#ii sharp vocals

[microknifeyuri]

resolution and compassion. PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG THIS I SPENT SO MUCH TIME ON THIS SHIT OH MY GODDDD

[microknife-daily]

hey I think the fankid you made, Mace, is really cool could you draw them again :]

21

[knifebulbceo]

i...finished ittt.......

took me a few days bcz I was lazy and took a while to draw everything but here

^^^ actual drawing

^^ reference :3

[spiritmander13]

I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I MADE KNIFE SO SHORT

CRITTERS

...

@maxphilippa Do ya want critters

[burgycreeper405-blog]

super duper mega random question poll

[kittyyoutuber1234]

My fricking heart.

Not only is the op post beautiful but it also matches with one of my favorite ships.

"it's okay, i can peel back the layers of you until i find the soft and gentle core of you you've had to work so hard to hide"? no. no, it's okay, i know you're hollow; i'm here anyway. you don't have to pretend it isn't masks the whole way down. whatever face you want to wear, i still love you. i don't need you to be good or unflinching or the antonym of violence. if i did, i wouldn't be here. i wouldn't ask that of you.

[pencilgutz]

can you draw knife and microphone's date?

so uhhhh this was supposed to be just a doodle,,, tw; uuuhhhh possible eyestrain????

they are at a concert :]

[beloved-calypso]

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖝𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖑 ♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡ 18+!

♡ “𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈.” – 𝒥𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒿𝒶 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓂 ♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

ᴍᴅɴɪ!!!

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴀᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, Five of Cups]

You are a golden opportunity pile 1. People would feel lucky to have you, and they have fantasies that they know for sure you can fulfill. There is a steadiness about you, an abundance of confidence and ease that makes your presence big and undeniable. The closest thing I can liken this energy to is someone in a workplace setting being the number one go-to, someone who is fast, reliable, and always gets the job done well and beyond. They are seen as a gem to the people they work with and are a lucky treasure, a constant that never disappoints. This makes your sexual appeal grand and constant. You can never fall below expectations, and you are seen as rare to find and a priceless keep. Always efficient and unshakable. You appear to be almost fearless. Nothing seems to faze you, and you give off the energy of liking challenges. You're very determined and passionate, but you also are a bit of a wildcard. I think this pile can be a bit all over the place, but not so much that you come off as flighty. You just appear daring. Experimental. You're firm in your wants and needs and are willing to meet your partners halfway, but I also think you're unafraid in showing your distaste. You're vocal and you won't let anyone cross your boundaries. I feel like you have such a strong and unwavering front that people become more curious about you and want to disassemble you to expose who you are underneath. Not many people carry themselves as well as you do, and that only makes others more and more inquisitive of you. They feel you may hide behind a shell, and want to explore the parts of you others can't see, even if they involve tears, and sadness, and pain, and anger, people want to see that come out because it's raw and authentic. It all makes you more relatable, more vulnerable, and more sexy.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა

[Page of Swords, The Tower (rx), Death (rx)]

Hmm, it took me a minute to decipher this energy, but now I get it. Pile 2, your sex appeal stems from some darkness that's within you, a well of emotions and mental sharpness that create a type of steeliness about you, an appeal for the unknown and possibly dangerous. On the outside, you could have a sort of innocent feel. Some of you may actually be innocent but are either in denial of this or still growing and maturing into this energy, but for others, you are actually quite experienced and have explored all types of facets about yourself and others. You know your emotions, triggers, and know how to look deep within your shadows and make use of them (in a healthy way of course). You want to teach other people how to do these things, too. Ya'll are actually quite jaded, beautifully so. A dark manic type, quite witchy. Ya'll likely lean towards a pain and pleasure type of dynamic, a satisfaction derived from things nonphysical and uncommon. People feel they have to sacrifice something of themselves to get you. I'm getting a fascination with the body, a want and need to explore other peoples limits, take them for your own and consume them. People literally feel like you could chew them up and spit them out with ease. Some here may like BDSM, definitely getting knife-play here, dominance and subjugation, but I'm getting a myriad of things. Lots of kinks. Many unexplainable (some of you are still exploring). People know that you could test their limits and expose them to things they would otherwise never discover. It's super sexy. Moth-to-a-flame kind of thing. Your allure is strong and almost forbidden. I'm thinking people who are taken would love to have you. You are an experience, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Maybe long-term relationships don't come easy to you because people fear they will get burned by you, that either you will be too much for them or you will get bored of them. There's a mix of reactions from others; some think they can corrupt you, others think you will be the one to corrupt them. There's a multitude of people in this reading that can go either way. You're very decadent pile 2.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა

[The Empress, The Chariot, The Hierophant]

Pile 3, you barely have to try. Your sex appeal is very feminine and relaxed. Ya'll are the epitome of chill and unbothered. I think people just naturally gravitate towards you. You're so far off from everyone else, I'm seeing you have your own orbit. People really don't know where they stand with you because your appearance is hard to change, as you greet people with the same indifference. They can't tell if you like them. People feel you are guarded, and it's hard to catch your attention. It gets polarizing reactions of, "I want them even more" to, "Why bother?" Your feminine energy has a strong reaction with masculine energy. Men may especially be competitive over you. You just naturally have what men find desirable. You raise peoples hackles without meaning to. To some, you come off as a prize, someone to impress and win over. If you find men are especially aggressive with their tactics of flirtation, it's because they feel they are trying to fight you to get a piece of you. It may seem that sometimes you find yourself the most sensible person in the room, and everyone else is acting ridiculous. That's because you bring out the primal/dumb side of people (basically their lizard brains). You grasp the attention of the room without noticing or caring, and everyone is busy trying to calculate a game plan to come towards you, while you are just your chill self, avoiding anyone that you don't know (there has to be a bunch of Taurus's here, lol). Sometimes, you're just a prize too hard to get, and talking to you is as hard as trying to reach a princess in a tower. Peoples confidence waivers with you because you're so unpredictable, too. You're someone in particular that has something special going on within them that people are curious to know. They also know they can't come to you with shallow offers. You seem the type to want commitment and more than what people are willing to give off the bat. People have to give their best, or chance being like the rest of the crowd. If you don't get as many offers as you would like, it's just because you're intimidating. Your appeal is kind of unexplainable, really, but powerful.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 4 ๑◞꒱ა

[The Tower, Judgment, Queen of Swords]

