#demented rage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Note

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew).

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there.

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it.

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?"

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy.

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed.

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon.

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody).

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But…

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do.

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement.

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you."

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through.

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?"

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding.

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it.

"Like this…?"

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed.

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy…

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next.

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds.

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared.

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone.

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock.

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man?

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown?

Would he cry…?

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose...

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic.

Sit on his face…

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid.

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…"

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her…

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can.

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone.

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever.

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all.

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip.

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper.

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply.

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat.

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm.

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good.

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks…

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

#answered #yandere könig #könig smut #könig x virgin reader

597 notes · View notes

reverphic · 28 days

Text

♡⠀⠀syn. a wounded blade returns home, and of course like a kindhearted individual you are, you treated his wounds. ♡⠀⠀cw. semi fluff, not proofread, 1.3k words, fem reader ( no prns mentioned ) maybe ooc. a continuation / sequel to the archfiend

the odor of antiseptic wafts thickly through the air, bandages are securely coiled alongside blade, he winces slightly at the sting of the antibacterial ointment poured over the open gash in his arm. a fresh bruise was planted on his forearm, vivid purple swelling proudly.

“i keep telling you to stop stumbling into danger, i’ll be the one responsible afterwards”

blade doesn’t respond, only a miniscule twitch on his brow is perceived. you glanced upwards, descrying your knight’s displeased expression, a tinge of guilt qualms inside your core.

“but those imbeciles are targeting you, how can i let that type of situation slide?” he says.

blade asserts the word imbeciles with every enmity one would have harbored for their worst enemy. you pause abruptly, emitting a sigh. blade is the embodiment of an obsessive lover, for sure, and you do not have the right to substitute that outcome. he is not your lover, naturally, but you are doubtful if blade perceives it that way too.

you knew that blade is head over heels for you, but you have no capability to reciprocate his love, saying that you are impotent in such feelings. he ceased to believe, however, and continues to believe that one day redamancy will eventually present itself.

excluding the pester, you are thankful that he came home safely, although a few scars and a severe wound are intended, at least your soldier is back.

but his abiding adoration with manslaughter — you are the one at fault. if it weren't for him enshrouding his true identity, you would've ended up in the hands of the guards authorities. you have maimed that soldier with vengeance, concocting a blight that costs his unalloyed soul. your madness birthed a demented warrior, that's what you discern at least.

“i will kindly force you once again to stay safe during unwanted combat, understand?”

ironic it was for you to say the word kindly, for it was humiliatingly apparent that you were crossed that blade was injured. it is not a form of romantic love whatsoever, merely a form of that you care regarding his physical condition.

“every combat costs at least a scar, otherwise it doesn’t have the right to be called a combat” he says, crimson eyes pierce through yours.

you declined to respond, however. blade knew you noticed his words, and you were lucid enough to empathize with his desire to convey them. to him, you are fragile, akin to a subdued rain.

he knew you were only honest when the night was hushed; there is a poem latched onto the walls of your throat, and nights like these, sincerity crawls from your flesh, like a scourge, a miasma. if blade is by your side, you never dither to let the viciousness of your words slither down your lips, because he understands you are mourning, mourning what could have been, what will not be, and what you can’t save, thus far you go on hoping.

today was unusual, your lips quiver and are ajar, yet no words seem to leave.

“i don’t want your pity, blade” you upbraided, tethering his arm with another veneer of bandage.

you never wanted to scar blade further, because you were the one who scarred him first.

blade winces, “and why do you say that?”

…how you still, sometimes crave understanding.

rage is something you've learnt to wear. however, blade's anguish folds your spine and resides behind your ribs. you are taken aback by his presence. you’re here? the question remains as a lump on your throat. and now that you think about it, you've never been kind to blade either.

how did he get so close that you have to dissect him out from under your skin?

recollection is a deathbed. remembering is a grave. the recollection of him is like a scab that you keep scratching till it sears. a burn, a keepsake, or something to grasp at that returns the favor.

you refuse to be plagued by anything less.

how have you turned brittle love into such devastation? so much greed? you insisted you didn’t love him, and you never will, yet a sun-sized ache pulsates deep within the bowels of your palpitating heart. the sight of him injured, drenched in mortal blood, in spite of your lusterless eyes deceiving you to neglect his situation, something shifts your perception to extend your arm to embrace his suffering.

terrible, terrible person assumes that tyranny and love are interchangeable.

your heart knew no name more ferociously than his. a passage that burns under your tongue.

you shift from the bedsheets, a packet of bandages still in hand as your heart is burdened by uncertainty. the malice in your tongue will forever be an obscenity, hence why you never spoke truthfully.

