned, though the smile on his face said he was far from serious.

He started to make me another drink and I couldn’t help but notice how good his arms looked while he was shaking the cocktail shaker. I always noticed how good he looked if we’re being honest. There was no harm in looking, right? He was my friend, but I still had eyes, and I couldn’t deny that Nicholas was hot. Really fucking hot. He was the kind of attractive that made you pause and say ‘damn’.

I damned a lot.

When he was finished, Nicholas proudly placed the drink in front of me, complete with a sugar rim and lime wedge— just the way I liked it. I smiled brightly. “Thank you, bartender.” I took a sip and then playfully told him, “All these good drinks, I’m starting to think you might be trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me.”

Nicholas leaned forward, resting his forearms on the countertop and studied me for a moment. A slow smile spread across his face. “I wouldn’t have to get you drunk, princess,” he said with a wink.

With that, he turned and headed back to the living room. His words were playful enough, but the way he said them seemed to suggest something more. Something that made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I was used to us joking around. It’s what we always did.

But this felt different.

I didn’t know whether I should read more into it or just leave it alone. Maybe it was nothing. We played a lot, but we never really took each other seriously. While everyone else seemed to think there was something more between us, we always laughed it off whenever the question of if we liked each other came up. Our answer was always the same— just as friends. But what would happen if we ever explored the realm beyond just friends? It was a question I never asked myself until tonight, but now I wonder…

As the night went on, Nicholas and I were having as much fun together as we always did. We were playing games, joking around, and drinking enough to be well on our way to being drunk. Even though he won most of the games we played, I still made him take tequila shots with me because friends don’t let friends drink alone, right? I knew that the alcohol had kicked in because everything started to feel good.

And Nicholas?

He was looking really good.

I tried not to stare when he stood up and took a quick stretch, but the glimpse of his abs and happy trail made it hard to look away. My eyes followed the soft line of hair down to the jogging pants he wore that were loose in all the right places, snug in even better ones. I let myself visualize his dick beneath the soft cotton.

Oh god, am I really eye fucking my friend? It’s the tequila shots. Blame it on the alcohol, right?

“Nic, where's your phone so I can order us some food.” I wasn’t sure if I was even hungry, but I needed something to distract me. “What should we get?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He tossed me his phone. “You know what I like.”

I put in his passcode and nearly choked on a laugh when it unlocked and the image of a woman’s pussy appeared.

The tab was still open on Pornhub.

“Dude?” I made a face before turning the phone to him. “Is this what you were doing before I got here?”

Nicholas shrugged nonchalantly. “Like you don’t watch porn. I’m sure if I went through your phone right now I’d find lesbian videos in your bookmarks.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Lesbian?”

“All girls seem to love lesbian porn. But I get it,” he flashed a smile before his eyes dropped to my legs, zeroing in right at the center. “I love pussy too.”

“Nic, stop being nasty.”

He chuckled. “Okay, but first tell me what’s your favorite to watch? Seeing them eat each other’s pussy? Scissoring?” he paused. “I bet that gets you wet as fuck, doesn’t it?”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Nic!”

“Come on, Y/N. Just tell me.” He knew he was getting under my skin and his voice dripped with amusement. “I’ll tell you something,” he smiled. “Watching a girl cum always gets me off.”

This conversation was getting dangerous. It was taking my body places that I really didn’t need it going, especially with him sitting right next to me. I squeezed my thighs together, silently pleading for him to stop before the ache building between my legs became too strong to ignore.

He didn’t stop.

He was enjoying this.

“You’re getting wet right now just thinking about it, huh?”

“Oh my god! Shut up!”

“Speaking of wet,” he said, refusing to let up. “I happen to know that you’re a squirter.”

Just kill me now.

“What!? Who told you that?”

“I know things,” Nicholas leaned back against the couch, legs manspread, arms locked behind his head. “A lot of things,” he smirked.

What things? What else did he know? And why was that goddamn smirk so sexy? It could have been the alcohol, but I suddenly felt hot all over and I was wet.

Dripping.

Nope. Definitely not just the alcohol.

“Not every guy can make me cum like that. It only happens sometimes.” I blurted out, and when I looked at Nicholas, his eyes lit up, as if he had taken my words as a challenge.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked again. “Good to know.”

I cleared my throat. “Do you want tacos?” I asked, attempting to shift the subject back to something safe. Between the alcohol and how embarrassingly wet I was right now, I was in the danger zone.

“Do you want to watch porn?” he grinned.

