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chill-mcyt-art-reblogs · 2 years

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In the Dead of Night

This is me just declaring to the Tumblr world that I can, in fact, write something other than Tommy whump. Anhhd also I had this fic idea a while back that was really long but I still wanted to write something for it, and Whumptober was the perfet excuse.

Enjoy.

(and if you want to, reblogs help.)

(brief warning for torture. It's not explicit or anything, and it's hardly shown, but this *is* a whump fic, look out for youselves)

***

The fire is burning low.

The arctic is brutal at night, the frigid cold seeping through even the thickest walls and threatening to make whoever’s inside very miserable. Or, in some cases, even worse.

The castle is too well-insulated for there to be any risk worse than numb toes and incessant shivering.

But Techno should still really see to it.

He will, in a few minutes. Just like he was going to a few minutes ago, and a few minutes before that.

Usually someone would be in here by now to remedy it. Some long-suffering staff member cursing him and his work ethic under their breath, but they’re stretched thin right now, and Techno wouldn’t pull them away from their duties for something he can take care of himself perfectly fine.

Phil would do it without hesitation or it being asked of him, but that was always more of his species delegating that his fat layer be non-existent than out of any kindness of his heart.

But gods would Techno give anything for Phil to march into his office, cussing and harrassing Techno about the temperature of the room as he piled wood into the fireplace unnecessarily loudly. He’d then burrow into the piglin’s side, intentionally distracting Techno from whatever he was doing because Phil was, at his heart, an overgrown bird with an attention issue.

Techno would put up with anything if it meant Phil was here.

If it meant he knew where he was.

It had been over a week since Phil rode out with a unit, meaning to deal with some complaints of pillaging received from some villages near the northern border.

It had been over a week since he’d heard from Phil.

And it had been three days since the remains of the unit had been found, the bodies massacred and preserved in the snow, and not a trace of the winged emperor to be found.

An entire unit of the Empire’s finest slaughtered, and one of their emperors missing.

It was easy to see why Techno was having a busy day.

Chat wailed in his head, extra feet trampling on the few nerves the piglin has left as he tried to focus on the papers in front of him.

It’s extra at this point, some inventory report that could be dealt with later, and certainly not expected to be dealt with in the middle of the national crisis.

But Techno is scared that if he lets himself have five minutes alone with his mind he’ll march out after Phil with hardly more than a second thought to the fact that this is a very possible trap, and that leaving the Empire leaderless and unprotected is a very dumb move.

So he stays, and grits his teeth at the necessity of his decision. Praying that Phil will forgive him.

(If Phil’s still alive enough to answer.)

Another draft slips through around the window, the cold air constantly fraying at Techno’s patience until he snaps, pulling himself up and looking over to the dead fireplace with a look he wished could kill.

Fine. He’ll see to the damn fireplace.

And he nearly gets to. Wood already stacked on the brick and flint in hand when his communicator beeps.

It doesn’t stop, and Techno briefly considers throwing the offending item out the drafty window before giving in and looking at it. Maybe it will be someone he can feel justified in taking his frustration out on, scaring the living daylights of them to his own sick pleasure as he imagines just takina neck in his hands and snapping-

It’s Phil.

Which wouldn’t be so irregular, if it wasn’t for the fact that Phil is missing and most likely dead.

Techno can’t open the message fast enough, former frustration overtaken with relief. Techno should have known Phil would be fine. He’s a competent warrior who can survive in the arctic for a few days, Techno should have more faith.

It’s a video link, which should have been his first clue, but Techno is much too giddy to give much thought to the anomaly.

The screen flashes into a hallway of deepslate, cold and dark in flickering torchlight. A voice hums a nonsensical tune in the background, deep and unsettling.

And the relief that oh so quickly appeared disappears just as fast.

“Emperor Technoblade!” the same voice greets, and Techno feels a growl rise in his throat.

The camera is still focused on the wall, but Techno can tell from voice alone he’s dealing with a right bastard.

“Who are you?” he demands, and a mocking laugh answers.

