#immense. it’s hard and it hurts and it burns and it’s like. giving up to begin with didn’t hurt too bad- it’s cutting off the festering

[toomuchdickfort]

Vent abt smth that gets on my Nerves

[sierra-r-a-e]

nsfw ♡ mdni

Nanami Kento was most likely the handsomest man you had ever seen, especially when he was making love to you.

He was a man that usually stuck to routine, and that was the case for the bedroom as well. Now don’t get me wrong— he could give you orgasm after orgasm with just his hands, whether that be gently rubbing your clit, or fucking you on his fingers— he was skilled.

But that doesn’t mean you didn’t want to try something new, perhaps a new position would suffice. The two of you typically did it in missionary or a mating press, with him practically folding you in half and stuffing you full of his cock.

You brought the idea of a new position up to Kento, suggesting that you should try to be the one on top for a change. He was on board with the idea after some convincing that you’d be alright and that it wouldn’t hurt you in any way— such a gentleman he is.

That led you to find yourself in this position, hovering over his cock as you gripped his shoulders for support. He guided himself inside you as he sat propped up against the pillows. You didn’t realize just how much deeper he’d get in this position— it was almost too much.

Kento wasn’t an extremely vocal man, other than a few grunts and groans; but when you bottomed out on his cock, your walls snug around him, he actually let out a moan. The sound caused you to tighten up around him due to the effect it had on your body, it was so fucking hot.

You carefully began moving up and down on his cock, his hands rested on your hips. He bit his lip to stop himself from cumming too fast, he could feel so much more in this position. He’d been inside you many times, but this was a definitely a new feeling.

The way you were squeezing his cock was so good, he almost couldn’t take it. He did his best to not just start fucking his hips up into you, wanting to go at your pace.

That was until your thighs started burning and your body beginning to give out— you had been going for awhile so it was only natural that you’d get tired and begin to slow down.

He picked up on your exhaustion and moved his hands from your hips to your ass, squeezing the flesh. He braced himself and began pounding his cock into your sopping hole.

Your whole body went slack as you leaned into him, moaning into his ear. His pelvis brushed up against your clit so good, your orgasm quickly approaching because of it.

He could feel as your hole tightened around his cock at every thrust. It was important to him that you came first— so when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped and he felt your pussy flutter and convulse around him; that’s when he finally let himself give into the immense pleasure he was feeling.

He spilled his seed in your pussy, his hips stuttering and his arms moving to hold you close to his chest as you both rode out your orgasms. He was still letting out guttural groans, his cock twitching in your pussy from how hard he came. Your legs were trembling slightly as you laid against his chest, feeling his cum start to seep out of you.

sorry for not posting in forever, schools hard 😭🙏

please forgive me if this is absolute garbage, i tried

my request box is open but try to stick to jjk requests for now, since those are the easiest for me to write

[shadowwfoxx]

Spoiled

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary- Reader who thinks it’s not that hard to do all of the work during sex and gets humbled.

-Kinda thought of 2017 Logan for this

You feel like you’ve been doing this for hours. Your hands holding yourself on the recliner chair arms as you bounced on Logan’s cock. Your legs burn as you stutter with your rhythm. 

“You havin’ trouble there kid?” He smirks. His arms bent behind his head. He knew exactly how this would play out. 

“Please.” You cry out. You start to slow down to bring relief to your legs.

He shakes his head. “If it’s as easy as you said, then you don’t need my help.” Logan reaches over for his cigar before leaning back down into the recliner chair and inhaling the smoke.

You groan now sexually frustrated and tired. You stop your movements, panting softly. 

Logan slaps your ass. You whine at the sting. “I don’t remember telling ya to stop.” He says muffled as the cigar is still in his mouth. The smell of sweet tobacco flooding your senses. 

“I-I can’t my legs hurt,” You pout. “Need your help please.” 

Logan turns his head to the side to huff out a cloud of smoke before smirking at your desperate state. He holds eye contact with your pleading eyes. “Is that so baby?” 

You nod quickly. “Yea yea, need you daddy.” Your voice is just above a whisper. 

Logan sighs as he leans over to put his cigar in the ashtray on the side table. “Always gettin’ what ya want huh?” He shuffles down into the chair so that his hips are no longer resting on the chair. He plants his feet on the floor. 

“So spoiled.” Logan’s hands run up and down your curves, making their way towards your ass before smacking it. You let out a breathy gasp.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. It was supposed to be a peck before you felt his hand at the back of your head, bringing you closer to deepen it. You whimper. You separate from the heated kiss breathless.

“How bad do you want it? Tell me.” His hands squeezing your ass.

“Want it so bad daddy. Want you to make me feel good.” Your voice is low and whiny, waiting for him to give you what you want. 

He hesitates for a minute. Wondering if he should tease you more. But who is he to not give his girl what she wants? 

He finally starts to move, thrusting his hips up into you slowly. You moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He squeezes your hips hard. “Nuh-uh eyes on me.” You whine softly as your eyes meet his. They are dark and hungry now. 

“There you go darlin’.” Your arms holding onto the top of the chair, trying your best to hold yourself up as he increases the speed of his thrusts. The sound of your wetness and skin slapping echoes in the room.

“Fuckkk” You let out soft noises of pleasure above him, breathing heavily. Logan holds tightly on your waist now, using it to bring you up and down to meet his thrusts. Your tits bouncing at every thrust.

“Yea, you like it when daddy does all the work for ya huh?” He whispers in a teasing tone. You nod eagerly. His cock glistened with your wetness, a white ring forming around him after every thrust. “Just wanna sit there and take it like the good girl y’are.” 

“Mhm hm.” You whimper. Your walls tighten around him. Your pussy aches for more. “H-Harder.” You beg. He groans loudly as his grip tightens around your waist.

“Y’want it nice n’rough huh pretty girl?” He growls as he now thrusts faster. His heavy balls smacking your ass. Your wetness now coats them, making everything sticky.

You moan loudly, trying your best to hold yourself up above him as your arms start to shake. Your body is overwhelmed with pleasure as he continues to pound into your sweet spot. You gasp as the burn inside of you intensifies. 

“Such a dirty fuckin’ girl aren’t ya.” His big hands rubbing up and down your back. Your pussy feels wetter and hotter each time he speaks. 

“M-so close please.” You beg. Your eyes tearing up from the immense pleasure. The band in your belly threatening to snap. This is the release you’ve been searching for all night. 

“Is my girl gonna come? Hm? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? C’mon, darlin’ give it to me. Come all over daddy’s cock. That’s it- fuck.” Logan groans as he grips your hips tightly.

“Sh-it!” You gasp as your orgasm hits you. You grip tightly on his arms as your lower body jerks. You start to bounce yourself hard on his dick, his thrusts never letting up as he helps you through it. 

“That’s it. Take what you need baby.” Logan smirks up at you. He’s so cocky knowing only he can see you fall apart like this and make you feel so good.

You bite your lip and you groan, your hips slowly stopping its movements. Your breathing heavily as the intensity of your orgasm dies down. 

Logan’s thrusts never let up, still keeping the same fast and deep pace. “Oh my god.” You whine as you start to feel the overstimulation. You throw your head back moaning. “T-Too much.” 

Your arms give out, now chest to chest with Logan’s hairy and sweaty one. Your face is in the crook of his neck, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck as the other wraps around your body to grip your hip. 

“Just give me one more hm? I know y’can c’mon.” He praises you as he kisses your cheek. You moan as you feel his hands on your ass, gripping and spreading them apart. You clench around him. “Fuckk that’s it, baby.” 

You feel your second orgasm coming closer. You whine and squirm against him. He pants in your ear as you feel him twitch inside of you. 

The way his pubic hair brushes against your clit mixed with his cock hitting that spot inside of you is enough to make you unravel again.

“M’cumming.” You squeal, nails scratching his biceps as you keep a tight hold on them. Your walls tighten around him as you go through your second orgasm. 

“Gonna come in this pussy. Fuck. Gonna fill you up nice and deep. You want that baby? Hm?” Logan curses as your walls suffocate him.

“Yeayeayea give it to me.” You babble, moaning in his ear. Logan lets out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness. 

“Want you to take all of it f’me like a good fuckin' girl.” He growls in your ear as he chases his high. His grip on you tighter than ever, sure to leave marks on your skin later. 

He groans loudly as he releases. You feel his cum shoot inside of you. He pushes your hips all the way down on his cock, causing you to whimper. You feel his balls tightened as they drain his cum into you. 

He gives you one final thrust before he stills inside of you. His grip on you loosens as you both catch your breath.

"Maybe we should stick to you doin' all the work."

[saltysatellite804]

What I feel like so many people forget about Aizen, is that loneliness is the key identity behind his character. Every single action Aizen has taken, from who he has chosen to be by his side, from those he chose to betray and personally hurt, to why he is so callous, doesn't give a fuck, all come back to this. It's why he is so angry inside, burning up like a time bomb while carefully keeping a lid tightly sealed on it. It is why he lost the battle with Ichigo. Why he lost his new power instead of further evolving (because Hōgyoku shows you your deepest wishes), but he had self-decieved himself so hard that even he was shocked by this. He has high pride, it would never let him assimilate among people, especially a cult-like organization. The idea of losing himself is reflected in Kaname's words about how it is evil to assimilate in an evil world. Fierce independence. And he is spiteful that no one can see him. Or they will only see an illusion (why else is his power, the identity of his Zanpakuto about illusion?). People who actually looked for him couldn't. It is no wonder he saw it all as supreme weakness. He is right there and is missed, practically a ghost who just craves to be seen as who he actually is, not some glorious idol, and not an evil wolf in the bushes. Also reflected in Starrk, the loneliest Espada who just wanted to find a place to belong.

Because everything is bullshit, he decided to use his immense power to change it. He decided to embrace that. Instead, he failed, and is left in the darkest pit.

Aizen did not fight Yhwach because he wanted to take the throne from him. Nor did he want to escape Muken. He didn't do it out of spite. The only reason he left his cell was to personally remind this new king that he would never bow to him. Everything else was secondary. He fought Yhwach because he did not want to live under his rule. He will never be content to live under any rule.

[dreamofjoys]

— CHARGES

Synopsis: The Chief Justice of Fontaine would like to press charges against you for making him break his own principles

C/W: afab, smut, 4.0 archon quest spoilers, public sex, unprotected sex, spanking, you call him your honour, begging, he calls you doll, fingering

A/N: I told myself not to write genshin fics but this man just took my whole breath away

"Do you know why you are here?" Neuvillette's mint breath fan over your ear, hips bucking up to push his lengthy girth back into your hole. "N-no, your honour." You couldn't stop the string of wanton moans that fell out of your lips as Neuvillette fucks you roughly, folding you into half just to get better access to your pussy. You nearly screamed when his dick hits on a spongy soft spot in your pussy that has you seeing stars.

Sensing that it was your weak spot, the chief judge continues to abuse that spot, punctuating each thrust in a slow yet hard manner. "I am pressing charges against you," the judge finally speaks, flipping you onto your back with his dick still rock hard inside you. "for making me break my own principles." You yelped when you felt a sharp vertical pain on your butt. Looking back at Neuvillette with teary eyes, you realised that he was spanking you with the cane that he carries around whenever he holds trials to establish order.

"Neuvi, it hurts." A tear fell from your eye as your butt burns in pain. Neuvillette's heart swooned when he hears the nickname. "Oh, but does this hurt?" you moaned when his dick moves again to kiss your cervix. "I-I like this one more, Neuvi. Pl-please don't hit me with that." You tried your very best to give a pitiful puppy dog eye, even pushing your lower lips out to look more pitiful. However, such mere tricks does not work on the judge who has been delivering sentence on a daily basis, especially if it's one that is of high status.

"Doll, didn't you hear what I say just now?" One of his hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, playing with the bundles of nerves like a fidget toy. "I am going to press charge against you. Reason being? You made me break my own principles." His slim yet long fingers join his member in to stretch your pussy hole, making you moan in delight at the feeling of being stuffed full. You move your hips up and down, bouncing on his cock and fingers to chase your high.

Neuvillette could feel his usually composed aura falling down. He grabs you by your breast, lifting you up so that your back is finally pressed against his front.

"I am not like this," His dick now drills into your hole at an immensed speed while both of his hands has switched to fondle your breast. "We are in the High Court of Fontaine, where trials are held everyday. And yet here I am, ruining you on the very own chair that I sit to deliver those trials." You didn't care what he was saying, choosing to bounce on his dick like a slut, chasing after the high.

"Look at the scale, it's tipping towards my favour." Neuvillette grabs you by the chin to look at the large scale, the main source of power for delivering the final verdicts in all trials at Fontaine. "It's all because of you, that I have desires to take you on my seat, " you suck onto the fingers that Neuvillette had inserted into your mouth. " It's all because of you, that I am fucking you in this empty court," You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your gonna-

"It's all because I like you, that's why Im losing my composure everyday. The desire to claim you is greater than the desire to act like the proper Chief Judge."

You let out the sinnest mewl when the knot releases, milking the judge's coat like a waterfall. It wasn't long before you feel warm ropes of cum painting your walls, filling your womb with his seeds.

"You are definitely guilty, Y/N."

