#Doom Torment And Torture | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0bticeo · 9 months ago

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lurk | feyd rautha

part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)

summary:

the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

wc: 4k.

tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.

you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince.

you fail.

your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.

you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.

you bare your teeth.

“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”

careful.

plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.

“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”

an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.

the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.

“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”

pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.

“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”

“how would you know?”

“dreams.”

the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are.

one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.

“dreams?”

the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.

“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.”

“ah, lady jessica.”

keep her name out of your mouth.

he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.

(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.)

nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.

“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”

bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered.

“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”

now that catches his attention.

“go on.”

careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.

“he’s recognized me in the arena."

the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.

you fought well, atreides.

behind your back, your nails dig into your palms.

“he’ll ruin you.”

“is that so?”

skepticism. amusement.

“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”

silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you.

your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.

you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.

“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”

oh, right on a silver platter.

your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.

“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”

a beat.

he’s smiling.

“you’ll be of use, atreides.”

a wave of his hand.

the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.

there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death.

shit.

your vision is darkening in the corners.

“i ought to drown you in that tub.”

feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.

the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating.

“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”

a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

one step, two, until he’s facing you.

he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms.

he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust.

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-

you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul.

“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”

you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.

“what about rabban?”

“he has failed to protect the spice production.”

paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.

“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”

you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.

“how?”

“use me.”

they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.

“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”

“a weapon, huh?”

feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.

the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.

“will you side with us, atreides?”

you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.

“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”

the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.

“this must not leave this room.”

feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.

bodies fall.

carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek.

the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.

you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there.

he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake.

“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.”

his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth.

your breath stutters.

oh.

“catch me, feyd.”

you fall.

fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib.

lead them to paradise.

you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.

you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.

warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one.

desert sands slips from your fingers.

you just want your family back.

feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.

who would possibly dare to cross him?

warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.

it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion.

the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here.

he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat.

he cannot let you die.

he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition.

you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back.

he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch.

there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back.

he almost wanted you to do it.

(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)

he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that?

his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.

retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.

then why is he so soft around you?

you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back.

his steps slow.

there’s something.

you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.

you will not perceive me as i am.

he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar.

a bene gesserit trick.

“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”

a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch.

he remains silent.

“what will you do with lady atreides?”

his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:

“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”

he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him.

plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.

“it was.”

none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-

you rise in your bed - information flashes.

a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing.

feyd rautha.

you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.

his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.

“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”

a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.

“will you have me, my wife?”

you blink.

“we’re not-”

his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm.

“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”

generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.

you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.

“have me, feyd-rautha.”

he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh.

his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.

you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.

his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs.

you scream.

his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.

your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket.

closer.

he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet.

your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter.

you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.

“feyd-”

he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.

“more,” you beg.

“where?”

you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt.

you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.

he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until-

until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.

something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.

he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood.

it’s all too much.

the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer.

his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire.

you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you.

his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.

he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.

“will you have me?”

“yes.”

as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.

him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.

“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”

you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.

his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.

his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours.

your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.

you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.

that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.

“mine,” you mutter.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

#feyd rautha x y/n #obticeo writes #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune #dune x you #dune x reader #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #bald freak supremacy

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jazeswhbhaven · 2 months ago

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The Most Profane & The Most Beautiful | Leviathan Torture Card | React | Spoilers

So, from my understanding the week of all Saints Day (after Halloween) the devils get weak and the angels are stronger (this lasts for seven days)

Prior to MC being summoned Levi was having hallucinations of his old peers that were with him in the Devil Camps in heaven

Levi's condition is getting worse, and the nobles talk about it. A funny thing is Glas assuming Foras tends to Levi's bed (meaning he's instigating that they bump uglies) and I was like….Glas pls. It's almost like you're jealous

So his final dream before his disappearance, is of Orias and the other devil children from the past during the fire at the camps, Orias doubting that Levi would save them and Levi is convinced he can

A note I wanted to add is maybe MC forgot or this story is different from the Bloodshed Card lore, because if ya'll remember Barbatos explained that each devil would hang themselves if something happened to Levi and I'm sure this is mentioned in other cards too (his Bath one iirc) but them being thrown off by Glas reminding them of that and why they can't reveal he's not in Hades atm had me shaking my head but yeah I guess the devs don't carry over certain details from the other cards for MC to remember and treats each card story as if MC is hearing it for the first time.

Us finding out Levi doesn't sleep well because he's too busy thinking about who MC is fucking is wild. Pls sleep Levi.

SO we get some Selaphiel content! He went after Orias to lure Levi to Heaven. Odd, since I figured Orias could handle a cherubim but I guess not.

Oh he's hot. (sry, Levi)

So Selaphiel here is literally getting off on the thought of tormenting Levi. His strategy is to keep him there and eventually Hell will crumble due to his absence. Why? Because Levi is the most strict when it comes to the rules of Hell, without that structure everyone else is doomed. (Huh. Never thought of it that way but I guess Levi is in fact the glue that holds everyone together strategy wise. He did train Sitri after all)

Beleth calls Foras "Cotton Candy boy" btw and I think that's funny as hell

So we're in Niflheim meeting up with Beleth because MC and Foras need his help. They're discussing the details in Belphie's room is knocked the fuck out lmao. Ofc they are nervous that he'd overhear but yeah nah he out out. Ni ni.

Two things: Beleth likes snacks if you come to him with something to do, Second…apparently he claims Lucifer wouldn't of been able to help. Now that's interesting. The fact that Foras and MC didn't go to Lucifer either was probably for "avoiding the kings" reason. But this leans into my "Lucifer is an anti-hero" theory. Stayed in Hell because he didn't agree with his brother's methods, but doesn't go out of his way to mess up Heaven either. Some of us saw this in the preview for the new area of Dark Sanctuary where the Kings were explaining that Lucifer wouldn't show up to help them take care of the Seraphim.

Now with Beleth's help, MC can learn how to act like an angel and infiltrate Heaven to rescue Levi. He is unable to do it himself and any other devil for that matter because of their weakened powers. Apparently MC ain't getting' no sleep either.

Important thing to mentioned about what I said about certain lore carrying over. They did in fact mention Levi's bath story and that MC remembers that. I guess it slipped their mind about the other details. This leads me to believe that this Torture card happens right after his Bath Card > Bloodshed > Torture. I say Bloodshed because that event happens on Halloween.

????????!!!!!!??!?!??!!?!??!??!?!?!??!

I would so be down to swallow Foras cock and take backshots from Beleth a n y d a y (Foras ofc is very possessive he ain't sharing it seems. Not nicely anyway)

B e l e t h

*screams, throws something, punches the air* S TO PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP he call me sugar.

So sweet.

(that is a reference to a song…a song probably I only listen to in this fandom lmaoooo)

Something is purring, and it ain't Beleth.

So after some training, dang it MC you and your one track brain memorizing porn stars…(idk what that's for tbh but if Beleth said it's good enough it is) we meet one of the 72 which I can't wait to get a formal introduction to him. Zepar! He's going to turn MC into an angel as a disguise

Zepar has rules: Don't take off the talisman on his forehead. Don't ask questions about where he's from. Don't use the word master around him. Don't touch any joints on his body. He has more rules but it's too long to recite them lmaoooo I hope we get the full list later cause I wanna know the rules of interacting with him.

Funny thing again: Beleth cut open his skin to give angel's blood for the ritual needed for MC's disguise. Zepar said one drop was enough and Beleth is like "damn you should have said that" and then Foras does the same, knowing a drop is enough but he just wanted to one up Beleth. (he's been acting catty this entire time lmaooooo he really is such a diva when it comes to impressing MC)

It took goddamn 14 hours to complete the ritual with Zepar and he made Beleth and Foras stick around. Not because they were needed but because he didn't want to be alone. I would kick his ass lmaoooooo (Beleth was about to)

So they mentioned MC's skintone changing…..I don't like that LMAO ya'll ain't taking my melanin hell nah. It better stay there during the transformation.

Damn. Hold up let me slide in your DMs….

This angel's name is Jophiel. Due to the sprite placement next to Beleth it was assumed that he's either floating or flying but in the CG he looks shorter than Beleth so idk what his height is. I just know he's fine too like hey hey quick threesome before I go? Yeah? In the open is fineeeee

No threesome though. Apparently there's a thin barrier between Heaven and Hell where either can't cross. Sitri explained it to MC once.

MC is rank 9, the lowest angel that no one remembers. I wonder if that means the little creature lookin' ones are part of that lowest rank or just familiars that help the humanoid angels

And Jophiel caught MC btw fucking up already. They walked instead of using their wings. Angels don't make a sound when they walk, ONLY using their wings. The fact that he let it slide and whispered this to MC means that he knows what's up and is doing Beleth a solid. It's intriguing how Heaven bends rules like that. This would be considered double-crossing. But I mean he came down to Hell to speak to Beleth anyway so….YOLO

MC manages to find Levi before the execution ceremony but seeing him in anguish and hung up by chains on display as he replayed his traumatic past in his head made them rage with jealousy. Their disguise drops, feathers and all. All Saint's Day is over…so devil powers are back in full throttle! But it's not enough….Michael shows up.

But it's Orias to the rescue! Yeah the path to Heaven for him wasn't easy but he got two angel souls out of it so let's go.

Orias attacking Michael wasn't enough though, it takes MC enticing Levi to snap him out of his state. Ya'll…this part was just me being like "Ah classic MC." Nothing too out of the ordinary just them being themselves as per usual.

So a personal thing for me is the transition from deep angst lore to horny. I was in the zone seeing action and thrill and then suddenly "Damn I'm getting wet from looking at that outfit Levi is in." Which…idk to me maybe that transition makes sense for MC but for me since I was in the moment I was like ?????? Why are we horny? Oh yeah this is a 18+ game okay ._. LOL

All this damn commotion and MC just lickin' and suckin' on Levi. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to show his nips on here full monty but phew they were something else….it's because of the chain and nip rings not sure if that would trigger anything for the flagging bot.

I'm sorry ya'll but something throbbed.

Anyways.

A new monster Levi can summon btw. New to us but most likely not new to the powers he has. I hope we get more lore on this monster in the future.

Yay Levi is saved, takes MC home and fucks them for hours. Let me tell ya'll a little secret about my thing with Levi….

I like it when he gets mad and puts us through the mattress asking if we're going to do things with other men and being possessive during. Because antagonizing him makes him more rough and I personally call myself a theoretical brat. The way I'd tell him "Yeah I'm gonna shake my tits and ass for everyone even if you've fucked me to mush" and see what he does. That's when I don't mind that envious attitude of his.

BUT YEAH that's it ya'll. For the story. Those are the summarized parts without giving the entire thing away. These were the important points for me. Personally the story being 90% angst, training, and lore with a dab of sex at the end was really what I personally think is worth paying $60-$75 dollars for in terms of a exclusive card. Yes, it's the Kings…and it sucks that good stuff like this is paywalled…but at least they gave us something different other than 5% story and sex sex sex sex. I know ya'll were here for that but phew does it get tiring after it being so one dimensional, ya know what I mean?

MC does a thing for X King, they meet, they fuck, MC is either dominating or dominants at first then switches. Cum everywhere. End. I'm sorry LMAO that's how I've been seeing most of the sex with the L cards so far…like at least with this card I had plot with porn. Finally…

Story rating: 9.5/10!!!

I didn't give a full 10 because the abrupt transition to horny and the mention of MC's skintone changing to what I assume is a paler tone when there's literally Beleth and Jophiel that have at least some melanin to them.

I'm now wanting Satan's Torture card story to see how they write that one. Which I am HOPING TO FUCKING ALL IS GOOD IN THE UNIVERSE that we get some more in depth Satan lore. Like please.

Small tidbits from his chats and date story btw:

Levi kept the disguise outfit that MC wore to heaven, MC is only allowed to wear it for him, vise versa with his outfit he got from Heaven

Levi was upset that he was "lied to" because MC told him they'd sleep in the other kings beds and he's been waiting for them to do that (okay??? LMAO)

Foras reports everything to him. E v e r y t h I n g. You can't even take a piss without Foras reporting it.

There's dildoes weren't originally called that in Hell/Heaven which is why no one knew what MC meant by the word dildo (HA I WAS RIGHT)

109+ is considered an adult in Hell and is a valid age restriction apparently for sex websites in hell….

I think Levi's threats are mostly empty based on how he speaks with everyone. Because if he truly wanted to kill anyone for sleeping with MC he would have done by now. Lol

He actually thanks MC and made them custom sex toys to remember the event by…we got a whole thank you from him. Praise be.

MC and Levi discuss jealousy, especially when they are particularly jealous of how whenever someone looks at them they see Solomon, their ancestral grandfather instead of them. They feel Levi is amongst the few who truly see them separate from that. Also, apparently MC can't even look at the ceiling without Levi accusing them of thinking about someone else. I find that hilarious.

And fin~

Now if Levi isn't your fave, I think Satan is next? So I'd stay tuned and expect the story format to be the same! I ofc didn't share the full story here as per PB's warning so there are things I intentionally didn't bring up that someone else may reveal or share. (shoutout to my mootie moot for sharing this story with me!!)

