#Doom Torment And Torture | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

springismss · 2 months ago

Text

ᱬ⛧ toying around ~ s. gojo

sum: when a dare you gave your boyfriend ended up biting you in the backside - now you’re a mess and he’s loving it.

pairing: satoru gojo x girlfriend! reader

content: 18+ - mndi. toy play, implied exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected p in v, implied c warming, gojo is a cocky mf, implied multiple rounds, reader gets called sweets/good girl, general swearing.

a/n: i’m back after being away for a bit - enjoy some toy play/kink with our favourite white-haired sorcerer. originally wrote with another character but it's time to shake it up. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 1,304

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist

rubbing your legs together, you chewed on your bottom lip as you attempted to relieve some of the pressure you felt within your core as the knot in your gut tightened slowly with each passing second.

unfortunately, the more you pressed your legs together, the more the pressure and pleasure increased. why did you have to be a smart mouth and give a dare to your boyfriend? you were sure he wouldn't take you up on it, mainly due to him not wanting to draw attention to you both, but to your dismay, he did. glancing up, you took in the mass of snow-white hair before letting a small whimper pass your swollen lips.

placing your head down on the table, you let out another soft moan, only to be met with a chuckle as blue eyes took in your current state. "you know i’ll only turn it up if you keep acting like that, (y/n)". the obvious glee in his voice made you growl, mentally debating whether you should punch him for being so cocky.

after a few moments, a small gasp slipped past your lips as you lost your train of thought to your soon-to-be impending doom. "h-ah, fuck, t-toru, please, this isn't f-fair". you whined out a little more than you intended at the pleasure you felt building as you lifted your head, the smirk on his lips adding fuel to your fire despite wanting to now connect your hand with his head - in a slap of hate or a grip of lust, you didn’t know which at this point any more.

you were going to make him pay for this next time, even if it killed you.

"well, you shouldn't have dared me to do this, then you wouldn't be in this situation now would you, sweets?”. satoru leaned his head on his hand as he looked you over, a small smirk appearing at the blush spreading across your face before he clicked another button on the remote he held under the table. his smirk widened at your reaction as you lifted your head and let it fall back, sucking in a breath as you tried to steady the pounding in your chest.

a few seconds later, a moan louder than you intended passed your lips as you let your head drop back down, causing people passing you both to look, raising their brows in questioning. “oh my, you're such a naughty girl aren't you, (y/n)?". his eyes racked over your somewhat dishevelled state as you bit your lip in an attempt to stifle the moan you could feel clawing at your throat.

you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction again, but it was so hard not to give in. after a few more agonisingly slow moments, satoru decided you'd had enough torment for the day. lifting his hand, he motioned for you to sit beside him, your body moving slowly, you manoeuvred around the round booth seat until you sat directly beside him. “as much as i like to tease and torture you with our little toys for a little while longer, i think you've endured enough for now".

his words were soothing as he lowered his hand, fingers caressing your thigh, drawing patterns for a moment before slipping under your skirt and into your underwear. taking a moment to press your clit, you sucked in a breath as you felt skilled fingers rub circles. the same fingers that were toying with you moved further down your wet pussy, slipping past the small ring of resistance with ease before reaching deep inside, savouring the feeling of your slightly pulsating walls, pulling out the soaked love egg vibrator much to his amusement.

a small moan of relief and loss sounded from you as you shuffled a little more, the fire deep within you never ceasing as your walls tried to clench around something that wasn’t there anymore. "t-toru, it's still too m-much for me”.

your soft whimpers lulled him slightly as you closed your eyes, taking in deep breaths in an attempt to calm the raging urge to jump him. you had been so close to that beautiful high that would have you seeing stars but it was cruelly ripped away.

soft fingers brushed against your neck while moving some of your hair, your eyes opening as you tilted your head slightly looking over your boyfriend. you were distracted and he took that as the perfect opportunity to drag a moan of both surprise and pleasure from you, before muffling any further sounds that dared to come out. the oh-so-familiar feeling of being stretched by long fingers made your eyes roll slightly, fluttering shut as the feeling of your end began building again.

