#the Lidless Eye

[madcat-world]

the Lidless Eye - D8P

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Lord of the Rings: The Card Game - The Lidless Eye by D8P

[kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon]

People, mind your gardens—you don’t want to end up accidentally giving succor to Sauron

[almostlookedhuman]

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Lookin' more like Sauron in this picture.

Me: *trying to take a cute picture of Morgoth* Morgoth:

[oldschoolfrp]

Wizards & Warfare, fantasy miniature wargame by Peter Irving of the Leicester Wargames and Model Soldier Society (undated 1st ed, 1976 2nd ed and 1978 3rd ed shown). Earlier printings reference many names from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings -- Ents, Nazgul, Hobbits, Riders of Rohan -- later replaced with more generic terms, similar to early and later versions of Dungeons & Dragons.

[hauntedfalcon]

*slides fandom $20 the potential for my respect* before we get too far into this chapter, learn to spell Rajan Savarimuthu and Noshir Dalal

[camelliagwerm]

I broke the action economy so bad Cassia got 4 full turns and 2 half turns in one round.

[mirdaniaa]

the rop fandom is so funny because people there are like, "how DARE sauron manipulate these two women, he should be THROWN IN JAIL" and like. buddy. if you think that's bad. just wait 'til you hear what else he's done.

[ark081]

I don't super understand the hate towards Chains of Harrow... It was not necessarily a magnificent quest, but I enjoyed it. :-(

[aluhnim]

Iguin, the Lidless Eye.

[madcat-world]

Sauron, the Lidless Eye - YigitKoroglu

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Sauron, the Lidless Eye by Yigit Koroglu

[yandere-daydreams]

file #2: the amputation fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!gojo satoru x reader (jjk).

length: 2.9k.

warnings: non/con, amputation, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationships, obsessive behavior, amputation (no injury to reader in fic), handjobs, masturbation, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Babydoll? You wanna let me in?”

A beat of silence, a light knock. You stayed where you were, crumpled on the bathroom floor, and Satoru sighed.

“C’mon, angel. I can’t help from all the way out here.”

You clenched your bloody arm closer, pulling your knees up to your chest. An orange-tinted, half-emptied pill container sat lidless and on its side next to you. Shoko’s pills took care of the worst of the pain, but a steady, persistent throbbing had lodged itself in the knob that used to be your wrist and refused to let-up. It probably wouldn’t for the next hour, if not the next day.

“I can’t take you to see Shoko if you keep me locked out.”

At that, you relented, uncurling with from your self-made bundle. It took a second to shift yourself onto your knees, another to find the doorknob with your remaining hand, but Satoru himself in as soon as the lock clicked out of place. Thankfully, mercifully, he gave you time to skitter back to your corner before crossing the threshold, but that didn’t stop you from withering as his eyes raked over you, as he evaluated the damage. Eventually, he collapsed against the adjacent wall and sunk to the floor, letting out a raspy groan before tossing you a familiar, crooked smile. You didn’t return it. “That mad at me, huh?” You didn’t respond, gaze dropping to your decimated hand – or, rather, the mangled stump that used to be your hand. His smile wavered, but didn’t fall away. “Yeah, no, I probably deserve that. Does it hurt?”

You didn’t indulge him with an answer. “Did you call Shoko?”

“On a mission,” he said with a slight shrug, a strong note of ‘what can you do?’ in his tone. Like this was some minor inconvenience, annoying but ultimately trivial. Like like you weren’t missing an essential part of yourself. “She said she’d swing by as soon as she’s done, but I’d give it another hour. I think she’ll kill me if I keep asking her to make house calls.”

Another beat of silence, another deafening failure to respond on your part. Finally, he turned to face you properly, leaning forward. “…can I?”

He always did this – paused like that, smiled like that, tried to make himself seem so gentle, so loving, so considerate. It might’ve been well-meaning, an attempt to let you know he was sorry without having to swallow enough of his pride to actually apologize, but all it ever seemed to make you feel was cold and alone, stuck in a shell of an apartment with a shell of a man. It was always the same. It was always going to be the fucking same.

And, like always, you relented, looking away as you nodded stiltedly. Satoru’s smile brightened as he closed the distance between you, his thigh pressing into yours as he settled against your side.