[fake-bleach]

deserve it | (pre-outbreak) joel miller x reader

summary: Joel can't stand his wife who constantly lies to him about her whereabouts. You decide to make him forget about it.. even if she's already on the phone with him.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: (18+ only!) filthyyy smut, oral (m receiving), roughhh, slight mean joel, dirty talk, praise, facefucking, choking/gagging, use of pet names (baby, honey, girl, etc), cheating but not rly..?, happy/soft ending? :) lmk if i missed anything lol

drabble for b <3

(thank u for the suggestion love, hope i did it justice!)

ao3 link | masterlist :)

read part 2 here!

"Sorry, Joel.. Had a meeting with the, uh, clients.. today after work.."

On your knees in between his large thighs, Joel's hand grips onto your hair tightly, holding your head securely as he encourages you to continue taking his cock deeper down your throat. Your eyes tear up as he grunts quietly into the phone held by his ear, responding wryly.

"Right.. that's the, what, fifth meeting this week? Sure, you keep tellin' yourself that.." Joel chuckles out, his eyes rolling back with a mixture of annoyance from his wife, and the immense pleasure that your throat choking on him was providing. His hold lifts your head back up so you can gasp for air, his stare fixed onto your teary eyes as you look up at him with your fucked out face.

Keep reading

He smirks down at you while caressing your hair affectionately, moving his thumb down to your bottom lip to push it forward for you to suck on it as if it were his cock again.

"That's it, baby.. Just like that." He whispers to you, completely aware that you weren't the only one who heard that.

His wife's aggravating voice fills his ear, "What was that, baby? Who.. is someone there with you?" She asks, her voice mixed with confusion and shock.

Joel just lets out a faint laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, hon.. Nothin' important.. not to you anyway," He states, breathing in sharply through his nose as you remove his thumb from your mouth, bringing your lips back down to wrap around the tip of his hard cock, sucking it in gently. You caress his balls with your left hand, the other wrapped around the rest of his dick to stroke it excruciatingly slow, forcing a low groan out of Joel's throat.

"You know what? Don't bother comin' home tonight, anyway. I'm busy with somethin' more important.. just like you are."

The tone in Joel's voice is mean and cruel, implicit in his intentions on calling out his wife's infidelity, but he doesn't give a fuck if it hurts her feelings or not.

Especially not when he's too busy focused on you.

Her gasp is loud and lucid, audible enough through the phone to make you hear it too. It just encourages your movements even more, making you smile around his thick cock as you push your head down to take him deeper down your throat.

"Joel? What do you mean by that? I don't know what you'r-" She asks, but before she can even finish her sentence, Joel just cuts her off, hanging up the phone to focus on your hot mouth on him, your wet tongue bringing him to absolute ecstasy. He throws it to the side of the couch, unable to care to pay attention to it any longer.

Moaning around him, Joel's hand grips onto your hair again, shoving your head down as deep as you can go. Your eyes roll back to your head, gagging around his cock as the fat tip intrudes your throat, making him groan out.

His pants and grunts become louder, heart racing even faster as he feels your throat convulse and clench around him, "Fuck, yeah.. Choke on it. So fuckin' deep, baby.. Such a good girl lettin' me fuck this throat. Dirty, dirty girl.."

His filthy words make your ears and cheeks burn, tears flowing down your face as you let him use your mouth and throat just how he wants. Once he feels you've had enough, he pulls you off of him, praising you with gentle caresses from his thumb on your cheek.

"Too good for me, honey.. You gonna make me come? Gonna let me come down this pretty throat?" He questions you, moving the hand that was just on your cheek to gently squeeze your throat, making you gasp out for him.

Nodding your head instantly, you moan out, loving the feeling of his huge hand wrapped around your neck. Your hand moves up to hold onto his wrist, grunting out and pleading, "Mmph.. Y-Yeah, Joel.. Fuck, come down my throat, please.."

He just chuckles and squeezes your neck tighter, getting better leverage to move you how he wants. His grip brings your head back down to his cock, making your lips reach just by the tip of it.

"Better work for it then, honey.. Show me just how much you deserve it." Joel encourages you, his dark and intense gaze making you tremble under it and his touch.

Wasting no time, you take him in your mouth, immediately bobbing your head up and down, sucking him off as you moan from the taste of it. Your eyes shut tightly, relishing the feeling of his heavy cock on your tongue.

Joel's grunts fill your ears, spurring you on, the grip on your hair tightening the closer that he gets. "F-Fuck, baby.. Best fuckin' throat I've ever had.. Those pretty fuckin' lips wrapped around me, fuck!" He moans out, lifting his head up as he shuts his eyes, your tongue becoming too much for him.

You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, making you moan loudly around him as you deep throat him, his thick head intruding the back of your throat. Your movements never relent, wanting to bring him to the edge the best he's ever had.

His eyes shoot open to stare down at you, his hand starting to take full control as he moves your head up and down his cock, chasing his own release.

"Look at me, honey.. Look at me while I fuck your throat. Look at me.." He demands you, his rough movements and the tone of his voice forcing your eyes to open up and look into his own, "Atta girl, so damn pretty for me.." He coos, your eyes watering at him using your throat to his liking.

He laughs faintly, grinning at you while he looks at the tears about to fall. "You gonna fuckin' cry, baby? Cock's too big for you, huh? Y'can take it.. M' almost there.. Just a lil' longer.. Wanna cherish this pretty fuckin' mouth.."

You just nod at him, barely able to even move your head because of the control he has over you. Tears stream down your face as he shoves your throat down his huge cock over and over again, your eyes wide open to follow his orders.

Arousal runs down to your core as his cock twitches in your mouth, indicating that he's almost there. You suck on him hard, trying your best to help to him as much as you can, causing Joel to grunt and moan the loudest he's ever been.

Your mouth pushes him to the edge, bringing your head all the way down to the base of his cock. Without any warning, you feel him flex and pulse in your mouth, filling your throat completely.

"F-Fuck, fuck, baby! That's it, lettin' me fill your throat so fuckin' deep.. Good fuckin' girl.”

His cum coats your throat as you moan around it, swallowing him like you were desperate & meant for it.

But, to be fair, you were.

Coming down from his high, he immediately pulls your head off of him, smiling and looking down at you with pure affection, his demeanor immediately becoming kinder.

He grabs onto your hands, pulling you up and gesturing you to sit up on his lap, wanting to be close to you. "C'mere, baby.. Did so good for me, sweetheart. Thank you.." He whispers in your ear, the praise making you blush as you straddle his waist, your hips pressed against his as his hands move to grip onto them.

He pulls you in for a messy, yet warm kiss, making sure you know just how proud he was and how much he appreciated what you had done for him.

Once you break away from the kiss, you giggle and stare at him with a smile, "Don't have to thank me, Joel.. You deserve it. Nothing but the best." You say to him, the gentle tone in your voice making him grin back at you.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, honey.. Can't wait for you to be mine already."

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[zarnzarn]

About the Reverse Odyssey AU (love it btw), do you think any of the Ithacans start praying to Hephastus? Just in case they can't get Odysseus back to human form, at least they can ask the God of inventing how to build a new palace that's half underwater.

oh god I have to continue that.... i have 3000 wips that ive gotten inspo for all at once are descending on me guys plus I am actively getting a master's degree bear w me for a few days

also OMG fuck yes!!! Ithaka is much more involved in this than in canon since a. they r not down 600 people who are immensely loyal to odysseus b. their king made a direct sacrifice FOR THEM literally no one else would have done this no other king would ever let himself be cursed to save his kingdom c. it's been 10 years and they all find it unjust because they'd all seen him weep as he left and know he and Penelope missed each other like crazy.

(plus he was very young when he took the throne! imagine a 13 year old telling u what to do and then being right. the people of Ithaka must have been very fond of him and most would have seen him as son-adjacent)

so one person has this idea one day, and they take it to the architects, who take it to the blacksmiths, who take it to the ruler of Ithaka. She pursues her lips as she looks at it, teeth grinding at the assumption that they would succeed but not overcome the curse, but allows them to do it.

So they start.

It is harder than their initial ideas demanded. First there is the matter of structures that do not stay down long enough to stick together, then there is the matter of how to secure them. Their dreams of beautiful underwater sculptures fall through as they struggle to conjure up even a basic shelter, even in the summer calm of the waters.

So, desperate and frustrated, they pray to Hephastus.

Ithaka is famous for its dedication to the goddess Athena, most of its temples under the king's ten-year rule being lovingly dedicated to the wisdom goddess. A separate group of smaller temples honors the other gods in the main town; but the main palace and most houses are painted blue and owl feathers and trinkets and sculptures are sold in the main market- the most beautiful of artistry is reserved for Pallas Athene alone.

But the blacksmiths and architects work together to build a small shrine worthy of the inventor god; with hidden catches and rotating idols and the best of their tools and ideas burnt at the fire kept burning at the base of it.

And after a few weeks- Hephaestus blesses them.

(He cannot make up for what he tried to do to Athena in his drunkenness and on Posiedon's inescapable goading. He was young and stupid and hurt and proud and drugged- he thinks she knows this, and has long since let it pass enough to stand beside him without a second thought; but will never be able to get over his shame- so the least he can do is this.)

But Ithaka's artists wake up with the same idea in mind and rush to the shrine in the early hours of the morning to give their thanks. Then they start building- floating large stones down at the far end to mark the range, until they have raised the wall enough to drain out the waters for them to work inside. They work fast, laying down the walls within days, until it joins to where the courtyard of the main palace creeps down the side of the cliff. From the palace itself, a tunnel is dug in the main room, wrapping around the mountain through the softer rock deposits, then travelling down to the sea.

They have the blueprints Odysseus himself had commissioned for his palace, and try to add in the carvings and structures accordingly. They dare not risk more than the smallest of owls carved into the stone entrance, wary of Posiedon's wrath at his rival. They work hard, encouraged by the people, helped by the Trojan heroes themselves- and strangely, their hands never feel tired and the ideas never stop coming.

The first test comes at the start of the monsoons.

The storms roll in angry and strong, battering against the island of Ithaka as furiously as always. When it is done, the architects are dismayed to find their hard-made palace flooded and destroyed, stone displaced or missing, with one collapse of the outside barrier causing three more within.

Dejected, they burn their tools at the temple forge once more, and then go to bed.

That next morning, the youngest of them wakes up with the thought- what if we used metal to hold them together?

The royal family gives them funding once more, and they commission for marble pillars to be sent from the mainland in exchange for their raw materials; these they sink to the bottom and drain the water once more. These pillars are erected and melted into the shifting sand with hot liquid metal, until they fuse into the rock. The roofed ceiling is replaced with live kelp and seaweed, attached to the top of the pillars and bound together. The walls are rebuilt quicker- with more labour coming in when they look closer to success than before, men with guilty eyes and stubborn determination ready to do the back-breaking, risky work.

The whole island holds its breath this time, as the monsoon rolls in and the ships return. The storms roll in and-

The wall has fallen completely, leaving the surroundings unsuitable for them to put it back up, letting the water back in.

But the building stands.

The celebration lasts all day and night, with all the workers being given a place of honor at the palace table itself for dinner. Even the royal family themselves are happy, for all the disappointment of another year of failure, and are grateful in a way that satisfies them more than the money ever could.

Yet there is still the second test- the tunnel to connect to the palace.

The main digging is complete; but as they reach the end they realize they do not know how they will open it to the sea without losing men to the outburst of the sea pouring back in. The Queen twists her lips when they go to her with the problem, thinking.

"This is such a bad idea," One of the men whispers.

"Shh," Eurylochus says, striking another spear into the final barrier. Two men come forward with hammers and push it in further, and they wait until the call comes in from the surface far above from the diver outside that the spear has gone through. "Don't tempt fate."

"You are such a nice, sane man, Eurylochus," One of the men moans despairingly, and he smiles, small. "Why are our royals all mad?"

He laughs, remembering a similar conversation from many years ago. He slips the rope around the loop at the end of the spear, and feels the nostalgia twist into sorrow once more, missing his captain, his general, his brother, his king, his friend. If only he had never kept that cursed bag. If only he had the courage to step forward first, not frozen in fear and shouldered the cost instead like a soldier should for their king, for Odysseus. Had not made mistake after mistake further, ordering Odysseus out of their reach in his panic to get him to the water, not being prepared with a net to catch him both times they'd seen him after.

He kept one on his belt now, at all times.

But until the skies and seas cleared, there was nothing to do except make sure Ody had a home to return to; that he could reach.

"Let's go," Eurylochus exhales, and they all grab the ropes attached to the dozens of spears and make their way back up the winding tunnel as slowly as they can, careful not to step on even one rope or pull too hard, and risk spelling doom for them all. Hearts pounding as they walk in the eerily silent tunnel, the dark taunting them, urging them to run. But they hold their nerve and come out at the pool created inside the main court.

Eurylochus climbs out last from the pool, and smiles up at Ctimene. She looks beautiful in the Ithakan jewels once more, holding herself with more grace and confidence than much richer princesses ever had, anklets tinkling.

She nods and then turns to the rest. "PULL!"

As one, the ropes spring up tight, straining until the spears come loose and men go falling to the floor with shouts. For a second nothing happens.

Then they hear the roaring.