As always, thank you for reading, stay awesome and lovely. -your lovely adminnn ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Oh to be taken to pound town by these two.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leviathan #whb spoilers #whb screenshots #mdni #jazewhbreacts🖤

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empthy1 · 17 days ago

Text

first meetings ⌬🧬! victoria neuman x reader

this is a completely self-indulgent fantasy for me myself and i. perhaps when i am (hopefully) also getting my PhD in genetics, many years in the future, there will be a beautiful woman questing to possess me when i present my research. 1.3k words.

"So, how'd you two meet?"

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

God, there was no reason for her to be here. 27, riding the high of her first election into the House, representing her state of New York? She didn't have time to be at Columbia's Annual Science Showcase. She had work to do, an office to prepare.

Yet, here she was, pushing through crowds of academics. Every shoulder that checks her and every hand guiding her absentmindedly by only seems to further aggravate the fine fabric of her blouse, wrinkling the silk immaturely.

At least she had excuses, things to say to the press if they did catch her here at the most inopportune time. 1, Columbia's her alma mater. 2, she knows Professor Peterson well—for no other reason than her repeated frequenting of his office hours. No one's good at genetics.

Yet, someone must be good at it, given the buzz she'd heard.

A study many were eager to get their hands on, a newly-awarded PhD who's work was partially funded and supplied by Vought themselves.

The effects of Compound V on the offspring of those afflicted with it.

Using mice, of course.

A particularly unexplored topic. Most focused on the Supes—not what could happen to their children. It's what no one expected to have to worry about when super-powered individuals started popping up. What about their children?

Well, she had to know. Would Zoe, her beautiful, vibrant daughter be cursed the way she would? Would she, herself, be doomed to an early death just like her parents?

She couldn't let that happen. The fact that Sameer was unafflicted should be a genetic safeguard, if it was bound to a recessive gene, but still. Being idle wasn't worth the risk.

She'd have to figure it out—without spilling to the researcher that she had powers herself.

She just didn't expect the researcher to be so damn cute.

She had expected that (like the floor of Congress, the one she would soon frequent) the presenter would be some old, white man, bribed and biased.

No. The young, plucky student that walked across that expansive stage, hands shaking around the clicker yet breaths relatively steady, was anything but what she expected. She's just realizing that her overactive daydream of a frizzled, greying goof was rather archetypal.

She wasn’t expecting to be distracted by the pushing-up of thin, wire-frame glasses or the shy little quirk of lips at any and all applause from the audience. The sweater and mused hair were apt to her imagination; yet they seem purposeful and inherently distracting. The involuntary turning of her gaze from informative slides to sweetly framed wrists was unpleasant to say the least. Wrists of all things.

She should've known this might happen, given her past fling. Yet, she thought the days of the passion-filled thumping of her heart were past her, replaced instead with a familial tenderness and a business-like disposition.

No such luck.

Her luck, wonderful, torturous luck, continues to torment. The wonderful lecturer? A student of a most familiar professor.

"Hello. Professor Peterson!" Whew. The last time she sounded that strained? Her debate against that imbecilic oaf of a Representative, right on the floor. She's speaking through clenched teeth, smiling like she doesn't have a care as she's tugged into the group of intellectuals.

"It's been forever, hasn't it?"

She's greeted to a chorus of hums and one gentle nod. It's not as if they don't know who she is. She'd been paraded around on the news, plastered in the streets and on thick newspapers. Hotshot, they called her. Bold, a new face. Her opponents just called her brash and opinionated.

Nevertheless, the publicity stuck. So soon after the election, she's sure to turn some heads. Even at an event focused on a completely different discipline.

"Victoria! Have you met my protege?" And oh, who does the professor proudly present but you. The keen researcher, wrapped in a sweater and topped with thin-framed glasses. Your smile is much easier off-stage, curling completely as you reach to shake her hand. Those wrists, the ones who unfairly drew her eyes, skim the tips of her fingers. She shivers.

"I have not yet. It's nice to meet you... Doctor?" Her chin lowers as she addresses you. Her dark eyes peek through her lashes, meeting yours intently.

"Yeah, it's Doctor now." You preen under the title, smile brightening. Her hand lingers in yours, but you certainly don't make any move to pull away.

The tension crackles, a low simmer between you. Despite their aloofness—having returned to a conversation about another presentation—they seem to notice. The moment between you two makes Professor Peterson smile wider. A gleam appears in his keen eyes.

“Why don’t you two go walk around together? See everyone else’s work.” He sends you off with an indulgent smile, the feeling the same as being sent to the kids table at thanksgiving. After being shooed away, you really can do nothing but roam together—the walk awkward.

You peruse the crowded convention hall silently. The press of people around the both of you forces shoulder-to-shoulder contact a number of times. Soon, an ease starts to build. You stumble, and she cups your lower back. She gets bumped and you take her hand to steady her. It all feels so juvenile, being shoved around and forced together like two Barbie dolls.

She starts to notice how your hands twitch. Every once in a while, when you both stop at a booth, you start to fidget with the hem of your sweater—brief smile spreading. She realizes you’re excited; her own lips ticking up, endeared.

“…you can talk, you know. I’d sure appreciate someone talk me through these concepts. I struggled through Bio 101.” She quips, huffed in your ear to combat the constant hum of chatter around you. It makes you laugh and smile, and spurs your voice as well.

Now she’s treated to your wonderful quips, little huffs about contaminated controls and insufficient trials. Your words curl in her ear, the heat of breath leaving her exhaling roughly—even though you’re explaining things like CRISPR and DNA replication.

She always did have a soft spot for the science-y types. The easy intelligence seemed to make something curl pleasantly in her abdomen.

At one booth, she finally surrenders to the feeling. When you lean in, giggling a quip about how hard mice are to work with, she exhales. One of her hands curls around your wrist, tugging you with her and throw the crowd with a mumble about needing the bathroom.

You attempt to be polite, promise to wait for her by the sinks—but you’re cut off when she tugs you into the stall with her. The tile wall is cool against your back, but her breath is hot on your lips.

“Tell me you want this.” She pleads lowly, pupils blown and hands boxing your head.

At your frantic, short nod, she leans in and devours—hands pushing up your sweater and nose bumping against your glasses.

The professor smiles smugly when you say quick goodbyes. He surely spots the blooming, dark mark on your neck, eyes flickering to it. He barely gets to tease you, a laugh of “good luck!” echoing behind you as Victoria tugs you away. A woman on a mission, she is. She’s applying to you the same relentless drive she gives to her work; you’re a bit frightened (and increasingly excited) at what that entails.

As you pant into the plush pillow, eyelids fluttering at the aftershocks and legs twitching against hers, she curls a possessive hand around your waist. Her warm, sweat-damp form intertwines with yours.

When she mumbles “you’re mine” against your hair, you only respond with a breathless huff of laughter, tucking your face into her neck.

#kiera's fics ₊˚⊹ ࿔#victoria neuman #victoria neuman x reader #the boys #the boys fic

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 1 year ago

Note

I love the at a canes length story.

The power dynamic of him just reclined back watching his partner in their knees for him just does something yk?

Any ideas for him bossing around his partner like that? Or him being able to do what he want and they are not allowed to touch him, even if they beg? (All consensual ofc!!)

we’re all into our darling tease viktor, aren’t we? btw, i’m naming this drabble after my favourite am song.

cw: gn reader, smut, dirty talk, nipple play, i got too carried away and wrote a poetic filthy little thing.

word count: 700~

Normally you wouldn’t dare to complain about your lover’s hands — deliciously nimble, they never failed to tame you with the length of each cautiously curious finger, the callousness of them tortuous, yet professionally precise — just the right spoon of tar in a barrel of sweet honey. They were the hands of a pianist, attached to those lanky, just as much fitting for a musician arms — had your brain stupidly doomed whenever their defiant owner rolled up a ruffled sleeve just high enough to tease you with a sight of a pointy elbow or a weave of cerulean veins under the translucently pale skin.

However, tonight — they became the hands of a jeweller, short nails the figurative tweezers gently piercing into each pretty bud of your nipples, restraining you with the unbearable thoroughness of Viktor’s most sensual touches — all lazy tugs and languid circles besieging the aureoles. Pure torment — nothing more and nothing less, increasingly intricate considering the utter complacency in the pair of amber eyes ogling your naked chest — not a single bead of sweat left unnoticed or unkissed away.

And this tactic — although insanely efficient — made you hiss numerous pleas into the softness of a dump pillow, back an impatient arch above the clinging to your sticky skin sheets. Because jewellers are impeccably methodical — most importantly, slow, and slow was never your pace of choice, despite all its charming offers of savouring. You wanted him now, invariably inside, shirtless, with spitslick lips and open against the curve of your shoulder mouth: fast, and deep, and eagerly frantic — something a pianist might allow, but a jeweller must strictly avoid. How truly devastating.

Or, perhaps, not?

His tongue is an unexpected tool — it gently soothes the pinched nipple, dripping with generous, thick moist onto the awakened goosebumps — a welcomed diversity, most perfectly combined with the dexterity of his skilful digits, and you meet it with a string of breathless curses — grateful for the little mercy, yet still not nearly satisfied enough.

The ‘no touching’ rule effortlessly slips your mind when Viktor’s mouth lingers there — wrapped around the relentlessly teased bud, sucking at it so gently you might just melt into this very bed. You impatiently clutch his tie, clumsily pulling him forward into a pathetic attempt of stealing an open-mouthed kiss, and Viktor instantly regrets he didn’t free his slender neck off it earlier, silently remorsing the missed opportunity of tying your wrists together.

He sighs, reluctantly peeling his right palm off your covered in saliva chest, and it insistently nudges you off the tie and leads right back where your hands belong — nailed into the pillow right above your head.

“Was I not clear enough when I kindly asked you to avoid touching me?” his voice is soft — raspy and gentle, not upset with you in the slightest — just genuinely curious, ludicrously polite for a man so eager to torture you. “Or, perhaps, patience is simply not one of your virtues?”

He offers you a smile — a chaste one, oh that specific stretch of thin lips into an unbearably handsome line — worthy of whatever foreplay-durations he wishes for.

Now it’s your turn to sigh.

“It’s just that… I’m afraid you might not be done with me even until dawn,” you mumble sweetly, fingers already itchy to intertwine with his hair — and you wonder if he might be willing to consider this compromise. He simply arches a thick brow, humming with a playful half-turn of a head.

“I was not aware we were in a rush,” he chuckles, and — oh heavens, finally! — hovers above your flushed face for a split second, picking a feature to award with a long-awaited kiss.

You’re not surprised when his warm gaze drifts over your lips, evidently recalling the irresistible softness of them. No matter how much into denying it Viktor might be, he is a needy man in the very depth of his heart — and these rare occurrences might just be your favourite moments of his vulnerability. And when you’re almost ready to release an ardent tongue into the blissful heat of his mouth — your precious inventor smirks, cruelly changing his route.

“Besides,” he whispers — cheeky, and so unbearably hot, brushing the tip of his sharp nose against your earshell. “You’re underestimating me. I intend to proceed until at least next noon.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor smut #viktor fanfic #no beta we die like men #send me requests #viktor x reader smut

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kaeyeahsworld · 7 months ago

Text

A real pussy pleaser.

Synopsis:

Toji was out on business trip and you thought you could have a night for yourself. But things never go according to the plan do they?

Tags: toji fushiguro x female reader, smut, dirty talk, masturbation, body worship, mirror sex, suit kink, orgasm edging and denial, toji has a big dick lol, pet names (mama, baby, doll)

18+

Cross posted on Ao3

MDNI and do not interact if uncomfortable

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being Toji’s woman was the sweetest torture.

There would be days when he would drill his cock into your sweet cunt for hours together, his kisses and actions making you see stars.

But there were also days like these where all you had was an hour's worth of video call with him at the end of the day, with him being away on his business trip.

It had been almost a week now and you had to survive only 2 more days before you would be back in Toji’s arms.

But then again it was one of those nights. Fresh out of the shower, the music playing on the speaker in your shared room, is tender and sinful. The lights were soft golden and ambient and you were here smelling like petals on a calming summer night.

Waking up late in the evening, the doom scroll session had somehow turned into a soft porn marathon. With a man like Toji around, porn was the farthest thing to get you going but today was different and you had the whole night to yourself anyway.

Sexy kisses, lustful outfits, funny dialogue writings and concepts in some and no dialogues in others and all of them ending in delicious torment of the actress’s cunts either with filthy sloppy mouths or bliss-inducing vibrators. There was one video that caught your attention though, a simple one of a man eating his woman out, but the sultry build-up of the video, the man almost as big as yours’ and the unadulterated ecstasy on the woman’s face as he pulled one orgasm after another from her which had clenching your thighs together and almost giving into the temptation, but instead you decided against it and hopped into the shower to freshen yourself.

It would be worth the wait once Toji’s back. Right?

But as things never go according to plan, while cleaning the room you found an unwashed office shirt of Toji, large enough to engulf you comfortably

God you missed him so much. Could the trip get any longer?