Nicholas took his phone from my hand before I could respond, and a few seconds later, there was porn playing on the TV. The same pussy that I saw when I unlocked his phone was now before my eyes on a 65-inch screen, getting completely annihilated. The room quickly filled with sounds of pleasure and wet fucking. I watched as the camera zoomed in on her pink cunt taking every inch of the man behind her.

“Nic!”

“What? This is a personal favorite. Enjoy it, baby.” He smiled at me and turned to face the TV, watching the video as if us looking at porn together was the most natural thing ever.

How was he so at ease when I was quickly losing it sitting beside him? My head started to spin from the alcohol and arousal I felt. With each passing second, I could feel myself becoming warmer and getting wetter. It wasn’t just the porn. It was him. How good he looked. The way he'd been making me feel all night. The shameless thoughts running rampant in my head right now. How does he fuck? Is it as big as I imagine? What could he do with his mouth?

As I glanced between Nicholas and the TV, a mental image of me on all fours appeared in my head. Nicholas had a fistful of my hair in one hand, the other pressed firmly against the small of my back as he fucked me hard on the very couch we sat on. The image was so vivid that I could almost feel it. I was spiraling. I abruptly stood up, the sudden movement making Nicholas turn and give me a questioning look.

“I need to use the bathroom.” I lied. I couldn’t be around him right now. Not with me imagining him balls deep inside me and his voice talking me through it.

“Just like that. Take it all, princess…”

I hurried into the bathroom and quickly closed the door. Leaning against it, I closed my eyes, the image of us still in my head. My mind was racing. My body was raging. I was a little past tipsy, but not drunk enough that I didn’t know what was happening right now. I was watching porn with my friend and having lewd thoughts of him fucking me in the roughest possible way. How did this night even turn into this?

I could still hear the loud sex sounds coming from the TV, and the more I listened, the more I couldn’t resist the urge. My hands drifted down to my shorts, tugging them over my hips and letting them fall to my feet. Then my fingers slipped under my panties. I held back a moan as I rubbed my clit, imagining it was Nicholas touching me. I could hear his voice whispering roughly in my ear.

“You’re so wet for me…”

I knew this was desperate, touching myself in his bathroom, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop. Self control? I had none right now. I rubbed myself frantically, moving my fingers in a circular motion, chasing the ever increasing pleasure. I could feel the tension in me starting to build tighter and tighter. The fireball in my stomach was about to explode. I kept going, thinking about what Nicholas told me earlier. How watching a girl cum always gets him off. His voice in my head telling me to do it.

“Cum for me, Y/N…”

I did just that.

Then I felt a bit embarrassed for not being able to control myself. I pulled up my shorts and went over to the sink to wash my hands. I took one look at myself in the mirror and my reflection called me a needy whore. Shaking my head and laughing, I collected myself before returning to the living room, where I found Nicholas staring at me. It was almost like he knew, but didn’t say anything. The smirk on his face said it all, though.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Looking at you like what?” he asked, that sexy smirk still there.

“You're looking at me like—”

“Like I want to eat your pussy right now?”

Whoa.

Where the fuck did that come from?

My friend telling me that he wanted to eat my pussy was definitely not on my bingo card. Touching myself in his bathroom wasn’t either. What even was this night?

“You’re drunk,” I said with a small laugh. I glanced at Nicholas, expecting him to laugh back, but when I saw that he was looking at me now like I was something he had to have, I knew it wasn’t just the alcohol talking.

“Maybe I am,” he said as he slid closer, leaving no space between us on the couch, making my pulse race. “Or maybe I just want you. Two things can be true, you know.” He put his hand on my thigh, testing his limits. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t pull away. The way my body was responding to him, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to.

I felt his breath against my neck, his lips brushing my skin as he whispered, “Maybe I’ve always wanted you.” He kissed my neck and I melted. “I think you want me too. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not,” I whispered back.

Then his hand was on the back of my head, pulling me in for a kiss that was anything but slow. His mouth was on me like he had been waiting forever to do it. Things were moving so fast that I could barely process what was happening. I’m kissing my friend? We’re about to fuck? Is this possibly the best kiss of my life?

Soon, I couldn’t even formulate a proper thought. All I knew was the feel of his lips, the taste of his tongue, and the way his hands touched my body had me screaming inside for more. The little moans I let out between kisses seemed to spur him on as he kissed me even harder. His hand moved between my legs, pushing them open, and rubbed me through my shorts.

My body was on fire.

“Take these off,” Nicholas said roughly.