“Ah! That’s right, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” the voice playfully remarked, “My deepest apologies, your majesty, but I’m afraid I just can’t let you know who I am. I’m very aware of how… unpleasant you can be in a bad mood.”

Chat wells up, insisting Techno show them just how unpleasant he can be.

“What do you want?” he growls.

“Actually, my Emperor,” the voice teases, and Techno was never fond of being referred to as a title but it’s a hundred times worse coming from this slimeball’s mouth,

“It’s about what you want.”

“As if you could offer anything to me.” Techno retorts, because if this is another cheap intimidation attempt he might just hunt this guy down for the thrill of it-

“Are you sure? I could have absolutely nothing you would want?” the voice taunts, and Techno finds himself almost rolling his eyes before the voice speaks next.

“Not even your Angel?”

Techno freezes, attention snapping back to the video.

“What?”

“Ooo, got your attention now, don’t I?” the voice quipped, a smile in the tone that Techno hates, but he hardly notices over the rush of blood in his ears.

“What did you say?” Techno demands, and the voice chuckles.

“You wanna see?”

The camera shakes, walls spinning as it’s turned around to face the rest of the room.

And Techno breath catches in his throat.

“I have to say, he looks awfully pretty like this.” the voice comments, utterly sadistic and predatory as the camera settles.

Phil is there. Shirtless and kneeling on a stone platform, arms and wings outstretched by chains in some mockery of divinity.

Blood drips down his arms and sides, telling lash marks peeking out from his shoulders and back lending to the red pooling on the platform below.

And Techno can only watch, horrified. If it wasn’t for the full-body shivers racking Phil’s form, Techno would assume him dead with how pale he is, blue tinging his fingers and lips.

(It must be freezing there, and Techno almost finds himself panicking at the thought. The arctic cold can be lethal at the best of times, and his friend has no protection against the elements, he’s not built for the cold.)

And then the shock and terror turns to fury.

“You,” Techno speaks, low, calm, deadly, “You have made the worst mistake of your life.”

“I don’t think so,” the voice answers, “I think this will turn out quite well for me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Techno promises, seething in anger, “I am going to take you apart and bleed you slowly while you beg for a death that I will not give you.”

“Perhaps.” the voice agrees, “But I do not think you will risk it.”

The camera gets in close, giving Techno a better, sickening view of Phil’s mutilated back.

“After all, you have no idea where I am, and I could do just about anything in the time it takes for you and your lovely little empire to find me.”

A gloved hand comes into view, carelessly running over the ridge of a wing, setting feathers askew and how dare he-

“I’ve heard the wings of an elytrian are quite sensitive,” the voice says, a hand roughly curling into blood-soaked scapulars, “Especially near the base.”

“It would probably just be so terribly painful if someone were to-”

The man cut himself off, roughly yanking out a handful of feathers and Techno jumps at the utterly agonized scream that follows.

“Stop- stop!” Techno struggles to regain his voice as another handful of feathers gets mercifully ripped from Philza’s back, more haunting cries filling the air, “I said stop!”

“Finally have your attention, hmm?” the voice quips, condescending but blessedly the hand removes itself from Phil’s wings.

“What do you want me to do?” Techno asks, uncaring of how desperate he sounds.

“Are we going to be sensible now?”

“Yes.” Techno snaps, “Now what do you want me to do?”

“Come and get him.” the voice answers, “Leave your pretty little castle in your pretty little capital and come and get him alone. No guards, no army, not even a servant boy. Or I will do something both you and the angel will regret immensely.”

It couldn’t be a more obvious trap. Luring Techno far away from his vulnerable people, leaving them open to siege and conquer.

Techno knows it’s a trap.

But it’s a damn good one.

“...I’ll come.” he agrees, tasting his own betrayal on his tongue, “But I want a sign of goodwill.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let-” Techno pauses, swallowing back his own disgust, “Let his wings and arms down. You can tie him some other way, just- not that.”

The voice hums.

“Alright.” it chirps, much too happily.