His scent was a mixture of cool rich cologne and a hint of the day’s sweat, which didn’t help the ache between your legs. Slow warm and as wet as it could get.

Imagining him at work, his cute little furrowed eyebrows as he concentrates be it when prepping for a presentation, which was quite the same when pleasuring you out. His passionate green eyes that harbour a mischievous crinkle every time he unleashes an attack of kisses all over your face.

Just this one night you decide to take care of yourself.

Minutes later, here you were in front of the full-length mirror of your room admiring your figure donned with his shirt and only a wet, stained blue panty

Your own sight was enticing enough as you settled on the floor in front of the mirror, arching your back a little and putting out gorgeous tits on display.

The tips of your hair tickling your skin, the warmth spreading through your chest and tummy and your leaky aching cunt was too much to bear as dipped a finger into your panties

Gosh, you were so darn wet and this was the effect Toji had on you even if he was miles away.

Rubbing around the folds, in no hurry, you explored each sensitive little crevice with one hand and the other massaging softly over your nipple

“Ohhh- Toji…. I am so wet for you, mhhh-“You were as comfortably loud as you could be your finger now gliding over your clit, pinching it a little. As much you liked indulging in self-pleasure once in a while it was never enough.

It wasn’t Toji’s warm calloused hand teasing you like there’s no tomorrow. It wasn’t his long fingers pumping through your tight cunt just right.

“Tojiiiii….come backk… uhhmmp-“ you were so close to an orgasm, wet slick sounds echoing all about the room when-

“Missed me doll?”

An all too familiar deep voice.

Here was the man in question, in all his black suit, and grey tie glory leaning against the bedroom door watching you like a predator does its sweet prey

If you were an impatient one, Toji gave a tougher competition. Finishing up with his work as early as he could and skipping on the last two days of drinking fun with his office mates, Toji was on the earliest flight back.

What he was expecting was his girl to jump onto him and smother him with sweet kisses on opening the door but the site before him was well…

An even better surprise.

Hands deep in your panties, flushed skin covered by a dirty shirt he had left a week ago, eyes all glorious and teary-eyed.

“Toji! When did you come back.. I didn’t mean to-“Before you could even finish your sentence, Toji was kneeling and grabbing your chin

Slowly licking and nipping at your bottom lip, he whispered “Your pretty pussy couldn’t wait a week darling?”

“Hmmph!” His warm tongue was now sliding over yours, as you grabbed and pawed at his chest while his other hand was at your waist pulling you closer.

Knees buckling from the sheer dominance of the man, you couldn’t be more happy he was back. “Missed you so much…love, don’t leave me” you desperately whined out to him almost straddling him

“Leave you?” Toji chuckled handsomely “I ain’t going nowhere, mama. Even in another lifetime, I will find my way back to you”

As he shoved a finger into your panties, the wetness had him groaning into the kiss. He was sensuously pleasing the sensitive spot on your neck, biting it softly to leave a reddening hickey.

“Come on mama, I worked so hard on this trip. Put on a show and reward me” he said as he flipped you both around, your back to his chest and both of you facing the mirror. His hands parting your legs and with your glistening cunt on full display you couldn’t help but let out an embarrassing moan into Toji’s ear.

“But Toji… this is too..mm” You were blabbering shy mess out of nowhere and Toji was enjoying this.

“Show me your pretty cunt” he demanded as he put a hand over yours and guided you back to resume your ministrations. The pleasure was twofold now with Toji moaning darkly in your ear, his warm minty breath raising the hairs all over your body.

“Look at the sight of you. Such a gorgeous fucking thing you are eh? Those delicious tits and your glossy pouty lips, gosh wish I could have them around my cock all day, drooling all over it huh girl?”

His fingers had replaced yours now and with his middle and ring finger caressing your velvet walls, you were so close, rocking and thrusting your clit against the palm of his hand.

“I am so close Toji…. Uhhh! Fuckkk… right there!”

“How close baby?” Toji asked “A bit-..more” and just as you could feel the warmth in your tummy unravelling he pulled his fingers out

“What the fuck Toji?”

“Who said you could come tonight doll?” Toji replied, his gaze intoxicating in the mirror

This was going to be a long night and his reward was going to be your punishment. Albeit a sweet one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : Expect a part 2 lol

I named this one after an edit audio

I tried editing it for the most part but its 2 am so ignore any typos pls

lemme know how you like it.

take care sweets

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 years ago

Text

Consequences | One

Word Count: 4.9k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, a dash of religious guilt if you blink

Series Masterlist

It was then the Prince had insisted that he had wanted her for himself. For her maidservant duties of course.

The other maidservants were delighted with the new gossip, tittering amongst themselves at the reasoning that the One-Eyed Prince had taken a special interest in the new maidservant for which they’d come up with all sorts of reasons.

Perhaps it was because of her pliant, quiet nature and she could slip into the chambers largely unnoticed and one wouldn’t be able to truly see her presence until she spoke. The other women had often described her as such. That she was like a shadow, silent, but always looming behind someone else. That she was like a breeze, gentle and discreet, as every maidservant should be in the presence of her master.

Or perhaps, they speculated, that it was because of another, darker reason. That Prince Aemond intended to make some fun for himself and torture the poor girl with his mere presence and shrinking stare with his one good eye, the other sapphire one on full display, rooting fear into the shy, young thing. That he wanted someone to torment, as he had so often been tormented himself and found the power behind it exhilarating.

Nobody could have expected the true reasoning behind his newfound desire for her company. Not even she herself. But the other maidservants were at least grateful they no longer had to enter his chambers.

Having only Prince Aemond to run after was a nice change of routine, albeit a strange one. For a man who had requested she be at his beck and call, he was rarely ever in his chambers past the morning. Usually, he could be found in the training yard for hours on end, and it occurs to her that this is how he’s managed to build the form he has, by mercilessly pushing himself to his limits for hours everyday. It must be hard work, she thinks to herself.

He would only return in the early evening, to prepare himself for supper and then once again later for his bath and then bed. It was a rigorous routine, but it was nice to have some consistency in her life for a change.

One morning after placing her week’s wages into the pocket within her pillowcase, she smoothes down her apron over her maidservant dress, intending later to send some of the copper coins to her young siblings, for without their parents to provide, as the eldest it landed to her and her alone to care for them.

Everyday she thinks of them and how they had begged her to not leave them in the care of the smelly widow from next door after their father had finally succumbed to illness. Her younger brother had stomped his feet, with each thump he would say 'she smells like cabbages' and the young woman would bite back her laugh, tell her brother that he was to be polite to their neighbour and that he was not to mess with the purple plants at the front of her home, or else she’d have him for supper.

She’d kissed her younger sister, the middle child, but several years younger than her, on the crown of her head and gave her a sad smile, apologising that such responsibility had fallen onto her at such a young age. Her sister had given her a tight hug, not wanting to play the big sister and fall into the endless cycle of domestic prison that could be seen once the eldest had disappeared. But she’d eventually relented and let her older sister depart for her new position in King’s Landing. With a warm wave, she’d boarded the stuffy carriage with other smallfolk, using all of her coin for the passage there and bid them goodbye.

She said she would come back for them.

And at the time she meant it.

It filled her stomach with dread and fear, to know she may never see them again, doomed to live her life in the manner of which she was born as a peasant to do. To do the same dirty, back-breaking work, day in and day out, for the same measly copper she was paid until the day her legs gave out. Or perhaps until they found no more use for her.

At least she could give them funds, she thought.

Only a week had gone by, but she felt as if she could walk the short distance to his chambers blindfolded. She always knocked, but in the middle of the day, he was never there. So when she swings the chamber door open and shut behind her, she goes about her usual duties with a contented sigh.

His chambers were usually always clean and not so much in need of excessive housekeeping. Once his bedsheets were made, the cotton taut to the corners of the mattress, she moves onto her cleaning duties. The fireplace needed a good dusting, so she takes her outer skirt and tucks it into her apron to keep it out the way and turns up her sleeves over her elbows. She’s used to getting dusty and grubby in her work, but fireplace work with soot and the burning stench is possibly her least favourite.

Suitably covered in soot, she continues to sweep up the black dust into the bucket beside her, wiping her face with her clean forearm, fingers too dirty to brush that stray curl from her face, so it hangs there annoyingly.

“Working hard as always, I see.”

His voice makes her hairs stand up on end and had she not been head first in the fireplace, covered in soot and blackened ash at her cheeks, she might have been less embarrassed. But her cheeks flush at her dirtied appearance and she is immediately stood to attention, brushing whatever she can off her apron.

“Your grace, I apologise for my appearance,” she blubbers hurriedly, clearly distressed.

Aemond stands at the doors and she is amazed to find out that she didn’t even hear them open in the first place. He must have light footing, which surprises her since she has seen him train so aggressively and knows that hefty, adept and quick skills are needed for such activities. He wears his usual black leather doublet, hands behind his back as if he is hiding something and that signature lob-sided smirk he seemed to wear whenever he had found his little maidservant in his chambers.

She is now accustomed to his trained silences in between conversations and has come to understand that it is because he is thinking so deeply about something that his mouth cannot move at the same time. And yet, he stands, basking in the uncomfortable feeling he gives her, rather enjoying it and letting his eye wander over her. He pauses and smiles wider at seeing her outer skirt tucked into her apron, showing the cream skirt underneath and when she notices, she quickly plucks it out and lets it fall around her ankles.

Aemond lets the chamber doors close behind him, striding past her for the side table where the wine decanter sits. He moves past her with such speed that the stray curled strand of hair wafts a little in the still air. She cannot deny the aura this man has and the sheer authority he gives off, despite not being the first born of the King and Queen. Every time he enters the room, he commands the space and everyone in it with little but his gaze and even now, she stands where she had been, dirtied hands clasped before her, waiting for him to address her, command her, anything.

Emptying the first cup of wine, he sighs, tongue darting out to fetch the stain of it from his lips and he looks upon the petite little maidservant, waiting patiently.

“Continue.”

She need not be told twice. Instead of tucking her dress back into her apron, she folds it behind her as she kneels before the fireplace once again, collecting the ash and old logs to fill her bucket, replacing them with new ones for later in the evening when the fire will be lit.

Aemond thrives in her obedience. The way she just does as she is told without speaking. So polite, he thinks. So as he sits in his armchair, shamelessly watching her, he finds he cannot tear his eye away from her profile, how soft her features are for someone who works doing such arduous and menial tasks everyday. He thinks her hands must be calloused, but when he looks upon them, they look so soft.

She had a profile that would rival the ladies at court. If he told her to wear the right dresses, hold her head high, keep her mouth shut, she could be his lady.

But he will certainly not say such things to her.

It may give her ideas above her station.

As she sweeps the soot off the tiles, he watches the way her body moves with the effort, the way her lips are parted in concentration. Such little, pink lips.

He taps his finger against the cup, biting on his cheek when he feels the pained strain of arousal in his breeches. Such an innocent little maidservant, obedient and pliant. He knew from the moment he saw her what to do with her. What he could do with her. The week following their first meeting, Aemond had barely had his cock from his hand, tugging it as he thought of the way she always calls him ‘your grace’ with a flush to her cheeks. The way her eyelashes flutter when she strikes a match to light his candles. And today, seeing how she is dirtied and bent over the fireplace, he thinks why wait, he could just have her right there. Why wait.

The question becomes more difficult to answer the more he looks at her.

She stands with the bucket heavy in her hands, making towards the door.

“Wait.”

And his cock twitches in his breeches when she does, looking back at him with those eyes, the ones he imagines glazed over with lust, looking up at him as he fucks her. His tongue pokes his cheek as he stands, taking his time while walking towards her, not missing the way her grip tightens around her clasped hands out of nervousness.

He scans her face as he stands before her, blackened soot smeared across one of her cheeks, making the colour of her eyes look as if they are illuminated by light.

He swears he could spill right into his breeches as his hand reaches out to her cheek and her lips part to let a puff of surprised air out. His thumb brushes her cheek, wiping away the soot and he finds his own lips part at the feeling of her warm skin against his hand.

Although his touch is warm, she can feel something akin to fear pool in her gut and something else she does not quite understand. A shiver also runs down her spine when his hand twists that stray curl between his fingers, as if intrigued by her.

She can quite literally feel her lungs contract when his thumb brushes against her bottom lip, barely breaching them, but collecting the wetness that sits at the waterline. He watches her little pink mouth, reddened and wanting. He wonders what her mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock, fingers threaded in her hair to guide the rhythm to his liking. Would she like it? Would she swallow his spend like the good little maidservant she is? Was she a maiden? Aemond knew she was. And for some reason, it made him want her even more, knowing that no other man has had her, or would ever have her like he wanted to. Like he would.

Her eyes never leave him the entire time, frozen in place, pupils shaking and breath slow, quiet and scattered. Aemond wonders for a moment if she is standing there, cunny wet at the thought of him, at his actions. What would her slick taste like mingled with his? He finds he can't wait to find out.

She breathes again when he steps back, drawing his fingers away from her skin, leaving behind the hotness of his touch.

“Leave.”

Is all he commands. She swallows thickly, her mind busy at what had just happened. But she takes her chance when he has turned around to refill his cup, the bucket clanging in one hand as she allows the chamber door to shut behind her.