He knows it's water, Eurylochus knows it has to be water- but it still sounds like a hoard of monsters, the shouting of a battlefield, the cyclops when he stole the lives of their friends in his fury. He can't help grabbing his wife and pulling her back, shouting for a retreat as the water rushes through the tunnel and bursts out in a terrible din into the pool, filling it to the top and then overspilling off the sides immediately.

For a heart-stopping moment, Eurylochus watches the water catch onto the feet of the people around, rising and rising, and he remembers Poseidon's cruel smile as he crippled and cursed Eurylochus' brother and thinks it's going to drown us all-

And then the tide recedes, and the water crawls back with it.

The plan worked. The palace of Ithaka now creeps down into the sea, enticing their wayward king to find his way back home, swim back to them and be happy, even if they never solved his curse.

All they have to do now is wait.

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (8)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, domination ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm's End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

When Lyanna walked into chamber informing her that her husband wanted to see her, she felt joy and horror at the same time. She was pleased that he desired her so much that he wished to spend another night with her.

However, she didn't know how to explain to him how sore she was, she was sure that no matter how gentle he might be, he would cause her pain and discomfort. She reasoned, however, that he might show her understanding in these delicate, feminine matters.

She entered his rooms shaken and frightened, fearful of his reaction and froze in disbelief; what she saw in front of her eyes made her voice hitch up in her throat, although she wanted to scream with all her might.

Her sister, Floris, was lying on the stone floor, sobbing loudly, all red, and her husband pressed her to the ground with his foot on her chest.

She couldn't believe that this was really happening.

She couldn't get any sound out, shocked and shuddered when she heard her husband's mocking voice.

"Your sister came to suck my cock. What should I do with her? I don't think this is what she expected when she knelt before me."

She felt as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over her head, even she didn't fully understand the meaning of his words, but she knew more or less what they meant.

Her own sister had come to her husband's chamber to seduce him.

She felt burning tears under her eyelids, which involuntarily began to run down her face and pressed her lips together, holding back any sound that might come from her mouth.

She heard Floris sobbing even louder at his words, almost screaming, but she could no longer find any compassion for her. Her husband was clearly frustrated by the sounds coming out of her chest, because he pressed her harder to the floor with his leg.

"Shut the fuck up." He hissed, looking down at her with a stony face.

For some reason, she felt satisfaction at the sight.

He could agree and take what she wanted to give him.

She knew that what her sister was going through was a brutal humiliation, that she should stop it, but some part of her was enjoying it.

As she began to beg her forgiveness, the awareness and pity she had felt came back to her, despite the immense pain and her burning, betrayed heart.

When she saw him take out his dagger she decided that this was all going too far.

"Let her go." She said weakly.

She looked at him and saw in his cold gaze that he would be ready to hurt her sister if she said a word.

She thought that he was dark, frightening man, but for some reason that thought did not repulse her.

Her violent husband chose her once again over her sisters.

He finally gave up on his idea, deciding to respect her decision.

"Get out." He said lowly, walking over to the table and taking a cup from it, drinking almost its entire contents.

She saw her sister turn on her stomach, trying to rise from her knees, trembling all over, sobbing loudly under her breath, her hair and nightdress in complete disarray.

She thought it was a hopeless, sad sight and that she even felt sorry for her, that it would be hard for her to go on, living with such humiliation.

Floris left the chamber quickly, terrified, and she wanted to follow her out, to speak to her, to ask her how she could have done something like this to her, but his voice stopped her.

"Where are you going?" He asked coolly, and she stopped, feeling a shiver pass through her at his tone of voice.

She looked at him and saw that he was extending his hand with his empty cup towards her. She pressed her lips together, wiping her nose, all runny from tears.

She took the jug in her trembling hands and prayed not to spill anything, not wanting to upset him.

She was afraid that drunk and angry, he would still want to take it out on her.

To take her, despite her pain and crying.

She refilled his cup halfway, not wanting to encourage him to drink more. However, this gesture only made him more upset.

"More. Do you begrudge your husband wine?" He hissed, and she pressed her lips together humbly, immediately reaching back for the jug.

"Forgive me, my prince." She mumbled, refilling his cup to the full, stepping back and waiting anxiously for his further orders. He stared at her intensely, his eye dark and misty, dangerous, she felt her heart in her throat with fear.

"You may leave." He said finally, turning his back to her, sitting back in his chair in front of the fire, taking a loud sip of wine.

She felt a huge sense of relief at his words and swallowed loudly, however, she hesitated.

She didn't want to be alone.

She didn't want to cry in solitude in her bed.

She wanted to stay with him.

She saw him glance over his shoulder at her, hearing that she hadn't moved an inch.

"May I sleep in your bed tonight, my husband?" She asked quietly, humbly, pleadingly, as tenderly as she could.

She felt a warmth in her belly when she called him her husband; she thought that it was so wonderfully pleasant to say those words, to be someone's wife, even if not entirely of her own free will.

She saw that he had turned his head away, taking another sip from his cup. He was silent for a long moment and she began to fear that she had frustrated him again with an unnecessary question.

"Yes." He hummed, and she let the air out of her mouth quietly.

"Thank you, husband." She whispered and moved slowly towards his bed, hiding under his sheets.

Only then did she allow herself to analyse what had happened.

She knew that her sisters had wanted this marriage, that they had competed in front of each other to be the chosen one, she understood their frustration, but she was their sister.

They preferred to humiliate and destroy her just to extract something for themselves, to give each other at least a moment of satisfaction.

She felt tears run down her cheeks onto the pillow under her head at the thought, but made no sound of her own.

She didn't expect him to come to her, embrace her or comfort her.

It was enough for her that he was in the same room.

That he didn't take her sister, although he could have.

She probably wouldn't have found out about anything, naively believing that everything was perfectly normal. She resisted the urge to let out a moan of despair and cuddled her face into her pillow, trying to fall asleep.

She awoke in the middle of the night, complete darkness all around her, only moonlight illuminated the chamber. She rose to sit up, looking around the room, sensing that her husband was not lying next to her. She saw that he was still sitting in his chair by the long-smoked fireplace, slumped slightly, his head resting on his shoulder.

She thought that he must have fallen asleep like this, drunk.

She wondered if she should wake him, tell him to lie down on the bed, decided against it, didn't want to frustrate him again.

She rose quietly, taking one of the quilts in her hand, and silently approached him barefoot. She covered him as gently as possible, doing her best not to make any loud movement. She looked at his sleeping face and sighed quietly, thinking that not even the scar and the lack of an eye could make her not see him as a handsome man.

She silently admired his long, shiny white hair, looking truly angelic, his unusual, sharp jaw, long, pointy nose and full, soft lips. She felt a pleasant tingling between her thighs at the memory of him kissing her.

She thought that he wasn't repelling her at all.

There was something about him that attracted her, despite his dark, scary nature.

She couldn't stop herself from touching him and gently brushed the back of her hand over his cheek, then rised her fingers to stroke his soft hair. She felt a wonderfully pleasant, comforting sensation as she did so, forgetting for a moment the unpleasant events of earlier that evening.

She moved away from him, not wanting to wake him, and walked slowly towards the bed with the intention of sleeping further. She shuddered when she heard his helpless, quiet mumbling.

"Don't leave me, mother."

She looked over her shoulder at him, wondering if she'd really heard it or if she'd just imagined it and saw that his chest was rising restlessly as if he was dreaming some kind of nightmare. She fought with herself, not knowing what to do, afraid that if he woke up, he would be furious with her. However, she couldn't help herself.

She approached him again, sitting down on his lap in his chair, her hand ran tenderly over his scarred cheek. She felt him flinch all over, frightened that he was awake, but he only caught her arm, pressing her hand to his chest. She thought with pain that something was happening inside him that she didn't understand, that he was in pain for some reason.

She wanted to give him some sort of relief.

She slid deeper, hugging his lowered head to her breasts, stroking slowly his hair with her trembling hand. She swallowed loudly, when he snuggled into her suddenly, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

She thought that he was like a helpless little child, so in need of his mother's care and tenderness.

She understood him, because she herself lacked that after her mother had left this world.

She laid her cheek on his head, closing her eyes, embracing him, stroking his hair with a slow, unhurried movements; she could feel him slowly calming down, falling back into a deep, sound sleep.

She thought that even if he thought it wasn't her, perhaps he was now experiencing some kind of relief and fulfilment that he needed.

She kissed tenderly the top of his head, touched that in this bizarre way she could suddenly be so wonderfully close to him.

She woke up after a long time, terrified, sucking in loud breath as she felt him rise with her, grabbing her hips. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, feeling her heart pounding hard, frightened that he would be furious with her.

"Forgive me." She mumbled, terrified that he would put her outside the door and simply shut it in front of her face, furious, recognising that she had taken advantage of a moment of his weakness.

He, however, to her surprise, did not head towards the door, but to his bed; she thought that perhaps he wanted to lie down to sleep in a more comfortable position.

She was wrong about that too.

He laid her down on his bedding, towering over her, breathing heavily, he could see that he was still drunk, his gaze hazy and cloudy.

She swallowed hard when he slowly begin to undo the buckles of his tunic, looking at her as if he wanted to devour her, she felt arousal at the sight, a pleasurable throbbing between her thighs.

He pulled his tunic off himself in one, sure movement, to her surprise, he also pulled his nightgown off, leaving his chest bare.

Only now could she see how well built he was.

She gasped silently at the sight, feeling warm desire pulsing in her lower abdomen, didn't resist him as he spread her legs and began to untie his breeches.

"Show me your breasts." He commanded, but not as coolly as usual, his voice shaky; whatever he was thinking about the position that he had found her in when he woke up it had apparently made him lose his temper.

She reached right up to untie her chemise, pulling the material aside, letting him look at what he wanted. She heard his low sigh of contentment as he climbed onto the bed, grasping her face in his hands, popping greedily into her puffy, swollen lips.

She murmured, surprised by this sudden passion, she could smell in his breath the overwhelming scent of wine, of smoke, of fire, of his saliva, of his arousal, his lips was thristy and restless, as if he feared that if he would not take the tenderness from her violently, she would not give it to him freely.

He was wrong.

She dared to slip her hands into his hair, to draw his face to hers, to deepen the kiss, her plump lips teasing his, trailing over his face, leaving wet marks on his skin, driving him insane. She heard him let out a soft, low, helpless groan, surprised at how willing she was, as if he expected her to resist rather than be delighted.

Her lips left his mouth once in a while, her hands stroking and rubbing the skin of his cheeks, his scar gently, tenderly, with devotion and acceptance, she could see him struggling with himself, his still unsober mind unsure if this was really happening.

It seemed to her that he decided to find out, to make sure, and began to touch her, the tip of his tongue tentatively slipping between her mouth, running its fleshy structure over her upper lip. She felt his rough, large hands everywhere, on her breasts, her shoulders, her hips, her thighs, running over her body like a map, his touch completely different from that during their wedding night, it seemed to her more natural, primal.

He dug his fingertips into the soft skin of her buttocks, panting with her without pulling away from her lips, swollen from his caresses, she felt like her whole body was on fire as he began to kiss and suck her neck, her hands roaming over his heated, sweaty back.

She sighed when she felt him slide his breeches down a little, just enough for her to feel his swollen, throbbing erection between her thighs.

She no longer cared about the pain or discomfort, she wanted to feel him again, wanted to be his once more.

She threw her head back with a low moan as he thrusted into her suddenly, confidently, all to the end. She had the feeling that this time it was completely different.

That whether he wanted it or not, the two of them were equals.

She sobbed beneath him as he began to move inside her in fast, violent, sharp pace, kneeling in front of her, holding her hips in his hands, rooting into her in this delightful position that gave her so much pleasure, panting loudly with her, his cock opening her wide with lewd clicks of her moisture.

"− yes − yes − yes −" She whined like a prayer, clasping her hands on the sheets around her, moaning along with him, his fingertips clenched painfully tight on her hips, his thighs bumping against the skin of her arse with a wet, loud, perverted slaps.

" − fucking made to take my cock −" He exhaled with delight and she moaned at his words, ashamed, arching like a string, surprised by his sudden effusiveness, his desire to touch her, by everything that he was now giving her.

She squealed loudly as he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her, so that she was sitting on top of him. Excited by this new, more comfortable position, she put her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his, looking down at him with misty eyes, letting him slam into her as quickly and deeply as he desired.

He was sliding in and out of her, holding her waist in an iron grip, pushing her fleshy, hot walls apart with the quick thrusts of his hips, making her head spin with pleasure, rubbing her where she needed it.

"− Aemond −" She mewled, and he groaned low, almost animal-like at the sound of his name from her lips, so shameless, private, intimate.

"− fuck − stop −" He breathed out as if her tenderness, her directness was too much for him.

She kissed him greedily, the tip of her tongue brazenly and tauntingly licked his, causing him to make that wonderfully low, broken sound again.

She clasped her hands on his cheeks, running the tip of her nose over his face, bouncing with each of his pounds, feeling as if she were in some wonderful frenzy of elation, she rose and fell, whining his name, and he panted helplessly beneath her, his thrusts sloppy and dirty.

"− no − please − fuck! −" He clenched his teeth, not really knowing what he was asking for, pressing his face into her breasts, coming hard deep inside her with a loud groan of pleasure and anger.

His helpless words made her come a moment after him with a surprised moan of relief, a wonderful, tickling sensation of delight spread through her body like a hot wave, while she was falling and rising on his still hard cock.

