Lord Tardigrade

Just a side blog for my dark content Any pronouns, 19

[lordtardigrade]

This is a side blog for me to post and reblog stuff that I’m too scared to put on my main writing blog. There will be dead dove content, including dub/non con.

Don’t like, don’t read. I’ll always either put content warnings in the tags or before whatever I write.

My main blog

Tags for my AU’s

-> Conservatorship AU

[lordtardigrade]

When I was at the airport a few days ago, I started crying at the baggage check area because I got overwhelmed. My mom had to come in and take over because all I could do was stand there and cry. The airline people ended up giving my mom a gate pass so she could help me get through TSA and to my gate… then they gave me a fuck ass sunflower lanyard.

I still don’t know how I feel about it.

I think this is why I write the fucked up stuff I post here- because my autism is bad enough that things like that happen. But, I have to act like it’s not. I’m only allowed to have bad days like that around my mother, and the stress of masking and trying to function is just so high stress that the idea of someone forcing me to stop doing all of that is really comforting. I would never do it voluntarily- even if masking and stuff is hard, I’d never let myself be so vulnerable to show someone that version of me. Being forced to accept I’m less capable than others is reliving, because i spend every waking moment pretending that I am and trying to prove that to others.

[lordtardigrade]

Price x reader where you’re refusing to use whatever mobility aid you’re supposed to use but don’t (maybe a brace, maybe a cane- whatever you use).

Maybe you excuse it because you’re only supposed to use it for “bad days” (but you can never tell when the pain is bad enough to be warranted it). Maybe you do it because you feel like you’re just being dramatic about how bad it hurts. Or, maybe you just do it because the mobility aid is fucking annoying or uncomfortable.

But Price threatens you when he learns about it.

Oh, you’re not using your cane when your hip starts to flair? Well you better start because if you don’t, then Price is going to give you a reason to use that damn cane. (And depending on how dark you want this is be, that can mean anything)

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Price x reader with disordered eating/past eating disorder but he hears the “clunk” of you getting the scale off the shelf and is pounding on the bathroom door like “GET OFF THE SCALE”

[clementine-thedestroyer]

He sees you weighing out your portions and makes you go into the other room while he serves your plate for you. He tolerates you buying low-fat/low-sugar versions of foods because while he wishes you didn’t worry about it, he wants you to be able to eat more of the foods you love and stress a little less about it.

[lordtardigrade]

He puts parental controls on your phone that blocks any calorie counting apps or any internet searches containing words like calorie, diet, ect.

If he finds you manually counting calories he scribbles out all of the nutrition information of any food that comes into the house with a black sharpie.

[lordtardigrade]

Um… orthopedic doctor!Kyle who uses casts or braces as a way to restrain you and keep you under his control.

He’ll watch you take the slightest stumble and insist on checking you over, finding a “sprain” or fracture of some sort no matter how much you insist nothing hurts.

If you try too hard to deny him, he gets a dark look in his eyes, looking up at you from where he kneels with your “ingured” foot in his lap as his easy expression of love and care falls to a cold and distant that carries a distinct warning.

His hand tightens around your ankle, fingers digging painfully into the delicate, fragile bones and tender cartilage until you begin to tremble and let out a soft cry or whimper of pain.

And just like that, he’s back to normal- his expression one of affection and smugness. (After all… you know that if you don’t play the part he gives you, he won’t hesitate to break the bone himself. You learned that lesson the first time he introduced you to this little routine)

So… you let him wrap you stiff casts. You let him fit you with compressive, tight braces like none you’ve ever seen before. You let him do whatever he wants with you, because no mater what that is, it’s better than what he’ll do if you don’t listen.

[ghouljams]

Ranger Danger; It's only stalking if they can't see you.

NCR Ranger!Gaz follows his favorite Courier.

Most people out in the Mojave know better than to fuck with couriers. Everyone wants the mail, and no one wants to get blacklisted. You were hired because you were a good shot, and unafraid of the various perils that traversing the wasteland brings. Which is to say: You don't need an escort.