Should she tell someone? Hedi perhaps? Should she tell them that she fears that Prince Aemond has unclean intentions, but she fears even more if that assumption is even warranted. He had not been unkind to her, nor had he been particularly kind in any way either. But he had no need to be, she was a lowborn servant and he was a prince of the realm.

She could not disappoint her siblings by risking this job and not sending them money. Risking their lives for a silly little thought of Prince Aemond’s intent with her? Based on no real evidence?

She couldn’t.

So she steadied her breath and instead resumed her duties, largely ignoring that gnawing pit in her stomach. Fearful thoughts knocked upon her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel it deep in her bones.

She should have listened to her gut. She now realises.

Having lit the fireplace for his return after supper, she sat on the cold, flagstone floor with a needle and thread in one hand and one of his black doublets in the other, fixing the frayed hemming. The heat of the fire licked at the side of her face, warming her soft features as she delicately did her work, faintly humming the only song she knew the words to in her head.

Aemond had come back to his chambers in a mood, quickly shutting the door behind him so hard that it seemed to rattle the very Keep. At once, her wide eyes looked up and she stood to attention, hands clasped, and a timid ‘your grace’ from her lips, softer and quieter than she realised.

He looked absolutely livid, shaking with rage, fists clenched so hard that the knuckles were white and pale. His mouth was taut in a thin line and even his scar managed to look angrier beneath the leather of his eyepatch, one good eye was still, unnaturally so. His chest inflated with silent breathing, trying to calm himself down. In the several weeks she had been attending to him, she’d come to realise the depth of his frustrations for various reasons, but never daring to step beyond her station to ask why.

She breathed as quiet as she could, as if she were in the dark and someone dangerous was looking for her. For a moment, his eye flitted to the floor and then back to her. Briefly, she thought he was looking at the doublet she was fixing, but it took her a moment to realise he’d been looking at her, dragging his gaze over her form. This fact alone sent gooseflesh on her arms and a shiver down her spine, unable to tell if this feeling was fear or not.

With a low hum, he stalked over to the side table for a cup of wine as he often did, thinking that he would dismiss her shortly, not knowing the aching arousal that he was trying with all his might to conceal. He stood for a moment, not saying anything as he sipped the spiced wine, allowing himself time to decide what to do. She was right here, his obedient little thing, nervous with gooseflesh on her skin and cheeks a dusty pink.

He turned around to look upon her, warring with himself.

Out of sheer nervousness, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

And that’s when Aemond decided. He needed to have a taste of the little maidservant. Or rather she would have a taste of him.

He stood before her, tall, broad and all encompassing, and she waited to be addressed. He simply glared down at her, as if angry, but in truth the hold he had on his own reins were slipping by the second with every breath the little maidservant let free. He finished his cup of wine, sighing as he looked upon her.

“Take your braids out,” he commanded.

She blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. But when he raised an eyebrow, she took a steadying breath and reached behind her. Not one to refuse a Prince and a passionately angry one at that, she pulled the two pins that kept her braids in place away and tucked them into her apron. She looked down as she began to unravel them, one by one, the hair coming apart in waves around her shoulders. Once all the hair was freed, Aemond hadn’t moved an inch and she flicked her hair over her shoulders to run down her back.

Aemond sighed quietly, looking over her in this new state, hair loose and shockingly casual. He was intrigued to see that the rest of her hair, like the wayward curl at the side of her face, was also wavy from the braids she’d put in everyday. And he wondered if the beautiful patch of hair that framed her cunny would be the same. He hoped so. And he wondered what the heady scent of her sex would be like, if it would be addictive and once he’d had it, would he be able to stop?

She stood there, eyes averted to the fire and Aemond watched as the flames danced off the colour of them. His breath shuddered with anticipation, watching her pulse thrum in her neck.

Placing the empty cup on the mantle, he cannot hold back any longer.

“Kneel.”

She looks at him again, now her eyes spell confusion. Does he want her to kneel to prove her obedience? She doesn’t know.

Her lips part, “pardon me, your grace?” she says in a whisper.

“I will not ask twice,” he barks back almost immediately.

She swallows thickly and smoothes her hand over her apron, tucking the dress beneath her knees as she obeys, slowly sinking back to the floor. She clasps her hands before her, not sitting back on her feet, eyes trained to one corner of the room to ignore the fact that Aemond’s thighs are right before her. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest and she is sure he can hear it as well. It was like she was hiding, waiting for someone to come and find her.

She flinches when she feels his thumb and forefinger grasp her chin, the touch is light but determined and he pulls her head up to look at him. From this angle, Aemond can see all her delicate features and with her lips parted, he sees the wet inside of her pink mouth, warm and inviting. All for him. He can feel his cock needing relief in the tight confines of his breeches and the urge is beginning to overpower him.

“You are my good little maidservant, are you not?” he asks, voice low and commanding.

She can feel her breathing struggling against the front of her dress and she dare not look away.

Finding her voice, she can all but whisper, “Yes, your grace”

He hums lowly, his thumb travelling up to her lips, dipping the tip of it between them. His fingers still cradle her soft jaw, keeping her where he needs her, while the flat part of his thumb finally slips across the warm muscle of her tongue. Aemond holds back the desire to outright moan at the feeling of it against his skin, collecting the wetness of her saliva against it, moving forward to completely allow his thumb to be enveloped by her hot mouth.

All the while, she keeps her eyes on him, afraid to look anywhere else. She feels strange, like a constant chill is making its way around her body, overtaking every nerve and replaced with a kind of dark, gnawing ache. It halts in her gut, where she feels it the heaviest.

After a moment, he pulls his thumb free and coats her lips, making them glisten. He wonders if his spend would look as good as this smeared all over them. If she would be good, and dart her tongue out to lap it up.

Powerless to hold back any longer, Aemond hands move to the laces of his breeches, his pupil blown wide with lust at the innocent confusion on her face.

“Now, sweet girl,” he says, the name making her hairs stand up on end, “will you be good for me.”

Again, not a question, more a demand. And she is so shaken, all she can do is nod.

“Have you been with a man, sweet girl,” he asks, as he pulls his cock from its confines, using his hand to give himself a few pumps, the tip, red and glistening with early arousal. He already knows the answer. Just wants to hear her say it.

She shakes her head softly. “No…your grace,” she answers with a shake in her voice. She tries to avert her eyes from this member, hard to attention right before her.

One corner of his lips turns up at her bashful nature. One hand threads through her hair, right at her neck, not tugging but not letting go either. She gasps at the action, now unable to move her head.

“Good.”

He holds his cock in one hand, aching to bury himself in her mouth. But he holds his animalistic desire back, for the sake of not scaring her too much.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeys, pushing her embarrassment aside for the sake of politeness to her prince. Her lips part to open her mouth, still unsure of what he will do, her innocence skewing the reality of what's happening to her.

"Wider," he says, now just a low whisper, “that’s it, sweet girl” he coos as she does so.

She cannot say she has seen a man’s parts before and now that she has, if he does intend to do what she thinks, it’s unknown if it will even fit. The thickness of it combined with the length daunts her slightly. As he taps the tip of his cock against her glistening lips, she grips her dress tighter, more out of embarrassment and nerves than anything else. Who would she be to refuse the orders of a Prince anyhow.

His fist tightens in her hair as he slips his cock past her lips, only halfway in he feels her tensing up at the foreign feeling, “breathe,” he orders quietly, “through your nose”.

She whimpers at the uncomfortable feeling and wishes not to see anymore, so she shuts her eyes tight, attempting to do as he says and breathe through her nose. His taste is strange, salty and yet not unpleasant. His member is warm and heavy in her mouth, despite not being all the way within and she can feel her mouth aching to accommodate his sheer size. His fingers are tight in her hair, an attempt to hold himself back, and she whimpers around his cock at the feeling of the tugging of her follicles, the vibrations of her mouth against him make Aemond tip his head back just slightly. He sighs at the feeling of her warm, wet mouth squeezing him so deliciously and he holds back the desire to deliver his spend right into her there and then.

Once he feels she has sufficiently calmed down, relaxed her jaw, Aemond sheathes himself all the way in, briefly touching the back of her throat, making her whimper around his cock again. Her hands fly to his thighs to push him back for reprieve, but he is much too strong for that and he only tightens his fist in her hair more.

Without waiting a moment longer, he cants his hips against her mouth, sliding in and then out slightly, enjoying the friction her mouth gives him. He sees that she still has her eyes shut, hands tight on his leather breeches now and he gives a shuddered moan, tipping his head back all the way now, losing himself in the feeling of fucking her mouth, guiding the rhythm with the hand that’s in her hair.

Caring not that she is a maiden, he hastens his pace and her little whimpers are becoming too loud for him to really enjoy this.

“Quiet” he demands, much more spitefully than he intended .

And she is. Which makes him even more aroused than he could possibly be right now. So obedient. Just the good, sweet girl she is.

At the ache in her jaw, tears begin to pool at the corner of her closed eyes and fall in thin lines down her face. Aemond is lost beyond control, his thrusts sloppy and unforgiving as he feels the tight, wound up pressure of his peak creeping up on him at breakneck speed. He dares to look down at her, accepting his cock into her mouth like a cunt, his shaft now wet with her saliva and thrusting into her with the soft beat of his hips. His other hand comes to the side of her face, using his thumb to wipe the streak of her tear away, before he uses it for more leverage.

He’s never felt more powerful in his life. To have such control over someone he so fervently lusts over. It’s other-wordly. And he has no intention of stopping, not as long as she continues to be the malleable, sweet little thing she is now.

His thrusts cease, and he presses his hips right against her mouth as a strangled and uncharacteristically loud moan escapes his throat. He can feel his spend shoot at the back of her throat, and her flinch when she also feels it. But doing as he says, she makes no sound. Not until his cum begins to pool in one corner of her mouth and only then does she emit the tiniest of sounds. He can now hear the hurried breathing out her nose as she waits for his next command.

Aemond allows his breathing to even out, savouring the look of her, eyes softly shut with his spend and cock in her mouth, before he slowly pulls out. Her lips tightly shut when he does eventually vacate her mouth.

“Look at me”

She can feel something dripping down her face and when she looks at him, he looks a different person entirely. Breathing ragged, hair slightly tousled, looking nothing at all like the prim and proper royal she is used to. Her eyes are glazed, cheeks a dusty pink from the efforts of what he’d done. She waits.

“Swallow”

Assuming he requires her gaze still, she looks between his eye and eyepatch and to the best of her ability, swallows the strange, salty and thick substance in her mouth. She thought it wasn’t unpleasant, the taste of it, but that her jaw ached and she felt the gnawing agony of shame sink in through her skin. Aemond moans outright when he sees her throat bob and her deep exhale after she’s obeyed.

He uses his thumb to collect the line of spend that had leaked from her mouth and puts it back into her mouth, humming at the sight of depositing it against her tongue. She need not be told, and she wraps her lips around the digit, sucking whatever she can off of it, before Aemond is sure that it is clean and pulls out. She shuffles where she is knelt, her knees now aching from the stone, and she feels the slick between her legs as she does so, coating the inside of her thighs. And it confuses her. What is this strange sensation, seeming to come from nowhere, deep and ancient.

Aemond sighs contently and stuffs his softened cock back into his breeches.

“Leave. Now” is all he says to her, not sparing her a second glance as he strides towards the side table once more for another cup of wine.

With a shaky breath, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, still being able to taste the heady, potent taste of his spend. Scrambling to her feet, she dare not look back to him, fearing that the shameful belief within would intensify if she did.

Once the door was shut, she wipes her cheeks of any remaining tears and takes a moment to recover, trying to understand how she feels, what just happened, and what this means for her. Is she a maidservant or a whore. Perhaps she is both now. Living two separate lives for him once the sun has gone down. Does she enjoy the duality of it, she cannot say either way. All she knows is that she cannot possibly refuse him and that she’s not sure if she even wants to. The wetness between her thighs may sway her in one direction, she fears.

She offered up countless prayers to the Mother. For forgiveness. To make her understand.

But the Mother never responded.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx

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vaesbst · 5 months ago

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Malevolence || S.C

╰┈➤ Synopsis; In high school, a student is relentlessly tormented by a popular classmate who takes pleasure in her suffering. Despite the cruelty, she secretly finds a disturbing pleasure in his torment. One early morning, as she sits alone in an empty classroom, the bully arrives unexpectedly, intensifying the tension and leading to a chilling encounter where their hidden desires come to light.

╰┈➤ Paring; Changbin x Reader

╰┈➤ Genre; school au, bully trope, degradation, smut

╰┈➤ Warnings; explicit language, mentions of sadism and masochism, degradation, rough sex, no condom, slight nipple play, mentions of masturbation, implied sexual assault.

Notes; I’ve never written smut before so this was a bit different. Just wanted to remind y’all that english isn’t my first language so I do apologise to any mistakes. Changbin is over 18 in this story so don’t worry. Please do leave me some feedback as they help me improve.

Neither school nor home life had ever been easy for you. Between the constant bullying you were subjected to at school and the unhealthy relationship you had with your dysfunctional family, sometimes you wondered whether there was truly a place out there where you could feel at ease and “normal” for once.