Hmm, your sexual appeal is powerful, too. People here are especially intelligent, quick-witted, and have a cold, untouchable type of look. I think there's some great, show-stopping beauties in this pile, as I'm getting looks that could cut glass. Ya'll however have what they say, a resting bitch face, and while that sounds disenchanting, it's the opposite in your case. That untouchable quality is exactly why people pursue you. You seem like the type that can destroy anyone that crosses you, and that excites certain people. You give off the impression of pure confidence and grace. You have natural elegance and public appearences may be important to you, so you try to be on your best behavior whenever you're out in the presence of others. You're booksmart but also streetsmart because you can sense BS 15 miles from you. People think you have a lot of sexual experience, and believe you can show them a plethora of erotic knowledge. You likely attract younger people. They fantasize about you being their teacher and pushing them down a rabbit hole of sexual discovery. People's fantasies of you are so wide ranging because you give them little to go off of. They're stuck playing the guessing game while you keep cool as a cucumber calculating your next moves. You exemplify leadership and attract people that are wanting to be given direction, in and out of the bedroom. Some suitors will have a masochistic desire. Others will have a need to dominate you. A few will try to level with you, but there's something about you that makes people pick a side. You have intense energy. It's like you trigger people's flight or fight response, which seems strange, but just proves you bringing about peoples primal urges. Some of you have the spirit of a dominatrix, and others just naturally fall into a position of control. Your other half of suitors that have just as much as a dominant trait as you want to see your pretty, perfect facade demolished. They want to strip you of everything that makes you, you, and have you kneel for only them. There's a quote that I'm being reminded of with this pile, and it's about how the pursuit of sex is actually the pursuit of power. I would say this is true in your case. Also, a lot of your suitors see that you have a judgemental eye and feel they can not disappoint you. No one can come to you acting a fool or with foolish proposals. I think you can be quick to cut someone down, and that's a turn on for some. You also have a way with word's and can seduce with your voice. You know exactly what to say to have someone wrapped around your finger. You've mastered the art of persuasion and making appearances. I think you carry yourself with grace and civility. You have an old soul, a reminder of what societies' ideals used to be in older times, but also a reminder of the hidden and heavy erotiscism that came with that time, too. It's very classy, naughty, and elegant all in one.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

⊱┈───── ✧

✨️ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

[hyuny-bunny]

groupie love | Y.J. ft hyun

genre: established relationship, rockstar bf x groupie gf, smut, a touch of fluff, a sprinkle of angst

part II

MNDI (+18) CW: oral, unprotected p in v, afab reader, use of she/her/hers/girlfriend, pet names, degradation (slut, whore) , depraved possessive & slightly mean innie, hyunjin is a flirt, vouyerism, riding, squirting, fingering, oral (m receiving), mouth fucking w fingers.

a/n: if i miss any warnings let me know! also would love to turn this into a series. this was also one of the songs that got me through writing this, the other song was own my mind another recommended listen.

summary: your bf innie always had girls throwing themselves at him, just wanting a chance to say they slept with a rockstar.

He was strikingly beautiful, both on and off-stage. It couldn't be helped that every where you went people gawked. The stares were never just towards him though but you always had a hard time believing it. You two made a power couple, something ripped straight out of a book. People would look at you two like you were a dream couple you only ever saw photos of on pinterest.

He was tall, handsome, had a cold look but only had warm eyes for you. Most would assume you were just some silly side piece, but he'd fly off the handle if anyone ever so much as implied you were anything less then his muse, his love. How could anyone believe he was so committed and dedicated to you when girls threw themselves at him every night after his shows? All of them wanting a chance to check off the "i-slept-with-a-rockstar" box.

You were a goddess. Everything you touched turned to gold, including him. You were there on the side stage or balcony every show, wearing whatever trendy vintage clothes you'd find the weekends before. A rockstar girlfriend has to have a brand to live up to right? Your wardrobe littered with sparkle, lace, leather, and animal prints. Tonight was no different, knee high boots with a lace slip dress paired with his leather jacket.

The same leather jacket that's just a few nights before, a girl tried to sneak off his chair to wear while you disappeared for a moment. Shooting a glare that would make you sink back into your own skin.

His band hadn't been together for very long but they gained a lot of attention in a short span. Jisung, their lead singer, had an insane vocal range and writing ability like no other. Their drummer, Chan, was a wet dream to watch. Let's just say he was great with his hands. Their bass player really sold it though, Hyunjin, had a dark mystique to him. One couldn't quite put their finger on his energy, he was both serious and nonchallant about his talent, on top of being so strikingly beautiful. Then there was your boyfriend, lead guitarist, recognized for his sharp eyes and sharper guitar skills.

The show closed out and you made your way towards the green room, keeping a watchful on the girls lingering around the stage. Once you nodded towards their manager Minho, you slid back to find a sweaty bunch. Jeongin's head was thrown back against the couch, eyes shut, chest heaving and adam's apple bobbing. You couldn't help but notice how chiseled his muscles looked in this tank top or how his rings made his hands look extra big and the veins in his arms stood out even more-

"Stop eye fucking him and just fuck him," Hyunjin was leaned over your shoulder whispering in your ear. Jeongin still sat breathing with his eyes shut "I'm sure one of those groupie sluts out there is more then wet and willing, if you're not."

"Over my dead fucking body" You said so condescendingly sweet with a smile looking Hyunjin in the eyes.

You walked over to him, sliding the jacket off and next to him. The thud of the jacket had him turning his head and ever so slightly opening his eyes to find the source. He was happy to see you sat so perched next to him with a grin on your face, a pretty berry tint to your lips.

"Hi, enjoy the show?" He sighed lifting his head to look you fully up and down.

"Hi. Of course I did, you were amazing as always." You caressed his face while he leaned forward to kiss your lips. Holding your head in hand and the other laid on top of your thigh ever so slight rubbing the skin just underneath the hem of the dress. Another peck before he leans back to stare at you in all your beauty.

"Drink?" You ask pushing back a few hairs from his face. He hums at your touch and question.

"The usual, please." He grabs your hand kissing the palm with the end of his sentence. "I'll shower up right now while you get the drinks, i'll be quick kay?" He kisses you once more before jumping off the couch to stroll towards the bathroom that Jisung is walking out of.

"No groupie for you, Sung?" You ask while he try's to pack his bag up for the tour bus. He was shy for a lead singer. He wasn't one for one night stands unless he felt a real connection.

"Not tonight, I prefer my own company. I have another song Chan & Jeongin wanted me to go over tonight, need a clear head to do that so I'm calling it in after my drink." He was so passionate about his songs, a bit of a perfectionist.

"Someone say drinks?" Hyunjin is standing in the middle of green room now in just jeans with no shirt and a towel drying his long dark hair. He's got roses adoring the side of his body leading from his back trailing to the front his lower body near the v line.

"When did you get those?" You ask genuinely curious as you'd never seen those before. He's got a cock grin on his face. He strolls over to you standing right in front of, his crotch almost in your face. You lean back to put some distance.

"Last month. My friend, Felix, works at a tattoo parlor. I sketched it out myself, all he had to do was put the ink to skin," He lifts his arm twisting the way it travels across his body. "Wanna see where it leads to?"

He grabs your hand letting it trail from the top of his ribs moving it down to the top of his waistband, you pull your hand back, snapping out of your daze. He really was something carved by gods.

"That'll do." You clear your throat "Thanks for the tour though, let's get those drinks Ji." You stand up brushing up against Hyunjin. That cocky grin still plastered on his face.

"Will you ever give me a chance?"

"Keep dreaming."

Jisung and you order drinks at the bar, the same groupies are lingering. They get jumpy and try to rush up to Ji once you reach the bar. Minho is already blocking their chance to step between you both. You mouth a thanks to him while Ji starts talking about the next show. Hyunjin comes out of the back room emerging with a tank top now. The groupies once again flock to him seeing he's alone, all barking to trying to buy his drink.