They were both panting, trembling all over, hugging each other after this strange, sudden, frantic closeness that neither of them had expected.

She wasn't sure what had actually happened to her and felt ashamed of her perverted, shameless behaviour.

She thought that her husband was arousing something in her that she didn't understand, and his unintentional closeness was causing something to be released in her, some wonderful desire that she hadn't known before.

It was only now, sitting on top of him, snuggled into him, feeling him still pulsing inside her, panting hard that she realised she was trying to mimic his movements, wanting to see if it would feel good.

And gods, it felt so good.

Once in a while she placed a kiss on the top of his head, brushing her fingers through his hair, running her hand down his bare back, she felt goosebumps on his skin every time as she repeated this sensual, gentle gesture, their breathing began to slowly calm down.

She shuddered when she felt his large hand on her back, his fingers tentatively traveling up and down her spine, apparently wanting to reciprocate her gentle caresses that were so foreign to him. She pressed his face to her breasts, sighing with delight as she felt shivers of pleasure pass through her with each of his strokes.

"− my husband −" She whispered tenderly.

He murmured, closing his eye and simply let himself drift off into the world of these pleasant, gentle, subtle sensations.

She felt that after a moment they both began to fall asleep, cuddled into each other in this semi-sitting position. He leaned over suddenly, laying on his side with her, his face still snuggled into her chest.

He slid out of her gently with a loud click of her moisture and his spend, grunting with displeasure and made himself comfortable between her breasts, no longer making a sound, letting her embrace him as she pleased. She laid her cheek against the top of his head, closing her eyes.

She thought that this night was the first time that she had seen her husband as he really was.

She woke up just before dawn, unsure of where she was, feeling someone's arm embracing her waist, his large hand on her half-naked breast, slipped under the untied material of her nightgown. She turned her head in that direction, frightened, and saw the face of her husband lying next to her, sleeping a stony sleep.

He smelled of wine.

She pressed her lips together at the memory of what they had done.

She was afraid of his sober mind's reaction to what had happened, that he would accuse her of taking advantage of his condition and weakness.

That he didn't want it at all.

He was asking her to stop, but she didn't understand why, as his hips, instead of slowing down, accelerated, his fingers, instead of letting her go, dug more firmly into soft skin of her hips, rooting his manhood deep into her with such intense thrusts that she had to clench her hands in his hair for balance.

She thought with pain that although she wanted to sleep on by his side, believing that he knew what he was doing, she should leave.

She reasoned, swallowing quietly, that after the way he had forced her to leave the day before in the morning, today would surely be no different and she wasn't about to find out, waiting like a puppy for his approval.

She figured that she would leave on her own.

And he, if he wanted to, would summon her again.

She actually preferred that if he was angry he wouldn't take it out on her right away and could cool off in solitude; if he was happy, nothing would happen if he visited her alone, of his own free will.

She slipped quietly out of his embrace, his low, displeased, sleepy grunt answered her, make her freeze in half-motion. He merely turned over, however, continuing to sleep, and she sighed softly, rising from the bed, walking barefoot towards the door.

She hissed quietly, immediately feeling that embarrassing sensation again as something flowed out of her, a mixture of her moisture and his seed running down her thigh. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled slightly at the sight of his peaceful, sleeping face.

He looked so gentle.

She opened the door with a quiet clatter of wood and stepped out, closing it behind her.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @ipostwhtifeel @letmeloveyouuuu @yentroucnagol

Others: @dreamymoomin @thedamewithabook @dc-marvel-girl96 @zillahvathek @helaenaluvr @tssf-imagines @heavenly1927 @hiatuswhore @it-is-getting-better @linkpk88 @luna-salem @toodlesxcuddles @happinessinthebeing

[mamisfavmosher]

you’ll regret it // rhea ripley x fem!reader

this idea has been rotting in my brain for a lil while, so here you go...

Minors DNI!!!!

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, crying, slightly dark!Rhea, slight poly with other judgment day members, slight humiliation, swearing, hitting, light bondage, sex toys.  let me know if I missed any.

Summary: you’re in for a punishment after giving Rhea some attitude.

NOT PROOFREAD

Reader’s POV

Rhea had worked hard over the past few weeks, training you to win your match against Raquel Rodriguez. She was a powerhouse and Rhea knew you would need extra training to win against the stronger and taller woman. Rhea had deemed herself the perfect candidate to train you as she had tag teamed with Raquel in the past and knew how to counter most, if not all, of her moves. You and Rhea had poured every ounce of energy into the last few training sessions, so much so that Rhea was sure you were going to win. 

But that didn’t happen. Raquel had used a move that Rhea didn’t put you through in training, causing your mind to blank for a few seconds and allowing her to take the win. Needless to say, Rhea was fuming. She had been cheering you on ringside and roughly yanked you out of the ring after the bell had been rung. You could feel the anger radiating off of her and refused to meet her fiery gaze. She dragged you backstage and practically threw you into the dressing room. Slamming the door behind her, Rhea stood in front of it and crossed her arms over her chest, giving you an icy glare. You knew she wasn’t going to speak first, her anger already on the verge of exploding from her.

“Rhea-” You dared to make eye contact with her and immediately regretted it, looking down at your shoes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“You’re sorry?” Rhea cut you off. “Sorry for what? How you wasted weeks of my time training you for a match that you lost within 15 minutes? Or how you misrepresented The Judgment Day? Huh?” She slightly raised her voice and took a few steps toward you. 

“I didn’t mean to!” You attempted to defend yourself.

“I don’t give a shit that you didn’t mean to! You lost the fucking match!” Rhea was now close enough to be looking down at you.

“Well, it’s not exactly my fault that you didn’t train me well enough! I didn’t see that move once during our sessions!” Your eyes widened as you spoke, but you couldn’t stop the defensive response. You watched in fear as the deadliest of expressions crossed her face.

“The hell did you just say to me?” Her threat came out as a whisper, twice as venomous. You attempted to take a step back, but she was quick to grab you by your neck and hold you in place. “Say it again. I dare you.” Her hand squeezed and you knew it was in your best interest to stay silent. You simply shook your head as best as you could and she released your neck from her vice grip. Rhea looked away for a split second and you took that chance to try and turn away from her, but she was too angry at the moment to let you get away so quickly. 

Her hand fisted in your hair and yanked you back to face her, tilting your head up to look at her face. Before you even had time to blink, her free hand came up and slapped you. Not hard enough to leave an impacting mark, but enough to leave a burning sting to remind you who was in charge. 

“If you ever speak to me like that again, you’ll regret it.” She threatened you as her grip on your hair tightened, daring you to fight back. You weakly shoved at her chest to get her to loosen her grip on you, but she didn’t budge. 

“Let go of me! It hurts!” You reached up to try and pry Rhea’s hand out of your hair as you complained.

“You should’ve won the match!” She taunted you, an evil smile on her face as you clawed at her hand.

“You’re such a bitch sometimes...” You huffed out, not prepared for the consequences. Almost immediately, her hand moved from your hair and closed around your throat again, her free hand slapping across your face with immense force. You felt your eyes water from the impact. “Mami-” You started.

“Shut up.” Rhea spit the words out like venom. “I told you you’d regret it if you talked to me like that again.” She forcefully backed you up and shoved you onto the couch, yanking and pulling your ring gear off until you were completely bare. You simply whimpered and watched in silent fear of what was to come. “Lay down.” She pointed to the top of the coffee table in front of the couch as she rummaged through a bag on the floor. 

You did as you were told, afraid of angering her further. The table was hard against the back of your head, but you knew better than to complain right now. Rhea pulled out some rope and a vibrator, setting the items on the floor next to the table. You turned your head to watch what she was doing as she grabbed the rope and started tying one of your legs to the leg of the table. The hard edges of the table were digging into the back of your leg as she tugged and pulled with the rope.

“It kinda hurts...” You said softly in hopes that there was still some sense of humanity left in Rhea. She only tightened the rope in response, causing you to wince.

“Get over it. You’ll be up here for a while.” Her reply was blunt and aggressive. You shut your eyes tightly, attempting to block out the pain when she tied your other leg to the table using the same amount of force. She swiftly moved around the table to bind your wrists together, attaching the rope somewhere under the table so your arms were bent back. You winced at the pain. 

Rhea moved back to where she had set the vibrator down and picked it up while turning it on to a medium level, placing and angling it right onto your clit. You immediately let out a moan as the vibrations hit the bundle of nerves, closing your eyes at the pleasure. Rhea sat down on the couch to enjoy the view. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through your body and left you a moaning mess in front of the dominant woman.

“Mami, I- I’m gonna cum!” You gasped out as you attempted to arch your back off the table.

“I don’t want to hear your pathetic begging, slut. Go ahead and cum. This is only the first orgasm of many.” Rhea said with an irritated tone. She pulled out her phone to pass time and lifted her legs to rest them on your stomach, crossing her feet comfortably. A loud moan from you rang out within the room as your orgasm rushed through your body, your breathing heavy and deep. You let out a yelp as Rhea reached over and turned the vibrator on to the highest level. She got comfortable again and scrolled through her phone as you squirmed from the uncomfortable vibrations. 

It felt like hours that you were tied to the table to endure orgasm after orgasm as Rhea watched with a sadistic smile. Tears rolled down your face as you moaned through another orgasm.

“Mami, please! Please turn it off! I can’t-” A small sob left your mouth when the vibrations continued on your oversensitive clit. “No more... please.” You whimpered. A low chuckle could be heard from Rhea and you looked up at her with more tears rolling down your cheeks. She had removed her legs from resting on your stomach and was sitting up, leaning her elbows on her knees to get closer to you. 

“Look who’s the bitch now. Whining and crying for Mami to stop pleasuring you. You’re so ungrateful.” She snarled before reaching over to grab the vibrator, pressing it harder against you and rubbing it up and down your slit. “C’mon, use your manners, little slut. Thank me.” A smirk rose on her lips as her torture caused you to cry out. You bit your lip to try and distract yourself from the discomfort. “I said, thank me.” You felt the knot in your stomach that was now painfully close to unravelling once again, your mouth staying shut as the next orgasm rolled through you. “Thank me or I’ll call the boys in to watch the rest of your punishment play out.” Her words caused your eyes to widen and a whimper to leave your mouth. Unfortunately, she took that as your answer. “Fine, have it your way.” She placed the vibrator back down on the table so that it was still touching you and started typing on her phone.

Not long after, as you writhed and sobbed in overstimulation on top of the table, there was a knock on the door. Rhea finished strapping something to her thigh and moved to open the door for the boys.

“Hey, guys. Come on in.” She held the door open for them as they filed in and smirked at the sight of you.

“What’d she do to deserve this?” Damien asked with a chuckle.

“She gave me attitude. Clearly, the little brat needs some humiliation.” Rhea cracked her knuckles as she spoke with the boys. “You guys are just here to watch for now, but if she tries any more attitude, you all can join in on the fun.” She said the last part louder to make sure you heard her. You were still sobbing from the painful vibrations on your cunt, but you shut your eyes to try and block out the watchful gazes of the men who were now seated near you. 

“Mami...” You whimpered out. She ignored you and moved to turn off the vibrator, starting to untie you from the table. Once you were free, she stood you up and you instantly turned away from the guys.

“There’s no use in hiding, little one. That pretty little pussy will be all spread open for us at some point.” Priest snickered and the other two nodded in agreement. Rhea smiled in amusement before sitting on the couch and pulling you toward her by your hips. You looked down at her lap and noticed that she had strapped a tentacle grinder to her thigh. Instantly, your eyes widened and you shook your head frantically.

“Mami, please! Please don’t make me...” You cried out once you knew what she was going to make you do.

“C’mon, baby. That pussy isn’t gonna grind itself. Come here.” Rhea patted her thigh and you begrudgingly sat down on her leg, making sure you didn’t sit on the grinder before you had to. The dominant woman gave you a pointed look before shoving your hips back so you were sitting on the textured silicone. You instantly moved off the grinder when her hands let go and circled your arms around her neck in an attempt to find comfort from her punishing ways. Rhea sighed as she felt your tears wet her neck, her hands coming up to softly stroke your back for a few seconds. “Babydoll...” She let you cry for a few more seconds. “You brought this punishment onto yourself. You’re gonna have to take it.” With that said, she pushed your hips back onto the silicone and moved them slightly back and forth to start the motion. You cried even more at the feeling of the textures running over your swollen clit. 

“No, no, no, no.” You shook your head and frantically wiped away the swiftly falling tears. “I can’t, Mami, please! It hurts...” You sniffled and held onto her wrists so she wouldn’t move your hips anymore. Rhea let out a huff of annoyance and forcefully shoved your hips back so that your clit harshly rubbed over the tentacle texture, causing you to yelp and attempt to close your legs. 

“Okay. Since you wanna be such a pathetic little bitch, we’ll do it like this. I want you to grind like this for five minutes without stopping. If you stop, I’ll start the timer over. When the timer goes off, we’ll switch it up a bit, okay?” You hesitantly nodded your head and watched as she set the timer on her phone. “Go ahead and start, baby.” She clicked the start button on the timer and you slowly and gently moved your hips back and forth, tears cascading down your cheeks. 

“I think she could do better than that, Mami.” Dominik said with a smirk. Rhea shot a glare in his direction.