amid your distraction, satoru had managed to slip two long fingers into your slick cunt, stretching your walls to the shape of his fingers as he began moving at a slow and almost painful pace. sure it wasn't the pace you had hoped for from him but to feel a part of him inside you, instead of the toy, was fair play.

pulling back from you slightly, hot breath ghosting against your lips, satoru tilted your chin and smiled softly. "you know, maybe we should take advantage of being in this booth. after all, you handled my little toy extremely well, sweets and i think we both know you’d much rather have something else inside you. something that you can really grip onto and lose your mind over".

scanning your eyes over his, you pulled his lip between your teeth and wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers slipping into his hair at the base of his neck, fingers scratching at his scalp slightly. now it was your turn to enjoy the quiet moans from deep in his throat before he played his hands on your hips, nails pressing into your skin. you didn’t know if you were trying to beg or demand with the way you were moving, but either way, he was right and you were impatient as fuck. hands guided your body to sit on his lap, facing away from him as you felt the welcome stretch of his cock pushing into your pussy, covering your mouth as you muffled the moan that slipped out.

“f-fuck, that’s it, my fucking sweet girl~”. tender kisses were peppered on your neck as you felt his hips begin to lift, pressing the head of his cock further into you, your insides moulding once again to the shape of him as you clenched around him, your body not wanting to let him slip out so easily this time around, unlike the egg vibrator from earlier that now rested in his pocket.

“~let’s see how many times i can make you come before our food arrives. if you’re quiet and good, i’ll make sure to rip those sweet sounds from your throat later on tonight when i have you pinned beneath me in bed”.

his words hit you as you let your head fall down, clenching around him once again as you moved your hips slowly, making sure to not draw too much attention to the fact you were being stretched open in pure bliss for anyone to see.

of course, you were a good girl for him, legs trembling as you came undone on his cock, your slick dripping over his lap and your thighs and you panted into your hand, eyes closing as you felt him pat your thigh.

and of course, he was true to his word, having you come undone once again, this time beneath him as he ripped sweet moan after sweet moan for your throat as he filled you up until he had nothing but blanks left to give you as he pulled you into every possible position he could.

672 notes · View notes

jazeswhbhaven · 6 months ago

Text

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🖤

422 notes · View notes

0bticeo · 1 year ago

Text

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

582 notes · View notes

peariote · 4 months 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

129 notes · View notes

just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 4 months ago

Text

Moonlight

-> a self-indulgent little Thomas Hutter x fem!vampire!reader drabble

Warnings: reader watches Thomas sleep and contemplates biting him; mentions of mind control

He is so terribly beautiful in the moonlight.

Your undead heart, it seems, is still capable of aching in the face of beauty. It is a curious feeling you have not experienced in lifetimes, and are not sure you ever had, even when you walked still amongst the living. Your infernal nature urges you to sink your teeth into your unsuspecting prey, bite into his heart as you have done countless others... yet you are oddly compelled to preserve the sight before your eyes, caress it with your gaze as you would a most precious painting.

Thomas stirs in his sleep as you ease yourself onto the bed, but it’s not the slight motion of you sitting at his side which disturbs him. His dreams are tortured, leaving his skin aglow with perspiration. There is a shroud over his mind, equal parts his own terror and your dark influence crawling around within, ever since he set foot inside your ancient castle.

Slowly, you raise your hand, and his ragged breathing is soothed into a sigh as soon as the shadow of your fingers caresses his cheek. Your knuckles soon follow, an icy graze upon his feverish skin. Yet he leans into your touch, still fast asleep, lips slightly parted and—rosy, plump with blood you could bring rushing to the surface with but a press of your deadly sharp nailtip.