As you're about to turn to walk back to the green room with drinks hand there's a set of arms caging you at the bar. It's not Jeongin though.

"So you cope a feel of my tattoos, run off to the bar and leave me to hyenas?" Hyun talks into your ear.

While this type of behavior would be crossing a line for most, Hyunjin, had always been like this. Even before you got with Jeongin. He had a big crush on you before and you've never given him a reason to move on, even with a boyfriend who'd probably break his hand at a given chance. He has confessed his love to you on several occasions both drunk and sober. It doesn't bother Jeongin too much, it did more in the beginning but he's come to understand, Hyunjin will always be head over heels for you. You were Hyunjin's besfriend first, it's how you two met, you were always there at his band practices. Whether it was bringing lunch, offering feedback, or passing out flyers with them for upcoming shows. Hyunjin would gush over you but never made a move, at least one that actually indicated he was genuinely interested and not being a cock fuck. He was always back and forth with people who just wanted to use him. It wasn't until Jeongin had swooped in one day, he realized it was too late for him. So he'd continue with his usual flirty banter, waiting for another chance.

"Those so called hyenas are your people, Hyun. They're just looking for a cute fuck." You beam at him with a coy smile. You slide under his arm, grabbing the drinks to head back to the green room. He made your head spin sometimes, his flirty advances always made you feel flattered but you only had eyes for Innie. When you see the entrance that leads to the green room, Innie is standing there watching you. It seems as though he's just watched everything play out, his normally soft eyes for you are narrowed on Hyunjin's silhouette.

Hyunjin must've felt the daggers the younger was throwing his way because he turned around slightly shocked to see mean demeanor that paints his face and posture. There's a girl trying her earnest best to get Jeongin to look at her but he's focused on the way you walk up to him with your drinks in hand. He smirks at the way the other three girls watch you cheerily walk up to him, he loves the way they turn green with envy. They want to be you but they will never be you or ever come close to you. He takes the drink you extend to him and wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you to him.

"Sorry not interested." He mutters to the girl who still hadn't picked up the hint.

He walks you back to green room, you situate yourself on the couch watching him checking the hallways before closing the door. You take a few big swigs, slightly scrunching your nose at the cheap liquor used in your drink. It's only to brings your buzz sooner. Jeongin stands beside you where you sit on the couch, he throws back the whole drink. He pets the top your head with one hand while he consumes the entire drink, setting the cup down he sits next to you.

He smells heavenly, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lull you into a sweet daze. He's wearing another tank top with a loose pair of black straight leg sweats. His rings still on, accenting his pretty long fingers. He holds your hand in one hand and caresses you face with the other, his eyes scanning all over your face searching for something.

"I hate the way he paws at you." Jeongin's eyes darken with the way you look at him.

"You know I'm all yours baby," you say softly bringing his hand to your lips to kiss the finger tips.

"Hmmm... I don't know how much i believe that... Maybe you're just another groupie slut for us... for me... and he just wants a taste now..." He says this while grabbing a fist full of hair at the back of your head, using his other hand to rub up and down your thigh just under your dress. His words send shivers down your spine and makes you grow wetter with every touch.

"No I'm not like those girls out there. I'm only yours baby." You gasp at while he tightens his grip in your hair. "I'll show you, please. Innie, please you know I'm only yours."

"Show me" He's pulling you against him, his mouth latching on to yours. He's pulling you straddle his lap, gripping your hips while his mouth explores your own. He's pulling your dress up all the way to have your panties flush against his hardening cock. You can feel how hard he is and the way your panties drip you wouldn't be surprised to find a wet mark in place of where you are now.

He's slipping his hand under the waist band of your panties over your thighs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, lost in the feeling of his fervent kisses. He pulls back to you pull you off for a moment.

He's standing in front of you now undoing the drawstring of his pants. He pulls the sweats down just enough to free his cock, letting it slap against his stomach. A pumps a few strokes while you adjust to situate yourself on the edge of the couch to take him in your mouth. His fingers web in your hair as your eager mouth opens wide for him, he taps the tip just to your lips before letting you start your ministrations on him. Your hand gripping his thighs for stability, he gives only a moment to adjust to his cock in your mouth before he's moving your head for you. You gag on him as he shoves his way down your throat, your nose almost touching his abs. He pulls out the way to let breathe before stick himself back in, he's letting filthy moans out, sloppy wet gagging moans from you and your nails digging into thighs.

He pulls off your mouth just before he's about to cum, enjoying the sight of your eyeliner and mascara running on your cheeks. He taps your cheek with his hand, gesturing you to open. He's shoving fingers in your mouth without warning, be gives you a break this time, allowing you to coat in your own spit at your own pace.

"So pretty suck me off.. such a good girl suck my fingers, should let Hyunjin see what a whore you are for me." His words have you clenching your thighs together yearning for some friction.

"You want him to see you like this huh? Want him to see what a cock hungry slut you are for me? Or maybe you want his cock too?" He coo's at you while thrusting his fingers on your tongue.

He pulls his fingers out lifting your dress to shove his hands into your panties.

"So wet baby and i've barely touched you. Is this all for me? Hmm? Or is this for him too?" He's circling your clit with the fingers covered in your spit. "Such a needy slut. Gotta show you who this pussy belongs to."

He pulls the strap of your dress down with your bra latching a mouth to your tit as his fingers thrust into you. You yelp out at the pleasure and shock. He's brushing against the g spot and attacking your neck in small bites. The building orgasm is about to tip you over.

"Jeongin please... please fuck me please need your cock in me..." You whimper out and let out another whine when removes mouth and fingers. He pulls your boots off for you while you pull your dress over your head. Discarding the rest of your clothing till your down to nothing. He pulls you up off the couch sitting back down first and patting his lap.

"Ride me then. Show me how badly you need me." Without hesitation, your lifting your self onto his lap, lining his cock with your entrance. Once you're fully sat on him you both let out a moan. He lands a slap on your ass, a hard one, signaling to move. You lift off your thighs begin to rock your self against him, his hands are covering each cheek helping you with your movement but not with out a smack every second or so. It's not long before you're shaking with pleasure. You're begging him to help you.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just hold onto me." He lifts your hips for you and starts thrusting up into you. You yell again at the angle he hits that spongey spot inside you. Your lost in the euphoria of his thrusts, head spinning with every groan he lets out, how tightly your cunt sucks him in, and the sound of skin bouncing off the walls of the room. You almost don't notice that Hyunjin is standing in the door way, with hand cupping his crotch. His eyes are moving all across your body, taking in the scenery, every bounce, every whimper, the nail marks that cover Jeongin's shoulders from the way you clung to him.

Hyunjin's eyes don't have a chance to meet yours as your head slumps into the crock of Jeongin's neck. Innie picks up speed on his thrusts pulling you impossibly close to his chest, lifting you up just enough to hammer his cock into you. Your moans turn to cry's and screams, finally releasing all over Jeongin's lap. He's never felt more proud to make you squirt especially with Hyunjin as your witness.