A netherite axe comes into view, and Techno realizes what’s going to happen but he can’t get his mouth open in time to halt it-

“Stop-!” he chokes out just as the axe comes down on the chain holding Phil’s left arm, yanking it roughly before it snaps free.

Phil sharply cries out as the tension falls on his battered wing, and the axe raises again.

“Wait-!” Techno says, but the axe is swung down again, leaving Phil dangling from one side.

“I’ll send you coords once you’re out of the capital.” the voice coldy instructs, and before Techno can object, the screen goes blank.

A cold chill settles over Techno, and this time, he doesn’t think it has much to do with the barren fireplace.

***

I don't even know how good this is, but if you're reading this note then obviously you made it to the end so yay! I hope you enjoyed.

#and like I said #help a starving author out if you liked the story #I appreciate each and every like but reblogging helps my stuff spread #fanfiction #my fanfiction #dsmp fanfic #technoblade #philza #whumptober2022 #day 6: ransom call #shh communicators can have video if I want them to have video shh

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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What lies within (Tentacle!Monster!Konig x fem!Reader)

It's mating season for monster hybrids. Unfortunately for you, the colonel didn't have time to dump his eggs everywhere. TW and tags: Non-con, size difference, oviposition, monster hybrids, forced breeding, belly bulging, yandere Konig, possessive Konig, tentacles, double penetration. Word count: 3278

The brave new world of opportunities for monsters.

The illustrious life for those who are not afraid of being a hunter in the billion flocks of weak, stupid prey.

There are endless possibilities for the ones who decide to serve in the various armed forces specifically tailored to monsters.

And loads of other bullshit that König had to endure every day on the briefs. Propaganda, advertisement, and weak attempts to make a new generation of monster hybrids abandon their old ways and join either army or contracting forces, making them glorified mercenaries. Jaided and disillusioned, the colonel long abandoned the thoughts that service can be fun, that it can bring him something other than money and occasional bullets in various places.

“Most inclusive workplaces for monsters,” his ass. They were fed bullshit on top of other bullshit, and he is already tired of war – but there isn’t much he can do besides it. The payment is nice, he gets to eat his enemies and tears through entire units of squishy, weak humans who make perfect snacks from their useless fucking bodies.

— So. Abandoned by your team, ja?

Unfortunately for him, sometimes war operations meant that he was not supposed to eat prisoners – he was supposed to take them, hoard them into rounds, and send them for either ransom or whatever higher-ups wanted to do with them. Sometimes, it’s torture for information, sometimes, it’s attempts to bring them to their side if they are worth it.

Sometimes, he just looked in the eyes of a soft, squishy little prey and just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger.

Well…” sometimes” is a very big word. He had never once thought about keeping the POW for himself before he met this stupidly beautiful, soft nurse with a perfect face, nice pair of legs in that ugly baggy uniform, and the most beautiful scent in the entire…

He never thought of keeping the prisoner for himself before he met you.

It was supposed to be an easy mission for you – he can see it from your lack of normal armor. Either you had no idea that KorTac had their own plans for whatever you wanted to do here, or your contractor is extremely cheap. He likes either way – you smell like a human, and he likes dumb humans who would make perfect victims. You smell and look weak, trembling, perfect fucking pray for someone like him. König didn’t feel the need to transform for this battle. Your team ran away like a bunch of bunnies before he ever fired his first shot, but he could still feel his tentacles slowly stir under his hood. He can feel his body transforming without the need to – and he feels the pressure in his lower stomach.

When was the last time he was able to put his eggs somewhere other that cold, unforgiving air?

Even the bagginess of your uniform doesn’t obscure him from looking at the sway of your hips, at the perfect surface of your tummy, and feeling the smell of your ripe, fertile body. Having a strong sense of smell always came like a curse in the team of monsters where showering after a mission isn’t something that is done by many, buy König can appreciate his nose now – he can smell how perfect you are for breeding. How scared, too.