You've tried explaining it to Gaz, tried to make him understand it, but he insists on following you through your route. He's not bad company, but it makes folks nervous having a ranger watching them hand you packages. Honestly if he weren't so easy on the eyes you might have tried harder to lose him. As it stands you just manage to convince him to wait outside of eyesight while you do business. Recently he's started trying a different approach.

"All the way to New California," You clarify with a raised brow.

"All the way doll," Gaz grins, "Easiest package you'll have to deliver, I even defend myself."

You eye him with suspicion. It's a long way to go, an even longer way back. You suppose you could pick up some packages along the way... You shake your head. "Can't afford it," you tell him.

"I can pay," He reminds you, "got plenty of money."

"NCR bills," You click your tongue, "not worth the paper they're printed on."

"Good with my hands," He tries, "better with my mouth."

"Yeah, you're a real smooth talker," you roll your eyes, "Don't need a mechanic, and as previously mentioned I'm takin' care of myself just fine." You pat the pistol at your hip fondly, well oiled and ready for action. Gaz hums, there's something in his eyes that says he wants to correct you, wants to rebuke your assertion, or perhaps clarify his own. He holds his tongue.

He's good company, but not company you're willing to risk your hide over. You've never had anyone watching your back, and to be honest it can be a little unnerving at times. Knowing Gaz is stationed somewhere far off with a rifle trained on you while you pass off bullets to a raider camp doesn't stop your skin from crawling. Like you said, most folks know better than to try and stop the mail from running. Even the raiders that eye you a little too appreciatively, and open doors wider for others to give you the same once over. It's the warning shot that startles you more than the swift smack to your ass when you turn to leave. You're quick to scurry off before the raiders decide that was your idea.

Gaz finds you miles down the road and hours later. His boots are bloody. You don't ask.

His hands are clean, at least, when you hand him a gecko kabob from the fire. You sleep better that night with him on watch, and the distant knowledge that any ill will those raiders may have had is dead. It's good you're such a deeper sleeper with Gaz around. You don't know the pride it inspires, the deep seated warmth in his chest to see the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, to hold his hand by your lips and feel the soft puff.

Maybe it's a little strange, but when you're asleep is the only time he can truly speak freely. The only time he can lean back and palm his cock to the pretty picture you make. He likes looking at your face when he does it, likes to imagine what you'd do if you woke up and saw him. You have to be the densest person in the Mojave not to notice he's got you on a short leash.

He would have you on your back screaming his name. He'd have you drooling in the dirt. He'd have your sweet pussy dripping with his come every time you made a delivery. Maybe having his spend rolling down your thighs would stop you from getting ogled every time you knocked on a raider's door.

"Fuck you 'til you forgot your name," Gaz grunts, "don't need to love me to come on my cock." But it would be better if you did.

[lordtardigrade]

https://www.tumblr.com/lordtardigrade/783874593745141760/i-love-the-idea-of-john-hearing-that-you-want-a

This is so good that I promise I will find a way to beat him up for this

I think when you try to attack him of fight back, he just gets hard 💔

[lordtardigrade]

Once I saw a video of some guy showing off a like 50s-60s style dress but with straitjacket hardware- and like, fuck me if that isn’t the most John Price coded shit ever.

It was super cute- I’m a big fan of vintage styles and it had a long skirt and collar. It had long sleeves that would go past the wearer’s arms but could be rolled up out of the way. There were 3 leather straps around the waist and bust area of the dress, with hardware in the back that connected with the hardware at the end of the sleeves.

It was fucking great, and it’s also the exact kind of thing I could imagine Price bringing his “wife” to meet his team in.

I mean… it can sort of, almost pass as normal… but you’re still plenty easy to control incase you get any ideas.

[lordtardigrade]

It’s MY autism so IM going to sexualize it.