When you’d first gotten into a relationship with Gojo Satoru, you told yourself that if things ever so much as seemed like they might be going south, you were gone. You hadn’t known anything about cursed energy or sorcerer hierarchies or malevolent spirits, but you didn’t have to – even if you hadn’t watched him obliterate monsters the size of apartment buildings with a snap of his fingers, he still would’ve been the strongest person you’d ever met, a man capable of shattering bones with his bare hands and breaking open skulls with all the effort it would’ve taken you to swat a fly out of the air. He was dangerous to be around, even if you doubted Satoru could ever intentionally hurt another living, breathing person. He was rich, and pretty, and strong, and used to getting his way. You loved him, but you needed to be able to leave if it ever seemed like that love was going to put you in danger.

And you did leave. The first time you argued, the first time he lost control of his temper and you were left sobbing on the floor with nothing below your left knee, you’d gotten as far as you could as quickly as you could. It’d taken him a full week to track you down, another to convince you that one of his bizarre friends could heal you, and roughly half a minute of Satoru sobbing and clinging to your (newly restored) leg for you to forgive him, to write it off as an accident – just the kind of risk you took when you got into a relationship with someone who could deadlift armored tanks. The second, you’d stayed at a friend’s place for a few days before coming back on your own, as desperate for his miracle-cure as you were for the pet comforts that came with Satoru’s bottomless fortune. The fourth, you’d barricaded yourself in his bedroom for sixteen hours and only come out for Shoko, who’d muttered about your ‘wreck of a boyfriend’ as she rebuilt the three missing fingers on your right hand.

Now, on the ninth, you’d barely managed to keep him locked out of a bathroom for all of five minutes. It was embarrassing, more than anything. You wanted to be able to hate him, you wanted to be scared of him, but it was hard to be scared of someone you loved. Someone you loved as much as Satoru, especially.

You shook your head, dragging yourself out of your own spiraling thoughts. Your attention, instead, moved to Satoru – still slumped against the tiled wall, his head lulled back and his attention focused pointedly on the ceiling. You were dressed to go out, uncomfortable jeans and all, but Satoru looked like he just rolled out of bed – a plain white shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, a pair of pitch-black sweatpants falling low on his waist, the lights dim enough to mean his piercing blue eyes didn’t have to be locked behind tinted glass or thick fabric. That was what you’d been arguing about, even if it was hard to remember why it’d seemed like such a big deal. He had the day off, no class and no cursed spirits to slaughter, and wanted to waste his morning in bed, with you wrapped in his arms. You’d tried to tell him, as slowly and as tenderly as you could, that you couldn’t, that you had an important early-morning lecture, that you’d be back by the time he actually wanted to get up, but he’d whined and pouted and you’d lost your patience when he reminded you that you could ‘always drop out’. You tried to leave, and he tried to catch your hand, to make you stay for that much longer, and—

“Can I see it?” You were almost thankful to hear his voice, if only for the distraction. “Your hand, I mean. If you’re comfortable with showing me.”

You weren’t, but you were desperate not to sink back into your own head, either. Slowly, cautiously, you shuffled that much closer to him, folding your legs underneath you as you gingerly held out the arm you’d spent the better part of the last few minutes cradling. It made you sick to look at a part of your own body so violently distorted, so violently wrong, so you didn’t – keeping your focus trained on your knees as Satoru took up your shortened limb. His own healing abilities had taken care of the worst of the gore, but even with the open, gaping wound at the end of your arm closed, there was still a ring of bruising around your wrist, streaks of dried blood running down the length of your forearm, a raw quality to the skin where his hap-hazard repairs hadn’t quite taken. His touch was feather-light, skirting around the worst of the remaining damage and lingering near your elbow, then your bicep. Acknowledgement came in the form of a low whistle, an airy sigh. You tried not to let his casualness get to you. Sorcerers must’ve seen injuries like this all the time. This was the end of the world for you, but Satoru would be just fine. “I’m not going to let you lift a finger after this. You know that, right? I’ve gotta make sure my pretty baby’s still nice n’ spoiled, even when I go and fuck everything up.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was as close as he’d ever get. You grit your teeth and nodded, taking a second to find your voice. Even with the delay, it came out as a croak; almost too low and too ragged to be coherent. “This can’t keep happening, ‘toru. I love you, but this can’t keep happening.”

“I know, baby, I know.” One of his hands remained wrapped around your arm while the other, unoccupied, fell between his open legs. “I don’t mean to. If I had it my way, nobody would be able to touch you, but…” A pause, a laugh. “I just get so stressed out when we start fighting, like that. All I can think about is someone hurting you when I’m not there to keep you safe, and I forget how delicate I’ve gotta be with you. It feels like I’m not in control of myself.”