Poor thing, probably terrified of his. König knows how he looks, even in his human form – tall, broad, bigger than any man you saw before, so much more muscular that even with your military training as a combat nurse, he could still break your spine with one hand. His size is something that made it impossible to find a partner normal ways – monsters are naturally too dominant to ever submit to him, and humans are simply too scared to deal with someone like him. He isn’t surprised, no – if anything, he understands completely.

You sob, your voice is melting with incomprehensible pleas and little whines. You are shaking under him – a poor, dumb girl who wasn’t aware that her best shot at surviving was to try and shoot his crotch off before he pulled a gun out of your hands.

— Pl…please, you can’t…you can’t do this! It’s a crime, I was on medical duty, it’s…

König likes humans because they are dumb. Civilian humans are even cuter – run around, thinking their lives are protected by sets of laws and rules that, in fact, don’t apply to the strong – and you, in your full half-military half-civvie glory, are fucking perfect. You whine and sib, tears running down your face when he presses you under him. Your hand hits the hard rocks of the ground, and he shifts slightly, dragging you closer to a softer patch of grass.

He laughs when you are trying to scramble from under him, your lower half is pinned by his weight – he is surprised you can still move. You move your pelvis, trying to get out – and he moans quietly when you start rubbing your crotch against his. You freeze, fear spreading on your face – god, he missed that feeling. When was the last time he got to actually breed someone? Or even just have sex with someone as cute?

— You really think so, Schatzen? That rules will protect you?

He moves his crotch against yours, making you sob a bit more. You’re sweet and compliant, and he just loves breaking soft things like you – it’s a desire to break, to destroy, to make you his. He knows that, technically, forcing himself on women from enemy lines really is a war crime. He also knows that if he’d managed to breed you with his eggs, monster laws would never allow you to separate after mating.

Besides, it's not like he is going to let you go, so you could tell on him. König never believed in love at first sight, but you would be a perfect vessel for his eggs and his tentacles – what else would he need from a wife, right?

— You’re pretty.

He says plainly, his hand goes to rub your chest through the fabric of your uniform. You won’t need those ugly clothes anymore – he’d make sure to buy you something nice and frail that won’t make you too uncomfortable to carry his eggs. Maybe a soft, frail dress or some of those cute maternity clothes when your body starts to change. He can’t wait to see his breasts swelling with milk – even if his unfertilized eggs won’t need it, he certainly would. Even if you’re too weak to handle his load, he’d make sure to get you a nice, firm plug and keep you on his tentacles constantly.

You start to sob even more when you understand what he is trying to do – when he rips your pants to reveal the softness of your cunt and the fragility of your [anties, you actually manage to push your legs against his dick a good few times. He is too aroused to notice – if anything, he likes how fiery you are, your little yells and loud screams for help. No one will come to aid you – he barked the orders for his soldiers to go and fuck around somewhere else while he was busy devouring his little prize. Colonel doesn’t like having an audience – if anything, he is saving your dignity right now. If anything, he is remarkably soft when he pushes one of his long, red tendrils down your body, massaging your pussy through your panties.

You’re moist already when his tentacle finds a way to your labia. What a slutty nurse you are – getting off the enemy colonel breeding you in the middle of the battlefield. Your tears mean nothing when he is too busy massaging and pressing and playing with your sticky, puffy folds – poor girl, so deprived of attention that even the weird texture of his extensions only fuels your desire.

So fragile, so perfect – and so, so wet that your adorable white panties are already become transparent, sticking to your soft pussy. When he takes you home, he’d make sure to forbid you from wearing any underwear at all – you would meet him dressing in nothing but his shirts, a hand on your tummy to support the weight of your eggs. Walls of your pussy clenching on the plug he’d make to insert in you every morning.

— Don’t…please, don’t, n…

You whine ever so sweetly, trying to close your legs so he won’t be able to touch you. It’s futile, just one of his tendrils is ten times stronger than your hands. He gets through your closed legs, buried in the moistness of your sweet, perfect pussy. You taste heavenly – just one minute enough to make him hungrier than before. König’s mating season was often postponed due to constant adrenaline rushes and things he takes to enhance his battle abilities – but he can feel eggs pressing at the inside of his body now, preparing to be released in the sweet heat of your body. But he has to prepare you first.