You feel his cum dripping out of you, too tired to care from the orgasm. Jeongin is pushing the hair out of your face, leaving a sweet kiss on your temple whispering sweet nothings of 'good girl' 'so good for me baby'. Hyunjin ever so slight snakes out of the room into the hallway breathing heavily, processing what he just saw and how stiff his pants feel. Jeongin is quick to lift you with him to the shower for a quick rinse knowing he'll be running a nice hot bath for once you get back to the hotel.

[microknifeyuri]

B E R N A D E T T E.

[microknife-daily]

20

[scribbledghost]

The Visitor - Part X - Final

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader (Vessel the character, not the real man behind the mask)

Rating: T

Word count: 2,606

Summary: Nothing lasts forever.

Notes: 3rd person POV, use of she/her pronouns for reader. Who's ready for a finale? Divider by @/enchanthings. Part nine can be found here.

"No."

The universe stops as soon as the word leaves Vessel's mouth. It is as if all the oxygen has evaporated, like all movement in existence has ceased.

"No?" Sleep says. It seems to be almost confused, in a way. As if it's never heard the word before. Like it's testing the way it feels on its tongue.

Just as he opens his mouth to repeat himself, another voice rings through the air.

"No."

The woman speaks for herself, though when she tries to step out from Vessel's shadow, he stops her gently.

"I made my choice. I decline your offer."

The fierce edge to her words makes Vessel's chest swell with pride. But Sleep seems to be violently yanked from its brief shock at the sound of her voice, and suddenly it grows again to gigantic proportions fit for the god it is.

"You have disobeyed me for the last time," Sleep utters. "You are no longer deserving of the title you wield."

The world quakes, sending the vessels and the woman's collective balance off-kilter. Darkness begins to creep into Vessel's vision from the edges, and he realizes what he needs to do to prevent a hostile takeover from the eldritch being.

"I rescind your title of my own volition," Vessel declares. With this, he removes his mask, and throws it over the edge of the cliff before him and into the inky abyss below.

He can feel when his connection to the veil has been severed; it is as if he has voluntarily torn a limb from his body. Vessel's body contorts in pain, a sharp scream erupting from his vocal chords. He bends forward, as if trying to curl into the fetal position.

Sleep's voice bellows in his mind, a thousand sentences curling around his brain and tightening like a vice. He feels the faraway sensation of someone gripping onto his arm, though who holds him, he cannot tell. It is as if his head will explode, unable to contain the wretched being that's infiltrated it.

But he does not break. He does not kneel.

For the first time in his memory, he fights. Truly fights.

He combats Sleep's onslaught with his own thoughts. Repeating how it cannot have her, how it has failed to convert her. Despite having nearly unfettered access to Vessel's very thoughts, despite having unholy amounts of control over him, it has failed.

Slowly, he feels the hold that Sleep has over him begin to dissipate. It is a minute, almost microscopic, change. But it is a change he can cling to. And it seems that Sleep has noticed its grasp beginning to weaken.

Just as he begins to recover some of his faculties, however, he hears a cry of pain off to his side.

II is kneeling, hands on his head, howling in anguish.

It appears that Sleep is attempting to convert him to its primary vessel; something that it can use to enact its wishes. It is a soul-crushing process when it is done slowly and delicately; Vessel shudders to think of what II is going through now that Sleep has little time or desire for gentleness.

"I can give you everything," Sleep purrs over the din of II's screams. Vessel knows it is directing its words to the other vessels, trying to tempt them to take his place as the Sleep's primary. "No wish shall go ungranted. All you could ever desire would be at your fingertips. Is this not what you wanted when you first converted? Is this not what you have been blessed with for centuries?"

III, to his immense credit, wastes little time ripping the mask from his face and flinging it over the cliff's edge.

"It's not fuckin' worth it!" he cries, defiant in the face of something he could never comprehend. Shortly after, he too falls to the ground, hands at his head as he struggles to cope with the loss of his ties.

Vessel's gaze turns back to Sleep itself, and he notices something. To the others, it would be nigh-imperceptible. But he's known Sleep for millennia, and the difference is as clear as night and day to him.

It is growing smaller.

It is shrinking, no doubt because two of its four vessels have renounced it and relinquished its rose-colored promises.

However, as its size diminishes, its anger grows.

Vessel watches helplessly as II claws at the mask on his face, desperate to remove it but lacking the fine motor skills to complete the task, his system wholly overloaded with whatever torture Sleep is subjecting him to.

His visitor must notice as well, for she begins to walk towards him. Vessel keeps a tight hold on her arm, forbidding her from going much further.

"We've got to help him take it off!" she yells over the rumbling surrounding them.

"It doesn't work that way!" Vessel replies, still struggling against Sleep's punishment. "If he doesn't remove it and discard it himself, it will return!"

This much is true; Vessel could take the mask from him and throw it into the ether for him, but it would not work. In an instant, it would be back on II's face, as if it had never left.

The title of "vessel" must be relinquished of one's own will - any attempt by anyone else to do it for them would only result in abject failure.

Vessel continues to fight against Sleep's projections, as do the others. IV seems to be the only one spared at present, and he comes up to keep the woman next to Vessel steady and upright. It is all he can do for now.

Vessel's charge yells at IV to take off his mask, to renounce Sleep just as III and Vessel have. In response, IV makes a critical error:

He hesitates.

II's body suddenly deflates, collapsing onto his stomach as Sleep's presence suddenly leaves him and jumps to IV. IV falls to his knees with a pained yelp, gripping his head.

"You," Sleep murmurs aloud, though it is clear it is addressing IV. "My youngest vessel. You will suit me well, yes? You remember how painful it was to be human. You remember the tragedy, the hunger, the thirst. You know how much simpler life is here. Surely you will not be so ungrateful as to deny me something so simple as worship?"

"Fight it, IV!" III calls from behind him. Of the four, he seems to be doing the best at prevailing against Sleep; he has managed to return to an upright position and is coherent.

Meanwhile, II has successfully managed to remove his mask, and Vessel watches as he weakly pushes it off the side of the cliff and into the dark. Sleep shrinks more, now at half the size it was before. It convulses, a high-pitched squeal emanating from everywhere piercing the air as black smoke begins to swirl around it. Vessel fears that II has lost consciousness.

"I understand you," Sleep says. "I understand how you feel... less than the others. How you wish for more. More power, more affection, more... recognition. I can give you all of that, my dearest vessel. All you have to do is give in. Become my primary, and this realm can be yours."

"No," Vessel croaks, hoping beyond hope that IV hears him. "It lies. It will always lie."

Just one true vessel remains. The fate of all of them rests in IV's hands.

IV catches Vessel's gaze, tears pouring from his eyes. Meanwhile, III is attempting to help II to his feet, and Vessel heaves a sigh of relief to find II still awake, though weak. The woman throws one of Vessel's arms over her shoulders, supporting his weight as best as she can as the ground continues to tremble beneath them.

Just as II had done before, IV attempts to remove his mask, but his hands refuse to cooperate under the weight of Sleep. Tremors violently tear through IV's hands, rendering him unable to even get a grasp on the mask's material. Desperate to help, and unable to see any alternative, Vessel reaches out and places a hand on the back of IV's neck.

