[TW rape/submission fantasy] Flashbaaaaaaack

Rosalie felt the world spinning on its axis as Emmett laid her on the bed.

"Toilet."

His big hands were on her again, lifting her up, carrying her to the bathroom and sitting her in the tub. She had a feeling her chic floor-length Alexander Wang tuxedo dress would not survive tonight.

She felt the hiccup of her stomach hauling over, and barely had time to flop forward before she vomited. Straight into a vase Emmett had stuck under her face in the knick of time.

She heaved up her stomach contents, and when it was empty, she pulled back and waved him away. She looked up, just able to focus on him rinsing out the crystal before he came back and put it in her hands.

"Need water, baby," his voice rumbled, and she's only aware of him leaving the room as she stares up at the ceiling and tries to focus her thoughts. She thought that she didn't want to be far away from Emmett.

"I don't wanna be in the tub anymore," she told no-one, and put the vase, very carefully, on its back, and climbed out, very carefully.

She wasn't thinking when she used all her strength just to yank her heels off, to be able to drop them onto the floor. She stumbled into the room, trying to grasp for support of near-by furniture as the walls wobbled.

"Hey, hey," Emmett was back, putting a hand on her shoulder as she quickly grabbed his other arm.

"Baby," she purred, already over-joyed that she'd managed to find him again. "Much better," she told him, looking at his delicious, plump lips, and leaning over to bite them.

"Ow!" Emmett pulled himself back, and put a hand on his face, muffling his next stern words, "To the bed."

Rosalie trotted over to it, and sat next to the mattress. She wasn't going to get on the bed, she might not be able to pull herself up again if she had to throw up. She leant her head against the covers, and sighed.

Emmett sat on the edge of the mattress next to her, and reached down to stroke over her hair. She looked up at him, at the way his brown eyes looked down at her so gently. She shuffled over, closer to his knee, to press her face against his thigh.

"You need me to do anything?" She nuzzled into his thigh slightly, knowing nothing more than that she was wiping her foundation off on his pants.

"I should be asking you that," Emmett said, and there's a laugh in his voice.

It struck her as wrong, that he'd laugh. "You know I'll do anything you want," she told him, lifting her head, planting a kiss near the top of his knee. "Anything, anything."

"Lovely, baby," his voice was still soft, tender, "I'll take you up on that tomorrow."

"Stop being soft," Rosalie snapped, and she's irritated, because she means it. She pulled away, glaring at his bemused face.

"You're like a bitch." And she's angry because she should be the bitch, right now, not was antsy, and she didn't want to keep doing this with him. With his big hands, and big voice. He was so much stronger than her, and she wanted him to use it. To hold her down with all his might, give her a reason to bite him.

His face became drawn, and he stood up. Rosalie noticed the smear of red on his chin - she'd drawn blood earlier. "You should sleep."

Rosalie scoffed, because he still didn't get it. "I should be doing what you want!" she argues fiercely.

"Then sleep!"

"Make me!" She's furious, that it seems childish now. The way he huffed out a laugh and shook his head. She stood up, ungraciously, and grabbed at his arms again. Turning him to face her. "I'm … so wasted, just do what you want to me." she said, but she can't look any higher than his neck. Because even saying that much was enough to make her wet. She wants to see it when he grabs her wrists, slams her to the wall, or the floor.

But he put his mouth on her ear. "I wanna tuck you into bed," he rumbles, and he's leading her back.

She whines, grabbing around his neck to stop him from walking. "You don't wanna mess me up? You don't wanna fuck me?" she demanded, and he hisses like he'd been burnt. "I can't fight you off, I won't. I'll all … pliant. Ready." She extends a hand, watching as the walls seem to waver closer to her palm.

"Babe, you just threw up in a vase." Emmett's tone was frank. "I'll scratch your itch tomorrow."

"I wanna scratch yours." She pushed away from him and grabbed at the zipper on her back fruitlessly. She felt Emmett's hand on her back, and she instantly stilled as he pinched at her neck for the zip.

"I can't take anymore of this vanilla shit," she spat out as he unzipped her, "I'm not doing missionary anymore."

"Okay, let's talk about it tomorrow." His voice was strained, and she hoped her offer was more enticing when she was only in her underwear.

"Fuck me to sleep now," she insisted, stepping out of the dress and waiting for him. "Promise me you'll finish inside even if I fall asleep."

"No," he snapped, and his hands were gentling her towards the mattress. "C'mon, you're not alright."

"What?" Rosalie snapped, slapping his hands away because he wasn't rough enough. "Because I'm not sober? I don't care!" She grabbed his jacket and tugged him towards her. "Do me now!"

"You smell like bile," Emmett told her, his face turned away, "maybe you're just not doing it for me."

Rosalie ducked under his arm. "Then I'll get one of the bridesmaids up here, and I'll watch." Without further ado, she headed for the door. Emmett clicked his tongue, and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to the bed. The fight left her, and she drooped, tugging at his belt. "Just, don't fuck me then, come on my face," she suggested desperately, grunting, frustrated, when he pulled her hands away, and made another grab at his belt buckle.

"What's wrong with you!?" Emmett exclaimed, grabbing both her hands in his and holding them away from him. He stared into her face, and she wished he wouldn't.

She knew she was unreasonable right now, and it only annoyed her all the more. She'd be pretty damn reasonable if he fucked her, rough and mean. Left her a broken, drooling mess and worried about all that soft shit tomorrow.

"Don't yell at me if you're not gonna follow through! If you're not going to pull my hair and make me blow you. If you're not going to call me a drunk slut, if you're not going to have your way with me!" The words were spilling out of her mouth, and she saw with perfect agony, the shock spreading across his face. "If you're not going to use me!" She sobbed, and it hurt to be like this, to be so warped and demand he start twisting himself up too.

It hurt that she had to keep thinking these thoughts, and no matter what, she can't seem to shake them.

"Of course I'm not! I'm not going to do any of those things!" Emmett's voice was angry, and tinged with something like fear. "I'm getting your ass into bed!"

She struggled in his grip, but he only gripped her tighter. But she managed to tug one hand free, and wished he hadn't let her. "Then rip my panties off and fuck me!" She grabbed clumsily at his neck, if just for him to grab her hand again. They wither together, Rosalie straining towards him, Emmett trying to assuage her.

"Make it hurt!" she had begged, but he doesn't grab her hand again, he let her go completely.

"I never want to hurt you!" Emmett cried out, looking at her but not seeing her, helpless as she broke down into wracking sobs, having heard the exact words that she always knew would break her heart, unbeknownst to him.