[lordtardigrade]

Dub/noncon but likeeee

Professor Price x undergrad reader who is desperate to find a mentor for their graduate degree/trying to get into research/maybe really just needs to pass this class.

He tells you that if you’re good and suck his cock for him, he can help you out. You hate yourself for agreeing, but you’re so stressed and so anxious about succeeding in your career that you don’t feel like you can say no.

You reluctantly agree, ending up under his desk, choking back tears as he fucks your throat.

Somehow, that turns into letting him fuck you in order to make rent. (He’s so gross and mean he even makes you let him fuck your throat again in the morning for money to go buy plan B- because of course he wouldn’t pull out. Why the fuck would he do that? He’s gonna get his monies worth.)

Before you know it, you’re coming to him at least once a month… he’ll pay you for letting him use your cunt- and first it was money for your meds, then it was needing a stupidly expensive textbook that you just didn’t have the cash for- he’s always willing to help…. Even if it feels like the price is getting steeper every time.

[yeyinde]

Ghost x Reader, but it's told through one of those really early 2010s hiking forums that hikers used to post on about trails, trail angels, best gear, good inns to stay at, towns to avoid, Q&As, advice, and meetups.

one day you start posting about being the only hiker on this lonely stretch of the AT after deciding to thruhike the trail. cell service is bad (it's the 2010s, and you're posting on a Dell laptop that's five inches thick from local coffee shops along the way) so you can only upload a few posts at a time and answer some questions. but you slowly amass a very small following. readers give you the trail name Bambi after you find two dead does outside of your tent, and it seems like a small clutch of forest critters keep following you on your hike because you can hear them wandering around your (bear proof) containers at night.

but for the most part, it's all just a normal hike (with some minor hiccups—sometimes you feel like you're being watched (but you're alone in the mountains and this is pretty common feeling whenever you hike overnight, they assure you); and strange noises keep echoing in the forest around you (it's the AT, though, so no one is really too worried). you have a pretty good rapport with the readers who click on your posts each time a new one drops so they're all pretty quick to give you (delayed) answers to your questions, and give helpful advice. you become a minor celebrity in on this lonely hiking forum, and you even meet up with a few of your fans in the towns that the AT cuts through. when you're not posting, they're still active. trading stories, theorising on where you are.

but when your next post drops (after a brief hiatus as you walk through Fontana Dam), it's obvious that something is wrong.

but as your readers scroll through gorgeous pictures attached to your post of the Smokies, the national park, endless shots of wildlife, and the deep, lush green forest with it's jagged peaks, towering cliffs, and intersecting streams, awe shifts into disbelief as a murky, dark figure emerges in the background of some of shots. looming like spectre in dark camo until someone realises that it's getting closer.

all they can do is stare in horror as your next series of photos show a big, ominous looking man in a black balaclava with a skull printed over the knitted cables closing in on you until it ends with a selfie, him behind you, reaching out.

it ends with a picture of you sitting on a bed in a dingy hotel room (that could literally be anywhere in the Appalachians considering almost all hotels and inns and motels have the exact same bed with it's brown, quilted blanket and crisp white sheets beside an end table with a bible; dark wood panelled walls, faded yellow recliner, writing desk with a lamp, and grey carpet). you're smiling tearfully at the camera. reflected in a picture on the wall, they can see a large, dark figure looming over you. the same man that snuck up on you on the trail.

at the bottom of the picture is the caption: little Bambi, home at last.

(and when they comb through your posts before your account is deleted, they soon realise a shadow was in every single picture, hidden in the foliage and the dark green of the surrounding trail.)

[rawme-price]

Zombie apocalypse with ghost would be crazy because he would find a pretty thing with skills he needs and decide "yer coming with me" without ever asking you, probably would hide it under the guise of protection for you but he gets oddly possessive when other survivors talk to you. A few heavy touches, maybe a drunken makeout, but he never goes far enough to scare you away.

and when you inevitably get bitten, he's already too emotionally attached, can't handle going back to being alone. So he straps a muzzle to your face and a chain around your neck, calls you his "perfect guard dog." And feeds you bits of survivors that try to kill you. He smiles whenever you try to form words, his sweet thing always had so much to say.