As you sat at your home room’s desk engraved with various swear words and deaths threats that kept accumulating day by day, you trembled in fear due to the impending doom that was going to be making its appearance within the next few hours.There were moments when you found yourself questioning whether you’ve angered some strange supernatural force that was now exacting it’s vengeance by asserting that your life is miserable after being involved with mentioned pending doom, as everything began going down hill for you the second you became Seo Changbin’s prime target.

It was early in the morning so you knew he was not going to be making his appearance anytime soon, but the thought of what new torture mechanism he had come up with for you that day, designed to satisfy his sadistic tendencies, terrified you.

Though lately you’ve had very strange thoughts. At the beginning, when he had just began tormenting you, there was nothing you despised more than seeing his face and his callous smirk staring you down whilst you were licking the boys toilets urinals like he made you to. Or like when he had asked you to stand in rain while he sat in the shade, as he gazed at you intensely with his hand gripping his crotch.

At first you pondered why he had forced you to stand in the rainfall for seemingly no reason, but once you noticed that he wasn’t looking at your face but somewhere slightly below your chin, you had followed his gaze and landed on your chest, therefore realising the true intent behind his strange request leaving you disgusted, attempting to cover yourself with your arms as much as you possibly could but with no avail.

But now, 9 nights out of 10 you’d wake up hyperventilating with your panties drenched in your core’s juices as you’d try stabilising your breath after the very intense dreams you’d have about him and the things he’d make you do at school.

As you were still immersed in your lewd thoughts, the door swung open, the loud bang startling you and bringing an end to your fantasies.

“I knew I’d find you here” said a very familiar voice. Your head snapped towards the entrance to confirm your suspicions about the origins of the voice, and unfortunately there stood the last person you wanted to see right now.

“W-what are you doing here?” your voice wavering in terror, “it’s 6am. School doesn’t start till 8”

Your trembling voice had definitely triggered something within him as his sadistic smirk had made an appearance again “I just thought I’d come in early today to play with my favourite toy before everyone else get here” he says, closing the door in a swift motion and locking it behind him.

You gripped onto your sit in anticipation and slight fear. In a sense, you had become desensitised to his actions due to how often they were happening but the idea that this time there was nobody else around scared you and intrigued you at the same time.

You looked down at your feet, waiting for him to approach you, but strangely that never happened. You were wondering what was taking him so long so you looked back to where he initially had been standing being surprised when you found him sitting on a chair in front of the door, facing you with his legs slightly spread. He was staring at you very intensely.

Noticing your confused expression, he leaned towards you and rested his forearms against his thighs, “you look very appetising right now” he admitted, subtly scanning your body and licking his lips,“shall we play a little game?”

You were dumbfounded. His typical aggressive demeanour seemed to have evaporated today, but you were still on edge nonetheless as you had no idea when or whether it was going to emerge again.

Being that you didn’t want to trigger his anger, you slowly nodded your head and waited for his next move.

He smiled at your shy nod and sat himself back in his original slouched position, legs still spread looking at you suggestively, “crawl to me like the little bitch you are”

Your eyes widen at the sudden request, being slightly taken aback by his tone,but you do what he says regardless. You reluctantly slid off your chair and got down on all fours, and as you began to gradually crawl towards him, you looked at him with hooded eyes as you felt your panties dampening.

Though you’d never admit it out loud, despite the fact that Changbin had dedicated his life towards making you as feel miserable as possible, you did recognise that he was a relatively attractive guy. Maybe you were speaking from a biased position since the recent vulgar dreams you’ve been having about him, or maybe you were just deeply troubled, but you’d be lying if you said that right now he didn’t look sexy, sitting seductively in front of you with his ruffled brunette hair staring you down with his intimidating dark eyes and his tight white short-sleeved shirt accentuating his biceps.

“Fuck~” he hissed, his hand now gravitating towards his clothed bulge squeezing it lightly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan after witnessing his erotic motion. You may have been somewhat enjoying this moment but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was doing something to you.

You finally reached him and you positioned yourself between his spreaded legs. He grabbed your chin and tilted your head upwards towards his face, “you’re such a pathetic little slut” he sneered and placed his thumb in your mouth “suck on it”

Looking up at him innocently, you took his thumb into your mouth and began sucking messily, saliva coating it. Watching you so intently, Changbin lost all composure, hastily unbuckling his trousers and pulling out his throbbing, red member.

“Get off my thumb you disgusting whore” he venomously spat between pants as he was vigorously jerking his member. The aggressiveness in his tone made you whimper as you began humping the air in search of some friction to relieve the pleasurable tight tension you felt in your core but with no success.

“You’re so needy. I barely touched you yet your moaning like I’ve been fucking you for hours” he chuckled grabbing your throat and squeezing it tightly. “What should I make you do today…”

Changbin’s grip was so tight that you started feeling lightheaded. You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness though, for some strange reason, this restricting yet euphoric feeling made you squeeze your legs together, your sensitive throbbing bud finally feeling some sort of relief.

You needed him to fuck you. You were so overwhelmed and horny that you felt like you were going to combust within any seconds. You were still squeezing your legs together very tightly as you began tearing up and attempted to plead to him “Ch…changbin p…please~”

“Please what? You’re gonna have to elaborate” the grip he had on your throat began to loosen as if to give you a chance to speak. He slowed down his jerking movements and began smearing his excessive amount of precum around his reddened tip, hissing at the ecstatic feeling.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you wanted him to fuck you senseless and you were unsure whether it was out of shame or the pure anger you still money harboured against him for the past humiliating actions he imposed onto you.

But you didn’t want this moment to end (not like you had a say in the matter) so you chose to let your actions speak for yourself as you grabbed his member and slowly started stroking it.

Changbin gasped both in pleasure and utter surprise as he did not expect such bold movements from you.

He let you stroke his cock for a while as he sat back and observed your little hands struggling grasp his thick member amused, but when you unexpectedly put his entire member in your mouth, Changbin let out a loud moan, bucking his hips further and rubbing and twisting his nipples underneath his white school shirt in search of more pleasure.

“Oh fuck~ Y/N just like that…” he groaned as he grabbed the back of your head and started moving his hips faster. “Y…your mouth is so warm”

Your eyes were tearing up as Changbin was roughly fucking your mouth, his tip reaching your uvula. You choked a couple of times, the vibrations from your coughs sending Changbin into a state of pure bliss as he began thrusting faster “I think i…i’m g- gonna cum soon…” but before he could release his hot creamy load into your mouth he stopped his movements and forcefully pulled your head off of his member.

You looked at him confused at the sudden interruption, especially when he seemed to have been really close to release.

“W-why did you…” but you didn’t have enough time to finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you up onto his lap, making you straddle his thighs.

“Sit on it” he firmly stated as he grabbed his throbbing member that was resting against his abdomen, coating it in precum and began lightly stroking it. You did exactly as he said as you aligned his member with your entrance and slowly started lowering your self onto it, your tight moist core engulfing his thick veiny cock until it fully disappeared.

You exhaled as he grabbed your hips and began thrusting up against you in a fast motion. “F-fuck C…changbin” you moaned as you buried your face in his neck, trying your best to meet his thrust but with no avail as your legs felt numb.

“You like that yeah? You fucking slut, I knew you liked everything I used to do to you, you thought I didn’t notice how you’d look at me huh? With want in your eyes you pathetic whore” he grabbed your hair and pulled you off his neck, glaring at you with malice with his signature smirk still plastered on his face.

“Now look at you, bouncing on my cock and screaming my name. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? I bet you’re gonna recall this moment again tonight when you touch yourself whilst thinking about me you fucking wench” his harsh words stirred something within you, as a familiar warmth began forming in your core and you finished all over his member screaming his name in utter ecstasy.

The grip your folds had against his cock tightens as you came, causing Changbin to release his load shortly after with a low groan.

You both looked at each other panting deeply as you attempted to regain composure. You weren’t sure about what was going to happen next, whether he was going to shout more abuse at you or just nonchalantly push you off of him and leave, so you chose to take the initiative and reluctantly stand up, grimacing at the slimy feeling in your pussy.

Changbin, who was still looking at you in awe decided to stand too, readjusting his trousers and grabbing your wrist, pulling you towards the door

“Where are you taking me?” you asked, attempting to snatch your arm away from his tight grip but failing miserably due to your weakened state and his inhumane strength “I thought that was my punishment for today, what else do you want from me!?” you shouted exasperated, tears forming in your eyes due to frustration by his lack of response and also a sudden feeling of emptiness.

You knew that Changbin would probably keep humiliating and torturing you like he always had, with little to no regards to your feelings or wellbeing, but in a strange way, you wanted something more. After your little session today, you felt closer to him, and the thought of never experiencing that connection with him again made you feel angry and frustrated.

Changbin turned around, noticing the tears in your eyes and stopped dead in his tracks. His features softened as he started caressing your cheeks, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” he softly cooed “I just wanted to take you to the toilet so I could clean you up, plus it’s still 7 in the morning and class won’t start till 9. I thought that maybe we could grab something to eat together” he smiled, anxiously waiting for your response.

“Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?” he shrugged his shoulders and looked down at his feet “are you coming or not?Because I could just leave you here and go if you don’t want to” he mumbled.

He looked up at you, wondering why it was taking you so long to decide. Since you weren’t in the mood to protest you nodded, deciding to follow him. He smiled at you, grabbed your hand gently and you led you outside of the classroom with your fingers intertwined, both grinning like fools about the occurrences that happened just a few minutes ago.

#stray kids #stray kids smut #changbin #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #degredation kink #changbin x reader #kpop smut #changbin fanfic #changbin angst #changbin scenarios #changbin stray kids #changbin hard thoughts #changbin fluff

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tpwrtrmnky · 6 months ago

Note

brainrot for this has gotten so far that im turning aspects of this universe into goddamn fake pokemon 💀

is this a bit niche? Idk

armagedoom (armageddon beast + doom) - dark/fighting type - doesn’t evolve

“Filled with hatred and coming straight from the ultra hell, this pokemon indiscriminately rampages through wherever it is, using its ungodly and terrifying form to paralyze its victims via fear before brutally slashing them to pieces.”

formitaly (former italy) - fire/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“an ancient legend speaks of a country rich in history and culture, filled with people with thoughts, dreams and feelings which were smothered in an instant without a second thought so a corporate conglomerate could make more money. While these pokemon are the remnants of this ancient land, they continue to spread their culture in their afterlife despite their pain, making sure it never dies.”

PTYMGan yamask - fairy/ghost type - evolves into coucherigus

“this pokemon is said to be the remnants of a person who held hatred of those who deviate from the normal in their heart, now having to live with being ridiculed themselves for the rest of their afterlife, the sofa hanging from their tail signifying exactly what they are”

coucherigus (couch + runerigus) - fairy/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“with its sadness turned into bitterness, this pokemon’s evolution has emboldened it to attempt to enforce its draconic beliefs onto the world with a newfound vigor, wearing its frankly quite stupid means of death as a badge of honor in the war to make everyone conform that it is also losing by a landslide”

tormentea (torment juice + sinistea) - poison/ghost type - evolves into tormengeist

“it is said that this pokemon was born in an ancient crucible fired by pure pain and suffering, although the measly form of a sentient bottle suggest otherwise. Despite this, any who drink from it suffer excruciating torment for seemingly no reason at all”

tormengeist (torment juice + polteageist) - poison/ghost type - doesn’t evolve

“this cruel pokemon only wishes to inflict torment upon the world, although the reason is unknown. It will offer its torturous liquid to people who wish to further their pointless self-destructive habits and then drain their life force from there”

jeffternal (immortal jeff + eternity) - dark/steel type - legendary pokemon

“it is said that this legendary pokemon was brought into existence by the greedy desires of big corporate with the singular goal of owning everything that exists. Today, nobody knows the whereabouts of jeffternal, but some say it controls the very fabric of society, slowly gaining more property in its posession, and soon it will have the very free will that defines humans under its ownership”

if it wasnt already obvious, armagedoom is based on the armageddon beast (in this AU hell is located in ultra space), formitaly is based on former italy, PTMYGan yamask and coucherigus are based on the chromaphobes and being turned into a couch, tormentea and tormengeist are based on torment juice and the torment crucibles, and jeffteral is based on immortal jeff

I love this, it's amazing

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m39 · 1 year ago

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Doom WADs’ Roulette (2007): Ultimate Torment And Torture

My brother in Christ!

Another partial conversion that uses a shit ton of enemies from the Monster Resource WAD that first appeared in 2007 due to KDiZD! All three of these partial conversions that won Cacoward in 2007 and all use this roster at least partially!

...

I don’t really have anything else to say; I just wanted to point that out.

G9: Ultimate Torment and Torture

Main author(s): Daniel Gimmer (Tormentor667)

Release date: September 11th, 2007

Version played: 1.07

Required port compatibility: GZDoom

Levels: 10

If you suddenly feel like you are playing KDiZD’s distant cousin, then you aren’t wrong, for this WAD is another project made by Tormentor667; although, this time it’s more like a one-man project rather than a community one.

