Thehydraethereal - ههههه 𝒱𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 ههههه

you never miss, i swear. the darkness is everything , i genuinely can't WAIT any longer for the next parts 🗣️😫

under his grasp

Pairings: Dark! Suitor! Marcus Acacius x Queen! reader

warnings: noncon, cheating, victim blaming, oral (f receiving), threats of rape (not to reader), noncon insinuations (not to reader), breeding kink, unprotected p in v, violence, etc

series masterlist

Seeing he had gone for good, you had dressed back into your wedding dress as it was the only comfort and clothes you had and decided to sleep in the marital couch, too scared that crawling in his bed would give him any ideas.

Morning came and you were up earlier than expected, sleep being scarce and more frightening than being awake. As your gaze searched around the room, the thick body of Acacius laid pleasantly in his bed. You tried to sleep longer, but handmaidens bustled into the room ready to prepare you for the first day of you endless nightmare.

They were quiet, Acacius’ handmaidens. They greeted you shyly, perhaps unknowing how to greet a Queen, and presented you a lavish turquoise gown; you allowed them to dress you as some stirred Acacius awake, but he batted them off, grumpily.

“I can dress myself.” He groaned, and you could tell that after he left you the night before, he had drunk.

Certain handmaiden caught your eye; she was young, similar to you physically, and she stood close to you. Her movements were timid, perhaps even more scared than the others. Your eyes followed her as she left the room.

True to his words, Acacius dressed himself in more casual robes; a beige picta. The silent was deafening, casting shadows over the dawn as you sat still, unaware of what to expect.

“When are we returning to the Palace?” You managed your courage to mutter, and Acacius finally posed his tired eyes on you.

“When you learn to be a good wife to me.” He answered sharply. “A husband cannot spend his nights looking for solace in another’s woman’s embrace.”

His words felt thick around him, his eyes glaring daggers. You felt a knot in your throat.

“Was that what you did after the events of last night?” You dared to ask him. He hesitated for a while, you could see it in his swerving eyes.

“Do not blame me, you decided not to comply.” He responded, and his feet padded closer to you, his broad figure becoming bigger and bigger.

“That didn’t deter you the other night.” You bit, rage lacing your words. “and I guess that didn’t deter you yesterday, as I can’t believe your other woman was whorish enough to sleep with a newly wed man.”

He chuckled at your words, pleased in his fantasy that you were portraying jealousy. “You would be surprise by how many girls like you dream of pleasing a General as myself.”

If that was true, then it felt unfair. For him to take you, just to dispose of you later, felt unfair. It all felt like a twisted joke, because despite not wanting him, he had done all of this for a reason.

“But just so you know,” He added, a sly grin on his face. “the one I bedded last night wasn’t compliant either.”

It felt like salt on a wound, and your face twisted into a bitter expression. He enjoyed it so much, the fight, your hatred, it fueled the fire in his loins.

“You are disgusting.” You spat, rising to your feet. “I cannot fathom how you portray yourself as the Hero-”

A sharp slap cut your words short, sending your face to the side as you gasped. His grip fell again on your face, now slightly more tender as he forced you to look at me.

“Oh, I am no Hero,” He sneered. “I am far more than that, I am your God now, and like Gods, I do not preach morality.”

You felt weak once again, but hatred still run through your veins as you glared at him. Your cheek stung.

“All this fighting has made me wanton.” He confessed, and your eyes widened in fear of his words. “after all, we must give Rome a heir.”

“You will be crowned King shortly,” You ushered, perhaps pleading. “you can have bastards and make them heir.”

He tutted at your excuses. “But I want you, darling; our heirs will rule Rome.”

“Why does it matter anymore?” You questioned, seeing impatience running through his features.

“Enough.” He barked, letting go of your chin. “Get on the bed.”

What if I say no?

What if I scream?

What if I comply?

Your mind raced, and he grew angry but you stood your ground. His lips almost curled into a smirk as he grabbed your forearms, as bruising as he had done the first night, and begun moving you towards the bed.

Your instinct kicked in, and you fought because complying was too humiliating for you. Kicking and clawing came to no avail as your back hit the soft, tousled fabrics of the bed.

“Are you going to behave or do I need to tie you down again and fuck you like a breeding mare?” He barked, and your arms grew weak under the threat. His gaze fell over the pretty dress that you wore, and he fought the urge to rip it apart. It was new, and a gift to you from him.

He opted for lifting your skirt and producing his manhood from beneath his robes. You didn’t want to look at it, feeling its weight on your leg was enough to tell you.