...if he still gets a bit handsy with you, then that's his business.

[quarterlifekitty]

Alternatively:

ghost who gets bitten and turns but keeps his composure through pure power of will. And he never really spoke so much to begin with, so it’s not much different now, right? He never bites you. Just the rest of the world.

And yeah, he still does insist on hand feeding you his kills. Keeps your earlobe between his teeth to spike your heart rate so he can feel it through your chest when he gropes you, but he never bites down. His scary amount of self control carries over even in death. He doesn’t make enough body heat anymore, so you’re his body pillow.

[lordtardigrade]

Even if you wanted to leave- even if you begged him to let you go- Ghost will never let it happen. In his mind, you belong to him. As far as he’s concerned, he saved you. You owe him everything. Every moment you live, you do so only because he’s allowing it. You owe him.

(And it doesn’t matter if he’s one of the dead now. That debt remains, in his mind, unpaid- and it always will be.)

So when he gets shot in a confrontation with some less than friendly raiders, you’re the one who has to sew his rotting flesh back together. It doesn’t matter if you get squeamish at the gory sight of his wound. If ghost says you’re going to do something, you’re going to do it.

Once the raiders are delt with, ghost is quick to get the two of you holed up somewhere safe. He drags you behind him into a dilapidated store front, blood seeping from his wounds all the while. He doesn’t give you a chance to question him or protest before he begins hauling over old shelving units to barricade the door- all, of course, far too heavy for you to move away from the door without his help.

It’s only once he’s finally satisfied with his work that he relents, cornering you and peeling back the blood soaked fabric of his sleeve, revealing where the bullet tore through his stiffened skin.

Flesh that’s both alive but not glistens deep red as thick, congealed blood leaks from the wound. You have to fight the urge to be sick when you first see it.

When you start to cry and plead him not to make you, Ghost only rolls his eyes. He doesn’t deal with tears. Instead, he pins you between his massive weight and the crumbling wall of the building you’ve taken shelter in. He firmly guides your trembling hands to his arm- the look he gives you is clear: he’s not asking.

He only relaxes his pin of you once you finally relent, giving in and preparing to stitch up his wound.

Your hands shake and you nearly vomit as you push the needle through his flesh. You’ve been getting slowly acquainted with the inner workings of Ghost’s new body since he turned- though that was through no choice of your own.

When you’re finally finished, all you get is an approving nod. Nothing more.

Soon after, Ghost begins herding you up a set of stairs at the back of the shop and into the small abandoned apartment beyond them. You know better than to try and fight him by now, so you begrudgingly comply.

You fall asleep that night on a dead person’s bed, pinned between Ghost’s cold body and a colder wall. The physical barrier of Ghost’s body acts like a shield to the world- giving you much needed space to allow yourself to decompress, because in the end, that’s all you can do.

(Ghost isn’t going to let you leave him. You’re not sure when your relationship with him changed from that of partnership for the sake of survival to one between captor and captive, but you do know that you realized the change had occurred far too late to do anything about it. And now, you have to live with the consequences.)

[pricegazagegap]

price and gaz still caught in that blurry, sussing out stage of borderline sexual teasing where it's sometimes hard to say if it's friendly or bullying. except price's method of choice is particularly confusing: he keeps joking about hooking up with gaz's mum.

he saw a picture of her once on gaz's phone and the inappropriate jokes escalated from there. gaz hated it. it was obnoxious for obvious reasons, but it burned worse coming from the guy he'd been carrying a torch for for months. he was fed up with it.

tonight, they were out drinking, just the two of them. it was nice. price was buzzed, all loose. he'd been leaning close to gaz with a casual arm thrown over the back of his chair for the better part of the night. but then he had to open his mouth and ruin it all.

