What's a cutie like you doing in a graveyard like this? You looking for a good time? I'm sure I can find something you'll like.😉
About Me:
My name is Zombie (she/they) and I run this little section of Tumblr. You won't know if I'm following you or not because this is a side-blog. And all asks from are on Anon, but I will sign my name to them.
I do some writing, here and there. Currently the majority of my writing is for CEvans and SStan characters, though Cavill and Hiddleston are quickly climbing the ranks. I've also got a smattering of other characters that I'd love to write more for if I get the time/interest.
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Warnings:
This is an 18+, NSFW, Minors DNI blog.
I am relatively human and, therefore, prone to mistakes.
If you send an ask, I'm unlikely to answer it right away, especially if it's a request for a story.
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Don't be an asshole. Kindness is incredibly important.
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Other than that, welcome to my little graveyard. Hope you have a fun time, cutie.
Arranged Marriage, mind-blowing ONS, friends with benefits
CEO Ransom, neighbour Steve, enforcer Curtis
Who do you choose for what?
xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦
Hi! ❤️
I see your sneaky ways and tricks! Making Steve my neighbor, so it's not so easy for me to pair that role with arranged marriage trope
though I could make it, if I really put my mind to it 😂
But I want this to be fun, too, so I won't make it all about Steve all the time, lol.
Mind-blowing one night stand with CEO Ransom. Pure coincidence, since Ransom usually has a type for hookups and he isn't as dumb (as some might think) to fuck a woman connected to the mafia in any way. He has exceptionally good deals with Barber and wouldn't want to risk it by breaking Andy's conservative rules. But Ransom was on his own yacht when you got on board along with a few girls you met on vacation. It was your chance to be a little wild outside of the rules of the Famiglia. Not only that forbidden fruit made the experience all the better, but Ransom was really fucking masterful in how he took you apart for his own pleasure.
Back into your life, your friends with benefits arrangement with your neighbour Steve provides known comfort, joy and truly satisfying sex. Steve's father was one of old Barber's underbosses, so despite not joining into the ranks Steve is considered a part of the Famiglia. Andy respects him, so do the others, so no one interferes with your mutually beneficial arrangement.
That is, until the decision to marry you off. Andy is the one who decides on the arranged marriage to his most efficient enforcer, Curtis.
Though you knew of him, of course, and saw him on a few occasions, you never really interacted with Curtis Everett. When you're made to face him for the first time, you make a little squeak before composing yourself. You're not sure you'll be able to survive whatever the glint in Curtis eyes in response to your reaction means 😳
Arranged Marriage, mind-blowing ONS, friends with benefits
CEO Ransom, neighbour Steve, enforcer Curtis
Who do you choose for what?
xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦
Hi! ❤️
I see your sneaky ways and tricks! Making Steve my neighbor, so it's not so easy for me to pair that role with arranged marriage trope
though I could make it, if I really put my mind to it 😂
But I want this to be fun, too, so I won't make it all about Steve all the time, lol.
Mind-blowing one night stand with CEO Ransom. Pure coincidence, since Ransom usually has a type for hookups and he isn't as dumb (as some might think) to fuck a woman connected to the mafia in any way. He has exceptionally good deals with Barber and wouldn't want to risk it by breaking Andy's conservative rules. But Ransom was on his own yacht when you got on board along with a few girls you met on vacation. It was your chance to be a little wild outside of the rules of the Famiglia. Not only that forbidden fruit made the experience all the better, but Ransom was really fucking masterful in how he took you apart for his own pleasure.
Back into your life, your friends with benefits arrangement with your neighbour Steve provides known comfort, joy and truly satisfying sex. Steve's father was one of old Barber's underbosses, so despite not joining into the ranks Steve is considered a part of the Famiglia. Andy respects him, so do the others, so no one interferes with your mutually beneficial arrangement.
That is, until the decision to marry you off. Andy is the one who decides on the arranged marriage to his most efficient enforcer, Curtis.