Your arms had fallen limp against the bed as he forced your thighs apart, presenting your cunt to his eyes.

“I realized I had forgotten something,” He confessed to you, and your mind screamed. “did not taste you properly yet.”

His dark eyes were set on you as he lowered his face to your exposed core, a pink tongue darting from his lips and licked a line along your seam. A whimper escaped your pressed lips, thighs shaking, and his mouth latched to you.

Like a man starved, he sucked your most intimate part, sending shivers along your body. Your nails dug into the covers, begging someone or something to stop the pleasure he was eliciting so darkly. But your hips buckled, making him even wilder as he thrusted his manhood into the bed. Like a man on a mission, he constrained his desires in order to get you to submit beneath him, which perhaps brought him more pleasure than the act itself.

A hand that was spreading your thighs apart let you free, but the limb curled itself into you, presenting yourself as soft mewls and squeaky moans left your lips. His fingers tangled themselves in the slick mess of arousal and saliva, pushing through your swollen walls; you jerked as he curled them inside, working your clit with his tongue.

There was a slight pain from the pressure, but it fueled the heat you felt, nipples pebbling against the silk of your dress and electricity jolting through you. Your thighs shut around his head, thick curls slightly matted from his efforts, and he knew.

A hand on your hip, holding you still, and now his digits thrusted in and out, fucking you until your legs wrapped around his neck, and you felt pressure relieve as you shot slick arousal directly into his face.

You didn’t care to try to reason what he had forced your body as you fell, spread, on the sheets, eyes lidded and throat hoarse from the war cry that had erupted from you.

Through your blurred vision you saw him rise on top of you, wiping you from his lips and face as his devoured all the essence you had poured onto him.

“No-” you whined as you felt the engorged tip of his cock pushing against your abused folds, hands rising to push at his chest.

“Come on, dumb girl,” he muttered at your skin, a hand gently taking your wrists above your head as the other propped your leg over his shoulder, letting himself slide right in with a pleased grunt. “I have pleased you, now do your duty.”

He sheathed himself in with a hiss, head bobbing back as your overstimulated core clenched around him. The sting had dissipated, and shame rose to your cheeks as you felt a need for it. The feeling, of needing to be fucked, pitifully reminded you of those nights along Lucius, the ones were his body heat felt like forbidden fruit, were you craved he would touch you, and were you would feel shame burn on you the next day as wild images blurred your thoughts.

But Acacius wouldn’t let you feel that need ever again, that you knew. He was an animal, biting into your soft skin as he rutted into you, as if trying to get closer. In a way, his assault felt like his desire to imprint on you, to make you yours, thing that he wouldn’t let you forget as he groaned and moaned it into your ear.

“There you are,” he mumbled, almost whispered, tightening the grip around your wrists unconsciously. “being fucking good for me, letting me fuck my wife.”

And you could fight it, you howled like a bitch in heat beneath him, letting General Acacius breed you despite the tears in your eyes. Your leg muscles stung beneath him, splayed like whore, for what felt like hours.

“Gonna finish inside you, paint your walls,” He panted into your ear before nibbling on your lobe. “gonna fuck the heir of Rome into you, dumb girl.”

True to his words, his pace picked up even more as he decided to finish the job. His grip snaked to your lower back as he pressed himself into you with a guttural groan, and you felt his sticky wetness inside of you, coating you; something you couldn’t clean up.

Perhaps this was for the better; the sooner you’d give him a heir the sooner he wouldn’t have an excuse to do this. But you knew that fantasy was unrealistic. Acacias had no excuse for enjoying the act so much.

His weight fell over you, shortening your breaths as you finally peered your eyes open, gaze cut by the mountains of muscular flesh of shoulder and back. The simple robe he had placed slipped from his body, and you felt sweat dampening as his torso pinned you down. His hand unwrapped his grip, knitting his fingers with yours. You begged he didn’t fall asleep.

But he didn’t, and you were grateful for that. Knowing he was crashing you, he tossed his body beside you on the bed. The silent rang in your ears; anticipation heavy, until he spoke.

“Each time you displease me, or deny me,” He said, threat and decisiveness in his voice. “I’d like you to think of our first night, and I’d like you to remember the pretty faces of the handmaidens I have here, at my power-and to know that I was considering you a Queen at the time.”

He had made his words clear.

his hand, so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a rafe and jj series is coming reaaal soon, but the AU is of a veryyyy famous and loved movie...Y'ALL WOULD NEVER GUESS😫 but you can still tryyy

「THE APPENDAGE」 (ONGOING DARK SERIES) — MASTERLIST

"IT'S NOT AN ACT OF LOVE IF YOU MAKE HER,

YOU MAKE ME DO TOO MUCH LABOUR!"