Despite your better judgement, you felt a deep, churning well of guilt open up inside of you. It was your turn to sigh, now, to slump, to let your eyes fall shut. “I love you,” you repeated, like it was the only thing you knew how to say. “It’s just— It scares me, when you get like that. I know you’re just trying to be protective, but it hurts.”

You heard his breathing pick-up, his grip tighten ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel. “I know, sweetheart. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“You do take care of me, but—” You were cut off by a breathy swear, a throat groan. Momentarily, your fear and self-loathing gave way to irritation, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips as you opened your eyes and snapped towards Satoru. He was still focused on your arm – what was left of it, at least – but his gaze was glazed over, far away, and his hand was moving between his—

You put it together too quickly, the force of the realization leaving no time for numbing shock or dampening confusion. He was touching himself, grinding the heel of his palm into the base of his cock. You could see the outline of his shaft against the dark material – already half-hard, if not worse.

If you’d been able to feel anything, you might’ve felt sick.

Reflexively, you tried to pull away from him, but his hold on your arm only tightened, fingertips digging into your bicep as Satoru laughed, the sound strained and airy. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. I know you like a head’s up, but…” Now, he looked at you, but it was too late, too much, too sudden. All you could seem to think to do was gape back at him, unmoving and unthinking. “Guess it’s just what you do to me. I’ll try to make it quick – all you’ve gotta do is sit there and look pretty.”

It was a familiar line, a familiar excuse. You’d heard it a thousand times – mumbled into your neck as draped himself over you in the early hours of the morning, spouted off as he dragged you back to his car halfway through dinner at a restaurant you’d been looking forward to visiting for months – but it didn’t seem to make sense, this time, didn’t fit with the image of your missing hand hovering a few inches above your loving boyfriend’s erection. The dissonance only seemed to get worse, more dizzying as he shrugged the waistband of his sweats past his hips and down to his thighs, freeing his stiff cock. You’d been too generous, before; he was already hard, his tip flushed a dark pink and leaking thick beads of arousal. Again, you tried to get away, and again, he only pulled you closer, until your side was flush against his. There was a deep grunt, a hazy grin as he wrapped a fist around the shaft of his cock, his grip almost painfully tight. His eyes never left the dull stump on the end of your left arm, his raspy breathing soon turning to a deep, heady panting as you watched him pump his fist over his cock, his pace slow and methodical – a far cry from the spontaneous, erratic Satoru you were used to. A soft voice in the back of your mind, awful and treacherous, suggested that he might be trying to savor it, and a dozen more screamed loudly enough to drown it out.

“Satoru,” you said, nearly surprising yourself with how distant you sounded, how detached. You didn’t feel detached. If anything, you almost felt too grounded in the feeling of cool tile against your back, the heat of his body where it pressed into yours. “Please, stop.”

“I don’t really have a choice, babe.” He shot you a playful grin, and for a second, you could almost imagine hating him. “It’d go a lot faster if you helped me out, though.”

You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to. His hand was already groping for yours, already forcing your reluctant participation. The position was awkward, your body half-bent over his, but when you shifted, Satoru’s thumb dug into the bone of your wrist and instantly, you went still. This was bad. Not having control of your only remaining hand was bad. But having your only remaining hand taken away from you would be worse.

Satoru didn’t seem to see it that way. Sounds of aching pleasure bubbled past his lips shamelessly, turning the abruptly claustrophobic bathroom into an echo chamber of pitchy whines and raspy groans and the slick, wet clicks of his cock fucking into your balled fist. It was terrible – being able to feel how his cock pulsed against your palm, being forced to acknowledge the little, stilted movements of his hips whenever he decided your (admittedly lackluster) pace left something to be desired. In less than a minute, his head had lulled onto your shoulder, his voice muffled by the proximity as he struggled to speak in spite of his own unabashed moaning. “Love you so much,” he half-mumbled, half-panted. You could feel his breath against your shoulder, his drool starting to pool just above your collarbone. “W-wanna take care of you when you can’t take care of yourself, make sure nobody else ever gets to put their hands on you. I’d be good – cook for you, n’ shower with you, ‘n dress you up all nice n’ pretty,” He paused, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You… You wouldn’t hate me that much if we left it that way, right?”

You felt something drop into the pit of your stomach. “Satoru, you’re—”

“Please, baby.” It was the same tone he used when he was begging you to make a late-night snack run with him, or when he wanted to finish inside of you without protection. “Just—Just tell me that you’d let me take care of you. Just say that you’d still love me.”