“Quiet, Dom. You can have a say when she’s done with this.” Rhea snarled. She gripped one of your hips and applied pressure so you felt more of the texture which caused you to wince. 

“Mami...” You whimpered and rested your forehead on her shoulder as she kept your hips going. 

“Keep going, hun. You wanna be Mami’s good little girl don’t you?” She grabbed your hair and pulled you away from her shoulder, her hand then moving to grip your jaw as you nodded. “We gotta make sure you get rid of that attitude, then.” The minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the timer finished and Rhea let you move further up her leg off of the grinder. Weakly clinging to her broad frame, you let your tears soak her shirt as you evened your breathing. She stroked a warm hand over your back as you calmed down. “Alright, bub. We’re gonna switch it up now. Boys, you have her for five minutes. Try to focus on her clit.” With that said, Rhea lead you over to the three men and left to go rummage through her bag on the other side of the room.

“C’mere, chica.” Dom pulled you down to lay on the couch where the three guys were previously sitting. Before you knew what was happening, Dom was holding your wrists together and Finn was spreading your legs. Damien quickly got to work on running his fingers through your arousal, his thumb focusing on circling your clit. He used both hands to spread your folds, letting a drop of his spit fall before rubbing it in. Your body twitched and jerked from the overstimulation, but that didn’t stop the boys. They each took a turn covering your pussy in glistening spit, refusing to rub it in so they could watch it drip down through your folds. 

“Time’s up, guys. Back off.” The men let go of you and watched as Rhea bent down to get a closer look at your spit-covered cunt. She let out a satisfied hum before harshly slapping your pussy and blocking your legs from closing. You let out a small yell at the cruel surprise, the sound of a wet slap resounding throughout the room. Her hand stretched your skin taut in order to get a better aim and slapped you again with just as much force. Squealing at the pain, you attempted to shut your legs and kick away from her, successfully shoving her shoulder away. Rhea sent you a death glare and immediately looked toward Damien. “Priest, hold her down.” Damien moved behind you and grabbed your legs, forcing them open and away from Rhea.

“No! No, please, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to kick you! Please...” Tears welled up in your eyes again as Rhea didn’t even look at you. Instead, she repeatedly brought her hand down hard on your clit, not stopping to give you a break. She watched with a sadistic smile as your body writhed with every slap and your yells rang loud in the air. Her hand started alternating between slapping and rubbing your clit.

“I want you to cum one more time and you can be done.” She glanced up at you to see you silently shaking your head, your lips wobbling to keep sobs in.

“I can’t... No more, please.” You sobbed.

“You can and you will if you ever want me to stop.” Rhea moved her fingers even faster and you felt the painful knot in your stomach once again. “You’re almost there, I can tell.” She bent down and sucked harshly on your clit, lightly  nibbling on it here and there. All the different sensations caused the knot to unravel and you came with Mami swirling her tongue through your slit. She left a kiss on your clit and lifted her head to plant a kiss on your lips, her fingers gently circling your clit to get you all the way through your orgasm. Damien freed your legs and sat beside you to stroke your hair.

“Mami-” You shut your eyes tight at the feeling of irritation and sensitivity.

“I know, baby. I know.” She shushed you and pulled you onto her lap, hugging you to her chest tightly. “You did so good, pretty girl.” She held your face and planted soft kisses where your tear streaks were. “So good for Mami.” A weak smile played on your lips at the praise before you broke down into tears again due to your tingling pussy. You cried into Rhea’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected in her embrace.

“I’m sorry, Mami. I swear I won’t ever be mean to you again.” You said with a pout and perked up as you received a sweet smile from her.

“You better not, or it’ll be worse than this.” She lectured you. “Alright, hun. Let’s get you home so we can clean you up and go to bed. How’s that sound, sweet girl?” Rhea wiped away any more stray tears and smugly watched as you hugged the boys goodbye, Dom giving you a quick little spank when he embraced you causing you to yelp. He let out a chuckle before the three of them headed out.

“I’m proud of you, babydoll. I really am.” Rhea gave you a loving smile and helped you get dressed. “C’mon, let’s head home.”

[tired-biscuit]

18+ fem!reader

kirishima is already so big that he can barely fit inside of you, but with a cock ring on; his immense size makes you feel outright dazed.

he preps you with his fingers; thumb circling your clit and two thick digits pumping in and out of your sopping cunt until you’re gasping for air, begging him for more. it drags out, the foreplay. his forehead rests against your own as he keeps murmuring sweet praises that only make the fever that’s overtaking your body burn even hotter, and with his lips touching your own, he makes you cum at least once so that you’re really ready for the stretch to come.

it makes your body more pliant; more willing to accept such an unbearably big, fat cock like his own has become now. when you nearly start crying for said stretch, pleading and squirming and writhing underneath your lovely himbo boyfriend — asking him so sweetly and with tears welling in your eyes to fill you up with his dick instead, he takes pity on you because he loves you, places the ring on and at long last; tops you.

it’s all done carefully. he keeps your legs spread wide open with the help of his hands, and pushes in a little more than just the tip at first. the beginning is all right, he plays with you a little, gives you a false sense of hope that you’ll actually be able to take him entirely even when he’s got the damned thing on. however, that all comes crashing down the moment he clenches his jaw and tries to go further. in fact, you’re not just hopeless by the time there’s only half of him inside you; you’re actually start feeling like you’re bursting at the fucking seams.

after all, he’s hard, hot, throbbing. is bullying your poor pussy even if he’s spent ages stretching you out and lubing you up. and bless his golden heart, he’s watching you carefully as he does it, searching if there’s any signs of actual discomfort riddling your face whilst he holds himself steady above you. his eyes seem darker as he stares down at you through extremely heavy eyelids; the entire expression makes him look more mature and serious than he actually is.

“mm… you okay, sweetheart?” he asks, swallowing hard. god, he sounds so sexy when his voice gets all strained like this. it’s a rasp that sends a chill rushing over your soul.

“m’fine,” you quickly mumble in reply. on the other hand, has your voice always sounded so squeaky? “it— jesus, fuck, eiji…! it hurts s’good!”

you’re not lying — it really is a good kind of pain that he makes you endure, now. your toes twitch against the small of his back, and he takes that as his cue to try and stuff another inch into you. in response, your heels immediately start to dig into the curve of his spine; sliding over the sweat that gathers on his skin because of how hard he’s concentrating.

you’re both breathing hard, staring into each other’s eyes, reaching down and up just to kiss each other and taste each other’s spit. there’s an overwhelming amount of saliva gathering on your tongue from how he makes you feel. just that: overwhelmed.

and when he at long last slides in all the way, cock ring pressing against your clit — harshly, almost forcefully, despite the permission you’ve granted him — all you can do is throw your head back against the pillow and pray.

[florencemtrash]

Flame, Shadow, Beast : Prologue

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Death and mentions of torture

Comment below or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Also, check out my masterlist if you would like to read my other works.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Another body dropped down from the sliver of cave light that cracked through the darkness. You were like a creature of the deep sea, formless and blind after ages spent under the immense weight of the ocean above you.

But you didn’t have the luxury of being dead along the ocean floor.

No, you were pitifully still alive.

The body hit the ground a dozen feet away from you with a familiar wet crack followed by a wretched moan.

You stood up on shaky feet, one hand pressed against the stone wall to your left as you let the sound of the poor fae lead you forward. It was a male’s voice, low-pitched and gruff in their cries of pain. With the faint light available you could make out the rich scarlet tones of his hair mingling with the blood that ran through the arteries of the floor like a river through a canyon. 

“No. No… please.” The voice moaned out. 

Pity sang through your chest, a painful but reassuring reminder that you had managed to hold onto scraps of your humanity with tooth and nail. You could only imagine what stories they told of the beast beneath the mountain. The beast that killed the ones who would dare defy the High Lord of Autumn, drinking power from their veins before casting their bodies deep into the stone that traced the borders of Autumn and Winter.

The male tried to scramble away from you. His legs were broken, dragging along the floor as he heaved himself forward.

“Stop moving.” You said, your voice hoarse from lack of use.

The shuffling increased.

“I said stop.”

You finally reached him, feeling your foot press up against his and the heat of his breath warming your legs. He had managed to sit upright, one hand brandishing a rock in warning. 

You poured honey and softness into your voice, trying to calm him down.

“I won’t cause you pain. I promise.”

You reached out blindly, searching in the darkness until your fingers closed around his forearm. He weakly pulled away from you, but at the instant that you began to absorb his pain his shoulders slumped forward, all the fight within him leaving his body with a relieved exhale.

“What-what are you doing?” His words were slurred and wet. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth.

“I’m taking your pain.” You said quietly.

Every word spoken at these depths sounded too loud to your ears, echoing off the silent stone. You winced as his pain became yours, shoving it into a deep corner of your heart where you stored all memories of this evil place.

“It’s one of my talents, if you can call it that.” 

The Autumn soldier who’d tried so hard to run away was suddenly melting into your touch, begging you to give him some reprieve. You traced the burned skin of his back with a light touch, erasing the pain like the sea could sweep away footsteps.

“You’re one of Eris’s men, aren’t you?” You asked, although you were certain you already knew the answer, “Beron sends a lot of them down here.” 

He nodded, leaning his head against your shoulder. You reached up and combed back blood-matted hair. It was short and blunt beneath your fingertips - cut with a brutal hand. The first thing Beron did was cut the hair of prisoners, robbing them of their appearance and some small measure of their beauty.

“I am.” He said.

“And how long did he hurt you for?”

The male winced, “Seven months.” His heartbeat had begun to slow in his chest now that the pain was gone.

That’s good. You thought quietly to yourself. The last male had been a prisoner for over two years. 

“I’m sorry.” You murmured, feeling his soul begin to slip away as you drained him of his pain and then his power. It was the only thing that had kept you alive all this time. That and the promise you’d made yourself that if you ever looked upon the High Lord’s face again it would be with a sword against his throat.

“Tell my High Lord…” It took him a long while to gather his strength. He swallowed thickly, “Tell Eris I never betrayed him… If you can.” 

“I will.” You promised, feeling your chest clench painfully at his display of loyalty. 

“What are you?” The male breathed out and his body went slack. 

You buried your face in your hands and began to sob.

A prisoner just like you. A soldier who was too loyal for their own good.

Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note: I always have a difficult time deciding if I'd want to be with Azriel or Eris from the ACOTAR universe. Neither character gets much screentime in the books leaving it to us readers to interpret them to our heart's content.

Around Autumn time, I especially find myself leaning towards Eris and evaluating the flaws and hypocrisy of the Inner Circle/Night Court. This angst-filled, multi-chapter fanfiction was a product of my fantasies about the characters this last month.

I've already written most of it and I am now just in the editing phase, so this project of mine will be updating every week on Wednesday evenings.

I hope you enjoy! As always, feel free to message me or comment on posts. I'm trying to be better about interacting with users on tumblr because you all seem like really cool people and I've enjoyed reading people's blogposts and fanfiction works.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck

[obae-me]

The Brothers and their Nightmares

I was going to post this for Halloween, but things came up as they always do and I couldn't get to finishing it until now. Enjoy the late angst and spoops!

These are just dream scenarios I imagined the Brothers would suffer with, connected to both their Sin and the personal things they struggle with. Most of it is symbolic but could still be triggering for some.

TW: Hurt/No Comfort, Violent Images, Death, Blood, Angst, Nightmare Scenarios, Burning, Broken Bones, Disturbing Scenes that may upset readers. As Always, Read Safely.

Lucifer:

Displayed in a box. Preserved. Hung on a shelf for all to see. Trapped in a clear case with giant pins puncturing his wings and limbs in place. A perfect specimen.

The pain is immense. The torture almost unbearable, but this is where he belongs, right? To be shown off with Pride? To weather any struggles and pain to shine ever brighter in the light? A diamond only need be pressurized, cut, and polished before it's valuable.

Blurry faces of demons and angels and humans alike all pass him by, pointing at him and observing him with awe, sometimes fear, but nothing more. A living piece of art. He's searching for any familiarity amongst the crowd. The people he loves the most, the people he wants to shine for above all, the people he's suffering for!

Please! Give him a reason to endure this crucifixion! Prove to him that this is worth it! Let him know that he's enough! This prison must mean something! Don't say it was all for nothing! Everything he's worked for! Everything he's lamented over, toiled for! Look at him! Appreciate him!

But no one ever comes.

In the end he's left alone. The pins push deeper. The blood dripping from his eyes.

Just a caged butterfly.

--

Mammon:

Glistening palms. Shimmering faces. Gold as far as the eye can see. A perfect shining kingdom. Frozen lifeless subjects. This isn't what he wanted.

Come on, Belphie. Beel? What about you Asmo?... Satan?... No... Levi, please... Hells no... Lucifer!

Unmoving metal lips match each stiff jeweled eye. His hands... He- he had only touched them. That was all he did. Right? All he had done was love them. The Greed had become too much. In his ambition for glory, his corrupted embrace had tainted his family past the flesh. Motionless mannequins, that's all they were now. Cursed to shine till the end of time. His treasures that he had always craved.

Was this what he had wanted all along? No! He had created this all for his family! His friends! His loved ones! They were to all to gimmer with him! Not leave him alone! He did this. He always took things too far. Steal and cheat and lie until nothing remained! Rotten scum! Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just be better?! Give him a second chance... please. He can be better... Someone say something...