"so, how's your mum?" price asked, with an infuriating, knowing twitch of his moustache.

gaz's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he pushed to his feet. "that's none of your business," he answered firmly, downing the last dregs of his beer, before adding with as little deference possible: "sir."

he turned and marched to the restroom without waiting for a reply. the unrequited crush was nothing. what really bothered him was this absolute lack of respect his captain clearly harboured for him.

fuming, he pushed the restroom door open. it hit the opposite wall with a bang that he ignored, picking a stall and stepping inside. he turned around, pushing the stall door close. it barely connected with the frame, before it was swinging open again. gaz stumbled back, narrowly avoiding being hit in the face.

and just like that, price was there, locking the stall and trapping the two of them inside the minuscule space.

"what the fuck," gaz blurted out. he tried putting a respectable distance between their chests, but with the toilet taking up most of the space, there wasn't much room for him to work with.

"that wasn't very nice of you, kyle," was his captain’s enraging reply. "I asked you a question."

anger warring with shock, gaz finally spat out, "you're out of line, price. I let it slide for way too bloody long, but this ends now. you make another comment about my mother, and I'm decking you. chain of command be damned."

glee shone in price's eyes like gaz had just promised him a box of cigars for christmas. he made a tutting sound, before adding with a tone of feigned sorrow that contradicted the grin on his face, "now you're just hurting my feelings, kyle."

feeling mocked and like he was missing the joke entirely, gaz just went for the lock on the door, opting for exiting the conversation altogether. they'd been locked in there for too long. someone was bound to walk in and notice them.

that was when price's hand shot to his wrist, capitalising on the lack of freedom of movement to spin gaz's body brusquely around, pulling him close to his chest in a mockery of a chokehold.

"shhh, easy, son," price whispered into the shell of his ear when gaz started to thrash in his hold. "you've got it all wrong." gaz could hear the smirk in his voice.

"fuck off," gaz hissed, throwing an elbow at price's side. price grunted and simply angled his body away.

tutting again, price squeezed gaz tighter, rubbing his beard against the side of gaz's jaw. the intimacy was startling. heat pooled in gaz's stomach.

"it's my fault," price rumbled in his ear. "clearly, I've been going about it too subtle. isn't that right?" he released one of gaz's wrists, dragging an open palm down the planes of gaz's stomach instead. his hand stopped on the buckle of gaz's belt, giving it a light tug that sent sparks down his lower abdomen. "like this is much better, isn't?"

flushing so deep that he thought he might tear up just from the heat of it, gaz could only nod jerkily.

"that's right. good lad," price placed a kiss on the shell of his ear, deceptively tender. his grin was a hot brand against gaz's skin. "I just wanted you to call me 'dad', kyle. is that too much to ask?"

[lordtardigrade]

This is perfect holy shit

[553580]

buckwild brain plot bunny binkying across the plains of my grey matter outta nowhere, featuring medieval nikolai x princess!reader

cw: dubcon, asphyxiation, age gap, kidnapping, forced marriage, strikethrough method of depicting a language barrier, breeding kink, you've heard of the 'dad's best friend' trope now try on 'dad's worst enemy', deeply ooc nikolai oops, unedited brain hairball, abrupt ending, posted after 10pm so i can't speak for the quality or coherency

there's a reason you're supposed to always have your chaparone.

you'd assumed it was just paranoia on your mother and father's part, their minds infected with the same paranoia every person of certain status attains, you suppose. there's no dark cloud of distrust in your mind, however. there has been peace for over four years, your father's kingdom is doing quite well, and the people are happy. as far as you're concerned, there's no malcontents lurking behind every corner, waiting in the bushes and shadows to strike.

that's why, when you slip away from the banquet, you don't bother bringing anyone or bothering to say goodbye. it's been a long day, capped off by an equally long and boring banquet to celebrate some saint or another. all you want is to take off your corset and go to bed.

on stone floors, you slink as quietly as you can back to your bedroom, avoiding the patrol routes that you know oh-too-well. down narrow corridors, up wooden steps, and along drafty breezeways- all until you finally reach your bedroom at the other end of this massive castle. the hinges of your bedroom door groan against the weight of the thick and sturdy slab of wood that you grunt to pull shut.

it's not until you slide the latch in place with a little sigh that a voice in the dark pipes up.