It felt like your throat was swollen shut, your chest stuffed to bursting with shattered glass and razor blades and spiny needles only just beginning to poke through your skin. You didn’t want to say anything, you didn’t think you could say anything, and yet, when your mouth fell open, you found a voice that was not your own seeping out by means beyond your control. “It’s alright,” you muttered, distantly, as his cock throbbed in your hand. “I’d still love you, ‘toru.”

Although, you were starting to wish you wouldn’t.

You heard him groan, felt something thick and searing spill over the back of your hand. Satoru’s hand, cupped snuggly over yours, kept you moving until every last drop had been milked out of him, until the final ember of his climax had burnt itself out. He went limp against you, his vice-grip finally falling away, but rather than run, you only straightened, wiping your hand on your jeans before tucking it into your lap. How you looked didn’t matter, anymore.  There couldn’t have been more than a few minutes left in your lecture, if you hadn’t already missed it entirely.

Silence interrupted only by panting breaths and the beating, drowning drum playing in your ears reigned over the confined space, keeping you in a state of bleary stasis until the sound of a sharp knock, shortly followed by a distant door opening broke through the fog. “That’s Shoko,” Satoru murmured, almost disappointed. He started to separate himself from you, only to relapse – burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting out a deep, contented sigh. “You know that I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know that all I wanna do is keep you happy?”

“I know, ‘toru.”

“Good.” He pulled back, grinning. “’cause all I ever wanna do is take care of my angel. Don’t let anything ‘side from that get into your pretty little head.”

You only nodded as he pushed himself to his feet, as he slipped out of the bathroom to meet Shoko, to explain what vital part of yourself he’d torn away this time. You wanted to get up, to wash the cum off of your hand, to pump feeling back into your numb legs, but your remaining limbs were uncooperative, heavy and awkward and useless. It was all you could do to pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around your legs, and hold yourself as you started to cry.

At least, next time Satoru decided to tear you apart, you might not find it so hard to hate him for it.

[soranatus]

IGUIN • SIGHT OF THE WORLD • THE LIDLESS EYE In Witch Hat Atelier (2025)

[whaleofatjme1920]

Kinktober Day 9: False God [Jeff the Killer X F!Reader]

Warnings: Degradation, rough sex, loss of virginity and breeding MINORS DNI

AN: Virginity is just a concept reminder <3

Kinktober Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated!

It's criminal that you sit on the lap of a god that you, and everyone has ever seen is coveting. Your hips are positioned in line with his, and your flesh is warm from his lustful touch. Your god wants you to please him, he asked you himself.

"Did you know that some kinds of gods feel an almost biological desire to sow their oats?" He asked you. His lidless eyes peer at you like a seer who knows and sees all. His grin, much too wide, leathery skin that's been kissed by the sun itself - possibly burned by it at one point - and dark hair frame him perfectly in the dim light. Your god is tall as he looms over you and demands your attention.

His skin is beautifully pale, like the skin of the moon. The only pops of color adorning his face is the slight redness that frames his eyes and his mouth like imperfect halos. He's beautiful in his own right, a pure figure that demands a certain lust for blood from all those who follow him and give their love to him.

You didn't even know that your god could touch your imperfect body as he hooks his long, spindly fingers under your chin and forces you to look up at him. He commands your attention with his gaze alone.

Timidly, you shake your head as he positions you further over him. The head of his cock presses against your fragile opening, like he wants to be the first and only man inside you. He chose you for this reason. Your god demanded to know some of the most beautiful virgins available to him, flowers waiting to be picked, and chose you out of the line up.

A coupling like this was seen as a blessing. To be touched by his holy seed was what you, and so many wished for within your pathetic lifetimes. To be touched and loved by him was to be lifted from your mortal shell to that of an angel on earth.

"Talk to me," he says curtly. "Use your words, or are you too fucking starstruck to even try?"

You internally wince. You did not mean to upset your god. You softly apologize to him and pause when you feel the tip of his cock start to press at the lips of your pussy. He's getting closer and closer to deflowering you.

"I was not aware of such an urge," you meekly reply. You keep your voice low and humble in his presence.

He nods and then grins at you, his gaze and his leer not too dissimilar to that of the men you'd call pigs. He grabs your hips roughly and then slams you down to his bed. He chuckles, fingers dug into your strong thighs and he wraps them up around his shoulders. Your calves just barely deign to touch his neck.