My hands started moving almost as soon as the words left his mouth. He watched as I undid the button and pulled the zipper down, not once taking his eyes off me. Lifting up just a bit, I eased the denim over my hips and slowly pulled my shorts down. Nicholas was back on me in an instant, his fingertips brushing along my inner thigh, moving closer and closer until I moaned out.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, rubbing my panties with just enough pressure to make my eyes flutter shut as another moan escaped me. “I wanna taste you so bad.”

“Do it.”

Without another word, Nicholas moved to the floor and settled on his knees between my legs. He lifted my shirt, pressing a wet kiss just below my belly button and kissing down further until his fingers were on the waistband of my panties. With his eyes locked on mine, he slowly pulled them down. The look on his face told me one thing— you have no idea what I’m about to do to you.

The next thing I felt was him hooking his arms under my legs and pulling me to the edge of the couch. He lowered his head and went for it, running his tongue over me like he couldn’t wait to do it. One thing was clear. He knew just what to do, and I don’t think I could ever look at his mouth again without thinking about how good it felt on me. Just call us friends with benefits now because there was no way this would be a one time deal. Not with the way he ate my pussy so good he had me seeing stars in the ceiling.

He added two fingers, doubling the pleasure, making me cry out his name. My head tipped back as he slid in and out of me, gaining speed and then decreasing, edging me on, making me ache for more. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Nic, fuck…” I trailed off as his tongue moved faster.

He let out a low, approving sound. It was the sound of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to me. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard.” His eyes flickered up to mine and it nearly ended me. Nicholas was already so hot, but with his face buried in between my legs, making me feel things I could only dream of? It didn’t get much hotter than that.

And then he was back on me, mouth closed around my clit like a suction cup. I could feel it coming. I knew he could too. The way I pulsing on his tongue. The way I was dripping down his fingers. He pumped into me faster and harder, hitting that right spot over and over, drawing me closer and closer until…

Splash waterfalls.

Nicholas pulled back just enough to watch me with a look of satisfaction as I gushed all over his hand and welcoming mouth.

“Fuck… that’s so hot, baby,” he groaned as he gave me another lick. I came harder than I ever had before, and he didn’t even let up. His tongue was relentless, licking me until my legs were shaking again.

When he was finally pleased with the mess he made of me, he stood up and quickly stripped down, grinning as I watched his clothing hit the floor. I could see how ready he was for me, and my pussy dripped in anticipation. I spread my legs for him.

“Who knew you were such a little freak, princess,” he teased, getting into position.

“Shut up and fuck me,” I whispered breathlessly.

Nicholas laughed, but my wish was his command. He pushed into me and started fucking me so good it felt almost sinful. I clung to his shoulders, feeling every inch of him as he gave me slow, satisfying strokes.

It was pure heaven.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his pace quickening. I had my fair share of good sex, but nothing else seemed to compare to this. This was the kind of sex that I would still be thinking about days later, maybe weeks, maybe forever. It was that good.

Then it got even better.

Nicholas brought my knees to my chest and slid inside me. He slowly pulled out to the tip before sliding back in, filling me more with every little retreat, making me lose my damn mind each time.

“Oh my god, are you trying to make me fall in love with you,” I moaned, feeling the pressure starting to build inside me.

“You already love me.” Then I felt him deeper, his movements coming faster and harder as he hit that spot that made me see stars.

Another deep stroke hits it again.

And then again.

“Nic, I—” I gasped. “I’m about to cum.”

“Me too, baby…fuck,” he groaned, his voice strained, his hands gripping my thighs tighter as he fucked me even harder.

I didn’t last another second. Nicholas followed close behind with a rough groan ripping from his throat as he came inside me. He eased off of me after one last thrust, sinking back into the couch.

As we both caught our breaths, Nicholas looked over at me with a satisfied smile. “You look like somebody who just got fucked good.”

I laughed breathlessly as my mind recalled my thoughts from earlier. How does he fuck? Is it as big as I imagine? What could he do with his mouth?

Like a beast.

Bigger.

Ungodly things.

NAC girlies ♡: @aisforarlili @oliviaambs @fiftyshadeschavez @torikitten @indychanel @exqorcism @iamsebastiansstan @chavezwifeyy @nicholaslut @nickchavezs

[chipthekeeper]

just a few blink-and-you'll-miss-it Velcinta moments that make me want to chew glass

[yuichiroswife]

IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!

{ There is a hacker/scammer going around on Discord claiming that they've "accidentally reported" people (in this case, me) for Illegal Purchases/Phishing Links which very obviously isn't true because everyone who knows me personally knows I don't have any money to do shit like that nor do I have the skill to set up phishing sites.