“my work is done here, do you crave anything?” you ask as you feign insouciance.

“[name]”

blade’s baritone voice reverberates across the vacant room, where he is seated on the insalubrious bed, tousled and soiled. something fervent exudes down in that icy tone he has. you shiver in fear, a grasp suddenly latches onto your wrist.

“do you need something?” a response slips past your lips.

blade slides his arm as it rings around your waist, fingers gradually lacing with yours. with hesitance and a hitched breath, you stepped forward only for your stomach to be pressed against his broad chest, earning a gasp.

fingertips run over the temples of your forehead, moderate enough to spare you from pain. a steady tenderness soothes you, irises swelled tenfold. the burden surges.

“you’re warm,” he says, his distinctive icy tone slowly thawing.

“why do you worry so much?” you shift back to steer clear of his proximity.

“...”

blade scowls, a crease forming on his eyebrow. your avoidance of his touch riles him, he just misses you, can he not? even if he lends a helping hand, you avoid him regardless. he avows that he has known you well for decades, but the censures hitherto left unsaid leaves him reconsidering that if he sincerely does.

so he hoists you up onto his lap, the facet of his thumb dight your cheek. reluctantly, his face inches closer to you, foreheads swept against each other.

“you have a fever, i’m telling you”

“i don’t.”

“your body temperature is rising, and you look pale”

“...i can take care of myself”

“i doubt that”

“should i repeat myself again?”

blade’s scowl deepens, an obvious expression of worry is omnipresent, which you can’t neglect so easily.

“stop looking at me like that with your pity in your eyes” you exhort with crass inflection. “just… tell me what should i do to make you… feel better, instead of you taking care of me”

amusement laces his grandeur, the shimmer in his crimson eyes vacillates; you admit that the countenance he is wearing right now is hilarious.

“well," he begins with a hum, reaching his hand to the contours of your defined jawline. “kiss me, and i’ll be alright.”

he exchanges a reticent smile, his lips chiseled upward in a way that makes both men and women sigh dreamily.

you heaved a sigh in defeat, acceding. merely for the sake of saving yourself from the headache; otherwise, he would keep pestering you until you gave him a response. he may be pushy when he wants to.

your fingers dug in blade’s underjaw, half-lidded eyes stare into the chasmic depths of his visage, slowly slinking closer.

…ah, this feels strange

warmth burgeoned in blade's chest, flames aflame as you drew in closer, lips brushing contact prudently for the first time. the lingering stench of your fragrance, the sweet, fragrant aroma of your hair, left him lightheaded, as butterflies waltzed in his stomach. but warmth encapsulated him as he slumped into the kiss, your lips unfathomably soft against his.

being able to breathe isn’t supposed to be that hard, especially if you are deep inside a passionate kiss. you shouldn’t comply with blade’s offer, but oh but the insurmountable worth of devotion beckoning inside a kiss that felt loveless.

#hsr x reader #x reader #honkai star rail #blade hsr #blade x you #blade x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #yj⠀﹐⠀‹𝟹

126 notes · View notes

astarionslittletreat · 4 months

Text

Eat You Alive

Gortash x female Durge/Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 1k

Tags: smut, sex, piv sex, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, biting, bondage, domination, threats of violence, threats of murder, sadism, masochism, unhealthy relationship, established relationship, dub-con, unethical use of magic, cock warming, forced orgasm

Author's Note: This is not meant to depict how a relationship should function in any way. Neither character posses any redeeming qualities or are meant to be idolized. This is a work of indulgent fiction. Please read the tags before proceeding.

Summary: She's returned to him, his Bhaalspawn. After vanishing from him without a trace, he's got her exactly where he wants her. Tied up and waiting for him with murderous lust.