Though you knew of him, of course, and saw him on a few occasions, you never really interacted with Curtis Everett. When you're made to face him for the first time, you make a little squeak before composing yourself. You're not sure you'll be able to survive whatever the glint in Curtis eyes in response to your reaction means 😳
A/N: Written for the June Jukebox Scribbles. Prompt:“Every night's another reason why I left it all”
Word Count: 220
A familiar voice calls your name making you look up from your book. You're surprised to see him in this part of town.
"Long time no see, Ransom," you greet. "Or do I have to call you 'Hugh' these days?"
"You never have to call me that," he's quick say. "We were friends for a very long time."
"Were we?" you raise an eyebrow.
"Fair," he rolls his eyes as he sits across from you. "I haven't seen you since you cut ties with your folks."
"That's by design."
"I suppose," he grumbles. "Do you ever miss the rich life?"
"Not really," you confess. "Every day I get to be myself and not what my parents want me to be. I don't have to perform for 'friends'. And I can sleep pretty well knowing that my life is real."
"Can't put a price on good sleep, I guess."
"Every night's another reason why I left it all," you nod. "No more crying myself to sleep. I don't have to wake up extra early to get my makeup and hair perfect. I can eat what I want, when I want. It's a good life."
Ransom looks uncomfortable for a minute before leaning in close.
Oh, this was interesting. I like that reader trusts Ransom enough to share her most vulnerable moments and I also like that her words managed to go through his demeanor and made him realize he is not the master of his own life.
That and she knows Ransom can't hurt her. I like to think he sought her out on his own to see if cutting ties was worth it. Now he'll start getting free himself!
A/N: Written for the June Jukebox Scribbles. Prompt:“Every night's another reason why I left it all”
Word Count: 220
A familiar voice calls your name making you look up from your book. You're surprised to see him in this part of town.
"Long time no see, Ransom," you greet. "Or do I have to call you 'Hugh' these days?"
"You never have to call me that," he's quick say. "We were friends for a very long time."
"Were we?" you raise an eyebrow.
"Fair," he rolls his eyes as he sits across from you. "I haven't seen you since you cut ties with your folks."
"That's by design."
"I suppose," he grumbles. "Do you ever miss the rich life?"
"Not really," you confess. "Every day I get to be myself and not what my parents want me to be. I don't have to perform for 'friends'. And I can sleep pretty well knowing that my life is real."
"Can't put a price on good sleep, I guess."
"Every night's another reason why I left it all," you nod. "No more crying myself to sleep. I don't have to wake up extra early to get my makeup and hair perfect. I can eat what I want, when I want. It's a good life."
Ransom looks uncomfortable for a minute before leaning in close.
Warnings: this fic contains suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 10th’s fic!
Steve Rogers + “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.” (Medieval AU)
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.💖
You brush the crumbs off your fingertips and bend your neck. Your veil shifts and you resist the urge to scratch through it. Sister Madeline recites the evening prayer as the others pick at their bread and sip the bitter ale. There’s a tension beneath the silence of the grazing order.
You heard it as you sat and sorted beans from the garden. They all did. The familiar horns and canter of horses. The visitors dismounting at the monastery that shares the same plot with the convent. You hear the monks have lamb and red wine.
The other sisters share looks across the table. You squirm and stare at your plate. You aren’t hungry. Not since you heard his voice carrying from the yard.
Supper finishes and you clear the table with the other sisters. No longer bound to silence, they whisper. You hear the name that keeps you on edge.
You scrape off the crumbs and put the leftover crusts in a basket for the paupers. You wipe clean the wooden plates and stack them as Sister Eleanor giggles at Sister Dawn. Sister Brenna hushes them and chides them to take extra prayers at Compline.
You drift through the remaining prayers and evening chores. You know the walls and floors of the convent well enough to walk them with your eyes closed. Your hands are forged to each task without effort.
You retire to the hard bed of an oak plank. The night keeps you awake outside as the usual creak of branches and snaps of twigs by nocturnal creatures has you imagining more treacherous trespassers. Then the low jingle comes and you are entirely alert.