You shut your eyes, shuddering as you fight to keep at bay the hunger ravaging your senses. You must not give in now. You cannot. For if you do, if you were to throw yourself upon him and kiss his lips, and bite them open, there would be nothing in the world of the living or the dead that could stop you from draining him of every last drop he has to give. And if he were to die, the sweet torment of this desire he has awakened in you would die with him.

“My lady?”

His eyes have opened, you find as his murmur draws your gaze to him. Your fingers linger at his jaw still. They drift upward, sinking in his hair as you cradle the apple of his cheek. His breath quickens once more, lashes fluttering as though he is torn between remaining transfixed by your eerie beauty or hiding behind closed lids from a touch he feels to be his doom.

“My Thomas,” you whisper in return, overcome with an achingly tender craving. You watch as your other hand finds his chest, palm flattening over his heart. How quickly it beats beneath your fingertips. How strongly.

One bite, and it is yours.

You envision it—the tearing of flesh, the gushing of blood, the gasp torn from his throat—as Thomas brings his hand over your own. You raise your gaze and find his pleading. If there was any doubt left in his mind that the evil he feels in this place was you, it is now gone.

You could make him forget. You could make him do anything you wished, but it is of his own will that he turns his head into your hand that is cupping his cheek, brushes his lips against the heel of it. Then, lifting his gaze to yours, he breathes into your skin:

“Are you Death?”

You could be. You are.

Devourance is all you can think of as you lean down, your shadow falling over him as you bring your lips a breath away from his. They brush, not quite a kiss. Thomas releases the softest gasp. Shuts his eyes. Tilts his chin ever-so-slightly upwards.

More.

“No,” you rein in the craving in between you, as well as give the answer that he seeks. “Not tonight.”

When Thomas next opens his eyes, breathless and trembling, it’s as though you were never there. But he knows, by the ache of his need and the ghost of your touch, that indeed you were—and when the coming day has passed and night returns, so shall you. And though every inch of his being quakes with the certainty that you will bring utter ruin upon his body and his soul, he can’t help but think...

You are so terribly beautiful in the moonlight.

Next part -> Devourable

#thomas hutter x reader #nosferatu 2024

125 notes · View notes

gatheringbones · 7 days ago

Note

If you’ve read the book, what did you think of A Little Life? I am in two minds about it because on the one hand it was, for me, the most accurate portrayal of the consequences of childhood trauma I’ve ever read in a novel — incredibly tragic statement, but as an adult who is genuinely terrified and intolerant of intimacy because of my past, Jude was actually the first and only really relatable fictional character I’ve ever come across. Seeing my own experiences reflected like that for the first time ever felt almost revolutionary to me. But on the other I hate the idea (expressed in the quote from the author that you posted) that he was always doomed to die by suicide because his trauma left him too broken to recover. That feels to me like a fundamentally wrong idea, but I’d love to hear your thoughts.

that’s what Yanagihara thinks of you. Once that happens to you, you’re irreparably broken and can only drag down others into your pit of despair and it’s better for all involved for you to quietly kill yourself and spare everyone the inconvenience of your tormented existence. Her father was a eugenicist and she carries his beliefs. The backbone of American eugenicism is to make the lives of the Unfit and Unwanted so miserable that they remove themselves without having to involve the state. Jude’s so relatable because his voice is intentionally written to agree with and stoke your worst and most suicidal feelings because Hanya Yanagihara wants people like him (and you) to kill themselves. Suicidal thoughts are not especially creative; they follow very similar tracks from person to person. All of his woe is me I’m broken forever guess I’ll eat worms and die shit is entirely that. She wants you to kill yourself and she wants all your friends and loved ones to give up on you faster so it will happen faster.

I wish you had access to real survivor narratives by people who actually give a shit and who don’t see you as a cockroach that needs to be flushed, especially by queer survivors of rape, captivity, and torture. Our culture gives us incessant eugenecist messages that we need to remove ourselves from society and that our lives are nothing but waste and ruin. There are so many real voices countering that.