Wrists and ankles shackled by purple translucent magic, the Bhaalspawn strains against the spell holding her down. Muscles tensing, she flexes her arms, tries to kick her spread legs but to no avail. She cannot break free. It’s not explicitly uncomfortable. She’s naked, true, exposed to the dark room and her surroundings, but the silk sheets she retrained on have been freshly laundered. The spell curling around her extremities is warm and radiates the feeling of pure magic that sends shivers down her spine as she tries to pull away. She’s of two minds at the moment. The Dark Urge that usually slumbers like a dragon in the back of her mind is wide awake–demanding to be freed. Ordering that they be let go this instant and repaid in blood and flesh and bone. The other part of her mind, her true self, her weak self, nearly lost. Drowning in the madness of her carnality. Aching, wanting, dripping for her lover to touch her. To unburden her of her desires–every single last one of them.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that–” Lord Enver Gortash’s dark eyes grow hungry as he watches his Bhaalspwan arch her back in a futile attempt to break free. “Spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He purrs. Taunting her until she’s so filled with rage, Enver can feel it radiating off her bare skin. “Look at me.” It’s a command tinged with magic, and the Bhaal babe meets his gaze. For the briefest–shortest moment her eyes go soft. It’s so quick, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring directly at her because it instantly vanishes. Consumed by the fire burning through her veins. Her murderous rampage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Enver’s cock throbs at the sight of his dark and demented love.

Her eyes dart back and forth across his bedchambers. A feral animal caught in a trap. Searching for a way to get out. To get to him. Restrained as she is, the Bhaalspawn flinches as Enver traces the scars on the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. Some he recognizes, some are new, requiring him to catalog her body once more. She trembles at his touch with a rage and bloodlust that makes Enver grow hard. His cock swells as he palms himself. Stroking just enough to take the edge off as he lowers himself to the bed. Drawn in by her tender fury he moves to worship his lover. To take her into his mouth and press his lips against every new scar she acquired without him by her side.

A sinful mix of Infernal–and possibly Abyssal, if Enver heard correctly, falls from the lips of the Bhaalspawn. Spit like venom. Sung like hymns. “That’s right my love,” Enver praises the words he doesn’t fully understand, but knows all the same. He knows exactly what his love needs before biting down, hard. Blood blooms over Enver’s tongue and the Dark Urge moans in delight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” She threatens beautifully. Spitting and hissing in the common tongue for Ever to understand.

He chuckles, “I sincerely hope so, my love.” He had thought himself dead once already. He certainly hadn’t been alive these past few months at the very least. Not when she had disappeared. Gone, without word. Without trace. Without any explanation that was due to him. Of course, he knows now what happened, but the bitter sting of life without what made Enver whole had scarred him. Changed him. A piece of himself vanished when his love disappeared. Abandoning their well-laid plans, the city–him. The fury and indignity at being left behind after so long never quite left. Orin’s death helped, true, but this– this is so much sweeter.

“I’m going to break every bone in your worthless body before I filet you alive!” Spit coats her lips as the Dark Urge screams, and her body fails in painful delight. More–she wants more. She needs Enver now instead of him taking his sweet fucking time.

Evner doesn’t spare her the prep time. She doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it. Between her scarred and bleeding thighs, Enver presses the head of his cock to her entrance before pressing in in one long stroke. Settling himself until he’s fully seated inside his love. Oh how he’s fucking missed this. Her mewling gasps of his name. The drool sliding past her lips. The way she tightens, squeezing him as he presses his thumb to her clit. Circling and toying with her. Forcing her into a breakneck speed while he sits there. He spits on her clit for good measure. There will be time for pain later. Right now, the only thing he desires is to feel the Bhaalspawn breaking apart around him.

“Wait!” Panic. “Stop, I can’t–”

“You’re going to fucking come, now.”

Another command, bold but dangerously quiet. Tinged with venom and love. She doesn’t need a spell to obey this time. His familiar heavy weight, his clever hands working her body better than her own self knew how. It was inescapable. Her release surges through her body as she clamps down hard. Her body strains against the magic holding her down, her muscles taught and aching as she tumbles recklessly through the pleasure forced upon her. It hurts. It hurts and she likes that it hurts. That it’s messy and quick. That her legs are weak and she can feel wetness seeping out of her cunt where Enver is still seated and hard. She gasps. Gulping down air as she falls from her high. Her mind floats. The Dark Urge temporarily calmed like a wild beast to music.