Siphoning away pain is something he is deeply accustomed to doing, but not with the other vessels. He has only ever done such a thing with human visitors, and even then it has been sparing. He has no idea if the action will even work.

He does not need to remove much. Just enough for IV to regain his fine motor functions so he can break the bind between himself and Sleep.

Vessel's mind floods with voices; some he recognizes, many he doesn't. All begging for IV to give in, to allow Sleep to overtake him. The cacophony is so loud and convincing that even Vessel himself is nearly tempted to beg for Sleep's forgiveness.

But the opportunity for such a thing has long since passed, and Vessel continues to draw more of IV's anguish unto himself.

Just when he thinks his plan has failed, however, IV's hands still. They cease their trembling just enough for IV to curl his fingertips beneath the mask and remove it from his face.

Sleep lets out a final mighty, bone-rattling howl as the mask is thrown into the chasm below.

"You can't have me, either," IV says between heavy breaths.

As it disappears into the dark, IV's head twitches as if he's been shot. His eyes roll back, and he falls to his back, eyes barely open as he clings to consciousness.

Then, the world goes silent. In the blink of an eye, all movements cease, including Sleep's. Vessel's mind quiets, the sudden lack of activity jarring and unsettling. He helps IV to sit up, supporting the other's back.

Tentatively, the woman eases Vessel down next to IV, and he brings her with him as he kneels. III and II make their way there as well, the five of them grouping together as if preparing for the onslaught ahead. After all, Sleep still watches them, though it is still and quiet.

"Wh..." II breathes, struggling through his words, "...what now?"

Just as the words leave II's mouth, all hell breaks loose.

A violent shriek leaves Sleep, all of its limbs and appendages seizing as if in pain. The sound pierces through Vessel's skull, and II, III, and the woman instinctively cover their ears. The cliff they stand on begins to shake again, this time cracking as if it is coming apart at the seams.

All five of them grip onto each other, and Vessel feels IV's weak hold on his cloak.

Just as pieces of the cliff begin to fall away into the gulf below, Vessel's breath is stolen from him as he watches cracks begin to split through Sleep's form.

Bright, blinding light emanates from the cracks through the black smoke as they become more numerous. Sleep grips at them fiercely, as if attempting in vain to pull itself back together. The shrieking continues, almost a constant pitch as the cliffside continues to crumble away.

Then, one final, desperate roar permeates Vessel's skull, and the very ground beneath all of them gives way.

Vessel instinctually clings to the others and his beloved as they fall through the abyss,

down

down

down

into the inky depths below.

Then, as they fall, he watches as Sleep - the deity he had pledged eons to, the one that has been a constant in his life for as long as he can remember - explodes in a blinding supernova of light. The brightness envelops his senses, and he fades.

His eyes open slowly, the bright light above nearly painful as he attempts to adjust.

It feels warm on his skin.

Vessel groans, attempting to push himself to sit up, but the surface that he lay upon is soft and welcoming and for the first time in so, so many years, he finds himself sinking into its comfort.

However, he relinquishes the plush ground beneath him as he begins to hear the shuffling and groaning of others nearby. He pries his eyes open again, forcing himself into an upright position. As he does so, he feels a gentle hand at his back, helping him up.

It's the woman. His beloved, the reason he has been so blessed as to feel the sun on his skin again.

Vessel looks around, watching the others wake and move to sit up in their own right. They are in an open field, nestled into tall grass.

"Is... 's it over?" IV mumbles.

"I think so," Vessel replies.

II looks down at his hands, prompting Vessel to do the same. He watches as the permanent black ink adorning his skin evaporates, like dust blowing away in the wind. The others' ink does the same, and as Vessel looks around, he is almost surprised at how... human each of them look.

"Missin' a few eyes there, mate," III says with a chuckle. Sure enough, when Vessel reaches up to his own face, he finds only two eyes there, as opposed to the six he'd been accustomed to for so long.

"Too fuckin' bright," II mumbles, scrunching his nose in disapproval.

Vessel must agree with him; after so long in Sleep's domain, where few things are brighter than shades of gray, sunshine is almost offensive to his eyesight.

All of them move slowly, attempting to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. None of them stand, however, perfectly content to simply shift along the ground closer to each other until they are all leaned together in a huddle. They take several moments to simply breathe, allowing the fresh air and the scent of nature to fill their lungs. Vessel revels in the peace as he adjusts to the feeling of being the only inhabitant of his mind.

There is no trace of Sleep left.

"I must admit," Vessel says finally, "I... do not know where we are now."

The others look around, though it is only the woman who speaks.

"Actually, this place looks familiar," she says. "I can't tell for sure without walking a ways to civilization, but I think I know where this is. I think we're back on... Earth, I guess? I don't know where we were before in relation to... here."

That's a question Vessel has no answer to, nor do the others. But it matters little in the grand scheme of things.

"If it really is where you came from," II says, "then we'll be pretty out of place."

"Yeah, it's been... a long time since we've been here," III confirms. "One of us was here pretty recently, though."

"Y'don't have to talk about me like I'm not here, jackass," IV faux-grumbles. "Besides, the last time I was here, people still rode horses everywhere. Do... do they still do that?"

"Sometimes," the woman says with a laugh, "though something tells me it's way less common now than it was when you were here. Depending on when 'now' is, anyway... I think time worked funny in the domain. I don't know how long I've been gone."

"We'll find out together," Vessel says softly, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"Yeah," she says. "Together."

Silence falls for a few moments, the five of them content in each others' presence as they bask in their hard-won freedom until Vessel realizes something.

"I suppose that would make you our guide then, my heart," Vessel says.

She returns the gesture with a soft laugh, and Vessel's heart fills with warmth as he gazes down to the white ribbon around her wrist.

"Yeah," she says. "I suppose it does."

[microknifeyuri]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY OHNFGSHGH OH MY GOD OHNMYFOFHGGGG THEY'RE SO SHAPED JSUGJHJBJ OGHHH I LOVE THIS

Can you draw Microphone x Knife (II) please????

Here you go!! Sharpvocals :]

[astrids-blog333]

A Ruin of His Making Chapter Two

Lucius Verus Aurelius x Reader

Fandom: Gladiator II

Summary: Marriage was supposed to make you friends. Instead, it made you worse. After a Senate meeting explodes into political warfare, the emperor and his new empress find another outlet for their frustrations, one that is far more dangerous than words.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ power imbalance, rough sex, overstimulation (fem!reader), dom/sub dynamics (light), light degradation/possessiveness, mild emotional hurt/comfort, period typical misogyny.

A/N: I'm so sorry I've been slow this past week, I'm swamped with exams at the moment. This is the sequel to A Ruin of His Making, so check that out first. I got a couple of requests for this, so thanks for reading my stuff guys :) @okyeeaaahhhh

MASTERLIST

WC: 4.0k

It has been a short, brutal few weeks since the engagement, and since you married the emperor.

Since you and Lucius crossed that line; first with words, then with teeth and bruising kisses, then with his arms locking you against him in full view of the palace corridors.