"princess."

you jump as if scalded, gasping in shock at the unexpected visitor, squinting into the dark to try to get a good look. with a few purposeful strides, he steps into the moonlight that's streaming so freely through your window. it paints his black hair silver, and brings a glint to his knife-sharp smile that makes your stomach feel like it's falling out of your body. recognition makes your guts churn, and words evade you as your pulse rockets, thudding loudly in your ears.

"it's been a long time." nikolai says, voice a satisfied purr. you inhale to scream, to call for guards, to call him a murderer and a devil- but with the flick of his wrist a small knife is in his hand, moonlight reflecting brightly off the blade as he waggles it in front of himself and it steals your breath.

"i wouldn't, if i were you." he tells you, smile not faltering even a little. the ruckus deflates in your chest, coming out in a stuttering exhale as the hard lines of his body warp in the unshed tears that fill your eyes.

"do you remember my name, princess?" he asks, dark eyes shining.

"nikolai." you breathe.

"very good." he sounds every bit as pleased as the cat that got the cream.

"what do you want?" you ask, voice small and shaking. nikolai is capable of anything- you've seen firsthand and heard tales of his brutality, cunning, and backstabbing dating all the way back to the war. even now, in times of peace, if your father was to list anyone as an enemy, nikolai, high king of kastovia, would be the first name on his lips.

"to get a better look at you. it's been a long time, princess. come into the light for me." he crooks his fingers, beckoning you like a dog.

suddenly your feet feel as heavy as a blacksmith's anvil as you slowly approach, reluctantly allowing the moonlight to wash over you. your eyes never leave his knife, even when he sheathes it with a twirling flourish. a finger pressed to the underside of your chin finally snaps your attention back to his face.

"still so pretty. i am surprised you haven't been married off yet." he murmurs, his eyes darting all over your face, as if trying to memorize your features.

"father is waiting for an adventageous match." it's a line you've said a lot recently, a diplomatic way of saying nobody's offered your father a dowry big enough yet. he's turned down multiple matches that would've expanded trade or increased the treasury or bolstered the military- you don't know what he's waiting for, but you get the distinct feeling you'll die an old maid before he's satisfied.

nikolai exhales a small laugh.

"of course. too bad we will have to disappoint him." the finger under your chin snakes behind your neck, joined by his brothers as you're practically scruffed and hauled back into the dark and onto your bed- your cry of surprise muffled by the broad, dirty glove held over your mouth. for a man as big as he is, he moves shockingly fast, throwing you down and settling on top of your hips before you can even regain the breath he knocked out of you.

leather gloves creak as he flexes both hands around your throat- not squeezing, just holding. reminding you that he very much is in control, and you are just the silly princess who slipped her guard and fell into trouble immediately.

"in a while, some men will arrive with your priest. he will marry us, and we will leave for kastovia in the morning." he murmurs in the dark, and against your better judgement, you shake your head.

"oh no?" he chuckles above you, clearly amused.

"he'll come get me. he'll send the army. he beat you once, he'll do it ag- mph!" hands slides up from your throat, covering your mouth and pinching your nose. panic sets in long before the burning scream of your air-deprived lungs, and you bat your hand against him wildly, a wordless apology and plea.