Your god's fingers touch your pussy and spread you open as he repositions himself. "You'll be a little cumslut before you know it," he murmurs, "nothing but a wanton whore that needs my cum and not much else to function." He says it like a joke and laughs accordingly, loving how heat spreads over your body. He can just barely hear your heart as it hammers in your chest.

"Y'nervous?"

You nod ever so slightly. "Yes."

He coos softly like he cares about you before his hips rut forwards. He groans lowly at how tight your cunt is, how you struggle to open up and take his large girth. Every inch splits you open deeper and deeper for him. "Fuck, you're tight," he sighs in contentment as he pulls his hips back again just for a second before slamming them back in again.

Tears well in your eyes and you dare grasp at him. Your eyes are wide and your mouth gapes. Your body trembles. You try to relax and show your god you're capable of handling him lest he changes his mind and decides to curse you and your loved ones for you failing to meet his standards, but you can't help it. He's deflowered you in such a crass way, tearing your petals open and shoving himself inside of you.

You suppose you shouldn't really expect much else. He's a god and you're just a human toy being used for his pleasure, but goodness you expected different.

"C'mon," he whispers in your ear as he feels your pussy start to wet around him the longer he stays hilted inside of you, "just relax and take it, slut," he giggles childishly. He pulls his hips back and starts to thrust a bit harder, his lidless eyes gazing at how your body bounces for him with every rough thrust. You have such beautiful skin, and your form is impeccable. Out of all the virgins lined up for him, you were the one that really caught his attention. He stares down at your body further and gleefully grins at how well you seem to take him.

He grunts as he folds you with his chest pressing against yours. You can just barely feel his heart speeding up too. Uncharacteristic of a god to feel tired, isn't it? You feel his sharp, unevenly cut nails dig into your skin and draw blood from how hard he holds you.

"Just a fuckin' fleshlight," he mumbles, "a fleshlight to breed. My breeding bitch," he rambles further. His thrusts get harder and harder. You feel every inch of his thick cock plunge inside of you, filling you to the brim. His veins are deliciously throbbing and rubbing you in all the right places. Your pussy makes those noises he loves so much, and his balls smack against your ass. He pants softly in your ear as he rambles on about breeding.

He draws blood blood when he grasps your waist and holds you down, loving the tensing of your muscles when he ruts into you, "your cunt is gonna take all of my cum," he says, "fill you to the fucking brim and then I'll keep fucking going," he pants. "Keep going and going until your filled, used up pussy can't take any goddamn more."

His brows furrow as he hears moans spill from your lips. You're feeding his ego the more you give into him. Your pussy squeezes his cock tightly and your nails rake long, crimson lines up and down his back. At this moment, you don't seem to care that he's your god, only that he's bringing you such unearthly pleasure. You lightly are able to buck your hips against his before he holds you down even harder, slamming his full weight into you. Every stroke is overwhelming. You can feel him all the way up in your body, certainly rearranging parts of you.

Your head falls back and you barely arch your back from the mating press he keeps you in. The tears that welled in your eyes are now streaming down your cheeks as you take him again and again. He's getting close though. You were never too well versed on matters of sex but you can tell he's getting close.

He bites into your neck. His shark-like teeth cause you to bleed and you gasp much to his enjoyment. "Gonna get you pregnant," he huffs, "all round with my fuckin' kid," he continues as he rams into you, "come on, take it, you fucking breeding bitch-" he breathes out before laying his full weight into you. He watches your eyes go wide in delight as his cock finally spills inside of you. Thick, heavy ropes of cum splash against your cervix and flood your womb.

You gasp loudly and claw wildly at his back. Your heart and your pussy flutter around him, sweat dripping all over your body as you feel him empty his balls inside of you. You pant while your thoughts drift off. You feel just a bit dizzy as he continues to grind himself against you, barely able to form a conscious thought as you realize you made your god orgasm.

His lips get close to your ear and you swear you feel the ghost of a kiss before he whispers to you.

"You're not gonna let anyone else inside of you like this, understand?" He asks curtly before you nod in response, too floaty to even begin to form proper words for him. "You're not gonna carry anyone else's children but mine."

A part of you feels joy that your god is this possessive over you. You hide it, lest you come off as haughty and full of yourself, and nod.

"Thank you," you whisper back to him while your legs tremble around him. You're able to peel off and feel your lower half unceremoniously tumble down to the bed. You feel like jelly, still shaky and trembling after he deflowered you like he did. "Thank you for the blessings you have given me."

Your god laughs. "You're welcome. Now, shut up and spread your legs again."