The rumours have not stopped since.

Neither have the politics.

The marriage was rushed, scandalous in its swiftness. Some called it passionate. Others, desperate. You and Lucius know the truth, it was neither. It was necessity. A spectacle of unity for a court eager for weakness, for gossip, for cracks they could pry open and widen.

You have not made it easy for him.

He has not made it easy for you.

You are still learning how to rule together, how to bruise each other without drawing blood, how to clash without setting the empire aflame.

Somewhere between you, something more dangerous is taking root; it's not love, not yet, but something that makes it harder to look at him without remembering the way his hands feel on your skin, the way he looks at you when he thinks no one else is watching.

Today, though, there is no room for that. Today is politics. Today is war by other means.

And you sit beside him now, a silent witness to the games men will play with crowns and swords and words.

The Senate chamber is grand. Stone columns stretch high into the ceiling under which the senators sit in their long rows of cushioned chairs, each one with a wealth of experience and ambition behind their eyes.

Lucius sits at the front, his posture regal, his gaze sharp, but there is an air of tension surrounding him, one that has been steadily growing since the morning. Beside him, you sit silently, hands folded neatly in your lap.

The meeting begins, as they always do, with the boring and routine matters of the empire. Grain supplies, taxes, and the defence of the borders.

The topic of discussion inevitably veers toward the eastern campaign and Lucius’s bold strike against the rebel forces that had threatened the provinces, a decision that seems to have ignited a fierce debate.

Your attention drifts in and out of the conversation. You know the Senate is a house of power, but it’s also a house of whispers and backstabbing. Suddenly, Senator Valerius’s voice rings out, clear and cutting.

"Emperor," "While I do of course respect your military achievements in the East, I must question the strategic wisdom of your recent campaign. Was it necessary to engage so quickly? Surely, a more cautious approach would have saved the empire much grief."

The chamber quiets.

The question, innocuous as it may seem, is a challenge, a reminder that no ruler is without critics.

You turn to Lucius, but his face remains an unreadable mask. His fingers tap lightly against the arm of his chair, a signal of his thoughts but also a sign that he will let the conversation unfold.

Senator Valerius presses on, he is a man who has many years of experience in the Senate and also has a tendency to be vocal with his opinions. "The cost of that campaign was steep, Emperor. And while your victory is commendable, the risk we incurred, was it worth it? Did we truly need to shed so much Roman blood to secure the region?"

Lucius doesn’t answer immediately. You feel the tension mount in the air, the kind of tension that comes before a storm.

“Senator,” your voice rings out. “I fear you are mistaken. The emperor’s decision was not based on rashness or risk but on the necessary action to preserve the empire. If we had waited any longer, the rebels would have only grown stronger. Inaction would have cost us far more than the bloodshed you speak of."

Valerius’s eyes narrow at you, his expression one of thinly veiled disdain. He was expecting Lucius to respond, but you, a woman, had inserted yourself into the conversation, and not just as a silent observer.

He leans forward. "Ah, the empress speaks," he says with a mocking smile, a deliberate attempt to belittle you. "I did not realise that women were so well-versed in military strategy."

The room falls silent at his insult. It’s a subtle jab, but one with teeth.

You don’t flinch. “I may not have commanded legions, Senator, but I know enough about the empire to understand the stakes. More than enough to recognize that the Emperor acted with the full benefit of the council’s advice and military expertise."

Valerius scoffs, clearly unnerved by your unexpected intervention. “And you presume to know more than our generals, do you? More than those who have spent their lives in service to Rome?”

"Senator," you respond, "if the generals had opposed the strategy, the emperor would have listened. But they did not. What you fail to recognize is that the strategy was sound, and it was the only choice that would safeguard Rome’s interests. If you have a different perspective, I welcome you to share it. But, by all means, let us not pretend that your personal animus is what drives this concern."

The room goes still. There’s a murmur of approval from some corners, but Valerius, to his credit, does not immediately retreat. He has built a reputation on his wit and his insults, and now it is clear he is trying to regain some ground.

"Perhaps," he sneers, "the empress is more capable than I thought. But it still doesn’t change the fact that your husband’s decisions have cost us dearly."

You turn to Lucius, who has remained silent during the exchange. His jaw tightens slightly, but his gaze never leaves Valerius.

“I will not sit here and allow you to belittle my wife, Valerius,” Lucius’s voice is low but unwavering. "If you have a problem with my decisions, you will speak directly to me, not through veiled insults and jabs at her intellect.”

Valerius's eyes flick to Lucius, and the senator’s bravado falters.

Lucius continues, his voice sharpening. "If you wish to debate strategy, I welcome it. But you will not mock the empress in this chamber, not while I am present."

With a slight bow of his head, Valerius retreats to his seat.

The Senate hall is still fresh in your mind as you walk side by side with Lucius through the grand corridors of the palace, the murmurs of the council echoing in your thoughts. He’s silent, his hand resting at your back, guiding you with a firmness that matches the tension radiating off him.

The grand doors to your chambers close behind you with a soft thud. Only when you’re inside does Lucius finally speak. His voice is low, and controlled, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it.

“You could have left it alone.” His words cut through the air, sharp like a blade. “I didn’t need you to speak up.”

You turn to face him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. “I was defending you,” you reply, your voice steady, but you can feel the fire burning in your chest. “I won’t let them insult your decisions, not for the whole empire to see.”

He shakes his head, pacing in front of you. “It wasn’t your place. You put yourself at risk, publicly, and for what? To prove a point?” His eyes narrow, his jaw tight with frustration.

You step closer, not backing down. “I don’t need you to protect me, Lucius. I know the consequences as well as you do. But what I won’t stand for is some senator questioning your judgment, especially not when he has no right to do so.”

He freezes for a moment, his eyes darkening, and when he speaks again, his tone is tight, almost threatening. “You should have stayed quiet.”

The sting of his words hits you harder than you want to admit. He’s telling you to play the quiet, submissive part.

“I’m not here to be a figurehead,” you say, your voice sharp. “I’m here because I earned it. I’m not just your wife, Lucius, I’m your equal in this. Don’t forget that.”

He steps closer now, his presence towering over you. But then his lips curl into a slight smirk. “You’re not my equal in this, darling,” he murmurs, the words dripping with amusement.

“You may hold the title, but you’ll always be my wife. And that means you’ll do what I say.”

His voice is low, a warning, but one you refuse to take lying down. You don’t let the insult land.

“You think because we’re married, that means I should be silent? No. If I were silent, I’d be no better than a servant.”

Lucius’ eyes darken further. He’s angry, that much is clear. And you can feel the way the room shifts, the tension thickening. He steps toward you, closing the space between you in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t want you to speak, because I didn’t want to see you in danger,” he snaps, his voice rising slightly. “Every time you open your mouth in that council, you make yourself a target. I can’t always protect you.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breaths, both ragged, both angry. The tension between you is palpable, thick as smoke. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he stares down at you.

He grabs your arm roughly, pulling you to him in a swift motion. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice low and commanding.

