𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜

2 weeks ago

File Overwritten

You finally remembered!

Deverified

A user of unestablished repute

transgender

love yourself

Lavender Menace

A moniker of adorable eldritch evil.

@discardedPasts[DP]

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚘: @markzucc it’s The Middle Of The Night. you Can’t See Anything But You Know What’s Happening. The Way You’re Being Rocked And The Pressure Between Your Stems, The Sickening Noise Of Panting Above You. You Know What’s Happening; You Aren’t That Dumb. It’s The Same Thing That’s Been Going On For The Past However-long-it’s-been Since He Got Pissed At You. Sweaty Palms Grip At Your Hips, Nails Digging Into Your Flesh. in All Honesty, You’d Just Like To Go To Cupe And Not Have To Deal With This Right Now. But, This Isn’t About You. This Is About Pleasing Him And Making Sure He’s Happy. He Made That Abundantly Clear With The Way He Was Taking You On This Couch. You’ll Mewl For Him, Keening Just The Way He Likes. You’re Going Through The Motions, Trying To Hurry This Punishment Up. Just Get It Over With. You Keep Your Eyes Shut Tightly, The Sting Of Him Inside You Unprepared Ripping Through You. if You Hadn’t Shut Your Eyes, You Could’ve Seen The Hit Coming. He Cracks You Hard Across The Face, Catching You Off-guard. And Then He Does It Again. And Again. And Again And Again. At This Point, He’s Quite Literally Beating You Into Submission. You Don’t Understand What You’ve Done To Deserve This. You Can’t Even Remember What Could Bring On This Treatment, So You Don’t Even Know What To Avoid Anymore. Every Time His Hand Strikes You, You Whine And Try To Flinch Away. But He Finds You In The Dark. He Always Finds You, No Matter What. the Scent Of Him Is Unbearable, Even To You. The Earthy, Strong Stench Of Tobacco Is Impossible To Ignore. You’ll Toss Slightly, Trying To Move Your Head Away As Much As You Can. With Every Movement You Make Under Him, His Grasp Only Tightens. The Cool Metal Of His Rings Almost Stings, Pressing Against Your Swollen Skin. It Just Fucking Hurts, All Of It. You’re Desperate For A Distraction. Something. Anything. Staring Up At The Ceiling, You Are Reminded Of Your Grubhood. you Think About Mamma. You Think About The Streets. You Think About Starving. You Think About Having Nothing. You Think About Everything You’ve Done That’s Led You To This Situation. You Think Selling Yourself And Your Body, Sometimes That Being The Only Thing That Could Provide For You. you Could’ve Just Stayed A Regular Troll, A Regular Lowblood: Probably Doing Some Meaningless Bullshit Until Your Tragically Short Life Comes To A Meaningless End. Instead, You Opted For Fame And Fortune. And You Had That! You Had Everything You Could Ever Dream For As A Wriggler. You Had It All. and Then You Met Him. speaking Of Him, You Don’t Even Recognize He’s Cumming Until You’re Struggling To Suck In Any Sort Of Breath. Large, Calloused Hands Clasp Over The Column Of Your Throat, Pressing Down In A Violent Fervor. It’s Impossible To Breathe. The Pressure You’re Feeling Is Entirely Too Overwhelming To Avoid. You’ll Gasp For Air, Eyes Bulging Out Of Your Head In The Dark. and Yet, You Don’t Mind. The Liquor In Your System, The Assorted Cocktail Of Prescriptions You’re On, And The Lack Of Air: It’s A Nasty Combination. It Provides You With The Only Real Comfort You Can Get In This Moment. It’s So Intense, You Almost Forget About How Much It Fucking Hurts. Your Head Feels Lighter Until You Just Finally Feel Nothing. Your World Spins And Comes Apart, Causing You To Pass Out. when You Come To, He’s Gone. He Can’t Be That Far Away; You Can Hear Him Whistling. Ache Doesn’t Even Begin To Describe The Agony You Feel Inside In Your Bones. It’s Never Any Different When You Come To. He’s Always Off To Better Things, Things More Worthy Of His Time. He Just Leaves You Here To Tend To Your Wounds By Yourself. Your Hand Comes To Your Neck, Tenderly Rubbing The Undoubtedly Bruised Skin. and While You Lie There In The Dark, You Think About Leaving It All Behind. You Could Run. You Could Pack A Bag And Just Leave, Walk Somewhere Without Anyone Noticing. You Wouldn’t Be Able To Take Any Of His Money, Lest He Try Some Fancy Highblood Legality Bullshit. This Meant Getting Your Own Place Was Out Of The Question. Living On The Streets Isn’t Even An Option For You. You’d Been There, You Had That: You Were Good. you Could Go Live With Yo- Wait. Who Did You Have Left At This Point? A Majority Of The Trolls Who Would’ve Happily Taken You In Were Long Gone, Deterred By Him. You Could Try One Of The Trolls You Had Been Seeing But, Foolish You! You Have A Type: You’d Be In The Same Situation With A Different Troll In No Time. so What Could You Realistically Do? the Dark Ceiling Above Offers No Answers. You Stare Into The Void, Hoping The Truth Will Come To You. Instead, You Do What You Normally Do When It’s Finally Over. You Turn On Your Side, Muscles Taut And Sore From Where He Grabbed You. You Face The Couch And Sigh, Wheezing Slightly With The Soft Exhale. Despite Everything, You Don’t Cry. It’s Just Not In You Anymore. Plus, You Know You’ll Just Face More Brutality If He Sees You Crying. The Sweet Release Of Crying Isn’t Even Worth It Anymore. so, You Just Stare Into The Fabric On The Couch. You Memorize The Pattern Of The Covering, Watching As It Goes On And On. Your Gaze Traces Every Outline And While You Look Upon This Bawdy Pattern, You Start To Think Again. this Time, You Think Of Hope. You Consider The Idea Of A Descendant. You’ve Filled, What, How Many Pails With How Many Trolls? You Were Bound To Have At Least One Of The Little Fuckers Out There. You Had To Have One! You Think About This Descendant And Everything To Do With Her. you’d Dote On Her, You’d Leave Behind Such An Amazing Legacy For Her To Explore. You Would Do Anything To Make This Hypothetical Descendant Happy. You’d Want Her To Be Your Twin. Have Your Looks And Your Charm, Bubbly Personality, Your Hair! You Wanted This Little Troll To Be You Times Two! But, The Most Important Trait You Wanted Her To Be Strong. Strong-willed, Resilient, Powerful, And, Most Of All, Educated Enough To Stay Out Of These Sorts Of Situations. The Last Thing You Wanted For This Imaginary Descendant Is For Her To End Up In A Situation She Didn’t Know How To Get Out Of. as The Moons Begin To Wane And Light Begins To Shine Again, You Fall Asleep On This Couch. And You Dream. You Dream Of Happier Nights. You Dream Of Making Friends. You Dream Of Your Sweet Little Descendant And The Wonderful Life She’ll Get To Lead. And Most Importantly, You Dream Of An Escape. #nsfw #nsfwe #violence #abuse i'm So Deeply Sorry 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗 https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1faipqlsekfh6j2vgskoqsezds9n0t5tnb8gtkihiapootjcd9yp3hmw/viewform?usp=header