— Quiet now. It won’t hurt unless you want it to.

His tendrils are coming to moisten your pussy even more – sweet numbness filling your body from the lower stomach and right to your head. Knowing that you must feel dizzy and just a tad bit dumb, König can’t wait but chuckle. He likes you empty-headed, adorable dumbness in your eyes. He knows that he doesn’t know you, that you might even already have a boyfriend on the civil side of your life – but he doesn’t care. His mind doesn’t easily fall for just anyone, but if he saw a perfect vessel in you, there is no escape. At least he is nice enough to be gentle.

You whimper slightly when he pushes the first tendril inside of you. Too impatient to use his hands or tongue to make you feel a bit more at ease – after all, you are still on the battlefield, even if your friends abandoned you to get picked up by KorTac. Too impatient to soothe you with his words, he uses one of his smaller, thinner tentacles to push your pussy walls, make you squeeze him and milk for all his worth. You are wet, but not enough to take him without crying. Hot and soft, the cold texture of his extensions contrasts with your body too much – you are shaking, he can feel slight vibrations at the soft walls of yours.

Fitting him like a glove, too perfect to exist – he just wants to take you with him, to flip you on your tummy and push all of his tentacles inside. You’re tight and warm, you make him go crazy from desire. It’s weird how a strong and mighty colonel can be so charmed by just some enemy nurse, but when you whine slightly and try to adjust your body to fit more comfortably under him, he just knows that he has to take you. That, no matter how much you are crying and praying for him to stop, you want to be used by him. Perhaps, with certain training, you would want his eggs, too.

Second tendril caught you by surprise. Just when you started to adjust to the weird, slimy feeling of something writhing inside of you, spreading your tight walls around it and clashing with the heat of your insides, a second, bigger one started to press on your clenched folds. You wanted to beg, to ask him to stop – you’re too tight for this, too small, you would never be able to take even just one of his tentacles, you were…

But his tendrils press easily, he accesses lube spreading between your legs. You are sobbing from the feeling, and he is laughing. His hand goes to rip the upper part of your clothing, revealing your midriff. Fingers pressing on your tummy, just to feel his tentacles inside – he laughs when the skin of your stomach is tensed up, revealing the outlines of his extension. God, he can’t wait to make your body swell from him. Even though the eggs are not bearing his children, he can imagine you and a bunch of little ones – you’d look much better like this than pretending to be a nurse. Honestly, what were you even trying to do on the battlefield?

— Stay still, ja?

— Too much! Please, n…no more…

— Poor thing. You’ll feel so much better after I add the third one.

He knows that he is overstepping a bit, that your body isn’t used to taking something as big as his tentacles – but König also knows that his pre-cum makes you feel dizzy warm. Acting like a natural aphrodisiac, you won't be able to resist relaxing under him. The lubricant is enough to allow his other tentacle to force himself in your ass – he isn’t going to breed that hole yet, but it doesn't mean that he can’t use it.

He groans loudly when your asshole clenches around him – he had to stretch you quite a bit, that sweet numbness of his precum isn’t making you relaxed enough to take him whole, but he is managing, one agonizing centimeter after another. At the point you’re out of breath, with your face all flushed, he already knows he fucking won – he knows that you, poor, fragile thing, isn’t going anywhere. He would say that he feels horrible about forcing you like this – but this is the start of a new, better life for you. Being the bride of a monster of his rank is a dream for any lowly human like you. Can go as far as to say you’re lucky he ever laid his eyes on you.

— Stop, please…’s too much.

— You feel good, Katzen. Relax, and you’ll be even better.

— I don’t…please, just let me go, I…

— Is this your first time with a monster?

— Yes.

— Gut. Would break you in for me.