“You don’t get it,” he growls. “You think you’re invincible? You think you can just play this game, make decisions that could cost you everything, and I’ll sit back and watch?” He presses you against him, his hands sliding up your sides. “I won’t have it. Not when it comes to you.”

You’re pressed against his chest now, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost painful intensity. His body is rigid with anger, his gaze searching your face as if looking for a crack, a sign of weakness. But you don’t give him one. Instead, you stare right back at him.

“I’ll take care of myself,” you say, your voice just as low, your chest rising and falling rapidly with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I always have. You don’t need to control everything.”

Lucius doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

His lips press harder against your neck, and you gasp, the sound coming out softer than you intended. His hands tighten on your body, pulling you closer as if there’s nothing else in the world but the two of you in this moment.

“You’re testing me,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice strained with frustration. “And I don’t think you know how dangerous that is.”

“You’ve made your point,” he says, voice thick. “But don’t ever do that again.”

And then he kisses you like he’s furious with you.

Because he is. You feel it in the way his hand fists your hair, in the bruising press of his mouth; this isn’t a kiss, it’s a reprimand. Punishment. You barely manage to catch your breath before he breaks away, glaring at you like you’ve spat in his face.

You’re both breathing hard now. The chamber’s quiet, save for the sound of it, your sharp exhales, his heavier ones.

In one swift movement, Lucius grabs your wrist and spins you, pressing you back against the edge of your desk. The wood bites into your spine, but you don’t flinch.

You look up at him, daring him. Daring him to lose control.

“You liked it,” you say, cool and sharp.

He leans in close, his breath hot on your face. “I liked watching you put that bastard in his place.”

A beat.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you get away with it.”

Your mouth curves. “So this is your retaliation?”

He smiles, but there’s no humour in it. “This is me reminding you who you belong to.”

“And what?” you hiss, teeth bared. “You think you can fuck the disobedience out of me?”

“Can't hurt to try.”

He grabs you by the waist and hoists you up onto the desk with a brutal sort of grace. Papers scatter, ink threatens to spill, and a scroll snaps in two under you.

“You’d better make it worth the mess,” you mutter, dragging your nails down his chest as he steps between your legs. “I’m not cleaning this up.”

“You won’t be able to walk,” he growls, pressing you flat against the wood, his hands already dragging at your skirts. “That’s your punishment.”

You smirk, lifting your hips to meet him. “Then you’d better stop talking and start proving your point, Emperor.”

You tug at the clasps of his armour, but he catches your wrists and yanks them above your head.

“Oh, no,” he growls against your throat, already kissing down it. “You don’t get to be in control. Not after today.”

“You didn’t seem to mind my control when I was saving your arse-”

His teeth sink into the skin just beneath your jaw. Hard. Enough to make your breath catch, enough to shut you up. “You’re still talking?”

You grin, even as heat floods your core. “What was it you said? Something about not being able to walk?”

His hand spreads over your abdomen, pinning you in place as his thigh pushes between yours, keeping them wide. “You’ll wish I only meant that.”

He lifts your skirts with unnecessary force, baring you to the cool air. You gasp when his fingers drag up the inside of your thigh.

“Already soaked?” he says mockingly. “Was that speech of yours really for me, then? Or do you just get wet showing off?”

You glare up at him, furious and aching. “Go to hell.”

Lucius laughs and sinks two fingers into you with a thrust that punches the breath from your lungs. “Tell me again?” he says, voice too soft to be safe. “Where I should go?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Not when he’s already curling his fingers inside you, finding the spot that makes your hips buck and your pride dissolve. His other hand spreads your thigh wider, holding you down, keeping you open as his thumb circles your clit.

“You made them look like fools,” he mutters, almost admiring, but his movements don’t slow. “And you made me look weak. You think that won’t cost you something?”

Your breath hitches. Your hands scramble against the desk, searching for anything to ground you. “You’re angry because I was right.”

“I’m angry,” he snarls, “because you’re mine. And you put yourself at risk.”

He withdraws suddenly, fingers slick with your arousal, and you whine before you can stop yourself. That earns you a wicked smile.

“Oh, you’ll be begging by the end of this.”

He grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with little effort, dragging you so your toes barely touch the floor. You’re still gasping when he hikes your skirt up over your waist, and you barely have time to brace yourself before you feel the hard press of him against your entrance.

He doesn’t ease in.

He takes you, deep, hard, and furious. You cry out as the breath rushes from your lungs.

The desk creaks beneath the force. His hand tangles in your hair, arching your back until your spine curves beautifully for him, and he pounds into you like he’s trying to fuck the fight out of both of you.

“You like giving speeches?” he hisses against your ear. “Let’s hear one now.”

You try, you really do, but the only sound you make is a desperate, broken moan as he thrusts deeper, unrelenting.

You want to defy him. You want to taunt him. But the angle is devastating, the pace punishing, and the way his fingers slip between your thighs again makes your vision blur.

“That’s it,” he says, smug and breathless. “Take it.”

Your whole body tightens, trembling with the warning of release. And just when you think he’ll let you have it-

He stops.

He pulls out. You almost sob, reaching back blindly. “Lucius-”

“I said,” he growls, flipping you back over, “you don’t get to be in control.”

Your legs are shaking. Your mouth is parted in disbelief. But he just lowers himself onto the desk, spreading your thighs again, and dips his head between them like he owns you.

His mouth is hot, punishing, relentless. You’re already too close. Too raw. And when his tongue flicks just right you come.

Hard.

Without warning. With a noise you’re embarrassed to hear come out of your mouth.

But he doesn’t stop.

Lucius pins your hips down, licking you through it, pushing you higher, past reason, past sense, until you’re clawing at his hair, trying to push him away even as your body begs for more.

“Too much,” you gasp.

His eyes flash up, triumphant. “Good.”

He slides back up your body, catches your mouth in a messy kiss, and thrusts back into you again.

You're sensitive, too full, too raw, but it doesn’t stop him. It only spurs him on. His body is flushed with sweat, muscles taut with control he’s barely holding onto. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the room, obscene and punctuated by your breathless whimpers.

You try to brace yourself, but your legs are already trembling. Every thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“Count,” he says roughly.

You blink up at him, dazed. “W-what?”

“Every time you come,” Lucius growls. “You count.”

He’s already circling your clit again, the pad of his finger quick and ruthless. Your body jerks at the sensation.

“You want to play the clever empress? Let’s see how clever you sound when you’re coming on my cock.”

You don’t last long. He thrusts deeper, hits that spot that scrapes every thought from your mind, and you shatter with a strangled cry.

“One,” you gasp.

“Louder.”

You glare at him, breath heaving. “One!”

His smile is wicked. “Good girl.”

You don’t get a moment to recover. He just keeps going.

The next one takes you by surprise. You’re already writhing, moaning through gritted teeth, and then your body convulses again.

“Two,” you whimper.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses against your throat, his voice ragged. “You look so good when you break.”

You curse him. You try to shove him off, try to slow it down, but he pins you harder, arms caging you in, his mouth dragging heat across your collarbone as he drives into you.

The next orgasm crashes through you without warning. Your thighs clamp around his hips. Your nails dig in. Your head falls back, vision blacking at the edges.