The main reason I know this is a hacker/scammer is because I had another incident like this over on Steam and the message/"staff ticket" is literally word for word the exact same as the one I got on Steam a long while ago. The person quite literally copy pasted this shit it seems.

So please beware of this person or others like this person going around and claimed they've reported you. Instead of panicking and doing what this person says, immediately go to the OFFICIAL Discord site and submit a support ticket like I always do with any platform I'm on. I usually make it a general question since I'm never sure what category it would fall into, but directly ask the staff if you have been reported for the things said person may claim you've been reported for and make sure to add screenshot of the entire thing for proof. Don't panic and instantly remove them. Just block them and view the messages.

Make sure you all stay safe and look out for one another! }

[urlocalmagicalcat]

really long rant (happy rant) in the tags, mostly towards @synthetic-lavender /vpos

romance repulsed aros and romance favourable aros are both cool and valid but because i never see anything about us: shoutout to romance indifferent aros. romance neutral aros. aros who just couldn't care less. aros who have a conflicted relationship with romance. aros who are fine with romance in some contexts but not in others. aros who don't mind romance when it's not amatonormativity being shoved down their throats. aros who haven't yet figured out their feelings about romance. aros to whom romance is Just Something That Exists. y'all are rad as hell and it's okay not to 'pick a side'!!

[buttercuparry]

In less than two months it will be October 7th again.

In less than two months, it will be a year of genocide. 

In light of this, I just have only one request for you; please do not give into whatever you are describing as “compassion fatigue” right now.

Realize that this is exactly what the colonizers conducting this genocide want you to feel. Realize that apathy during a genocide is what leads to the normalization of atrocities. Realize that this is a tried and tested method found throughout history; that now when the genocide is been widely documented by Gazans themselves- the only way the colonizers can get away with it is by running you down and making you feel hopeless!

They want you to stop caring about their victims and this is why you need to fight harder now more than ever!!

I request you to fight harder for every Gazan! And therefore request you to fight for my friend Siraj Abudayeh too, whose family recently faced another assault. His parents and siblings had to flee to him for protection, because their areas ( Hamad, southern Khan Younis) were marked for assault from occupation forces. With the number of people depending on him increased now, Siraj has a much heavier responsibility on his shoulders to raise enough funds to support all of them and their needs, when prices of food water and other essentials are already skyrocketing.

With the coming of the rainy season, there comes the danger of epidemics spreading from open sewers as well! Siraj’s son Amir has already fallen ill, and his other two sons are showing symptoms too- they are in dire need of medical treatment! I cannot overstate how badly Siraj and his family need these funds!! How badly he needs your continuous support.

There has been a significant drop in engagement with fundraising posts and I very clearly remember, someone tagging one of my posts with compassion fatigue. It shocked me to my core to think that the cries of Free Palestine could fade so suddenly; that after only a year some of you have begun to feel fatigued, from having to care about this.

Do not give in please; do not let the colonizers make you complicit in this horror! They know that if they can overwhelm you enough, then one day the videos and posts would stop hitting as hard and sooner or later everyone will stop talking about Palestine. This cannot happen again! Not when your attention can literally save a life! This is the power you hold- especially if you are living in the Imperial core. The colonizers are afraid of it. You have to know this and believe this!

So please do not turn away and help Siraj get to 50k as soon as possible!

He is currently only at $45,044 / $82,000 CAD

[ GFM LINK ]

[ Vetting at 219 on Hussein's spreadsheet]

And if you are having trouble donating to Siraj's fundraiser through Paypal, please get in touch with @malcriada .

[fairuzfan]

UPDATE!

Hussam distributed the toys to the kids! He said everyone was so excited for them, that even the older kids got jealous and he bought another hundred toys and extended the ages to receive toys to 3-13.

For those of you who have been following this, my tumblr 'helpgazachildren' was deleted for unknown reasons. In the meantime, I put together this notion site to help document all the receipts and videos of updates for people who want a backlog of information. I will be continuously updating this site.

Please consider donating today. Your donations go directly to people in need with NO middle man in between. No donation amount is too little, or if you're unable to donate please spread the link today!!!

Please also keep an eye out for an update of the situation in the camp via a scheduled post on my tumblr.

[suad-khaled]

Can you imagine being stripped of safety at the happiest moment of your life? I’m Suad, a young mother from Gaza, where I gave birth to my son Khaled amidst the chaos of w@r.

When I first heard his cries, I felt indescribable joy, but soon I was overwhelmed with fear. How would I protect him from the hor/rors surrounding us? Each day presents a new challenge from food and water shortages to a lack of medical care.