87 notes · View notes

pome-seed · 11 days ago

Text

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 9

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: As you try to figure out a plan and try to understand the machine used to control the Winter Soldier, you're hit with the fear of disappearing. Longing to be known, you share a kind moment with the Soldier.

Warnings: Captivity, angst, mention of torture and death, longing, helplessness, mention of Siberia, and more angst. Sad Bucky.

Authors Note: Please enjoy, comment and be kind! I love the comments and interaction. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Song Rec: Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

The cold glint of steel.

A faded red star.

Painfully blue eyes.

Calloused fingers that twitched when you pulled too far away.

Cold skin marred with scars.

A gentle frown, pressed together softly by blushed lips.

You wanted to burn every small detail of the Soldier into your brain. You wanted to remember it, remember him. You feared you didn’t have long. You tried to draw out your research as you worked on the indefinite cure to his degeneration, but your captors grew impatient.

You didn’t want to go.

You didn’t want to disappear.

“My favorite color is red.” You blurted, your gaze following the line of wires across the back of the Soldier’s chair.

He shifted, turning his head slightly to signal he was listening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, biting on the soft inside of your cheek. “I like red.”

What you were doing was dangerous. You knew that. But you couldn’t stop.

“I like a lot of things.” You huffed, trying not to shake under the sudden burst of anxiety you felt. You moved behind the Soldier, eyeing the power box behind his chair.

In the days when you were sent to clean up the Soldier- cleaning his suit, his wounds, basic care- you tried your best to investigate the machine he sat on.

From what you’d seen, it was some sort of electroshock therapy on steroids. The technology was foreign to you, but its intention was clear. It was built to restrain and torment. It was designed to suppress memories and induce a state of pliancy.

It was the perfect tool for mental conditioning.

There were several monitors that you had become familiar with, each reflecting the Soldier’s vitals and scans. Beneath the monitors were several switches and dials, meant to control the flow of electricity.

“I like a lot of things,” you repeated. Between the fear you felt for your charge and the doom you felt hanging over your future, you felt the need to be known. “I hate a lot of things too. I can be really opinionated.” Your voice trailed on, fighting against the shake in your body.

The Soldier watched you inspect the mechanics and tangle of wires, listening silently as you trailed on anxiously. He knew as well as you did that there was little hope in what you were doing. You knew this. You knew there was no point in him believing that you could help him. Why would he? He’d spent decades helpless under their torture.

You tried to feel confident in yourself, but ultimately your only hope of making a difference was breaking the high tech machine. The only solid plan you had was giving the soldier a window to escape. A window to regain some sense of understanding of his own mind.

But even then, they still had those trigger words. The ones used so easily that day when your throat had been the victim of the Winter Soldier.

“I used to journal a lot, back home. I always had so much to say and- and nowhere to put it all.” Usually, spilling details about your life to a man after a long bout of silence would be embarrassing, but not with him. Not here. Not now.

Not when he knew why you were doing it.

“I like music- I really like music. My friends and I were hoping to go to a music festival in the summer, before all of this.” You went on, holding yourself up on the mechanical device in front of you. “I had good friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

The Soldier looked over his shoulder at you, dark hair framing his tormented expression. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t want you to. He wanted to listen. He wanted to hear about what a life could be like outside of all this pain and death. He wanted to know who you were before this.

“What else?” He offered, the low timber of his voice soft and gentle.

You blinked back ill timed tears. “There’s- There’s so much.” You whispered. “I had so much life- before.”

“I know,” his throat bobbed, his lips tugged into a frown.

And he did. He knew someone like you must have lived a good life. A life of laughter and tears, of good and bad in all the right ways. He knew you must have been happy.

A part of him wished he could reach into himself and find that. He knew he must have been something once. He must have laughed. He must have been happy.

He must have been someone once.

But it was too far, too dark and too easy to slip through his fingers. He could try and try, but he couldn’t touch the warmth he must have once felt, years ago.