When the Duke arrives to visit in one of his pilgrimages with the monks, he never fails to send the signal. And you never fail to heed it. The one time you did…
You listen to the sisters around you. Life in the convent doesn’t allow for much rest so when it is had, it’s done deeply. You rise and pull on your robes and veil. You keep your head down as you raise your skirts above the slumbering bodies and cross the room.
The corridors are so dark you can take only small steps. You reach the kitchen door and let yourself out into the moonlight. You don’t look back, only ahead. You go to the mule’s house behind the monastery and whistle in imitation of a sparrow. You wait for the return.
Nothing. Perhaps you imagined it. Or perhaps you are too quick. You shudder and push through the door. Your body readies for what is demanded of it.
The scent of straw and donkey fur meets your nose. You lean into the door to close it. You listen to the sleepy huff of the beast in his pen at the other end of the stall. You turn and search the slivers of moonlight for movement.
Your nerves tangle and your heart clutches. Something off. Something is out of place. You turn and suddenly you’re shoved back. You stumble into a stool as hands clasp onto your sides and keep you from tumbling over.
Lord Rogers chuckles and nuzzles your veil.
“Sacred sister, you’ve missed me,” He growls as he squeezes through your habit. “You’ve no idea how I’ve longed for our reunion.”
Your flick your lashes and gulp. If only he knew the same dread as you do. If only he feared so much for the mark upon his soul and yet, he has no such vow to keep. He is a noble, he is a man who can buy forgiveness. You will repent forever in this world and the next.
“My lord.” You whisper.
“Lamb, please, I long to hear my name upon thy sweet lips.” His mouth grazes yours and his breath clouds hotly.
“Steven…” you murmur as his hands run down to your skirts.
He presses his lips to yours and growls. He yanks at your habit as you cling to him to keep from falling. He turns you and traps you against the planked wall. His beard tickles your skin as he sighs into you.
“I need you, lamb.” He snarls. “I’ve needed you so badly. It is all I think of.” His hands crawl under your skirts and he kneads your thighs. “I feel so complete when I’m inside you.”
warnings: dub-con; breeding kink; breeding program; drugging; semi-dystopian universe; dark universe if we look at the details of non-consensual body monitoring; restraints; dirty talk; power imbalance
It's a Who is he? type of thot (so choose your own babe)
✨️ ✨️ ✨️
Falling asleep in your warm, safe bed, you didn't expect to wake up more drowsy than usually. The realisation of being somewhere completely else comes to you slowly, without an immediate alert.
The colors surrounding you are light, soothing, but some deep recognition in your brain still whispers that something is very wrong.
Female voices address you. They reassure and coo at you as they move around you. Your body is pleasantly heavy, pliant to their ministrations as they bathe you in warms, scented bath, shave you, then rub lotion into your skin.
As time passes, your mind starts getting clearer. Though your body remains somewhat softened. You can move, but each step is slower, each gesture lighter and lacking power. You can't fight when they drape a sheer robe around you and make you move across the space.
Words become more comprehensible, sentences make more sense, and the terrifying realisation finally settles in.
You've been chosen for breeding.
Your life approved to be taken into ownership and primal purposes.
You were nearing your forties, your fertility had to be much lower than that of younger females. Besides, your appearance or special talents weren't noticeable either.
Those atrocious practices are generally known, and unfortunately condoned, but you never imagined it would happen to you.
It was a comforting thought, really, to know you don't fit the profile of most wanted women for the breeding program.
"It has to be a mistake," you say as the door to another bright chamber opens and you're led inside.
There's more color among soothing creams, more personality and comfort to what you suspect os about to become a gilded cage to defile you in.
"No mistake, Miss." One of the women pats your hand. "He chose you. Out of all the profiles in the base, he decided on you."
"Lucky you," adds the younger woman, "he's one of the most eligible bachelors who's decided on a permanent, monogamous ownership."
You know how warped the society is, so it shouldn't surprise you the woman betrays envy for something that you see as entrapment.
"Be good to him." She adds, this time with a hint of compassionate advice.