Enver allows her a few seconds respite. She had earned that much at least. But the night was young, and he still missed his deadly little Bhaalspawn. He waited until her gasping died down just a bit before he began to circle and toy with her now oversensitive clit. “Another, my pet.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gale 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #the dark urge #gortash smut #enver gortash x durge #prompt request #astarionslittletreat

161 notes · View notes

drakaripykiros130ac · 3 days

Text

The Driftmark scene as a whole was a hot mess, courtesy of the showrunners.

So, based on the changes they made from the book, they attempted to make Alicent and Aemond the clear victims (which they’re not, not even in the show).

A 5 year old child, after being called a bastard, threatened with death, and forced to watch his demented uncle prepare to bash his 6 year old brother’s head with a rock, made a move to stop him using a knife and ended up slashing the guy’s eye.

The intention of the 5 year old was to stop this madness. It wasn’t a premeditated thing. It was the reaction of a child.

Now, moving forward to the great “assembly”, we have Alicent who found herself to be everyone’s spokesperson and although she wasn’t there, she somehow knew exactly what happened.

There were no witnesses to this child fight. The result: two girls who were bleeding, a boy with a broken nose and another who unfortunately had his eye slashed. All this shows is that the children fought, the fight escalated and one child ended up permanently damaged.

And then, you have a full grown mid-30 year old woman demanding the 5 year old child’s eye in retribution. When no one was listening to her insane ramblings, she picked up a knife and like a lunatic, lunged herself at the opposite party. At this point, we don’t even know if she was going after Lucerys or Rhaenyra. Afterwards, in a fit of rage, this mad woman slashes the arm and wounds the heir to the throne.

To recap:

1. Alicent thought herself entitled to retribution even though no one witnessed the child fight, and therefore no one could pass judgement.

2. A few dozen people witnessed Alicent hurting Rhaenyra and no consequences followed.

And I’m supposed to be convinced by this scene that what? That the Greens are poor misunderstood victims of Viserys and Rhaenyra?

The only thing this whole scene tells me is that Alicent is an unhinged b*tch.

#team black #pro team black #rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #lucerys velaryon #anti aemond targaryen #anti aemond stans #house of the dragon #hotd #anti house of the dragon #anti hotd #hotd rhaenyra #asoiaf #queen rhaenyra #anti team green #asoiaf meta

113 notes · View notes

misseviehyde · 4 months

Text

BITS AND PIECES

Molly was beginning to regret entering the cursed dolls house with her friend Emma. True they'd been running away from their bitchy bully Madison and her clique and the strange abandoned house on the edge of town had seemed a safe refuge - but some feeling had told her at the time that they were putting themselves in terrible danger.

As they'd entered the old house, its evil magic had taken effect. The girls had groaned as their bodies changed. Plastic skin gleamed as joints became articulated and in a matter of minutes they'd been transformed into living animate dolls. Emma and Molly now looked like toys... but toys that could walk and talk.

They tried to leave, but the mansion also appeared to be bigger on the inside than the outside and now they were trapped clopping around in the impossible maze-like dimensions of the house.

"Oh my goodness," gasped Emma in horror at her new plastic body. "This... this can't be possible!" She reached over to touch her own arm and screamed as she accidentally detached it from the articulated joint with a pop. Then she calmed, realising it didn't hurt and there was no blood.

Molly looked at her friend in shock. "Looks like we have detachable parts now. Just like a real doll," mused Emma - and before Molly could stop her, she had yanked Molly's arm till it came out with a pop.

Molly watched in sick fascination as Emma popped Molly's arm into her socket and pushed her orignal arm into Molly.

Emma giggled, she now had Molly's sleeve of tattoos and she wiggled her new arm with fascination.

"Looks like we can swap body parts now. I wonder if we get out of the house, would this become permanent?"

"Hey! Give me my arm back!"

"Mmmmh. Later. This feels kinda good..."

Ignoring Molly'd protests, the two of them began looking around and finding a staircase they climbed up it hoping to possibly find a window or something on the upper floor.

They found nothing, so wandering around for a few minutes they returned to the staircase - only to find Madison flanked by her bitchy lieutenants waiting.