My family and I have faced repeated displ@cements, searching for a safe haven away from the bomb@rdments. I struggle daily to provide Khaled with his basic needs while our health deteriorates under these harsh conditions.

I urgently need your support to secure shelter and medical care for Khaled. You can be part of our story, as every bit of help makes a real difference.

If you can share my story or offer support, I would be forever grateful. Hope exists, but we need you to help us achieve it. Thank you for your understanding and big hearts.

Please share my story; it might reach someone who can offer support. If you’re unable to donate, sharing my story would mean so much. You can spread the link across your social media and reblog my pinned post. Additionally, sharing my account can help others follow our updates and support us.

I’ve been verified by Nabulsi, El-Shab Hussien, and NorthGazaUpdate, 90-ghost, and I’m listed on the vetted list on 279 line.

- Our story began with the birth of my son Khaled amid difficult circumstances; the joy was tinged with fear due to the surrounding situation. Link1 Link2 Link3

- Khaled fell seriously ill, and we had to take him to the hospital. These moments were filled with tension due to the lack of medical services and difficulty accessing them. Link1 Link2

-We experienced multiple displacements due to the surrounding dangers, facing daily threats to our lives and being forced to keep moving. Link1

-Khaled's health deteriorated significantly, and he required daily nebulization sessions to alleviate his condition, but power outages prevented us from providing the necessary treatment. Link1

-With the deteriorating conditions, we are suffering from significant financial pressures due to rising prices and a lack of resources, making it exhausting to meet our basic needs. Link1

I have come to realize that I can’t face these conditions alone. Every bit of support, whether through sharing my story or posting these updates, means so much to my family and me. I kindly ask you to help spread my story, as everyone who reads it may be a bridge to the support we desperately need.

Thank you for your understanding and your big hearts

@mushroomjar @heph @daily-spooky @blu-berry-blast @blu-berriez

@neptunerings @neatleaf @fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain @mothblyatebanaya

@aleciosun @fluoresensitivearchived @khizuo @lesbia @transmutationdice

@schooloutfitideas @schoolhater98 @timogsilangan @buttercuparry @sayruq

@malcriada @akajustmerry @sar-soor @palestinegenocide @feluka

@tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @tsaricides @visenyasdragon

@kordeliiius @belleandwhistle @belleandsaintsebastian @raelyn-dreams

@ear-motif @troythecatfish @theropoda @4ft10tvlandfangirl @queerstudiesnatural

@skatezophrenic @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @awetistic-things @sygourie @junglejim4322

@junglejim4233 @heritageposts @chososhairbuns @daily-spooky

@imjustheretotrytohelp

[h0onviv]

that hee thought of big hee who has to spread your lips I NEED THAT

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 notes: hehe I’m glad I’m not the only one bc heesueng has been bias wrecking me so bad rn ! Hope you like it babez (*o*) wanna thank my bbg @emisluvr for the help 🙂‍↕️ ! I feel like everyone loves a big dick heesuengie. PLEASE INTERACT WITH MY WORKS IF YOU LIKE THEM

۶•ৎ warnings ¡ BIGDICK HEE slight size kink, reader cries heesueng finds it hot….kinda cervix fucking? non established relationship, hee lowkey mean but… WE LOVE MEAN HEE SO WE CHEERED! I think that’s it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~୨ৎ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on baby just a bit more”

You feel your heart in your throat and head empty, who knew heesueng has a monster cock? He never looked the type and if you’re being honest he kinda looked like a virgin. He promised just once— once and he’ll never ask again. It’s been so long since he’s had sex, he can’t help but be frustrated ! He was so straightforward with what he wanted and you knew, what heesueng wants, heesueng gets. You can feel him in your stomach and he hasn’t even moved yet, he’s only halfway in when your eyes start to water from the intensity, your hands go to grab at his biceps that rest on your waist trying to ground yourself when he starts going even deeper. Is that even possible? You can’t even think straight. He shuts his eyes and flares nose, you’re so tight gosh how is he gonna fit all the way in? Sweat is dribbling down his body, when he focuses on just the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock he might just cum on the spot. He’s so close, so close to fitting all the way in when you feel his tip grazing your cervix. He puts his hands in the back of your knees and pushes them towards your chest, he has to fit all the way in he has to—how else is he gonna be able to fuck you? Your whimpers and moans only urge him to go deeper. It’s not just him who wants this, you want this too he thinks to himself, the tears is because you’ve never has a cock this big you don’t want him to actually stop right? Yeah, that’s right. “Stay like this” he mumbles out while he removes his hands from the back of your knees to bring both his thumbs to each side of your tight hole, and spreads them apart even further. His eyes rolls back at the sight of your pussy sucking him in, your breath hitching as he inches himself closer. His thumbs dig into your the sides of your hole and he forces himself even deeper inside. He feels your pussy clenching him harder the more he goes in “agh..fu-fuck” you whimper at the loss when he reels back just to push more in, his thumbs still digging into you skin, sloppy thrusts and squeaking bed filling the room. “Ahh—mmpf” he lowers himself to kiss your lips, tongue poking your top lips before he shoves it in your mouth. “There you go baby…there you gooo” he whispers in your ear, his cock filling hitting your g-spot painfully good “f-fuck !tightest pussy I’ve had” he chuckles to himself when he sees you wince in pain while he spreads your pussy even more to accommodate his huge cock. He might have to break his promise because this is not the last time he’ll be fucking you.