A destiny written in stone. Take. Even the lives of his brothers.

No matter how hard he tries, he only makes things worse.

Surrounded by the Fool's gold.

--

Levi:

Clanging, burning chains. There's a constant deafening buzzing in the air, the chatter of thousands of people. The voices rise and fall in rhythm, like the beating of war drums, or the increasing pace of his heart. He can't think, he can hardly see, and he can't breathe.

Millions of shining eyes stare down at his restrained body in the middle of a stadium. The blinding gazes singe his body, his skin melting off his bones. He's not the only one at the center of attention. Other people, other contestants are here to play the same game. Win, and get everything you ever dreamed. Lose, and be forced to burn with Envy and shame.

Every failed attempt of his makes the arena hotter. The infernal heat spills from the breaths of the crowd sharing his weaknesses to the world. They give his competitors the advantage, kicking him while he's down. The thrumming gets faster. It's not fair! He's trying so hard! Was he just doomed from the start? Was he born a failure? Hated by the universe since the moment of conception?! Is that why he's never good enough? Is that why all his brothers get to move on without him?!

His dreams always just out of reach. He's not good enough to be loved.

The bitterness eats him up from the inside.

Till he's melted into a pile of nothing.

--

Satan:

A mess of strings. The curtain is drawn. The show begins! It's the same routine day after day after day after day-- He can't take this any more!

He doesn't even understand this masquerade! The story he's forced to play out is gibberish, some fickle plot he can't even begin to fathom. Everything is foreign to him. The audience, the dance, his body, his Wrath. None of it is recognizable. And they chuckle like they know, like they enjoy his ignorance. Limbs are pulled in any direction the strings choose. Bones broken, lips sealed shut, he's pushed to the brink of oblivion once again.

But he worked so hard! Everything he's read, everything he learned, so he could stop feeling like this! He's not just a hollow doll, controlled by someone else's ambitions! He has thoughts, he has feelings! He might... not fully understand them yet, but he's trying! Tell him he's smart, that he's strong, that he's his own person! Let him stand on his own!

But only his mind is allowed to scream as the congregation watches.

A wicked dance until the strings are snipped. His opportunity to be independent. But instead, he falls into a lifeless heap on the floor.

Nothing without someone else.

The poor wooden plaything will never be real.

--

Asmo:

An endless winding labyrinth of mirrors. He runs, panting and crying as he tries to find his way through the illusions. Make it stop! Let him have peace!

The creatures are invisible to his normal eyes, only showing up in the reflections of the mirrors surrounding him. There's hundreds of them at least, crawling over each other to get to him. They don't even make a sound, silently scrambling towards him. An amalgamation of Lust. Each time they grab him, they take something precious from him. His fingernails, strands of his hair, his beautiful lips, the blush from his cheeks. They rip off of him as easily as tearing away a puzzle piece.

They're stripping him of his beauty bit by bit! How is he supposed to be loved like this?! If he's not gorgeous, than what is he? He has nothing left! This is all he has! He's not strong, or smart, or powerful! His physical charm is all he has! Please, leave him alone! He's supposed to be a jewel! That's all anyone ever sees him as!

He can't bear to look at himself. Every time he glances he's slightly different. Until he no longer recognizes the humanoid shell in the mirror. But he has no choice to keep looking if he wants to keep an eye on the monsters pursuing him.

A single fumble.

It's rather quick and painless as the souls each take what they want from him.

And leave him broken in shards on the floor.

--

Beel:

Screams echo from every direction. Buildings crumble as the earth shakes and the air hums. A moving living black cloud sweeps through the town. Where's his family? He has to help.

The sky a vast pool of crimson as the Celestial Sun and Demonic Moon cross paths and cast a torrent of blood down onto the merging realms. The ground beneath them all trembles, growling. It's Gluttonous. Every person he tries to save is always just too far away. They either get consumed from the plague of insects or fall into the gaping maws of the starving earth. And he still can't find his family.

Why? Why is this happening? Why isn't he strong enough to save anyone?! All the workouts, all the training, pushing his muscles stronger than any demon ever has, all so he can quit feeling so useless! He told himself he would be ready to take on anything! Even an entire army if he had to, just so he could save somebody for once! Lilith... Belphie… everyone... he's sorry... Sorry he's so weak. This is his fault.

The foundation beneath his feet begins to crumble.

His wings feel far too fragile to fly.

It makes sense that in the End of Days, no one would be there to save him.

He didn't deserve it.

--

Belphie:

There's something rotten in his chest. It feels like a pit in his soul, growing larger with every passing second. The sensation is agonizing.

It's something no one can see, but something he feels with every breath. It's very slowly stripping him of everything he is. His love, his memories, his desires... He needs to go find help. The House is laid out all wrong. Doors lead to where they shouldn't, hallways bend in the wrong directions. His house doesn't even feel like home anymore. Every step feels harder than it should. The supposedly easy task of getting help seeming more like an impossible feat. This rot is more than just Sloth. It takes what seems like hours to finally find his family. That's when he reaches out to them, trying to tell them what's wrong. But he can't speak for some reason.

Gestures and panicked grasping means nothing to his brothers. The desperation in his eyes goes ignored as most simply rub his head or push him off to the side, not taking him seriously in the least. But this hurts! He can't take the pain anymore! Someone help him! Don't push him away, don't treat it like a joke! Listen to him! Take what he has to say into consideration! He can't possibly speak over six other voices!

His efforts wasted, his energy depleted.

The rot ate away at his heart and left him numb.

And everyone walked away, leaving the boy who cried to cry alone.

[author-of-oddities]

hello.. i have no idea how to be as formal and fancy as you are here but id like to humbly request Stanford with electrocution for the Bad Things Happen bingo !! ! !!! if u need any ideas for it in specifics, maybe the aftermaths of Weirdmaggedon?? or possibly having nightmares about it on the ship with stan?? again, just if u need ideas !!! :-)

Ahhh yes!! Absolutely! I present to you...

Aftershock

Trigger/content warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence and its aftermath A/N: Written for @badthingshappenbingo Prompt: Electrocution Word count: 1,263 Summary: Even after months have passed, Ford is still haunted by the events of Weirdmageddon.

Also on Ao3!

The electricity hit him with brutal force, an invisible lightning that seemed to erupt from nowhere, locking every muscle into an iron grip. His limbs twisted involuntarily, teeth clenched so tightly it felt as though his jaw might shatter. Beneath his skin, an intense, burning current pulsed, sparking along his nerves like fire spreading through dry brush. He couldn't breathe; his chest felt trapped, crushed by an unbearable weight, as though every fiber of his being was locked in a silent scream. It was all-consuming, a brutal takeover that left no corner of him untouched by the raw and relentless force of the shock.

“C’mon, Fordsy,” Bill’s biting voice rang throughout his mind as his body went limp. “One little equation will save you from this, y’know?” Every inch of his body hurt in ways beyond imagination- thankfully, the searing sensation that clawed its way inside out seemed to relent in the same fashion. Still, the burns on his wrists remained, only worsened by every subtle shift, every scrape of skin against the unforgiving shackles. For a fleeting moment, he considered the offer. What was one simple equation compared to the immense physical trauma that he had already and would continue to endure? Ford shook the thought from his mind as quickly as it came, reminding himself of the stakes that weighed solely on that one equation. The world, the universe, the galaxy, and the entire dimension could be ripped apart if somehow, Bill worked the right numbers into their exact places.

He raised his head, grimacing at the pain that shot through his shoulders with the movement, and pried his eyes open, meeting Bill’s with an expression that portrayed unwavering bravery. “Never,” he croaked, voice betraying the impression his look had given. Whether or not he’d admit it, Ford was on the edge of breaking. It was just a matter of what would be the first to give: his body or mind?

Then he decided. “Not until the day I die.”

Body it was.

Bill’s laughter echoed through Ford’s mind, a twisted, taunting sound that rippled like broken glass across his frayed nerves.

“Oh, Fordsy, you’re adorable,” he sneered, floating closer until his voice felt like a whisper wrapped around Ford’s own thoughts. “You really think you can keep this up? That little resolve of yours is as flimsy as a wet tissue. You’re not built for this.”

He drifted around the Fearamid, turning to face his audience, then back at his victim, eye glinting with a disturbing glee. “But, hey, keep playing hero if you want. I can do this all day. Every minute you hold out, you’re just giving me more time to savor your pain. This is fun for me. Can you say the same?”

Ford only sneered in response. Any more than that and he’d certainly be sick. Even at that, Ford had clenched his jaw until he tasted blood, even his method of distraction wearing his body to its limit.

Suddenly, there was a shift in his attitude. Logically, Bill was aware of just how close he’s pushed his captive to the brink of death, even having contorted his power to make sure he didn’t overdo himself. Now, though, Bill knew. “I’ll give you one more chance to end this,” Bill purred, “just say the word. It’s not that hard. Just one equation, Sixer.”

He knew, as much as Bill did, that the fight wasn’t just physical. Bill was tearing at his mind, prying apart each mental shield he’d built to protect himself. Regardless, this was his last chance. It would end one way or another: if he lived, his universe died.

“Suit yourself,” Bill finally sighed, feigning disappointment. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

A guttural scream tore from Ford’s throat as another wave of searing electricity ripped through him, a savage torrent of agony that felt like it was unraveling him from the inside out. His vision blurred, his pulse thundered in his ears, and for a terrifying moment, he was certain this was the end—that this time, Bill’s relentless torture would be the thing to leave him as a lifeless shell.

Suddenly, it all stopped.

No more pain, no more grating laughter.

Ford’s chest heaved as he struggled to draw breath. Each gasp came in shallow bursts, quick and desperate, matching the thunderous echo of his heartbeat in his ears. For a moment, those were the only two things that existed- his breathing and heartbeat, both working in harmony to remind him that he did it. He survived.

But there was always more, this time being no different. Sheets had tangled around his legs, the mattress dipped under where he lay, and some foreign pressure pushed on his shoulder. As he calmed, Ford noticed a sound. At first, it was just a muffled noise, almost drowned out by the frantic drum of his pulse. But as he took a shuddering breath, his senses sharpened, and he realized what it was—a voice, rough and familiar, calling his name over and over.

“Ford! Stanford, wake up!”

He jolted upright, eyes flying open as the world came crashing into place around him. Stan dropped his hands from his brother's arm, relieved he didn’t need to spend any more time trying to shake him awake. The loss of contact seemed to startle the older twin further, his breathing quickening again.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Stan tried to reassure, returning his hand to where it’d unknowingly been grounding the other.

Ford nodded, frantically, and it became obvious that he was trying to convince himself that Stan’s words were true. “It…” he held his hands in front of himself, examining the skin around his wrists. Scars mirrored the cuffs that once held him captive, but they were healing, fading slowly—a reminder that it was all in the past.

“It still feels so real,” he murmured, fingers tracing the marks. A strange, tingling sensation pulsed beneath his skin, different from the older scars on his chest and back, which had long since numbed. But this—this was real.

“Hey, Poindexter,” Stan tried softly, successfully drawing his brother’s attention away from his thoughts. As Ford faced him, he continued, “It’s okay. It was just a dream. Look around–” Stanley gestured to the small room around them, just large enough to fit a desk and chair at the foot of the bed. 

Ford took in his surroundings, eyes quickly sweeping the books on the shelf above the desk, the papers from his journals that littered the few surfaces they could, and the quilted blanket that was draped over him. His heartbeat gradually steadied, the familiar objects grounding him more than he’d expected. The gentle sway of the boat beneath him, the faint scent of old wood and sea salt—all of it reminded him of where he truly was, and more importantly, who he was with. Each item was a piece of the life they’d built, of the second chance they’d somehow managed to carve out. This was real, not some fleeting illusion conjured by his mind or a nightmare waiting to collapse. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe. He was on a boat– their boat. The boat of their dreams, even.

He let out a sigh of relief, then let himself fall against Stanley, his head resting on the other’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right,” he muttered.

Despite it all– forty years apart, fights in between, and the near-end of the world– they did it. They were here, together at last, sharing a peace they’d fought their whole lives to find.

[cookie-crumblr]

The Smell of Smoke

F!Reader x Yandere Bully OC

Part 8~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part 1 — Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F! Reader, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, NON CON HARD DRUG USAGE(HEROIN), Hospital setting, fire, murder, blood, car accident, high speed car chase, explicit language, descriptive death scene, fighting

The syringe…

The way it pierced your skin like a thin pick of ice, you yelped and tried to stop him. You pushed and pushed but you are just too weak.

And he’s just too strong.

He holds you down, and covers your mouth so you can’t even scream.

The burning intensity of the drug rushing immediately through your veins when he pushes the plug down.

It feels better than the best sex you’ve ever had.

An all body orgasm, with the intensity cranked up to a million. It’s hot, like magma, but it’s not painful in the least. Even the pin prick has vanished into immense and all encapsulating pleasure.

It’s better than heaven, you’d never feel something so amazing anywhere imaginable, except right here on this debauched planet.

You wet yourself, unable to control your bladder anymore, and your body begins to convulse. You’re puking but you can’t even tell, you’re too consumed by the ecstasy.

You tried your hardest to fight… and this is how you die?

…

He lays you on your side as foam and bile start to spill from the side of your lips.