Now you might be wondering What in the actual fuck is “Ultimate Torment and Torture”? To put it simply, it’s a remaster of the series of WADs under the same title (without the ultimate of course), now sprayed all over with Tormentor’s ZDoom’s features obsession, including background noises, a shit ton of new enemies, and other ZDoom stuff that may or may not be completely worthless on the long term.

Now since I didn’t play this series in any capacity, I’m gonna judge this WAD by its own merits. And if you didn’t already notice, do not expect this review to be completely positive; I’m not really a fan of Tormentor’s overly-designed WAD slop.

And although there isn’t really any plot in the text file in the WAD itself, there are text screens that describe what’s happening at the moment you are playing this map. But it all boils down to this – there is a hellish pentagram or something that summons demons and you go after it to end it all... again.

The plot, despite being rather simple (it’s a Doom WAD after all), takes itself too seriously in my opinion. It feels like it wants to sniff its own farts thinking it’s deeper than it thinks. The pretentiousness is especially high as you reach the final episode, with an unskippable monologue from the main character (who, by the way, sounds like Diet Caleb from Blood) rambling some kind of generic shonen anime hero speech filled with never give up this and da people I love that shit. This thing is funnier than most of the Mockaward winners that I played for crying out loud; for the wrong reasons, yes, but still.

But at least you can skip most of the textscreen stuff with the use key... after a small delay.

Now with the basics known, let’s take a look at another Tormentor’s projects.

You might probably know by this point, but if there is one thing that Tormentor is really good at is the visual aspect of his WADs (solo or community-made). And UTNT doesn’t disappoint in this. The oppressive foundry facilities in the second episode; snowy areas surrounding the base in the third one; the bastion with the demonic portal that acts like a bridge between episodes three and four; the mountain that you climb in the final episode; these are some of the highlights in this WAD.

It might be a little bit overboard with the details that aren’t just tiny objects lying around that are not some random debris from the wall, but it’s still amazing for the WAD from 2007.

Oh, and by the way, you can turn off some of the weather effects in most of the maps. Just remember to bind the key to it.

The music is a mixed bag for me. While half of the music tracks fit surprisingly well, the other half has a chance to make you laugh with the WAD sniffing its farts of pretentiousness again. It’s like the same problem as the plot; it gets a pass in the first half, but it gets ridiculous in the second one.

The final boss track is the worst case of unintentional laughter. No matter what you think about Revolutions, when it comes to the final battle between Neo and Agent Smith, the music fits really well. It doesn’t fit at all when you are flying around like a madman trying to destroy a satanic pentagram that protects itself with a demonic energy cylinder while dodging/trying to kill Cycloid Emperors that protect these things! IT JUST DOESN’T!

...

sigh

It does get better gameplay-wise at least.

I don’t really think this WAD is complicated. After the first playthrough, it didn’t really feel that tiring (at least for me). It does have backtracking sometimes, but honestly, I have experienced worse cases than UTNT.

What’s really cool about this WAD is that you can start from any of four episodes. If you are a Pistol-starter, you will enjoy this option (at least partially since you can start like this only at the beginning of an episode instead of in its middle).

You can also play as three different classes. I don’t know what are the differences aside from the starting weapon and the maximal amount of health since I played as only one class to not waste my time, but still, I’ll describe what I know:

The Marine starts with the Shotgun and 100 HP;

The Scout has 75HP and the Pistol (that shoots slightly faster from what I’ve seen);

And the Commando starts with 150HP and the Minigun; NOT the Chaingun mind you, but a Minigun. I’ll get to that weapon later.

There are two variants of the final level. The regular one takes place at the bottom of the mountain, where you climb it up while fighting the entire demonic army. There is also a graveyard with tombstones of people behind this WAD (like many other WADs before this one). This one is more of an epic type.

The secret variant (AKA the Director’s Cut) is hidden in the second part of the final episode. In this case, there are three areas full of monsters, where in the first two you have to kill a specific amount of Mancubi and Arachnotrons respectively (kind of like in Dead Simple) and in the third area you must press two switches to unlock the elevator to the final boss.

I’m not really sure which one is better. The hidden variant feels easier and has a lesser amount of annoying monster variants for the cost of a smaller amount of terrain to maneuver, while the regular variant feels like one last stand of the demonic army that fits perfectly well in a Doom WAD while having more bullshit moments.

UTNT is somewhere in between when it comes to how hard it is. It’s rather challenging, but I don’t think you will end up completely destroyed if you were playing WADs for a while before playing this one.

Every episode ends with the boss fight, where you fight up to four tough enemies depending on the skill level. It’s kind of a neat idea with the health pool showing up at the top of the screen, although I would like it more if the second boss fight had a larger area because I don’t think it was tested enough to be fun (or at least not as fun as the other two).

The final boss is... kind of stupid, I guess? You have to kill one of its guardians to make it vulnerable and fire at it (preferably with BFG). If you don’t realize it in a minute, you will end up with no ammo to blow it up. And again, the music doesn’t help.

Oh yeah, there is also stealth filth once in a while. -_-

I know it’s at worst one enemy per map, but still. What is it with these people keep adding this garbage to their WADs?

There are dozens of new enemies in this WAD. I’m fine with some new enemies to spice things up, but UTNT goes way too far with them. Some of these appear only once in the entire WAD! It’s like Tormentor didn’t know what to do with some of them and just slapped them in random places on the random map.

I don’t have time to ramble about every single one of them. Besides, I already talked about many of these in my previous reviews (like ZDCMP1, KDiZD, and Cheogsh among some of these). So instead, I’ll do quick rounds for every class of these bastards.

Without any further to do – the monsters of Ultimate Torment and Torture ladies, gentlemen, and others:

In the Zombie section we have Rapid-firing Trooper (Wolfenstein SS as an actual Doom enemy), Mutant Marine (tougher Shotgunner variant), Chaingun Major (Hoovy from KDiZD as a tougher variant of the original Hoovy), Bazooka Boy (from Obituary, shoots rockets), Plasma Zombie (‘nuff said), Railgunner (‘nuff said too), and Suicide Bomber (basically Headless Kamikaze as a Doom enemy; my personal favorites).

In the Imp section we have Catharsi (Cyberdemon if Imp; volley of projectiles, leaves a bomb when the die (if he didn’t gib)), Dark Imp (homing projectiles), Skulltag Imp (faster projectiles), Void Imp (Undead Warrior reskin), Soul Harvester (much more annoying homing projectiles; some of them are semi-invisible), Shadow (weaker Arachnotron, for some reason uses stock Imp noises despite having original ones in the past), Devil (tougher variant that can shoot constantly; uses Doom 64 Imp noises), Imp Warlord (has a couple of different attacks), Nightmare (can be hit when attacks and is constantly invisible before doing that), and Stone Imp (Imp if melee).

In the Hell Noble section we have Satyr (melee), Hell Warrior (has a shield), Hell Guard (no idea if he counts here but, whatever; shoots a volley of three projectiles), Hell’s Fury (tougher Baron), Lord of Heresy (tougher Baron but with wings), Belphegor (tougher Baron but with the volley of three projectiles), Afrit (flying, tougher Baron), and Bruiser (basically if the Bruise Brothers were actual bosses).

There are two new Cacodemon variants – Enhanced Cacodemon which shoots three fireballs and has slightly less health, and Cacolantern which shoots faster projectiles.

Same with Pain Elemental – we have Plasma Elemental (‘nuff said) and Tortured Soul (toxic clouds among other projectile).

There are also other enemies, which are Arachnophyte (Spider Bitch but flies), Blood Demon (tougher Pinky), Death Incarnate (hitscanning Revenant that has a small chance to not resurrect), Rail Arachnotron (‘nuff said), and Terror (Lost Soul that has a gigantic blast radius after it dies).

There are also the Source’s Guardians that I mentioned earlier. Look like Cycloid Emperors, kind of annoying to fight, and when they die, they leave their heart or something that functions as stronger medikit

We can’t forget about the bosses too. Aside from Bruiser Demons and the evil pentagram that function as bosses of episodes 2 and 4 respectively, we have Hectebi in the first episode (which are tougher Mancubi) and Giant Spiders in the third episode (Maulotaur reskins that burst out smaller, annoying to kill, regular spiders).

You collapse on the floor.

...

Phew...

Now with the demonic army described (apologies for the information errors if you notice one), let’s talk about new weapons.

Surprisingly, compared to the hegemony that are new monsters, you only get three new weapons. The first one to talk about is the Minigun that I mentioned earlier. It’s basically a much faster Chaingun but with a long break before firing again, meaning that it’s better for close encounters rather than sniping.

You have a flamethrower called... Flamer (how original). It’s your typical WAD flame thrower; don’t get burned by it yourself.

The final weapon is actually hidden in the secret in the first episode. It’s called Pyrocannon Prototype, and it feels like a napalm launcher that shoots mini-nukes. Perfect for bosses, so don’t use it (nor flamethrower) in any other circumstances.

I encountered some bugs while playing UTNT. The most prominent one was when Hell Warriors were completely invulnerable to anything until they raised the shield (something that didn’t happen in the previous WAD when these hulking cats appeared). Another bug that I encountered was in the second episode, where after exiting the secret area, the music from there was still playing; I had to enter and exit it again to properly change back to the original track.

The worst time was with some stability problems. There was one tiny moment in the first part of the fourth episode when there were some framerate drops due to the large amount of enemies and allies fighting each other, but there was a much worse one in episode two, during my secret-hunting run, when after the area with the blue key, the framerate started dropping like crazy, down to around 1.5 FPS.

Gee, maybe it wouldn’t happen if not for the gargantuan amount of shells, bullets, blood chunks, and gore chunks that appear everytime you kill at least one enemy (at least that’s how I think). I wonder if Tormentor ever thought of that situation.

The Ultimate Torment and Torture... makes me sad. I genuinely feel this WAD had the potential to be one of the best WADs ever created but the Tormentor’s obsession with (G)ZDoom features, many enemies that were slapped on this WAD without any reason for nothing but a small cameo, and the pretentiousness that pores out to the surface of the WAD’s plot makes it impossible to reach that status. It’s yet another WAD of its time that by modern standards feels outdated.

There is also another map known as the lost episode. I don’t know how to reach it without warping to it (if it’s even possible to get there normally), so I’ll leave it for the bonus round.

As for me, my break from Doom WADs might end up longer than a week, since I’m planning to buy a new PC that has SSD Hard Drive. So I’m going to move all important files to it once it arrives.

But until then, I’ll see you next time.

Have an early, happy 30th Doom anniversary.

#doom #doom wad #review #doom mod #doom 2 #doom 2007 #2007 #Torment And Torture #Doom Torment And Torture #Ultimate Torment And Torture #Doom Ultimate Torment And Torture #doom wads’ roulette #cacowards #top ten wads of the year

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thekrows-nest · 4 months ago

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The Super Special Secret Krow Lore Post

Aight. So according to the last poll y'all wanted to get the secrets of Krow in nitty gritty detail. There may be still those who don't wanna know (yet) so I'll put it under a read more. Also because it'll likely get long lmao.

His name

So I mentioned that his legal name is Isaiah. His full legal name is Isaiah Kolan Johnson. Isaiah is a biblical name meaning "god is salvation" and his middle name Kolan as well as sounding pretty fucking unfortunate also means "dove keeper". Johnson I just tried to think of the whitest sounding surname I could lmao. Krow was adopted/fostered by a conservative fundamentalist Christian family that valued reputation more than the well being of their kids. The parents have three bio kids and, not counting Krow, eight adopted and/or foster kids. Essentially they adopted/fostered kids to show to their community and church that they're "such good Christians taking in impoverished and/or PoC kids cause they're SUCH good people" but really the only kids that got ANY positive attention or care were the bio sons (the bio daughter was just expected to look after ALL her siblings). All the other kids were pretty neglected both physically, mentally and emotionally. The parents are John and Esther The names of his fellow foster/adopted siblings are: Jacob, David, Matthew, Noah, Peter, Sarah, Abigail and Leah The bio kids names are Adam, Joseph and... Mary. (: Krow ran away from home before he was set to graduate high school.

Krow's Secret, and his birth family

Before I can really get into what "Krow's secret" is, I need to mention is bio/birth family. As I've mentioned, Krow is Indian and Bengali. His parents are immigrants to America, and Krow was born in America. So his nationality is American, but race/ethnicity is Indian/Bengali. Krow's birth name is Sarveshvara Banerjee. Sarveshvara is a name derived from the god Shiva, and specifically means "determination, energy and confidence". His last name, Banerjee, are from a family of which their caste are descended from priests (so Krow actually comes from a pretty darn important caste back in India and Bengal). His father is named Riyan and his mother is named Khushi. They were essentially a victim to racism and classism in America. Krow was taken from them at a very young age and placed into foster care and that is how he was scooped up by the Johnson's.

Now, what is this big secret? As some of you may have guessed, Krow... isn't entirely human. He is descended from Naga (specifically on his father's side), and specifically... his Naga clan were cursed by the goddess Manasa. A long, long time ago, Krow's Naga ancestors were giving terror to the mortal human populace. Doing what they pleased in torturing and abusing humans within their territory. This angered Manasa. Naga were not supposed to be giving humans such grief.