“I always wanted to travel. I never did though, stupid, right?” You huffed, sinking into your chair at your desk. “Did you? Do you know?”

His gaze shifted to the space between you, his head slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

“Where have you been?”

“Siberia, Russia.”

“Yeah?” You tilted your head at him. “I bet it's nice there. Watching the sun peak over the snow caps. I bet the air tastes sharp there.” You whispered wistfully.

He didn’t agree. His shoulders sank as he stared at you pick at your nails. “I didn’t see much of the sun.” He whispered, a cold shiver trailing down his back.

“Oh.”

You couldn’t help the bitter, dry sob that clawed its way up your throat. Of course he didn’t see it. They would never let him experience something so innocent.

Your eyes met, and for a moment you both were silent.

The two of you shared a fragile second of understanding. All you wanted was to be known. To be remembered. You didn’t want to disappear. You didn’t want to fade into the unknown, with nothing left of you.

And he, who was already gone, already lost to the world, wanted to be known. He wanted to be something. Someone. He wanted to have something for himself, something to hold and cradle and call his own. He wanted to be alive.

But you both knew it was fruitless.

It was impossible.

So together you sat, sharing a second of understanding.

A/N: I'm sorry for sooo much angst :D But I hope you enjoy. This is the tipping point. Let me know if you wanna be apart of the tag list!

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05

67 notes · View notes

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

1K notes · View notes

m39 · 1 year ago

Text

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

0 notes

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

411 notes · View notes

kaeyeahsworld · 11 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

254 notes · View notes

goodolddumbbanana · 28 days ago

Text

Nexus, for once in your life, can you stop being a f*cking puppet and get back to your family, please?

Girl be like, I'm in control, I'm powerful!! And then proceeded to work with every enemy he used to hate.

Like, it is so sad to look at right. Seeing how Nexus, just get revived again to be a VESSEL, some tools for these Dark Stars Entries Beings.

Dark Sun and KS interact are gold, now we only need Sun and we have a full combo. Hilarious how Nexus couldn't do anything with the Sun, these variants he hates the most. Boy truly just barks and no bite. Poor him.

And is it some hope that I see when he is first seeing Dark Sun? Like the mistake for Sun? And the hesitation when he said about Sun will be the last and not the first?

He is so sure about killing Sun and Sun only and now he shows some of his hesitation. Am I delulu? Please let me be delulu.

Eclipse v2? Long time to see him. Please let him be real. I theory that when Eclipse V2 died, he fused with every energy being because he also used the star energy. So he is not fake, it's actually the real eclipse v2.

Seeing how Nexus be the lab dog again is sad. And he follows Eclipse V2, the one who has torment him since when he wakes up? That saddd.

And Dazzle. Oh boy... She is now very isolated, with Jack no longer being her friend and she only has Motlen and Sun. I wonder if Nexus capture and kill or torture Dazzle, will Sun still have hope to help him?

I want Sun to save him, man. Seeing how everyone bullied Nexus makes me sad. Please, give me some doom siblings. I can't take it anymore, especially when seeing how Nexus is slowly losing himself.

LET SUN SAVE HIM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 PLEASE GIVE NEXUS A REDEMPTION PLEASE

I miss new moon and sun

#tsams #sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #sams sun #tsams nexus

30 notes · View notes

vaesbst · 8 months ago

Text

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

65 notes · View notes

animatorweirdo · 2 months ago

Text

The Day When Nightmares Became Reality

The day you taught Melkor the true definition of fear.

Warnings: mentions of torture upon one of your Maiars, Melkor making a really bad decision, mentions of dream-eating, causing some people to go insane and kill each other, and reader appearing in a terrifying form.

------------------------------------------------------

-You have heard people and even some of your own kin call you many things, such as ruthless, unpredictable, ungentle, cold, and unloving. Some of them might be true as you were not merciful when it came to dealing with your enemies, and you were not particularly gentle when showing a dreamer a possible future outcome as nightmares when their life is going to face a drastic change.