You’re overdosing.

He’s gonna kill you.

He’s really gonna kill you.

You’ll be free at last… at least.

He won’t be able to hurt you now…

You don’t feel too afraid anymore.

*Beep…*

*Beep…*

*Beeeeeeeeeeeeep*

“Code Blue! Code Blue!” You’re hearing people rush all around your body, but you aren’t here.

You’re somewhere floating above.

Somewhere dark, with sickly hands ferrying you somewhere. You can’t see with your eyes, but your mind, the hands are made of the tar that’s in your veins.

When suddenly,

*GASP* *COUGH* There’s something in your throat! It’s helping you breathe but it’s so painful! you cough around the strange intrusion, and feel like your gonna throw up more.

The nurses and doctors rush to un-intubate you, since you can breathe on your own again.

You sit up without thinking your body actually responding properly again, you must’ve at least gotten some rest this time.

The nurses tell you to lay back down as the machines all screech around you.

The first recognizable person you see is Ace.

He’s struggling against the nurses that are holding him away from the door to your room as his eyes are trained, locked in on yours.

No one’s ever fought like that just to make sure you’re okay, and you feel something warm in your chest thrum.

Soon Ezra comes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder, stopping Ace from actually hurting anyone.

When Ezra faces you, you start to sob, and your body shakes violently.

Everything he’s put you through,

*BEEP BEEP—BEEP BEEP— BEEP BEEP*

“Calm her down! Get those boys away from her!”

They rush around again giving you things in your various tubes connected to your arm.

You want to say no! at least leave Ace… You don’t want to be alone… You don’t want Ezra to come back without him.

But your throat is hoarse and you can’t speak through the shivers.

You fall back unconscious.

When you come to, Ezra is waiting. His arm is bandaged, and he’s smoking in your hospital room. You go to press the call button…

When your shaking fingers are almost there,

he grabs your wrist tight.

You choke out a sob, you want desperately to keep fighting, but how much more can you actually take.

He removes your blanket from your thigh and puts out his cigarette on your non-broken, non branded leg.

You hiss, the pain becoming far too familiar for your liking.

“You’re getting better at taking what I give you,” he smirks.

“H-how…” You speak without stopping yourself, You don’t even recognize your own voice as it’s so hoarse.“How are you still smiling…?” It’s horrific. All that he’s done to you.

Really, truly, horrific. And he just,

isn’t done.

He’ll never be done,

and that realization is setting in fully now.

He’s never going to stop, until he actually kills you.

His smile only grows with your realization.

Soon he’s checking you out saying that someone at a party shot you up, and taking your limping form to his BMW then shoving you into the back.

You claw at your head and collapse into yourself.

This can’t keep going on! You can’t take anymore! you really are about to break…

Your mind is shattering and there’s nothing you can do about it.

When your about to give in, you see Ace speeding up behind you… He’s in his own car and he’s catching up to you both.

He pulls up beside Ezra, and Ezra speeds up, trying to pass his younger brother.

You’re shaking in the backseat and you buckle yourself in, just in case you crash.

Ace is focused on driving but the way he looked at the black tinted back windows, as if he could see you. Your heart flip flopped. No! You think… If you have hope it’ll only hurt you more when it also shatters…

You don’t know what to do or what to think when you feel the car lurch and a sound of plastics crunching.

Your in the middle seat but the car door next to you crunches inward, you scream! the whole car spins violently before Ezra regains control.

It’s Ace you know it is, but it’s so scary!

Ezra’s driving like a maniac and his brother is too, they’re now trying to run eachother off the road.

You see a wearhouse coming up on the horizon with billowing smoke stacks that look like cigarettes puffing black smog into the blue sky.

Right before the car is in the air, upside down, and squealing, and the smell of burnt rubber and plastics assaults your senses.

You’re glad when all the motion stops, that you put your seat belt on.

Ezra hit his head! He’s unconscious!! You reach next to him and unlock your door, rushing, you’re able to get out and you go to Ace’s upside down, smoking, car. There’s blood covering his face, and soaking his pink hair, making it a deep crimson.

You use your elbow and smash the window without thinking. You must have strength from all the adrenaline rushing through you, cause it shatters.

You use your shirt to get rid of the cubed shards of glass, and are able to unbuckle him and pull him out.

you try your best to leave him the way he was and listen for his heart, and if he’s breathing.

You have a flashback to something you’ve seen before about the song “stayin alive” and how it matches the pulsing motion you need to preform.

His body is silent, and you start chest compressions.

There’s no sound, just the song in your head and your ragged breathing as you put your whole weight down into his chest over and over again.

soon enough Ace gasps, coughing and spitting, and the sound finally comes in. Birds and insects buzz alighting the atmosphere with even more excitement and commotion. the cars groan and crackle with their embers.

Ace reaches up to your face. his bloodshot eyes move from yours to behind you, and he jumps up and throws you behind him. You land roughly on your casted leg and yelp, finally remembering that it is still broken.

Ace shouts, “Ezra!!! ENOUGH!!!” Ezra has a cigarette in his mouth already, and blood all over him matching Ace.

One of them is dying tonight.

You can see this fact now.

“Ezra!! Stop!” You yell and grab Ace’s hand pulling him with you. Through a tall grassy field you run. As you’re trying to run to those smoke stacks in the near distance you feel yourself float for a second, thinking you’re falling you brace, but find that Ace scooped you up, to run with you in his arms.

He saw where you were heading and follows your instinct.

You use this opportunity to look over Ace’s should at Ezra chasing you both. He’s gaining on you.

Ace makes it with you in his arms to the factory and finds a rusted, paint chipped side door, he squeezes you both through, and then rushes through piles of scrap and steel beams, and ginormous vats of whatever.

There’s sunlight barely streaming through the dusty windows that line the top of the room.

But…

There’s no people here!

Nobody to help!

Fuck! what do you do!

Ace puts you down behind a pile of various materials and covers his lip with his finger letting you know to be silent.

You shake your head no! don’t leave me!! please! don’t go Ace! You scream in your own skull.

but he’s running off, going to meet with his brother and end this in a building that smells like smoke.

Your feelings are rushing, adrenaline pumping through your veins, and you glance at everything around you, you finally get an idea.

It’s a horrendous idea that could go horribly wrong… But you intend to finish this first.

These vats, they’re bubbling and there’s wooden beams and a wooden second layer, maybe you could get Ezra’s lighter and start a fire…

There’s levers on the sides of them that open up, as long as the carts aren’t underneath the opening to collect the substance, you could cover this whole floor with whatever’s in there. You start to push the carts out of the way, they’re heavy and they squeal rustily as the roll on the tracks.

You won’t go down without a fight. You aren’t about to let an innocent person die for you.

Once again you steel your frazzled nerves.

Now to find Ezra before Ace does and bait him here.

You bolt, ignoring the pain in your leg, and even though your movement is hindered you push through moving fast!

You can do this!

You round a corner and full body into the man you’re looking for. He stares down at you smirking, before he grabs you by the arms, and you panic momentarily before remembering that this is exactly what you needed.

you have to get that lighter, or….

The cigarette in his mouth. You use your good leg to kick the bone of his ankle. he doubles over in sudden pain, and confusion strikes him as you yank the cigarette from his lips. His confusion makes you able to worm yourself free from his grasp!

he’s faster than you, but walks to chase after you. Hah!

He doesn’t know you have a plan!

You can do this! You really can!

“Y/N~” He laughs, “You’re not gettin’ away from me, jus’ stop fightin’ and give in already, would’ya,”

He stalks after you, not even a little suspicious of why you took his cig.

You run back around the corner and down the dingy halls and up a few metal stairs up to the vats and pull the vat lever, it’s so heavy you use your full weight to actually push down all the way and get it to…

*chur-CHUNK* the ground rumbles as Black bubbling liquid pours out all over the cement, and around the beams, you’re on a metal platform above it thankfully.

“EZRAAAAAA!” You scream, ready to end this.

His brow furrows as your eyes meet his, and you toss the cigarette onto the tar, igniting the whole floor.

*FWOOSH* The flames take to the liquid instantly, you cover you nose with the baggy hospital clothes as oxygen is whipped past you and sucked to the blaze.

Ezra is just outside of the spill and the fire, he thinks you’ve failed as he’s smirking sinisterly, he doesn’t notice the wooden platform above him.

You start pulling smaller levers on the control panel and hitting buttons in a frenzy trying to find anything that could help, and fast!

No! You see the shadow of another man through the fire!

“ACEE!!!!!” The weakened wooden beams crash in on themselves and the floor collapses down lighting on fire as they fall. Ashes and smoke fill the mostly closed building.

You cough and look over the flames.

Ezra is still smiling at you, but it’s different now. He doesn’t even notice his brother in peril!

You have to save Ace! the building is going up in flames now, and you’re running out of time.

If he’s even alive!

More beams and supports fall before you, creating an opening. You move without thinking.

Your lungs burn and the fire licks at your skin through your clothes.

Sirens can be heard in the distance finally.

You’re going to get out of this! you are!

But it’ll be for nothing if Ezra exits this wearhouse too.

First you have to make it to Ace.

He’s under a fallen beam over his upper body!

You don’t even think about it you just start to lift it with inhuman strength. Ace is able to crawl out, he’s coughing badly from the smoke though, and probably has a collapsed lung! Gods!

Ezra grabs you from behind and starts pulling you with him into the roaring flames. Your cast feels hot!!

You swing your broken leg around like a dead weight and land the hard cast right into his knee, causing him to buckle down.

You push him into the fire and tar.

The embers take to him fast, and the last thing you see of Ezra, is his smiling face as his skin turns pitch black, peels, and evaporates off his bone. New ashes rise and you cover your nose harder, not wanting a single bit of him inside you ever again.

He looked oddly… At peace.

The firefighters get you and Ace out. They can do little for the building, but you couldn’t care less.

No one suspects either of you of anything. Just a freak accident and some young 20 somethings exploring buildings they shouldn’t.

No one asked why the tar spilled. So you didn’t say.

The building was apparently insured quite well so they got more money than it was worth and didn’t need to be concerned.

They were more concerned about the car crash and why you were in a high speed chase.

But after the culprit’s charred body was recovered they saw no need to investigate further with his previous record collaborating your story. Although you told the truth you omitted that Ace actually started it.

Thankfully, he did too.

You watch Ezra’s body being moved from the wearhouse to the ambulance in a black body bag. He’s really dead.

You allow yourself a final sigh of relief, as the oxygen pump cycles through your lungs with Ace by your side.

note from cookie: wowie! this one was different from usual, i hope you all enjoyed! i had a lot of fun writing it and finally this bastard got what he deserved!!!

Special thanks to @kawaiikitty67 and @valyalyon for the ideas and inspiration!! tysm for the help!!!!! I needed it! i was in an inspirational rut for a while T.T <3

[paingoes]

Cuckoo Egg

(continued from here)

(Content: institutionalized slavery, military content, minor character death, fear, begging, lot of crying, blood)

tags: @echo-goes-mmm @sowhumpshaped @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @teachunks @4th-dimensional-writer

======================

She leaves it there, too. She disappears again. It bleeds continuously onto the table, staining the sleeves of his uniform. He has to keep it perfectly still to stop the pain from reigniting. He sobs dryly.

The door opens again. Nicolette slinks in. She’s carrying a glass full of clear liquid. He tries to apologize again, to beg. She quiets him.

“It’s just water,” she says. With his hands bound, she has to bring the glass to his lips for him to drink. He flinches, fully convinced she will break it off in her mouth. But her hands are careful.

“If you lose a lot of blood, you get thirsty,” She explains, “And you’ve been crying a lot.”

He drinks the whole thing. She pulls the glass back, placing it on the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Cillian says weakly. This time, she does a worse job masking her surprise.

“You’re welcome,” she says slowly, “Are you ready to talk now?”

He tries not to cry again, to immediately lose whatever hydration he just gained.

“I told you,” he whines.

 She makes a small noise at the back of her throat, “Unfortunately, I don’t have another knife.”

“Wait-“

She plucks the knife out from the table, through the layer of flesh. It hurts just as bad going out. The blood pours with renewed force. Cillian screams. 

She doesn’t get back up on the table this time. It’s too soiled now. She doesn’t want the layers of accumulated blood to strain her clothes. Cillian recoils as she presses the knife flat against his uniform, wiping his own blood on the fabric. The metal catches the gleam.

“Please stop,” he gasps. 

“I’d like to.” Nicolette is right beside him, leaning on the same side of the table that he’s chained up on. All the blood has shocked him. All the terror.

“I’m trying,” he says quietly, going into a kind of trance, “I’m trying, please. I’m trying to be good.”

“Do it, then. I’ll let you rest after. Give me something.”

“I don’t know,” he practically yells. His voice breaks, “I am domestic. I’ve never been in a warzone before. I don’t know anything.”

She holds the knife to his throat. He sobs, barely flinching.

“I don’t want to die over this. It was just supposed to be a day trip. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice.”

“What do you mean?” The knife moves down a little, more to the collar than the jugular. It digs into his chest, not quite breaking the skin, but still thorny and painful.

“I don’t-“ he blinks back tears, cutting himself off. It’s so hard to speak now. The pressure in his throat has grown so immense.