In retribution, Manasa cursed this Naga clan. Cursed them with each suffering their own personal hell and anguish, just as they had caused the humans. For millennia, these Naga and their descendants have each suffered from a curse of their own personal torment, the only salve being that each generation got a more diluted form of the curse... that is until Krow came along.

For whatever reason, genetics just... played out differently and he got a bit more of the Naga bloodline and their traits, and also got a bit more of the curse. What is Krow's own "personal torment"? Well... family is the most important aspect to him. Essentially, he is doomed to never... really a happy family, or a happy life with family.

There hasn't been a way to break the curse, but there have been ways of mitigating it and managing it. If Krow was not taken from his bio parents, he would have grown up learning of his heritage and how to manage. But because he wasn't...

The curse essentially manifests primarily as extreme jealousy, clinging onto those he loves, or pushing away others (sometimes violently). This also explains some of his other traits (getting cold easily, a bit more strength, his teeth). Speaking of his teeth, Krow IS venomous. It's... a bit more diluted than it would be if he were a full Naga, but it's there all the same. His venom has a bit of an aphrodisiac effect on those affected by it. The more one is bitten, the more this takes effect. In essence, if Dove is one who likes being bitten by Krow, they will grow more and more comfortable in his presence unwittingly, writing off red flags and excusing some of his more problematic behaviors. ...Unfortunately though, it is still a venom. Get too much in your system, and it WILL kill you.

All of this to say, once Krow finds out all of this, that he's descended from a cursed Naga blood line and all these physical quirks, it would freak him out so badly that he would, yes, leave Dove in a desperate hope to protect them.

But yeah, that's the big secret I've been keeping hidden for the past couple years. I do have a hope to draw a "what if Krow was a full Naga" drawing at... some point.

I have been in discussion with some friends who are Indian and Bengali about all this. I tried to be as respectful about the culture as I could.

#the krow's nest #krow lore #about krow

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 7 months ago

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chapter five: fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FOUR: WHO ELSE DECODES YOU?

warnings: language, mentions of sex (no smut), self deprecation, angst (!)

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: im so sorry okay? but I promise, the fruits of patience are always sweet (is that right)! hope u enjoy, and don't worry only five more chapters until I stop torturing the pair to pine longingly... also phase one is complete, so I'll be taking a two week break before starting phase two: the falling rollout! stay tuned :)

It turns out you were wrong. You had been speaking to Nat — Wanda was off somewhere with Vision — and you talked her out of the notion that you were falling in love with Bucky. Because of course you aren’t…you can’t afford to. Falling in love made a mess of you, there’s no way it’s going to happen so soon.

When you first set foot in New York, it felt like a fresh start. Sure, you’d imagine if all went well, then a few years down the line you’d find yourself opening up again. Not doing it so soon, and certainly hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that it would be reciprocated.

You convince yourself you’ve imagined it. And of course, you did. Because in the night, Bucky had left you and your scheduled movie night last minute, to go out on the town with Steve. He had invited you, but you’d declined. Maybe you’ve weirded him out with admitting you’re more attracted to brunettes — maybe he’s figured it all out and is now trying to avoid you, to let you down gently.

And when you’re just about to fall asleep after tormenting yourself with all the awkward ways he’s trying to avoid you, because he’s too nice to tell you — that’s when you hear it. Moaning and groaning of a man and woman through the wall, the hard and rough pounding of what can only be a bed frame against a surface, and the man is undoubtedly Bucky. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Your heart sinks as you immediately walk out of your room, where you can hear everything, heading to the kitchen, unable to handle it. It feels like your insides will be spilled all over your front and the floor. Trying to get the images out of your mind of Bucky and another woman entangled…like that. Clutching at your chest, because your heart just burns and your eyes are full of water and everything’s blurry, shaky hands reaching for a glass of cold water to dissolve the lump in your throat.

Why are you upset? Bucky is a grown man, fully capable of making his own decisions and choosing the women he wants to sleep with. It’s not his fault he doesn’t choose you. So why does it make you so upset, that you’re quietly stifling your sobs in an empty, cold kitchen?

You feel like your heart has been ripped out — once again doomed to be romantically interested in the one who would rather choose an inanimate rock over you. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but still. You don’t know how long you stand there, the only light a warm orange spilling over the black kitchen island, and think every single spark of hope in you away. The look of desire on his face…maybe it was platonic affection. You mistook it for something more, because you’ve never seen that look haunt anyone's features before. Maybe he looks like that at everyone.

And then you hear hurried footsteps, and the unmistakeable, juggernaut-like clack of women’s heels. You straighten, and she appears. Wrapped in a red dress, Bucky’s favourite shade, that accentuates every part of her so flawlessly, and her lipstick hasn’t even budged, despite the mess of her hair and other parts of her makeup. She offers you a soft smile as she passes, but you can’t help yourself. How has her lipstick not even smudged a little?

“Wow, you’re so pretty, oh my God. What lipstick do you use, and how the hell has it still not budged? Girl, I need the brand and name, like, right now.” You usher her over, to inspect her perfect lips more closely. Even the warm light makes her seem a million times more attractive, and you can’t help yourself.

You hold her face in your hands while she rattles off some obscure brand you’ve never heard of, making a mental note to search it up later. “It looks amazing,” you say, meeting her eyes, which are the most warm shade of brown.

You know you can never hold a candle to the beauty of this woman, even at your very best, but you’d be damned if you didn’t tell her of her radiance.

“Thank you,” she blushes and straightens, pulling away from your hold. Her outfit is so amazing, you can’t even blame Bucky for being so taken with her. You’re right there with him.

“Flirting with my date, are you?” Comes Bucky’s voice from the doorway, and you both turn to look at him. Then you remember yourself, and your situation. She’s just had sex with Bucky, and here you are, complimenting her lipstick.

And in this moment, you dig to your lowest familiar, and compare yourself to her. It’s not a competition, you know better than to fight over a man, but even if there were…you would lose by a landslide. Objectively.

Absentmindedly, you touch your hair while glancing at hers, dark, perfectly curled locks swishing about her shoulders and touching her elbows, even at its messiest. You don’t know if you want to look like her, or to be with her, in this moment.

“No, no. I was just asking her about her lipstick, that’s all.” She hands you her phone, ignoring Bucky, and asks you to enter your number with a wink. You happily comply, and almost miss the way her face falls when she reads over your name, and glances over her shoulder at Bucky.

Clearly, you’ve missed something. You don’t want to ask. “I’ll call you,” she gestures to you, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek. You blink several times, trying to process the events of the past hour or so.

You’ve never been more confused. How did you end up with Bucky’s date’s number? “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you doll?” He’s got that signature smirk on his face, but you look away. Something about his messy hair and flushed cheeks seems a sight that isn’t reserved for you, but the lover who just left the compound.

“No, I— I was just complimenting her, I swear. She seems nice, though. Are you gonna see her again?” He joins you at the table, and up close you can see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and you hate the way the sight of it stirs something in your lower belly. You want him, so bad. You want to be the reason he emerges from his room flushed and you leave with messy hair like you just rolled out of bed. Alas, it isn’t in the cards for you. Fortune and romance have never been entangled lovers in the story of your life, and you shouldn’t expect anything different in this chapter of it. You take another cold sip, hoping to swallow the bitter realisations you've stumbled across tonight.

“Well, considering I don’t even know her name, and you got her number, I doubt it.” He laughs, hoping you’ll chuckle alongside him. You’re not in the mood to talk about his sex life, and you feel like you’re about to throw up because of it, yet again. Now knowing his type is a dark, sexy feminine energy, you can’t bear it anymore. You are the very antithesis of it all — light, and soft. Maybe he even finds you sweet. But you’re not the one, not the one he wants.

You may be the one he spills his secrets to, but you know you’ll never be the red-dress femme fatale he takes to bed, or into his heart.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” You ask, sparing him a quick glance then returning to look at your hands that just look too wrong. Palms too wide, fingers too stubby. She had hands like a fucking nail polish model. Everything about you feels wrong and misshapen in this moment. Bucky’s wondering what he did to upset you. He’d overheard you talking to Natasha, explaining clear as day that you’re not attracted to him. He’s simply taken it as his sign to move on, to try and bury his heart that he’s laid in your chest, instead of letting it consume him. That's why he said yes to Steve, why he left you to go out. He didn't want either of you to stew in uncomfortable silence because he doesn't want to admit what he heard and how badly it hurt him. To confess would be to lose you, and so he buries it all deep down. Just like everything else.

But it’s a lot harder than expected, especially when he brings a girl home, for the first time in decades, but all he can think of is you. He’s manoeuvring her hips and imagining them to be yours, kissing her lips and pretending you’re the one gasping against his mouth. He ended up so wrapped in the fantasy, your name had slipped past his lips as he came, even though he tried to hide it in a murmur against her shoulder. But, of course she heard. She’d lectured him for a couple of minutes while throwing her clothes back on, about how he shouldn’t be fucking around if his heart is so set on one woman, that he says her name when lost in the throes of passion with another. Then, she’d spun on her heel and left, and he’d departed to find you.

To tell you, he can’t do it anymore. Despite your feelings of romantic apathy when it comes to him, he can’t say the same. He is enamoured, infatuated, obsessed with you, and he can’t let you go. He can't bury his feelings when they just keep building up like waves and crashing over the grave of his heart -- he can't keep it to himself. Even if your words seal the vault closed forevermore, he needs to hear them. He was so ready to beg for one date. One chance, one kiss, one taste. Maybe not in the moment, seeing as you wouldn’t appreciate the taste of another woman’s wine on his lips. He wouldn’t either, if that night you’d gone on the date with Steve, he'd let his impulsive thoughts win just moments after you kissed another's mouth. He wonders how you kiss as he touches his own lips in thought -- would you let the other take charge and cover him in sweet pecks, or do you prefer to taste like passion and sin? These were the only thoughts circling his smitten mind as he searched for you longingly.

And then he found you, illuminated so beautifully in the light of the kitchen island, and it occurs to him, just how there is no competition between you and other women. They could never hold a candle to you, to the radiant sun of your essence and your beauty.

The woman seems surprisingly smitten by you, with your eyes on her lips, and her giving you her number. He doesn't blame her for feeling that electric pull to you. He's right there with her.

He also didn’t miss the look she gave him over her shoulder, after reading your name. She knows, that it’s you. She won’t come back, she knows better than that. But he can’t tell you that that’s the reason he won’t be seeing her again, and you won’t even look at him.

“Yeah, doll. Of course. I’m not bailing on you again.” He smiles, gently touching your cheek, and you pull away before his skin makes contact.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” You turn around and walk out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your face and leaving a salty trail all the way to your door.

————————

In the night, you’d done a lot of thinking. And you’ve decided to let him go, to let him do what he wants. He’s not evil, he’s certainly not wicked. He just doesn’t want you. That’s not something to hold against him, how could it be? He doesn’t owe you romance just because you want it with him. You’ll cherish his friendship, his strictly platonic affection, but you’ll let any thought of a relationship with him go.

You’ll be all the better for it.

And so you stand in the communal living room, rechecking your Taylor Swift themed tote bag that you’ve kept everything you need. You had taught Bucky how to bake his favourite brownies the other day, so you packed a few of those in case he gets hungry. Your favourite crisps, drinks for the both of you. Headphones, a charger for your phone, a claw clip to tie up your hair if it gets too hot, car keys, wallet…

It’s sunny outside, so you’ve opted for a long, maxi summer dress in a dark dusty rose colour and covered in gorgeous flowers, golden hoops and necklace like always, and your hair falls over your back loose and natural with a small accent braid weaving through the strands. You’ve also kept the makeup light — blush, kohl and mascara, and a tinted lip balm. You feel oddly good about your appearance, when you’re not in front of anyone else. When there’s nobody else to compare yourself to, you allow yourself to feel pretty. You throw on a thin white cardigan, grab your tote bag and head over to Bucky’s room to collect him.

You two are going out today. And you plan on buying him a surplus of items, all because of the massively fat pay check you get given courtesy of Tony. You’ll also be taking the subway, something Bucky’s a bit afraid of, but—

You almost crash into Steve when you turn the corner, in your mind being preoccupied with making an itinerary of where you’re going. He catches you, grabbing you around the arms. The both of you are a little on edge, given the failed outing of a few nights ago, but you had let him down gently. You did tell him you want to stay friends, even as he looked embarrassed and laughed about it. You didn’t tell him about your crush on Bucky, having decided to keep it under strict lock and key after being consumed by the feeling of wanting to kiss Bucky instead. You knew, in that moment, that nothing would've made him feel worse. You meet Steve’s pale blue eyes, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Oh my God, Steve. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?” He shakes his head, chuckling at your panic.

“No, no. I’m completely fine. Don’t worry, dear. You look good.” He compliments you fondly, eyeing you up and down once. You smile, forgetting the initial panic that surged through your system.

You take the compliment at face value. “Thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you.”

“Where are you going today?” He asks in polite conversation. You’ve already talked about this, about where you’re off to. Maybe he forgot.