"As you can see-" she makes a broad gesture inviting you to take a proper look at the room you're about to be locked in-
"Or he'll break you in first-" she points at the other side of the room.
"It can be very pleasant-"
There's a huge bed, with exquisite looking sheets and pillows; as well a scattering of fluffy rugs and bigger pillows around the floor in that area.
There's a tall, sturdy table - height perfect to place your ass on level with a man's hips - with a frame to which your legs could be cuffed, held up and spread, tilting your ass up for proper fucking.
Next, there's also a padded bench, over which you could be bent to be filled from behind. Constructed with a slope that would secure seed following gravity's pull deep into your womb, instead of dripping out.
White, open cabinets may provide a cosy, warm interior detail, but they're filled with toys and implements that would bring you pleasurable torment (and more orgasms than you'd dare to imagine).
"No, no," you shake your head, while in your mind flashes of depraved acts mix with despair.
Cold and hot waves wash over you rapidly. Dread chased by natural desire.
Having your fantasies in the safety of your home was one thing, but reality of what doom fell upon you was completely different. Though it appears that the base instincts of your body don't differentiate between, considering how heat pools low in your belly.
Or maybe it's the drugs they used on you.
"It's really a mistake. I'm unfit for it-"
"Quite the contrary."
A deep, velvety voice snaps your attention to the entrance.
Both the voice and the man it belongs to seem to dim the brightness of the room a bit, yet enhance its atmosphere at the same time.
You make half a step back as you take him in.
He's taller than you. Bigger all over. Definitely tronger. He wouldn't need any restraints, if he really wanted you pinned in place.
His blue eyes are focused on you, taking in your nude state. His gaze is not exactly soft, nor is it cruel. But it lacks the kind of newfound astonisment one might expect. It's rather possessiveness that was already installed. As if he saw you naked before.
The women courtsy to him then quickly leave the room. The door locks.
"It's not a mistake." The man slowly walks towards you. "I've made a conscious decision."
"I'm almost forty!" You blurt out.
"You still have regular periods, kitten." He calmly counters back.
It doesn't shock you that he knows it. With the whole construct of breeding programs, gynecologists' data is registered. So cycles and health issues are filtered through the system, and available to the men searching for a woman to own and breed.
"Doesn't mean I'm fertile," you argue.
Your breath hitches slightly as he stops right in front of you. He unties the sash on your gauzy robe then slides a hand onto your waist; a hot brand that rouses your body with sudden interest.
With a light, yet unyielding tug, he pulls you back when you try to inch away from him.
"No, I don't- Wait!" You pause, staring up at him as shocking realisation hits you.
"Your ovulation the past six months was exceptionally high rated." Corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk when you shift your gaze down in embarrassment.
"You get so wet and aroused for the entirety of the phase." His mouth lowers to the shell of your ear as he purrs in delight. "Especially a day or two before the egg is released. Then straight six days after."
Reports on general health and the fact your cycles were regular would come from visits to your gynecologist. But to know exactly how your phases looked?
Not even you pay so much attention to that!
To know about your wetness, spikes in arousal, exact days?
"I know that you're on day second into the phase." He hums, nudging your legs apart with his knee.
There would have to be some sort of constant monitoring of your body functions. Hour by hour. Like an attached device or... an implanted chip.
There aren't even any rumours about that kind of privacy breach!
You don't know if all supposedly fertile women have such implants, or if it's somehow installed during a regular visit to your doctor after you're claimed.
The hand on your waist moves across your back, his arm wrapping around you to hold you pressed to him.
His other hand drifts boldly between your thighs. Unapologetic. Like he has all the right to touch you as he wishes.
"Already nicely wet." His gaze holds yours as his fingers part your folds.
"It starts with your body's natural, eager preparation for cock and seed. Then it ignites those needy thoughts."
"No-" you gasp.
You plant your hands on his clothed chest, but your body still lacks any strength to really fight him off.
"It's because they gave me something!" You snarl, but it's followed by a choked moan when he pushes a thick finger in.