"he did not beat me. i did exactly what i had set out to do- kill the king. your father merely took over after i took his fucking head. he did nothing but warm a golden chair with his bony ass as i left to go home after a job well done." he leans down close as terrified tears roll hot and thick down the sides of your face. "he didn't win, the war was already over."

right as your head begins to throb in tandem with your pulse, you're freed- air loudly being sucked into stinging lungs, gulped down like a parched animal would drink water.

he coos down at you, his gentle touches and sounds feel like a taunt as he smirks down at you, watching you hastily try to wipe the tears and spittle off your face.

"i don't- i don't understand. you killed the king, there's been peace for years- why are you doing this?" you ask, voice shaking.

"because i hate that fucking piece of shit, claiming a victory that isn't his. he's smart enough not to interfere with my kingdom or start a war with me- not even over you, my sunshine- and that's why i don't want him dead. i will, however, take a revenge much, much sweeter than that."

rough hands ruck your skirts up to your waist as his lips crash against yours- sucking, licking, and nipping in a way that's almost distracting enough to make you forget he's shoving your legs apart. there's a ferocity to his kiss, a passion that scares you. there's a genuine concern that he might draw blood if you do anything other than lie here and accept what he's doing to you.

he only breaks the kiss when he idly slides a finger up and down your folds, causing you to gasp against his mouth as you feel it breach your entrance.

"i am going to take his precious daughter- the apple of his eye, the golden goose that he's trying to leverage into a bigger kingdom- and cover her in my cum." he snarls into your face as he fumbles to pull his cock out. "i'll have you constantly filled with my babies, i'll sit you on my lap during meetings, i'll leave marks on your neck and forbid high collars- i'll make it as obvious as possible to the world that i'm shoving my cock into you at every opportunity- the king's precious, darling, ruined princess."

nikolai buries his face against your neck as he replaces his idle finger with his cock, notching himself into your cunt and slowly rocks himself in, groaning and cursing in rus against your skin. it's all too much- the stretch is too much, the humiliation is too much, the shame is too much, the grief is too much. by the time he works himself all the way inside of you, you're crying again.

"and all i'll give him for the privilege of taking you as my queen is continued peace, and that cowardly goatfucker of a king will thank me for it. otherwise, i will burn this country to ashes once again- and next time, i won't stop when the king is dead." he laughs cruelly against your neck before sucking a kiss there.

so that's the plan. he's taking you to remind your father who really has the most power- and to humiliate him, on top of that. you can imagine what people will say about a king whose beloathed enemy and slayer of his predecessor stole his daughter in the middle of the night and then did nothing about it. that's the worst part, you think- knowing that your father will do nothing to save you, just to keep a status quo where his throne and life is never in jeopardy.

"i- please- you- i-" you hiccup, unable to string together a coherent thought. nikolai is a powerful, dangerous man, and according to your father, the devil incarnate. there's no winning. all you can do is hope that if you lie here and take whatever he gives you without much fuss that he'll let you live.

"shh, shh, sunshine, i'll make it better. like this." nikolai purrs against your mouth as he reaches down, rubbing circles over your clit as he starts to fuck you with a bit more earnest, slowly picking up momentum. a heat is starting to build in the core of you- something molten, sticky, and sweet. it's almost like melted sugar is inside the cradle of your hips- and soon it starts to spread throughout you as rapid and devastating as a wildfire.

nikolai, of course, notices the way you start to writhe underneath him.

"that's it- relax and enjoy, sunshine. just take my fucking cock and nobody has to die. just like that. see? it will be all right. look how well your pretty pussy likes me. she already knows who she belongs to, and soon, you will too." he leans down, pressing wet, sucking kisses to your chest- and when he grazes the sensitive skin there with his teeth, it pulls a needy whine out of you.

"tell me how it feels, princess. how do you like the high king of kastovia's cock?" he taunts, and you're just too scatterbrained from a combination of fear, confusion, sadness, and want to even try to lie.