[chaotic-fluff3]

I want a BBC Merlin fanfic where Hunith visits Camelot as a surprise. Merlin doesn't know she's coming, only Gaius knows that she plans to visit. This is set in a time period where all the knights are alive (I'm looking at you Lancelot.) and Arthur is Prince, but running the Kingdom as Uther is unwell.

Hunith pulls up to Camelot and is walking towards the Castle through the citadel, burdened by her bags, when a cheerful voice rings out. "Do you need any help, miss?" It's one of the many Castle servants.

Hunith explains that she is heading to the Castle to visit her son who works there, the servant then offers to carry her bags.

"Oh I don't want to be a bother." Hunith replies

"It's no bother at all! Really, I was heading that way already." The servant insists and they both make their way to the castle, "What's your son's name by the way, I might know him if he works here."

"His name is Merlin." Hunith responds with a smile. The servant stops walking and looks at her. It's not only him that stops at this announcement.

"Y-you're Merlin's Mother?!?" A nearby servant who had been close enough to hear the conversation says in awe.

The courtyard that they're walking through gradually fills with hushed whispers as the news spreads. Everyone knows of Merlin. The Prince's manservant who had managed to not quit in the first week of serving him. Merlin, who changed the Prince from a spoiled brat into a good man whom the Kingdom was proud of and eagerly awaited the day he would be crowned King. Merlin, who had followed the Prince into battle time and time again to save Camelot.

I want a fanfiction where The Entire Of Camelot loves Merlin and is thankful for his role in making Arthur a good person. Where not only the Knights, but the Castle staff meet his mother and collectively decide that she is That Woman and treat her with Respect. Where they treat her like Royalty.

Ofc Gwaine loves her. That's his best friend's mom. Hunith looks at all the knights and adopts them on the Spot.

And Merlin is either really confused by this behavior or knows and just lets it happen.

Arthur has no idea what's going on or why but he treats her with reverence and love because that's his future Mother in Law and he's very much starved for parental affection which she gives him (and the knights) in spades.

But yes, I just want a fic of people meeting Hunith and being like "Thank you for giving birth to your son. I'd die for you both" and her being like "...please don't."

(Bonus if Leon meets her and is just like. "How did you survive being around that little shit (Merlin) for so long?" And she just laughs and gives him advice, which makes him cry because he's just so tired. #LetLeonRest2024 I will push this agenda till I die)

[sungist]

TIE HIM DOWN .. jaeyun is a munch

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗧𝗛─────── uni nerd jaeyun eats you out

百 SIM JAEYUN x f!r + 2OO+ count. ( ! ) cum eating, kissing, petnames, mdni 18+ 爱 don’t forget to click

𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳𝒊𝖮𝖭𝖲 please

jake seems like one of those well-polished and respected students in your psychology class. his name travels well through people’s mouths as a sweet and generous guy.

he’s fond of helping people, respectful, kind in a way where everyone just naturally gravitates towards him.

but the only person who truly knows him, is you. the sweet, soft golden boy of the campus is fucking filthy under the sheets.

“keep your legs open” he murmurs low, his tongue drags over your clit. nose nudging right where you’re sensitive, rubbing in slow circles everytime he moves.

“jake— need more” you stumble over your words, hand gripping his hair tight, pushing his face further into your pussy. not that he’s complaining.

you moan, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head, his hands are quick to spread it wider, veins flexing on his forearms.

“i said open” he groans, lifting his head to look at you, lips slick and eyes blown out, “you wanna come don’t you, baby?”

you nod frantically, your walls clenching around nothing, wishing he’d put his mouth to work again, and he does.