"The medication was only to transport you safely and prepare you without a fuss. It doesn't interfere with your natural responses."
"This-" he pumps his finger in and out of your pussy- "is all you, readying to be bred."
It's a small victory for you, that you manage to stifle a disapointed whine when he withdraws his finger.
But you feel the pulsing between your thigs. That growing craving for more. So much more. Deep and hard, and over and over again.
Like it comes every ovulation. As well with every period-related hormonal rollercoaster.
Just like the fucking bastard noticed.
"So, kitten, your breedability was never in question." He chuckles. "I find you very breedable. And I will love every fucking second of stretching you on my cock and filling that belly."
"I got so hard every time I thought of sinking myself to the root in your sweet cunt and spilling deep. I couldn'twait for all the formalities to be finished, so I could bring you here and breed you over and over again."
"But I chose you because you tick other boxes for me. Intelligence, reliability, soft heart."
He traces his wet finger around your breast before cupping it fully in his big palm. He squeezes and your nipple pebbles instantly.
Between your thighs, your clit pulses in sync. Your pussy clenches, even as your independence claws at your brain to stop it from being aroused by hos filthy words.
Indication that he had to have studied you to come to such conclusions scares you even more. Yet a part of you blooms knowing that someone noticed and appreciated these parts of you.
"And the kinks you get off to when you're dripping and aching to be filled-" his voice lowers and he pinches your bud- "I know the videos you watch then, what you read."
Your heart hammers in your chest. Terror and arousal mixing into a haze.
Not only he monitored your body, observed you, but also hacked into your phone and laptop, and learned the most private things about you.
"You may fight it verbally, but the truth is that's your deepest craving. To be fucked full. Obscenely. Until it takes and your belly rounds."
You shake your head, but no protest spill from your mouth. Because your breath is quickening, and you fear if you allowed words to roll on your tongue, it would come out as begging or moans.
"So until you surrender to it completely and admit you want me to breed you, I'm going to keep you restrained and open for my cock. Until you accept your role as mine to own and breed full."
Suddenly, he lifts you up into his arms. With a satisfied grunt at the feeling of your weight in his hands, but showing no extra strain in carrying you.
He places you on the raised table. With ease, he pushes you flat on your back. Keeps you down with one hand, while he grabs your wrist with the other and places it in a padded handcuff next to your head. He repeats the same with your other wrist.
You punch his chest and shoulders with your fists, to no avail. You fear that even when the medication wears off, you won't be able to fight him.
Or he'll already break you in, so you won't resist anymore.
Next, he cuffs your ankles to the frame above, slightly bending your legs and keeping them wide apart. In that position your pussy is on full display and your ass tilted perfectly to take a cock deep.
"I'm going to make your dreams come true," he says with a wicked smirk. "Fuck you mercilessly all through your ovulation, and beyond. Turn you into a mess. Fill you. Force you to take it. Train your holes to miss my cock every second it's not lodged deep inside you."
"You have a beautiful cunt, kitten." He praises, stroking your thighs. "And it's already so wet and puffy, just begging to be stretched open and flooded with cum."
He bends over you, placing one hand on the table. His other palm settles in the juncture of your thigh, thumb rubbing so close to where you're hot, wet, and clenching.
"And doing all of this to you? And having you grow with my child? Owning you completely?Kitten, that's making all my dreams come true."
I'm torn between Curtis and Nick for this. If we're going for someone bigger/taller/stronger than me, I'll go with Curtis. Nick always struck me as closer to my own height (don't ask why, I don't know).
Hey if you See This can you reblog this or comment on this with a character you headcanon as aromantic, asexual, or both. It can be canon it can be founded on absolutely nothing I just need more aroace stuff on here #yay
Hate to be that weirdo but if you follow me or like my posts AND your blog is empty when I get there I'm gonna assume you're a bot. And probably block you. As might other people.
Reblog stuff!! This is the reblogging website - we invented it! It doesn't even have to be my stuff - it can be whatever you like! An empty blog is just weird sorry