"i- i love it-" you hiccup through your tears. "y-you make me feel so- so- full-"

"fucking shit, this sopping wet pussy is going to make me fucking nut." growls out nikolai in rus before he comes to a stop and suddenly pulls out and sits back, pulling his hands away. it looks like it's paining him, but clearly not as much as you- a needy whine escapes your lips, and you find yourself clinging to nikolai- not to push him away, but to encourage him to finish what he started.

"beg, princess. beg for your new king's cock. tell me how bad you want it, i want to tell your papa that you cried for it, that you couldn't get enough." he snarls, apparently not caring that you don't fully understand him. his cock slaps against the soft hill of your stomach with a wet smack, smearing the evidence of your arousal on your skin like an accusation.

"please." the word shakes as you exhale it into the space between you, tears still streaming down your face as you sniffle. "please, give it back. i- i- feel so empty now, it felt so good, please-"

"oh, yes?" he mocks, mimicking the way you nod through your tears.

"so good, please, please-"

"well, who am i to deny my new queen, hm?" he chuckles as he pounces back on you, shoving himself in to the root in one swift motion, pushing all the air out of your lungs. his lips find your throat as he renews his efforts, snapping his hips and rubbing tight, frantic circles on your clit. it's like a renewed flame, brought back from embers with more fuel and a gust of air, igniting and spreading, sending you careening back to that empty-headed, pleasure-addled state he'd so cruelly ripped you out of.

"thank you, thank you-" you chant as your back begins to arch, his shirt rubbing against your chest.

"my grateful little pet. you'll be treated better in kastovia than you ever were here, my queen- all you have to do is be good." his teeth nip your earlobe, startling a squeak out of you. "will you be good?"

"yes, yes, yes-" you pant, feeling your eyes start to roll back in your head as your pleasure reaches it's peak. stars flash dance behind your eyes as you feel something in the core of you snap, throwing you into ecstasy as you shriek nikolai's name. you're so overcome by your own ecstasy that you barely register the feeling of two big hands gripping the fat of your hips with bruising pressure, small soft hills forming between thick fingers as his cock pulses deep inside of you, filling you with his cum with a loud grunt.

he collapses on top of you, his body weight pinning you down and making it a little hard to breathe. in the comedown of your orgasm, you can feel how wet everything is- his sweat is on your skin, and a mixture of your cum and his coats everthing from your thighs to your belly. there's a distinct musky smell in the air, and you cringe at the idea of someone coming in here and knowing exactly what happened just based on the pungeant odor filling the room. maybe if you crack a window it will clear out soon?

a knock on the door startles you into frantically urging nikolai to roll off of youso you can push your skirts back down- a vain attempt at hiding your shame- and nikolai huffs a laugh as he watches you in amusement.

"that will be your priest." he says, tucking his cock back into his trousers. he throws a look down at your lap before huffing a laugh, nodding down to the mess between your legs.

"do you think that counts as 'something borrowed'?"

[lordtardigrade]

You have no idea how much joy it brought me to see you describe the brainworms as bunnies binkying across your brain. I will be using that descriptor from now on because holy fuck it’s perfect.

[lordtardigrade]

Psst… this is the link for my kinktober on Ao3.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[rawme-price]

Hm. Older!price having erectile dysfunction and younger!reader makes the worst bratting mistake ever by making fun of him for it.

Which is how you end up with your wrists bound above your head, sobbing and begging for a break after three hours, but price isn't done. Head between your thighs, one of your favorite vibrating dildos buzzing away. You feel overstimulated and whiny. When price finally pulls away, you nearly sob at the coming end of your punishment.

...only for the door to open and soap to eagerly step in. He's got a mean glint in his eyes where they scan your abused body, already hard. Price gives your lower stomach a firm pat and tells Soap "Go ahead and use it, Johnny. Stupid thing isn't grateful for what I do." He stands up, throws you a look that says you earned this then makes for the door "I'll be out shopping. If you get done before I'm back, plug it back up, okay?"

[lordtardigrade]

kidnapper price owns my brain

He owns my brain too- which kinda sucks because I need that thing for class.