She and her cohorts were also now plastic dolls. Madison looked like a demented Barbie.

"I don't know how you nerds turned us into these dolls, but you'll pay for this," screamed the plastic bully as she waved her jointed arms around in rage.

But before she could do anything all three girls began to scream as Emma suddenly rushed at them and pushed them down the stairs.

They tumbled and fell backwards, their plastic bodies breaking and falling into pieces as they fell down the stairs. Their heads rolled away from their torsos and other bits broke off as they landed in a heap of bits and pieces.

Molly looked at her friend in horror. "You... you killed them."

"No, they aren't dead. The magic seems to make us invulnerable. We can put them back together again later. But before we do..."

A wicked grin came over Emma's plastic face. Walking down the stairs she picked up one of Madison's legs. It was long and sexy, smoother and shapelier than her own. Popping her own leg off she attached Madison's instead and then grabbing the other one did the same.

"Mmmmmh ohhh fuck that feels good."

Giggling Emma stood up. She was now taller and her legs looked amazing. "Oh fuckkkk. I feel so much more powerful and dominant. Soooo confident. Mmmmh these body parts come with feels and I LIKE it. Taking your arm felt good, but this is even better."

Admiring her legs, Emma began looking around with a hungry look on her face. There was a wild gleam in her eyes.

"Wh... what are you doing?" gasped Molly in sick fascination.

"Just making a few other improvements," smirked Emma. "After all if we have changeable parts now... why not?"

She grinned as she found what she was looking for. Lucy, Madison's minion, had the biggest tits at school. They were huge and round - massive fucking milkers that jiggled and wobbled enticingly. Now those tits lay ready to be used.

Lifting them up, Emma detached her own small breasts and with a click, pushed Lucy's onto her chest. "Ohhhh fuck yes, that feels good," she groaned in pleasure as they attached. "I feel like such a... such a fucking bitch. I need MORE."

Turning round she laughed. She now towered over Molly and her massive tits dominated the room.

Emma mashed her plastic tits with glee. "These are gonna feel so fucking good when I become a real girl again, but they are already making me feel so powerful. Mmmmmh I think I'd like to be a bully. Being pathetic boring Emma is so dull."

"Emma, this is crazy. You can't do this. It's wrong."

"You're right," giggled Emma. "It is wrong but it feels so fucking good. Besides I won't be Emma for long. I'm sick of being so weak and pathetic. My body is in control now and it needs a new head. This body deserves to be bitchy. I can take it all. I can become the bully."

Picking up Madison's lifeless looking blonde head from the floor, Emma laughed madly as she reached up and to Molly's shock casually ripped off her own head.

Her body simply tossed her old head aside like it didn't need it, then with a groan of pleasure pushed Madison's slutty blonde head into the neck socket till it clicked.

Evil eyes fluttered open and the new super bitch stretched happily. "Mmmmh yummy, feels so good to have a new personality in the driving seat. I AM Madison now."

"E.... Emma?"

"In a manner of speaking loser. There's bits of her inside my perfect new body - but I'm like totes the best parts of all you sluts now. Haha, now let's rebuild my minions and then I can leave and start my new hot life as a super bitch. Lucy will just have to cope with smaller tits. Think I'll help myself to a better ass and a tighter pussy too whilst we are at it. Hey... you're a virgin right loser? Bet your pussy is super tight..."

Molly whimpered as her new bully approached with a mad gleam in her cruel eyes and she screamed as the new Madison began to tear her apart...

****

Madison groaned as she exited the house and plastic became flesh again. She loved the sensation as all of her new body parts finally merged and turned her into the slutty bimbo bitch she deserved to be. She was now a mix of all the best parts of the girls and rubbing her massive tits she could feel her new superior pussy start to tingle.

Her two minions exited behind her, now looking smaller and weaker without the assets she had taken.

"What about that loser Molly, you aren't gonna leave her like that are you Madison?" asked Lucy sulking at her now small tits.

"What loser?" laughed Madison as she strode away. "I don't remember any loser. What a shame, imagine being trapped in that house forever."

And deep inside the cursed mansion, a plastic mouth screamed from amongst a discarded pile of bits and pieces...

THE END

#dollification #evie hyde #f2f transformation #attribute theft #weird story #plastic #doll #bitchification

199 notes · View notes