“Oh, Bucky and I are going downtown today! I was planning on getting him some new clothes, you know, his current closet seems a little out of date. We’ll probably be back by 7 at the latest, but it depends on how picky he is, you know him. Oh, and before I forget, Denise is in charge while I’m away. Mr Fury and Mr Stark haven’t told us that there’s any major missions today, so it’s mainly the barebones team, so if anything happens today, you report to her. I’d much prefer to enjoy my first day out in months, but in case of absolute emergencies, of course you can contact me, alright? You’re the most responsible one of the bunch, so I’m trusting you to spread the message for me.” You gently squeeze his arm in reassurance.

“Yeah, will do. You have fun today, okay? I’ll try my best to make sure nobody gets in a housefire or something. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, dear. You deserve this. And trust me, if you’re the one picking out the outfits, you could put him in a hot pink suit bejewelled to high heaven and he’d wear it happily.”

You mouth drops. “You know what, that’s an amazing idea, thank you.” He laughs at that, and you smile. You’ve always been treated by past-partners like you’re the most unfunny person on the planet, like your jokes are tolerated and not laughed at. So it always surprises you when people find you funny. You welcome it, but it feels strange nonetheless.

And then Bucky appears, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Ah, the prodigal super soldier emerges,” you say, hand wrapping around his back almost stiffly as you try to calm your aching heart at the sight.

You know this will haunt you, when you’re feeling down on yourself. You’ll clutch at your chest once again, feeling stupid at the fact you ever thought this Adonis of a man would ever look at you twice. Why would he?

But for now, his friendship is enough. It has to be.

“Uh huh. Should we go, doll?” He tilts his head extremely close to yours, and it takes every conscious muscle in your body to stop yourself from closing your eyes. No need to embarrass yourself.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You turn to the other supersoldier in the room, currently being the one left out. “Bye Steve. Please tell everyone what I told you.” He nods.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You smile and let Bucky lead you away, waving a quick goodbye over your shoulder.

“I wanted to ask, was last night awkward?” You try to ignore the comment as you both walk down the street, heading to his favourite bistro for breakfast. The sun is shining, the streets smell like something that isn’t piss, and you’re spending the day with your favourite person.

“Hm, no not really.” He stops the both of you at a busy intersection, pulling you into an alley, and pushing you against the wall. His arm is still secure around your waist so your back doesn’t crash too hard against the eroding brick and mortar, but unfortunately that means your hands end up on his…firm chest, and your thumbs can’t help but soothingly stroke from side to side. You can’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you avoiding eye contact? Is there something I did wrong? Are you upset with me? Look at me, doll. Please.” His tone is pleading, borderline pathetic, but neither of you care. Your eyes meet his, and you try your best to not get lost in his eyes like sinking ships, so inviting that it takes everything in you to not jump.

To not kiss him. You crave to know what his lips taste like, but you shouldn’t. You keep trying to bury these intense feelings, and yet they keep building up like waves and crash over your grave, resurrecting you. And it feels amazing to be alive.

“I’m just…awkward about these kinda things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Sex. I mean, I heard you through the wall with Camille. And then, ten minutes later you were speaking to me like you weren’t just doing…all of that. It’s strange. I—“

“Do you think it’s bad? That I’m having sex?”

“I…what? No. No, no, Bucky, I’m not shaming you for having sex, God knows I should be the last one judging you for that…it’s just…I’m not used to that. People I’m close to... we all talk about it a while after...you know. I’m just not used to hearing you have sex and then seeing your face, like, ten minutes after. That’s all.” You smile then, touching his cheek as a way to assure him you’re telling the truth. Half of it, at least.

He leans into it so sweetly. “Okay. If that’s all, then… We should get going.” You nod, despite every bone in your body protesting moving away from this intimate moment. He feels the same, because every fear he’s ever had disappears at the warmth of your hand on his face. His eyes travel to your lips and you fix yourself, smoothing down your dress.

“You look absolutely beautiful in your outfit, by the way.” He silently adores you as you double check nothing’s been stolen from your bag, although you doubt someone is going to sneak between you two what with your hyper vigilance and Bucky’s enhanced senses.

You laugh. “You always think I look beautiful no matter what I wear. Even if I wore your sweatpants, you’d still say the same.” Smoke covers the both of you in a misty haze, but he swears he’s never seen you any clearer.

“Because you still look beautiful to me. You always do. Just accept the compliment, will you? You know you don’t have to work hard to deserve compliments, don’t you? They should be freely given.” He strokes your hair, admiring the tiny braid in between his fingers.

“I’m learning to.” You both smile at each other, and you let yourself feel the sweet swell of your heart, for once. Maybe that’s what will work. You just need to feel it all, and get it all out of your system. That’s how you end your crush on Bucky — feel until your reservoirs are empty, until you look over him one day and see nothing more than a good friend, a best friend even. It might takes years, it might even be next week. But this is your plan.

“Now, should we go?” You extend your hand in a silent offering, to reconnect the bridge that you had temporarily abandoned in your moonlit insanity. He takes it, placing his metal hand firmly in your grasp and interlocking fingers. You notice how he’s wearing long sleeves and gloves, even in this peculiar hot day in November. He must be boiling in that leather jacket.

For now, you lean into him, into his warmth even though you can feel yourself start to sweat, and you both walk hand in hand. To any outsider looking in, you two paint the picture of the perfect couple. You admire the red and orange leaves against a sky the colour of the eyes that are trained on you — memorising the curve of your nose and the pillow of your lips. In the bistro, you two sit comfortably close together, laughing silently over everything and nothing — like you’ve been dating for years.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, the both of you laughing like everything’s funny. Like teenagers on the first date — giddy and carefree. Your phone doesn’t buzz once, and you love the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you. He always loves to touch you, whether it’s tracing your palms or leaning his chin on your shoulder in the subway because you’re on his lap in the only spare seat available. You love it too, never knowing someone would be so eager, so desperate to touch you and feel you so innocently.

You’ve always felt shunned — like you’re only worth touching for a partner’s sexual satisfaction, and other times you were made to be ignored and tolerated. But if even a friend can cherish you in this special, sacred way, you can’t help but imagine what a true, enamoured lover would do.

Both of you want it, can feel that your feelings could be something worth a forever and a half — but of course, misunderstandings have to get in the way.

They always do.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #marvel

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 6 months ago

Text

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 48

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 1.5K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The grandfather clock in the dimly lit sitting room ticked relentlessly, its rhythmic sound echoing off the dark wood walls of the Townhouse. The only other sounds were the pattering rain outside and the muffled thoughts in your head. The town was flooded and the river had risen to unprecedented levels, but none of it seemed to matter now.

Azriel sat across from you, his scarred hands fidgeting as he stared at the carpet below. It had only been two days since Eris left you with an impossible decision, and each passing second felt like a lifetime. You and Azriel avoided talking about it, moving around each other like ghosts in the night. But you could feel his eyes on you when you curled up in the chair, pretending to read a book. Time seemed to slow down, rendering everything you did meaningless.

Azriel had walked into the sitting room drenched from the rain, his curls dripping water onto his face and shoulders. He didn't say anything as he collapsed onto the couch across from you. You were reading a letter from a desperate mother of two seeking housing accommodations that you knew you wouldn't have time to help with.

"Rhys heard from Eris," Azriel finally broke the silence, his gaze meeting yours briefly before dropping back down to avoid direct eye contact. "He wants to know what your plan is."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as you folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope. "What is our plan?"

Azriel's expression remained blank as he replied, "That's not for me to decide."

"What would you do?" You couldn't help but ask, desperation creeping into your voice. Every solution seemed doomed to fail, and the thought of sacrificing yourself for the sake of others weighed heavily on your mind. In your dreams, Philip died unexpectedly, but in reality, there seemed to be no way out of this predicament without facing torment and torture. You turned to Azriel, hoping his years of battle strategy could offer a different solution. But he offered no comfort, his gaze fixed on the floor. You felt anger rising at the injustice of it all and frustration at being burdened with such a heavy decision when you barely knew who you were. "Azriel," you called out, your voice hardened with emotion.

The shadowsinger looked up at you from under his lashes, shifting in his chair as he nervously chewed on his lip. "What should I do? Please, help me."

Azriel appeared to be breaking inside as you pleaded for his guidance. He swallowed and leaned forward to meet your eyes, "I don't know."

Your heart sank at his words and you waited for him to say something, anything that could make things better. But he remained silent, his face filled with emptiness.

"Is there really nothing we can do?" you asked again.

Azriel's lips tightened as he considered your question before finally responding, "You could run."

A gasp caught in your throat and your brows furrowed in confusion at his suggestion. "Run?" you repeated.

"Yes," Azriel's intense gaze met yours as he continued, "You could flee from here and start a new life far away from Velaris where Philip or Eris couldn't reach you."

The idea of leaving everything behind and starting fresh in an unfamiliar place crossed your mind. Maybe it was time to follow in your mother's footsteps and escape the watchful eyes of the Autumn Court heir. You could settle in the Spring or Day Court, living out your days gardening and tending to plants. And as you envisioned a future with little feet running through grass and delicate wings taking flight, you asked Azriel, "Would you come with me?"

His response shattered your hopes, "I couldn't."

Confused, you furrowed your brow and asked, "Why not?" Azriel's eyes were empty as he explained, "I can't just disappear. If I left with you, it would look like a planned court action and Philip would use it against us. You'd have to go alone."

The thought of being completely alone in the world filled you with sadness and loneliness. "But wouldn't the Autumn Court still look for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Azriel nodded sadly. "They may not send an army, but Philip wouldn't give up on finding you. It would be up to you to defend yourself. And if we tried to defend you against him, it would violate our alliance." The weight of the situation settled heavily in your stomach as you considered a life lived in isolation, always looking over your shoulder for danger and yearning for a love that was now forever out of reach.

With a hollow and empty voice, you said, "Even if I try to hide, I could still end up in the Autumn Court. They could find me and drag me back."

Azriel's eyes widened as he pleaded with you, "Wouldn't it be better to at least try?"

You watched his face fall, "So you want me to run away?"

Azriel straightened as he tried to hide his emotions. "I want you to do what you feel is right."

"But none of this feels right," you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration. "If I run, I'll live a life of isolation and fear. If I refuse Eris and go against him, he'll destroy the courts. And if I go with him, I'll be trapped under the rule of Caelum and Philip, forced to bear children for a male I despise." You looked at Azriel with wide eyes, "None of these options are right."

Azriel kept his gaze locked on you, searching for a solution in his mind. You turned away, biting into your cheek to hold back tears. "I want a life," you continued, "a life with you. Where I can make my own choices and wake up excited for each day."

Listening to you, Azriel's expression hardened until you finished speaking. "So you run away," he proposed. "Right now. I can take you deep into the woods and give you a chance to escape far from here. You can build the life you want."

"But it's not the life I want if you're not in it," you retorted. "And I can't just run away knowing that others might die because of my choices, Azriel. I can't live with more blood on my hands that I can't wash away."

"So you would sacrifice yourself to save strangers?" Azriel asked incredulously.

You swallowed back tears, "My life for hundreds. It seems like an easy decision."

Azriel looked disheartened, "I won't let you throw your life away, Y/N. I can't watch you go with him."

"Then I won't ask you to be there when I leave," you said firmly. "I refuse to let anyone else die because of me."

Azriel stood and ran his hands through his hair. "And what about me? If I asked you to leave, would you?" He looked down at you, pleading. "If it gave me peace of mind, would you leave forever?"

You considered his words, gazing up at him. "You can't guarantee the safety of others."

Azriel knelt in front of you and took your hand in his as if in prayer. "People will die no matter what decision we make." He pressed a kiss into your hand, "This won't be the last time Philip tries to overthrow Eris. The Autumn Court is already on the brink of civil war. Why not just let it happen sooner?"

You smiled softly, "I can't do that." You reached up to caress his cheek, which he leaned into. "If I can prevent more lives from being lost, that's what I should do. It's what you would do."

A single tear rolled down Azriel's cheek. "I am not capable of selflessness," he choked out.

"You would be," you assured him, gently resting his head in your lap and wrapping your arms around his body. He held onto you tightly as you ran your fingers through his curls, trying to soothe him as he broke down into sobs. "It's the right thing to do," you murmured, tears filling your own eyes. "And maybe I can still see you, even in the court. From across ballrooms and in meetings, I can still catch a glimpse of you, smell your scent and know that you are alive, that would be enough to keep me going.”

Azriel shook his head, "I cannot bear to see you with him. Not without losing control."

You lifted his chin to meet his gaze. "For me, you would stay composed." You planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "If it means being able to see you, you would hold back."

Tears glistened in Azriel's eyes as he nodded in agreement. "I will never stop searching for a way to get you out of there. I promise."

You managed a small smile and chuckled through your tears. "And I will be waiting for that day. I swear it. I will endure whatever suffering is necessary to be with you until the end of my days."

His response came out broken and muffled by sobs, "I will suffer for eternity for you."

As the hot heat of the sealed vow crept up your spine, sealing itself in ink, you paid no attention to it. Instead, you focused on holding onto this moment with Azriel and etching it into your memory forever.

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