- Guiding someone toward better choices through fear or other unsettling emotions was often one of the most effective methods—especially when gentler approaches had failed. Though a part of you wished it was not necessary but, of course, not all dreamers were wise enough to accept guidance when it’s offered to them. For those who refused to see, you were left with no choice but to force them to confront the harsh truth.

- However, unloving was a term that was not true about you.

- You were capable of feeling love, and you do care for many things, such as balance between dreams and reality, wellbeing and safety of your dreamers, and all the things being as they should be.

- You can see visions of your dreamer’s future, and thus you try to offer guidance by showing what might happen if they take the wrong path. Unfortunately, in many cases, they still choose to ignore the warnings and take a path that will lead to their doom. It has happened so many times that you mostly feel disappointed by their choices even when they had a choice to take a path that would have taken them to a better future.

- While you were not as open like Irmo, you were not heartless like Melkor. If you were unloving, you would not put so much effort into trying to guide dreamers to a better future.

- You did not tolerate evil done to innocents, especially for foul reasons, and dealt with them accordingly. If they have received enough mercy and opportunities to become better, then there is no reason for you to show them mercy.

- Such cases like Melkor

-You and your Maiar primarily existed within the realm of dreams, a place beyond Melkor’s direct influence. However, for your Maiar to consume unnatural nightmares, they often had to manifest in Arda and locate the afflicted dreamer. While you could sense these corrupted dreams from within your realm, you could not affect them there, as they were not of your making.

- There was a time when Melkor took advantage of this.

- While your servants were clever and swift enough to avoid him when necessary, making his attempts to capture them difficult. But one time, he succeeded in capturing one of your Maiar, imprisoning them in his domain.

- You heard quickly what happened and sensed your servant’s suffering as Melkor tormented them with torture, trying to uncover the secrets of your realm and gain ability over dreams and nightmares.

- As you did not tolerate evil done to innocent beings, you did not tolerate any torment placed upon your Maiars. You immediately took action to save your servant from Melkor’s clutches.

- While Manwe and the rest of your kin dealt with Melkor when necessary, they were often reluctant to do anything that involved their fallen brethren, following rules they had set for themselves. Thus, you knew this was something you had to deal with yourself and had the right, as he was keeping one of your people as his prisoner.

- To follow certain civilized rules, you appeared before Melkor in his dreams and asked him to return your Maia. You made it clear that you will not tolerate any harm or suffering placed on them and will take action if he refuses. If he releases them, then you will consider the matter solved and leave him with a warning to never touch one of your people again unless he wishes heavy consequences.

- And, of course, Melkor, in his own arrogance, claimed he might release them if you acknowledged his kingship over Arda.

- He even offered a partnership because as the Vala of Nightmares and the prime sovereign of the Dream realm, you were powerful compared to Manwe and the rest of your kin. With you by his side, he could finally rule Arda as he should.

- It was a preposterous offer.

- You despise him because he has harmed many innocent beings who have done no wrong to him, either out of his own amusement or to corrupt them in his own design. If you acknowledged him as anything, it would be a delusional fool or a foul unmaker of all that is beautiful.

- And his intentions were clear. He believed he could control you as long as he had one of your people as prisoner — that you were gullible enough not to do anything unless you would risk harm coming to your Maia.

- Oh, what a fool he is.

- You made your demand clear once again. If he refuses to return your Maia and follow your given warnings, then you will have no choice but to take action and retrieve your servant yourself.

- Melkor then dared you to keep your word.

- Unaware it would be his greatest mistake.

- "Very well. I have given you the chance to solve this matter peacefully, but you have decided to refuse the safe return of my servant. Therefore, you have given me no choice but to take action and retrieve them from your realm myself. Remember— that the day when nightmares become reality— was your choice, " you declared before vanishing from his mind.

- Melkor held up a facade of arrogance, but after you left, he felt a tingle of uncertainty.