“Three,” you sob.

“Say it again.”

“Three!”

He doesn’t stop.

Your mind slips. Your body doesn’t know what to do. You don't know if you should curl into him, run from him, pull him deeper. It’s too much. It’s all too much, and still, he keeps going, fingers tight on your throat now, just enough to control.

“Lucius, please-”

His thumb returns to your clit and your whole body jerks.

“Four,” you cry. “Please-”

His mouth is on your ear now, dark and furious. “Not done.”

You don’t remember the next one. Or the one after. You only remember the sting in your thighs, the sweat on your skin, the pain-blurred pleasure that starts to bleed into each other, until you can’t separate one climax from the next. You’re a mess beneath him, limp, shaking, drenched.

He’s still holding himself together by sheer force of will. You can hear it in his voice when he mutters, “That’s it. Take it. Take all of it.”

Your hips tremble with the effort of staying grounded, your breath sobbing from your throat.

And finally, his rhythm falters.

He thrusts one more time, deep enough to punch the air from your lungs, and spills inside you with a low, guttural sound against your skin.

He holds you through it, his forehead pressed to yours, arms locked around your waist, panting like he’s just fought a war.

Your entire body is humming, raw and sated and stinging from too much.

The desk is a disaster. The air stinks of sex and ink and power.

And then, as if nothing just happened, Lucius exhales against your jaw and murmurs, “Next time, keep your mouth shut in the Senate.”

You let out a hoarse, broken laugh. “Fuck you.”

His smirk is all triumph, all bite. “You just did.”

The quiet stretches long.

Lucius doesn’t move at first. His body is heavy over yours, his breath ragged, hair sticking to his brow. For a moment, the only sound in the room is your breathing, which is shaky and uneven against his chest.

Then he pulls back just enough to look at you.

Your lips are parted, cheeks flushed, a smear of ink across your collarbone where something must’ve tipped mid-rage. Your eyes, though glazed and dazed, don’t look away from him. And for once, you’re not trying to win.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness, knuckles grazing your cheek.

“You’re trembling,” he says quietly.

“No shit.”

He huffs, the ghost of a laugh, then lifts you from the desk like you weigh nothing. You hiss when your thighs press together, muscles worn thin, and he pauses, eyes flicking to your face and reading it.

“Too much?” he asks.

You glare at him. “Didn’t stop you.”

“Didn’t hear you say stop.”

You don’t reply, and he takes that as a win. Smug bastard.

Lucius carries you to the lounge near the fire, settling with you in his lap like you’re the spoils of battle. One arm anchors around your waist. The other dips between your legs.

You flinch.

“I’m checking,” he says, and his voice, though still rough, isn’t mocking this time.

You go still.

His fingers are careful now, gentle, tracing the ache he left behind. His brow furrows, and you watch the satisfaction in his features fade into something more thoughtful, even… regretful?

“Did I hurt you?”

You arch a brow. “You wanted to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You don’t give him one.

Instead, you lean into his chest, letting the heat of him soothe your trembling body. You listen to the thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Fast, but steady.

“I’m not porcelain,” you murmur.

“No,” he agrees, his voice low.

He presses a kiss to your temple, still catching his breath.

“I didn’t want to stop,” you admit after a beat. “Even when I should’ve.”

Lucius’s hand slides slowly up your back. “You don’t have to prove yourself to me, you know.”

You scoff. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.” He looks down at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Just… next time, say when.”

You nod once. It’s all you can manage.

Silence settles again, this time warmer.

He pulls a throw over your bare skin. Tucks you closer, one arm still around your waist, thumb stroking the back of your thigh. You wonder if he even knows he’s doing it.

“You meant it,” he says eventually, quieter now. “What you said. In the Senate.”

Your eyes lift to his. “Of course I meant it.”

A flicker of something crosses his face. Guilt, maybe. Or something dangerously close to affection.

“I don’t need protecting,” he says.

“Neither do I,” you reply.

He smiles then, faint and rueful. “Yet here we are.”

You shift against him, a small, weary sound escaping your throat as the ache flares again.

Lucius looks down at you, and something in his expression changes—softens around the edges, though his mouth still curves with amusement.

“I warned you,” he says smugly. “You wouldn’t be able to walk.”

You slap his chest, but your strength’s long gone. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t.

But you’re not about to say that aloud.

So you close your eyes instead, nestled against him, and let yourself be held.

Again, so sorry for being a little slower than usual. I've got another request in my drafts which should be out in the next few days 🫶

[burgycreeper405-blog]

another poll bcuz yes

reblog to get more big results cuz this one will only last for a day

[hiddenincommand]

FIELD MANUAL ENTRY

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

MODULE: SUB MODULE I – OBEDIENCE FOUNDATION

CATEGORY: 1. VERBAL SUBMISSION DRILLS – Yes, Sir. No, Sir.

PROTOCOL ID: OF-01-VB

ENTRY NUMBER: 0002

ISSUED BY: S.C.D.D.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

TACTICAL SUMMARY:

The Verbal Submission Drill establishes total linguistic obedience by enforcing a binary response system. Through the ritual repetition of “Yes, Sir” and “No, Sir,” the subject’s speech is stripped of personality and transformed into pure compliance. This protocol eliminates informal speech, autonomy, and inner hesitation. Every utterance becomes a tool of surrender—clear, sharp, controlled. The voice no longer belongs to the subject; it is leased, weaponised, and returned only in acknowledgment of command.

BREAKDOWN:

I. APPROVED RESPONSES – BINARY SUBMISSION LEXICON

Only two phrases are permitted during this drill:

• “Yes, Sir.”

• “No, Sir.”

They must be spoken immediately, with unwavering clarity. The tone must be neutral but firm—no emotion, no softness, no question inflection.

Violations: delays, murmurs, inflections, added words.

Immediate correction: enforced repetition until uniformity is achieved.

Subjects must remain in eye-down posture throughout unless explicitly told otherwise.

II. REPETITIVE CONDITIONING – 100-PHRASE RESPONSE DRILL

The subject is placed in kneeling or standing attention posture. The officer issues binary-format questions at a steady pace. Examples:

• “Have you earned your silence today?”

– “No, Sir.”

• “Should you be speaking without permission?”

– “No, Sir.”

• “Will you obey when corrected?”

– “Yes, Sir.”

100 iterations per session. No breaks. One mistake resets the count.

III. POSTURE AND VOCAL DISCIPLINE

Physical compliance enhances vocal submission:

• Posture: back straight, hands flat on thighs or locked behind back

• Voice: directed forward, volume clear but not shouting

• Gaze: downward at a fixed point

Any vocal hesitation, sideways glance, or deviation in breathing rhythm is grounds for disciplinary pause.

COMMAND DRILL:

Officer: “Are you in control?”

Subject: “No, Sir.”

Officer: “Is hesitation acceptable?”

Subject: “No, Sir.”

Officer: “Will you respond without thought?”

Subject: “Yes, Sir.”

Repeat until no deviation is present. Voice becomes automatic. Identity dissolves.

CLOSING MAXIM:

Obedience begins where language ends.