“then let me help you, princess,” and with that, he dives back in.

you whimper, your whole body trembling as his tongue works in you, alternating between soft strokes and firm pressure that has you bucking into his mouth.

your hands fist tighter in his hair, jake groans at the pull, lips curving while sucking on your clit. “you taste so good” he mutters, “could stay here forever”

when the pressure in your stomach builds up into an unbearable knot that snaps, you whimper loudly. stumbling over your words begging him to let you cum, “puh- please jakey, need to- to-“

his voice hums approval, you break with a cry, legs shaking, your body arching. his hands tighten on your thighs groaning like he’s the one chasing his own high.

even when you’re twitching, whimpering, and completely overstimulated— he doesn’t stop. jake just softens his pace, letting you come down gently, dragging his tongue in slow, lazy strokes until you’re gasping his name like it’s the only thing you remember.

only then does he pull back, hair messy, lips glistening, he comes up to kiss you deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“all you had to do was keep them open.”

[ao3scrapesearch]

Alright! Sorry for being so absent today! I was building a tool so you can all check your own names on demand.

I am asking that you not talk about it on Hugging Face. I'm sure word will get there eventually, but I'd like to avoid them accessing this as much as possible. Feel absolutely free to spread around Tumblr.

AO3 search tool is here! Use page 1 to search scraped fics by username. Use page 2 to search by work ID (which you'll need to do if you're looking for an anonymous work).

In case this post breaches containment: this is a tool that only has access to the work IDs, titles, author names, and chapter counts of the scraped fics for this most recent scrape discovered in April 2025. There is no other work data in this tool. It originally also showed the number of hits at the time of the scrape, but I had to remove that since it was really slowing down the tool's loading. This never had the content of your works loaded to it, only info to help you check if your works were scraped.

Thanks to everyone who helped with the cost to host the tool! I appreciate you so so so much. As of this edit, I've received more donations than what I paid to make this tool so you do NOT need to keep sending money. (But I super appreciate everyone who did help fund this! I just wanna make sure we all know it's all paid for now.)

Please come yell if the tool stops working, and I'll fix as fast as I can. It's slow as hell, but it does load eventually. Give it up to 10 minutes, and if it seems down after that, please alert me via ask! Anons are on if you're shy.

The mobile view only works if you have the Power BI mobile app, which is kind of a silly thing for you to download if this is the only report you will ever load. The best alternative I can find is enabling screen rotation and turning your phone sideways. It's a litttttle easier to use like that.

At this time, I believe most of the fics that were missed were caused by deficiencies in the scraper's code. I will continue to research on that, and you guys will be the first to know if I find anything that seems to be an effective anti-scraping measure.

Some FAQs below the cut:

"What do I need to do now?": At this time, the main place where this dataset was shared is disabled. As far as I'm aware, you don't need to do anything, but I'll update if I hear otherwise.

"I don't want to know!": This tool is 100% optional. If you don't want to know, simply don't click the link. You are totally welcome to block me if it makes you feel more comfortable.

"Can I see the exact content they scraped?": Nope, not through me. I don't have the time to vet every single person to make sure they are who they say they are, and I don't want to risk giving a scraped copy of your fic to anyone else. If you really want to see this, you can find the info out there still and look it up yourself, but I can't be the one to do it for you.

"Are locked fics safe?": Not safe, but so far, it appears that locked fics were scraped less often than public fics. The only fics I haven't seen scraped as of right now are fics in unrevealed collections, which even logged-in users can't view without permission from the owner.

"My work wasn't a fic. It was an image/video/podfic.": You're safe! All the scrape got was stuff like the tags you used and your title and author name. The work content itself is a blank gap.

"It's slow.": Unfortunately, a 13 million row data dashboard is always going to be on the slow side. I think I've done everything I can to speed it up, but it may still take up to 10 minutes to load. It's faster if you can use desktop, but it should work on your phone too.

(Made some quick edits to the post on 04-May-2025 to update information a bit!)

[byshens]

pretty when you cry ── sim jake x fem!reader mdni

warnings unprotected sex (dont!), breeding, riding, use of names ( pretty boy, puppy, darling, good boy ), crying, soft dom! reader, sub! jake, overstimulation, est. relationship. lmk if i missed any!

note i love puppy jake <3. fill out this form to be tagged in future enhypen works if you want! ignore any typos pls .. 💯

requests are open! word count 831

jake was pretty.

everyone who laid eyes on him knew that he was pretty. how his fluffy hair would swoop down over his face, covering his beautiful eyes. how his voice was smooth and could melt your heart.

but to you, he was the prettiest when he was under you. the way he would beg for you, moan for you, whimper for you.

cry for you.

it was a long day and you needed to distract yourself, and what better way to do that than get your boyfriend to help you out?

he was now spread on your shared bed while you were on top of him, his cock deep inside your wet cunt.