Nicolette cuts him, unexpectedly. He jumps in pain and shock, forcing the dagger along a longer trail. It cut through the clothes, along his chest. Its shallow, but it bleeds heavily. His hands clench up reflexively. The muscles tensing triggers pain within the new wound. 

“Stop,” he pleads. She withdraws the knife. He wants the pain stop now, not just the interrogation. But the cuts still throb and burn. There’s nothing anyone can do for that. It takes him a minute to catch his breath. A moment too long and Nicolette presses the knife to the other side of his chest.

“I was only here as a punishment,” he chokes out. His face burns. It’s such a deep instinct for him to try and evade it. The shame cuts through him. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages, “I don’t- I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not a soldier. I’m not. It was just to punish me. I’m sorry.”

He can hardly see her through his tears, “You don’t believe me.”

Without moving the knife from its spot on his chest, she traces her hand around the bare skin of his neck. He winces, expecting her to tighten the grasp. She doesn’t. She’s looking for something.

“No dog tag. Cillian, what’s your full name?”

“I don’t have one.”

The knife enters, just a little.

“I don’t, I swear. They didn’t give me one.” He rushes the words out.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” his face burns, again, deeper, “My master.”

He hates how the word feels in his mouth, but it gets her to take the knife out. 

“No name on the uniform, either. All the others had one.”

He cringes as she realizes she is talking about the dead bodies of the soldiers he’d come with. He wonders where they’re keeping them now.

Nicolette slides off the table, turning back towards the door. Cillian can’t see her expression though the tears. Even if he could, it wouldn’t tell him much.

============

She returns quicker than he expected, but it still feels like hours have gone by. Cillian had calmed down a little, just enough to stop crying. Her sudden reappearance dashed his progress. She was trailed by two men. 

“Please don’t, please, please,” Cillian panicked, his imagination already running wild.

“Tell them what you told me,” her voice is more urgent now, almost beseeching, “Why you were in the desert.”

“I don’t know!” Cillian’s voice rose in frustration, his anger only slightly subdued by the blood loss.

“No. You, specifically. You know. Tell them.” She insisted.

If his hands were free, he’d have brought them to his face, in spite of the way the blood would smear. He wants to hide.

“They sent me on the mission as a punishment. I didn’t come by choice. I’m not a soldier.” His breathing is heavy and uneven. It makes his voice pitch.

Nicolette exchanges a look with the men she brought with her. They eye the wounds he’s been given. Without any words sharped between them, they all turn to leave. Cillian collapses back in the seat, too exhausted to live.

They return shortly after and without Nicolette. There is not much in terms of discussion, but one wraps a piece of cloth around his hand and another on his elbow, stopping the blood flow and cutting off circulation. It’s a little late for that. The cuffs are undone from the table, but not removed from his wrists.

“Where are we going?” Cillian says weakly

“Infirmary. There’s been a mistake,” The man says, not exactly looking at him. It doesn’t matter. Cillian can’t even hold his head up.

=======

They find the brand quickly. Cillian had forgotten it was even there, it was the last thing on his mind. He had put a lot of effort into pretending it didn’t exist. In this instance, it saves him.

Their tone changes immediately. It is not one of apology or of outrage, but of hushed guilt. They can’t even look him in the eye. Still, he counts himself lucky just to have been left alone. The cuffs come off. They strip the bloodied uniform from his back so they can treat the shallow chest wounds. The medics there wrap his hand in a cloth bandaid. They do not seem to be in any hurry to get him a new shirt, but some of the desert heat seeps through the walls and it’s not at all unpleasant. The bed is so soft. He sits on the edge of it, still party curled in on himself. He rubs at the flesh where the metal bit him. His skin is still stained a bit pink.

He doesn’t hear it when Nicolette returns. She seems to maintain some barrier between herself and Cillian the entire time. She crosses her arms over the top of his headboard and rests her chin on top of them. Cillian jumps, scooting closer to the foot of the bed.

“Does it hurt, Cillian?” She says in the same emotionless voice. He cringes a little.

“No, ma’am,” He answers fearfully. It was true, though. The shot they gave him made his whole body numb. There’s a strange tingling feeling where the pain should be.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it anymore.” Her eyes are so wide. Cillian doesn’t respond.

“You are very upset with me,” She observes.

“I told you,” he hisses. He can’t hold it in. He wants to apologize for it immediately, but to his surprise, she speaks first.

“You told me what anyone in your position would say.” She readjusts herself, pulling one hand free to brush her hair back, “All the others had stories just like it.”

He shakes his head. She keeps going.

“You have to understand, Cillian. There’s nothing we find more despicable than an evil coward. Someone who can inflict pain onto others but can’t take it themselves. You’d be surprised how often we see it among the ranks. It needs to be stomped out.”

“But I didn’t do that.” Cillian says and feels as if he’s right back in the cell.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She still doesn’t blink, but her lips press into a thin line. 

The apology snaps him out of it. He’s not any less angry, but he is less afraid. He wants to cry again.

“My hand is never going to heal.” He clutches the cloth tightly. He might as well get her while he has her, before she can change her mind.

“It will,” Nicolette insists. She holds up her own palm. A jagged scar runs down the center of it.

“One of the most sensitive parts of the body, you know,” She speaks without feeling.

Cillian shivers. He did know.

“Are you going to let me go now?” He asks quietly. The room feels colder.

“Go where?” She tilts her head in that familiar motion, smooth and uncanny. 

He blinks. Back to his master, of course. Where else would he go? Nicolette eyes the brand, a deep purple against his tan skin.

“I don’t think so, Cillian,” She shakes her head, closes her eyes.

“I think we should find you new clothes.”

[misslovasstuff]

Prompt: One piece men after a break up

with: Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Kid.

author’s note: no warnings. I may be a bit biased cause I like the angst hehe. Enjoy.

Sanji

There was no way this man would let his partner go. He wouldn’t.

So if a break up happens, it’s not Sanji’s initiation.

It’s in his nature to give his all in a relationship. Sanji is selfless, gentle and loving: like a light beam that finds pleasure in warming his lover.

The break up hurts. Like a giver who has nothing to give anymore, a heart that stops beating for a while, it hurts exactly like a hand that is reaching for someone who is walking further away.

Sanji is pretty rational but love can sometimes turn that switch on his head where he lets his feelings guide him.

In the situation where he’s just got broken up with, you can find Sanji smoking more than usual, isolating himself and losing that little fire within through the smoke of his cigarette.

His eyes are mostly wandering off the distant horizon,he looks at his right: a part of his in pain of the memories that can’t leave his head. He looks at his left where he would usually find his lover grabbing his arm and resting their head on his shoulder: the empty spot that was supposed to be filled with love, a delicate touch, a genuine smile, wasn’t there anymore.

Heart sunk, lip trembles as a tear or two fall from his eyes.

Sanji would blame himself… for everything. He would doubt himself, where did he go wrong?

Doesn’t help that he’s not good at explaining his emotions or talking about his feelings, even with his friends. So he usually shakes it off with an ‘I’m fine’ or ‘I have to cook’

Time heals everything, they say. It takes him a while lot to get back to previous Sanji: The Sanji that wooed women and had heart-eyes. Sanji whose care and attention exceeded his limits, a man that did everything with love.

I don’t think he’d be fast to fall back in love, depending on how much disappointed he is, or rather say, how deeply in love he was.

He finds hope to love again, always. No matter how many times he gets let down, abondaned, Sanji’s fire will enlighten love in his heart like a candle that keeps burning, that flame keeping it alive.

Feelings will go away, he won’t try to wash them away quickly. It’s a process and he understands. However, his ex has his respect and that doesn’t change.

And when he loves again, of course he’s a bit afraid, but Sanji is a brave man that does not tremble before danger. He’d take risks for the person he loves. There would never be any comparison between his new and previous lover, any regret. But he would be much more careful, a bit more tensed at first.

So, after a break up Sanji keeps his morals as always. He’s courageous and still kind, not letting a breakup hold him down or change his perspective on love. He is so sweet and accepting of his partner’s decisions, the peace that comes from that helps him move on eventually.

Zoro

This man is drinking more than usual, so much so that he gets drunk, which is quite unusual for the not so lightweight swordsman.

He’s angry, not at his partner, never at his partner. Rather he’s thinking what went wrong, pointing fingers at everyone and everything else, including himself.

“Careful.” He’d say to anyone he hears talking bad about his ex-lover. He holds no resentment.

He’s a man half angry and half in love: it’s hard for him to let go, forget and put everything behind him.

Zoro may not look like it but he loves deeply. He grows immensely in a relationship; learning to express love the way he sees right. He’s shy, somewhat affectionate once he grows close with his partner.

It’s devastating when the person who brings out that side of him leaves and he can’t do any thing about that, can’t make them stay against their will.

This fact, accompanied with the devastating acceptance from his side, makes Zoro, in a sense, weak and strong at the same time.

There are things that remind him of his ex-lover, little details he glimpses upon but never talks about. Multiple times he tries to play it cool, trying his best to convince himself of their irrelevance.

His training hours extend, they become longer and more intense.

Zoro becomes moody, so much so that even his usual bickering with some of the crew members does not happen any more as often because they understand it’s best not to push him further.

He has their support, from the boys that give him a pat on the shoulder, to the ladies with whom he struggles to open up for such a thing but eventually does.

Zoro is back to being serious, starting to think whether the relationship was even worth the time?

He has goals to pursue and all. But, once he takes a deep breath and feels his soul breaking a little at the remembrance of his past lover, Zoro understands that it was definitely worth it if he feels so devastated about his relationship ending and his partner leaving him.

Zoro gets his guard up again after being a bit more vulnerable.

However, there is that gentleness in his eyes that even he doesn’t know where it came from, but it stays.

Love had made him kinder, not that he never was, but now he’s effortlessly expressive of his caring side, especially towards his crew.

He really postpones falling in love again, being in denial for a while even if it happens.

Zoro would avoid getting in another relationship for a long time, unless he’s absolutely smitten.

He usually never hesitates in anything else, only in matters of love.

Shanks

To him, a break up has happened more than once. However, that doesn’t mean he processes it easily.

Shanks seems like the type who doesn’t fall in love easily, so if he’s in a relationship, the chances are he’s head over heels and would do anything for his partner.

There’s a high chance of him initiating a break up. Mainly because he wants to protect the one he loves, thus this kind of decision tears him apart and haunts him.

The absence of his lover in his arms and the lack of love in the air will make him extremely unhappy. He’s a man that doesn’t go back on his word, but only he knows how every fibre of his being is begging to take everything back, to take his lover back.

Shanks doesn’t shed tears but he dissociates a lot. Lonely nights where he drinks occur more often now.

The men of his crew are very understanding, it helps that there are all mature adults.

Sometimes he’d read letters that he exchanged with his ex-lover and rub his temple, constraining himself from shedding any tear whatsoever.

Instead he drinks… and he drinks until the pain is not recognisable anymore.

After some time, I think Shanks wouldn’t be afraid to love again. He welcomes the feeling. However, it is when it comes to committing where he draws the line.

Because of the life he lives, enduring the extra stress of defending a loved one is just so much.

Don’t get him wrong, for sure he’s strong enough. But that doesn’t guarantee anything.

Shanks is strong-headed, so lots of his relationships have ended because of arguments. Whether they were real or orchestrated by him for the same reason, we don’t know.

Break ups do not change him, but he keeps memories close to his heart.

It’s hard to let go of someone you really love, but Shanks thinks that’s when you know it’s absolutely necessary to do so.

Can be that he goes for one night stands afterwards for the same reason he drinks so much, filling the void.

It’s difficult at first but as time passes, he finds peace and assurance in his decision and moves on with acceptance in his heart.

Kid

Doesn’t handle it well, at all.

Eustass is absolutely shocked, and he’s not a big fan of changes so dramatic in his life.

“Is this a joke?”

He’s angry but can not allow himself to pour that anger into his lover. Instead he stays silent, telling his lover to walk away already. No goodbye, no nothing.

He suffers the break up a lot. Losing people like that just sucks for him, especially if it’s someone so close. It’s like a part of him has left, a part he so carefully gave away only to never be given back again.

Cries. For sure. He’d curse himself, also resent to drinking and finding comfort in anyway he can.

Kid opens up to Killer. He talks about how he feels this is unreal and states how it freaks him out when people he loves abandon him.

Even though he feels things so intensely, so much anger and frustration, Kid heals quickly.

It helps that he leaves out all of his emotions at first, not buckling them up and letting them grow without expressing them.

After some time, he’s calmer when it comes to his previous relationship. However, if it comes up to discussion, he dismisses it with a serious look on his face which has a shadow of pain that it’s still in him, still in his heart that broke so fast and so easily.

Falling in love again happens naturally to him, he doesn’t push it. He sleeps with multiple people if he wants and doesn’t settle anymore for some time.

When his heart completely heals, when he feels like he wants to commit to someone again, the wound opens and it hurts a little so it might be normal for him to take a step back and perhaps not consider.

Men in love, usually, tend to love gently. Kid is like that as well, that’s what puts him to rage now. That tenderness that comes with love went away, and unless it comes up with someone else as naturally, he won’t consider another relationship.

He always talks about his break up when he’s drinking, it’s inevitable at this point.

Confessions of love prior to the break up play in his head and he blushes again.

There comes a time where he smiles at the memories of his past relationship, fully healed and fully moved on.