- It was back then when he did not know much about you. He was aware of your powers and that you ruled a different realm by yourself, but otherwise, he knew little of you. He knew you as Irmo’s silent friend and thought you were easy to coerce like most of your kin, but that did not seem to be the case.

- You were not afraid of him, so there was a high possibility that you were someone who would keep your word.

- In newfound uncertainty, Melkor retreated into his fortress of Utumnno. His fortress was grand and filled with legions of servants. He had full power over everything that happened in his realm, so even you should not be able to reach him easily.

- Unfortunately for him, you will soon show him that no place in Arda will protect him enough or prevent you from reaching him, as every living being who dreams allows you power over them.

- That day was the first and only day when you took a physical form in Arda.

- When all seemed calm and like they’re supposed to, your servants appeared like ghosts in forms that instilled fear. Melkor’s servants tried to fight them, but they appeared and vanished like they never existed.

- Utumnno fell into chaos. Every fallen maia, shadow, or orc fought against something they could not touch. Your servants appeared and vanished as they went, latching onto Melkor's servants and eating all their thoughts and dreams.

-You and your servants had specific rules when it came to dream eating because if your servants ate too much, the dreamer’s mental cababilities would be affected and fall under the risk of becoming empty husks of themselves.

-This time, you allowed your servants to consume as much as they desired, giving them free rein to devastate many of Melkor’s servants beyond repair. They took great delight in it. Melkor has willingly tormented one of their own, so they shall return that torment ten times fold.

- And due to your presence, every living being began to see distorted visions and fell incapable of telling what was real and what was not.

- Melkor was prepared to fight but felt distressed as he did not know a way to stop your servants as even he could not touch them. And then…

- You appeared.

- You had taken a terrible form, one that mirrored a humanoid shape but was far from natural. Unlike your kin, who adhered to the common rules of appearance, your form distorted reality itself. You had no face, only several eyes scattered across your being, each one watching, judging, and seeing all at once. The sight of you was horrifying, an embodiment of the terror you were meant to guide and control.

- Melkor attempted to strike you, but you vanished as if you had never been there. The world around him warped in response to your presence, and then, countless eyes—your eyes—emerged from every corner of the room. They appeared in the walls, on the floors, in the very air around him, all watching, unblinking, relentless.

-A wave of indescribable terror consumed him, and in a frantic frenzy, he swung his weapon at the eyes, desperately trying to destroy them. But for every eye he destroyed, another would take its place, as though his very attempts to fight back only fed into your power.

- In his frenzy, Melkor lashed out at what he believed were your creations, viciously striking them with all his might. But as the haze of his terror cleared and he looked around, he realized that the creatures he had attacked were not yours—they were his own Maiar servants. Some lay dead at his feet, victims of his blind rage.

- Everything became clear, and he was told he had attacked them like he had gone mad. It was not only him but many others who attacked their own in madness. Utumnno had fallen into complete disarray, and many had been killed or been left hollow, unable to even muster coherent words.

- You then appeared again, with everything distorting into the nightmare you had designed for him. Only he could see you, as his servants did not react to you.

- Melkor froze in fear as you leaned closer to him.

- “My servant has been safely retrieved and returned home. However, I want you to remember and think of this moment for the rest of your wretched life. Everything that has happened here was because of your choice. You had a choice to avoid this outcome, and you didn’t take it. You allowed this to happen,” you said, your voice resonating with voices of thralls he had once tormented.

- You gave him a warning to never come after your people again unless he wants a second visit from you, and then you left.

- From that day forth, Melkor has known nothing but terror toward you. You have shown your power over nightmares and that you will keep your word if he crosses you again. His attempts to uncover your realm's secrets ceased, and you had instilled something in him that he both hated and saw as his means of survival: Fear.

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #middle earth x reader #tolkien #silm fic #silmarillion imagines #middle earth imagines #x vala reader #valars #silmarillion headcanon #middle earth headcanons #vala of nightmares #the day when nightmares became reality

25 notes · View notes