“fuck, darling. you fill me up so well,” you softly moaned, your hips slowly grinding on his lap.

jake was a mess already, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he struggled to keep himself still, wanting to be good for you.

noises of pleasure escaped his lips every few seconds, his eyes fluttering up to watch you.

you quickened your pace without warning.

watching how his lips parted with a moan, his eyes moving down to watch how his cock slides in and out of you, the sounds of your wetness filling his mind.

“doing so well for me, such a good boy.” you breathed, your hands going to rest on jake’s chest before you began bouncing on him, his cock getting deeper into you.

“oh god—“ jake whimpered, his nails digging into your skin as he slightly moved his hips upwards into you.

“puppy.” you warned, your tone strict but laced with love. jake whined loud, a rope of “sorry”s leaving his mouth as he laid still once again.

“let me please you, can i?” jake begged.

he loved pleasuring you, he loved making you feel so good your mind went blank, he loved when he can visibly see how well he does.

you thought for a moment before nodding, and within seconds jake was flipping you both over, his cock sipping out in the process.

he whined at the loss of connection before he spread your legs in front of him, positioning himself right back to where he belongs. he pushed himself inside and let out a cry, instantly moving quick.

his thrusts were sloppy, but good. you loved how desperate he gets when he’s with you, how much it shows, the pleasure he gets from just being close to you.

“f-fuck, just like that, puppy.” you moaned.

jake whimpered as his hands went to the sheets beside your head and gripped them, his thrusts now rough, long and deep.

he pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, a strangled cry leaving his mouth again.

jake always gets drunk on you, drunk on your pussy, drunk on your skin, he just loves you so much.

“more, do it more.” you moaned, watching as jake took your words in, he continued his rhythm, but it was getting too much for him, you could see.

“im close, im so close, please,” he begs, his hips snapping quickly into your cunt, begging to be able to release, to fill you up.

“cum for me, pretty boy.” you pulled him down for a kiss, latching your lips onto his roughly as he whined against them, his hips stuttering before you felt him cum, his hips not stopping.

jake was too far gone in the pleasure now, he needed more. he needed to please you more.

he didnt stop, he pulled away from the kiss and watched as you came with him, how your body was twitching from the release, but he couldn’t stop.

“oh my god.” he whined, his hands moving back to your hips as he positioned himself closer, his hips fucking into you quickly, as quick as he could.

you saw stars, his tip hitting all the spots he needs to and when you looked down, you swore you could see a bulge in your stomach, the outline of his dick.

you were released from your thoughts as you heard a sob, looking up to see jake crying.

you giggled. he was feeling too good, he started to cry.

the wet sounds of his cock fucking into you drove him crazy, he was on a high.

“d-darling, you okay?” you moaned loud, you loved when he cried, how desperately he tries to please you.

“‘s so good,” he cried, already feeling like he needs to release again. “close,” he moaned.

“cum again for me,” you breathed out heavily, your legs twitching from the overstimulation.

jake nodded quickly and gave a few more thrusts before he was filling you again, his hips staying deep inside you as he fell onto your chest, his hips twitching.

“good boy..” you moaned, cumming along with him. you watched him lie there as he was out of breath.

“you did so good, always so pretty when you cry.” you praised, wiping the tears from his cheeks, he blushed.

© byshens. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or post onto another platforms without my consent.

[amal-alhaj]

Help my family survive 🇵🇸🙏

Please read this 🚨👇🏻

Hello, I am Amal from Gaza. I am 28 years old. I am married to Abdel Nasser, and I have a daughter named (Rolan) and a son named (Omar). We live in difficult circumstances. Our lives have changed for the worse. The occupation destroyed everything. My husband and I lost our jobs and our home, and I lost my father due to the delay in receiving treatment and the lack of medicines, as the war has been going on for a year. I now live in a tent with my husband, children, mother, and younger siblings, and I take care of them because my mother is sick and needs treatment and special attention, and I do not want to lose her like my father.

My children grew up in war. They grew up under fear, terrorism, bombing, destruction and food shortages. I hope everyone will look at us with mercy and help us get out of here as quickly as possible so we can live a better life than this nightmare. My children and brothers can live a beautiful life like the rest of the children in the world, and they can be educated. Please help us escape from Gaza.

$79 raised of $15,000 goal

best wishes:

Amal alhaj

My account vetted by :

@gazavetters

@gaza-evacuation-funds

, my number verified on the list is ( #135 )

@bilal-salah0

Help me spread it, thank you

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