— series warnings: This piece contains NONCON (rape); heavy violence; domestic violence; misogyny; implied murder; physical, mental and sexual abuse; forced marriage; gun violence; curse words; mental issues; depression; and other dark and triggering elements. MDNI, this is dark. You are responisble for your own media consumption.

— characters: reader (my original character); Rafe Cameron; Brock Rumlow; Tony Stark; Ward Cameron; James Buchanan Barnes; Natasha Romanoff; Pepper Potts; Wanda Maximoff; Carol Danvers and other possible appearences. The characters belong to Marvel and Outer Banks, not to me. (Marvel & Outer Banks AUs crossovers).

— note: This piece of writing is inspired by Paris Paloma's song 'Labour' and the characters, not the actual plot of the movies/series. This is barely proofread. I do not romanticize or encourage any of the following actions written here, this fic is neant to spread awareness and for other artistic and fictional purposes. Do not repost or translate it. It belongs to ©thehydraethereal 2025. Reblogs, asks and comments are always welcomed. Please, enjoy your reading, and support me by liking and reblogging.

⇀ PROLOGUE

⇀ FIRST CHAPTER

(...more to come, this series does not have a certain number of chapters, I will choose it based on how the fic is welcomed and perceived as. You may request ideas/ what you would like to see in the following parts) .

» other important links:

↝masterpost

↝ my warnings (for requests)

》 TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS OPENED. LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN THE FOLLOWING PARTS via inbox or comments.

Hello, I just recently discovered your blog and oh my! Your works are so amazing! I think you are a fantastic writer,keep it up!

I was thinking maybe you could write a Rafe C. fic based on the prompt number 1.(Wiping off droplets of your blood from the floor, knowing he hates the mess.) i think that prompt has strong Rafe vibes. Maybe he hurt reader so bad and she's trying not to anger him even more so she cleans the mess or maybe he made her clean it(threatened he will hurt her even more)

It is completely okay if you can't or won't write it please do not feel pressured

‧𓍢ִ໋ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒

girlfriend.ᐟreader && dark.ᐟrafe cameron

CONTENT WARNING(S)

You widen your eyes at the crimson droplets that stain the cold, golden veined marble. The polished surface mirrors your tearful eyes and, right under the right one, a deep cut is adorning your cheekbone.

You haven't even realized you were bleeding, the flesh of your face feels numb.

"Shit!", Rafe yells, and the awfully loud sound makes your whole body jump. He shakes his hand in pain, knuckles visibly reddened, and his rings are slightly pink from the blood of your wound.

Mindlessly, you try to crawl further from Rafe, which is now cursing out loud at you. "Why do you always make me be like this? You're supposed to shut the fuck up and be by my side!", he growls, lip twitching in disgust as he looks down at you. "But no, you had to play the good samaritan."

He is angry at you that you were on Sarah's side. Your heart broke when you heard Rafe, your boyfriend, tried to literally drown her, so, of course you had to say something to him, you had to confront him. And, of course, that would get you all bloodied and bruised.

"God...", Rafe grunts, wiping at his nose with his thumb and index finger. "Great, now I look like i'm the bad fuckin' guy again, huh?".

You flinch at his words, a stray tear running down on your throbbing cheek again.

His eyes shoot up at you, his wild gaze now stern and fixed on your shaky being. His gaze freezes the blood in your veins. Rafe was always unpredictable and that makes his disorders of behavior even worse and more terrifying.

Your whole body tenses, not knowing what to expect next. But instead of approaching you, Rafe's eyes dart towards the floor and you can see his brows furrowing. Pit settles in your stomach as you realize his eyes have fallen on the blood. Your blood.

"C'mhere...", he commands and you whimper, shaking your head. "Come. Here.", Rafe repeats and you slowly crawl towards his feet.

Your eyes raise and catch your boyfriend flaring his nostrils. His hand fists in your and you cry out. "That’s your fault.", he growls, nodding his head towads the stain of crimson liquid. "So, if I step in fuckin' blood, I'll make sure there's more of it pretty fast.", he finishes, releasing your hair with a disgusted push.

"Clean that shit up.", Rafe finishes, walking outside. You wipe the blood away with your sleeve, watching the color spread on the soft, clean fabric.

MY NOTES: thank you for the encouragement, you genuinely do not know how much your words mean to me, nonnie. I love you sm! Hope you enjoy this and thank u for requesting

i'm reeeeeally considering to write for Tom Hardy's characters...

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