He laughs at your whimpers, his hand goes to cradle your face in an almost soft expression. He gently presses his fingers across your skin, making you all nice and warm for him – he wants to kiss you all over, but the only thing he can do in his more monstrous form is to press one of his shorter tentacles against your lips, mocking the way normal people kiss. You sob, but he presses the tip on your mouth, passing it through your teeth – you would feel better after ingesting his pre-cum, can even clench around him so more, chasing your own pleasure.

König wants you to feel good, so he presses his hand against your face, allowing you to tremble and cry as much as you want. He wants to be nice to you, so his other hand presses on your clit, finding the tense bud and breaking the nothingness between your legs. You tremble even more when he starts to spread your folds around his fingers, both of his tentacles working to milk your holes and spread you as much as possible.

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear when both of the tendrils working on your pussy suddenly change their direction – they start to spread your walls instead of just fucking it. You feel exposed and vulnerable, he can see the pink flesh and glossiness of your cunt. It’s embarrassing for you, and he knows it – but god, you’re too fucking perfect to pass.

You don’t even manage to ask him what he is doing when you feel something much larger pressing against your pussy. The biggest of his tentacles – almost as thick as an arm, pushing inside of you. He had a purpose, a desire to do something with you that you could never understand – silly humans know nothing about his biological need to push his eggs somewhere, of course, but you’re just fucking perfect. Too perfect to pass on this opportunity.

You plead and cry when he presses further, a little bump on your tummy is obvious now, with each centimeter of his tendril pushing. When he finally bottoms inside of you, pressing directly against your cervix, you are too fucked out to even think.

It’s painful, you think. Three thick tentacles roam inside your pussy, pushing and grinding against your gummy, tight walls – and another one of his extensions in your ass, writhing and massaging your insides.

It’s pleasurable, you feel. The tentacles are uneven, cold, each little bump makes you cry out from pleasure, the overwhelming feeling is something you could never achieve with a normal dick. He cradles your face and chuckles softly when you moan and cry at the same time when he gently presses his red tendril against your soft lips, and you part them because you don’t want to resist anymore. Because you can’t resist anymore.

— So good for me. Such a good girl, liked being fucked by the enemy.

— I don’t like it! He laughs at your misery, pushing his tentacles back only to fuck you harder. He can feel the tension multiply in his stomach – he feels the movement of eggs forming from inside and pushing down the biggest one of his tendrils.

When you first feel the pressure of an egg in your pussy, you want to scream.

You scratch on his hands like a wild cat, clenching on him like crazy. If he didn’t see horror and shock on your face, he’d think you wanted him. You are tight, tighter than you were before – your pussy is closing around him, not letting him go, and he can only smile to himself when he feels every little bump sending electric shocks right into your core when you feel his eggs traveling from the start of his tendrils down, to your soft, welcoming womb.

God, you will look perfect, all swollen and helpless – he can bring you a fucking collar, maybe push you on his lap and parade you as his precious wife for everyone to see. His scent lingers on your body, no matter if you want it or not. Silly human, you try to fight him like you didn’t lose the moment you let him pin your body. So perfect, he thinks of where you were before he found you. How many partners do you have, and how well would you play the role of his little breeding machine.

He massages your tummy, with each egg taking its place in your womb. Soothes tense skin and whispers sweet promises in your ear when you cry and try to push him away. So perfect, so sweet for him – he doesn’t know the fuck he lived without you.

When the last egg takes its place, making you bulge from all the weight inside of you, he can finally calm himself down enough to bring his human form partially. When he finally retracted his tentacles from your tired, sensitive body, not forgetting to press against your clit a good few times to prolong your unwanted, exhausting orgasm, he could finally press a kiss on your lips.

You’re a mess – torn clothes, covered in cum and thick transparent slime, trembling and crying softly. You close your pussy around every one of his eggs like a good girl, and he knows you would be a perfect mating partner – but god, you need a good shower and soft mattress so he can try to fuck you again in his human form, and steal all the hugs and silly affections he wanted.

— Will you let me go?

He laughs, picking you up swiftly. So fragile in his hands, he doesn’t even want to think about letting you roam freely.

— Of course not, Schatzen. Just get used to it, ja?

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere

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