psybrepunk

[psybrepunk]

Imagine you are Lady Jessica. You’re bred and trained all your life to help create the prophesied “savior” of the world. In a mix of your own pride and love for the child’s father, you bear that savior. But it’s too early. Those who trained you say he is not the one. And because of it he’s in danger. You then must travel to a place that only wants to kill you, and nearly succeeds in the process. The only way to live, the only way your son lives, is to ensure that the prophecy becomes true. That your son really is that savior. So you do, you make it true, because it has to be true. You force fate. He doesn’t die. Hundreds die. Then thousands. Now millions. Your son is not only alive, but the emperor of the known universe. Worshiped like a god because you made him a god, and did it so well you convinced yourself of his divinity, his prophecy. He is near mad with every possible future laid before him, regrets and blood stain his hands. But he is alive. Wasn’t it all worth it? Was it?

#im like shaking rn #wtf #duneposting

[psybrepunk]

Bill Sienkiewicz, ''Dune'', 1985 Source

#duneposting #art #sandworm #shai-halud

[psybrepunk]

Duncan Idaho needs those ‘God won’t let me die’ booty shorts more than anyone. Poor dude

#duneposting

[psybrepunk]

POSEMANIACSからの模写

#nick valentine #dima #gen 2 synths #fo4 #fan art #queued

[psybrepunk]

“Haytham Kenway, at your service.” - Haytham Kenway

[psybrepunk]

Haytham Kenway: May the Father of Understanding guide us.

[psybrepunk]

attractive people (◡‿◡✿)

attractive people covered in blood and bruises and tears of pain (⊙‿⊙✿)

[psybrepunk]

A/n: Something small I wrote for myself but then I got carried away and wrote it longer :)

✧･ﾟ: Masterlist :･ﾟ✧

Cw: All characters 18+, Older Man/Younger Woman, Mentor/Student Dynamic, Smut, Thigh riding, Overstimulation, Fingering - don't like, don't read

Tags: @psybrepunk @sangheilihoes @demigoddessqueens @bookworm-with-coffee @ladysaturnsdust @haytham-loves-chocolate @memoriesofafallen

Usually, there was little that filled the silence of the Grand Master's office. The soft flipping through papers and maps, and the occasional scratching of a quill occured here and there. Haytham planned out the rest of his night to be a peaceful one, occupied by unfinished letters, and paragraphs to be written in his journal about his recent involvements in the Order.

But of course, those plans were thwarted and the peace chased away by his pupil invading his privacy again.

Your cries of pleasure echoed in his office, bringing him back from his thoughts. He watched you grind yourself back and forth on his thigh, your skirts bunched up in your fists, eyes squeezed shut and those smooth lips of yours parted, occasionally licked wet by your tongue. His hand came up and tucked some of your loose hair behind your ear, the other one curled around your hip, keeping you firmly put on his lap.

“Needy little thing…” He muttered quietly, his voice low and husky. The way he seemed so nonchalant about the situation frustrated you a little. 

You were making quite a sticky mess of his pants, and he felt your slick seeping through, soiling the material with a large patch of wetness. It amused him - the disorderly and unruly sight of you was a strong contrast to the perfect image of him. Unlike you, there wasn't a single grey strand out of place from his neat ponytail, nor were his clothes unkempt, his body still donning his usual navy blue fit. You guessed that if you hadn't interrupted him when you had, he would've been packing up for the night and heading to sleep but alas here you both were.

A sigh exhaled through him, like your unfulfilled desires were a minor inconvenience to his night.

“Have you no shame? Do you take pleasure in robbing me of my late night hours? Of the only time I am free to indulge in?” He scolds, adopting a slight frown, but you can tell that he's not really angry. Something about his expression tells you that he's only playing along.

“Mhn… sorry, sir.” You murmur with guilt painting your face, repeatedly dragging your wet slit back and forth, gasping when your clit scrapes against the rough material of his trousers.

“No, you're not.” He says, hisses, his breath beginning to grow ragged and uneven when he grabs your hips, a noticeable bulge forming and rubbing against your leg. Large, calloused hands dig into your skin and force you to grind harder on his thigh, resulting in a particularly sharp cry from your throat.

“You're not sorry.” He grits out, his words harsh in your ear, and he yanks your lower body towards him again, eliciting another whine. “You wouldn't be grinding yourself on my thigh for relief like a common whore if you were now, would you?”

You continue to fill the office with your lewd sounds, too stuck in the euphoria that his leg provides you. No doubt whoever has walked past on the other side of the door has heard your moaning, either stopping to listen or rushing away with a bright face.

A slap to your rump refocuses your attention back to him when you don't offer an answer.

“Would you?”

You babble out something incoherent, another apology or something that you don't care to remember, only focused on how good it feels, how good his hands feel as they push and pull your hips yet painful when it becomes too stimulating.

“Slow down, sir… please.” You moan out, digging your heels into the floor and tightening your hands on his shoulders in an attempt to stop yourself but his grip is relentless, the pace he sets for you even more so.

A flash of determination burns in his eyes briefly when you try to stop him. “Oh no, you wanted this. And I'll see to it that you finish it to the end.” 

Suddenly he's pushing aside your skirts and seeking out your swollen nub. The moment he dips his thick fingers past your folds, you bite into your bottom lip and bury your face in his neck, muffling your groans.

He twists the pair of them deeper while you writhe in his lap and then claw your hands at his back when they curl against your walls, the rough pad of his thumb dragging along your clit and bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“Please, sir… please!” You beg, trying to catch your breath but your Grand Master is unforgiving, still watching you with that almost bored expression as he plays with you.

With one last cry into his shoulder, Haytham thrusts his fingers impossibly quick and finally stops when you spill all over them. He lifts them up to your mouth and pops both in, slathering your slick on your tongue, a silent command to taste yourself.

You don't disappoint him, taking his forearm in both of your hands and wrapping your lips around his digits, making sure to suck them clean.

He watches you with a flicker of lust, his cock still hard and straining in trousers, and he pulls his fingers away abruptly from your mouth with a wet pop before he can make you do something about his evident predicament. He'll deal with it later.

Haytham gently shoos you off his lap, much to your disappointment.

“Run along now and clean yourself up. I expect you to be ready in the morning for training. And don't interrupt me at this hour again.” He warns, although there's a light mischief to his eyes, one that almost dares you to try it again.

And of course you do, the following night.

[psybrepunk]

why did no one tell me quantum computers looked like that

#WOULD

[psybrepunk]

the most fucked up thing ever is being obsessed w ur own oc. why do i have to make content of them why cant they just magically appear on my screen for me to reblog 200 times. fucked up and also evil

#sienn t'lovok

[psybrepunk]

"he would not fucking say that" but you ever be looking at fanart and suddenly its "he would not fucking have abs"

[psybrepunk]

important story differences

#REAL #fave #warrior cats #warriors #watership down #redwall #guardians of gahoole #ive read every single one of these #quintessential autistic kid books tbh

[psybrepunk]

Maybe if he was a little less fuckable we wouldn’t be in this mess

#john seed core

[psybrepunk]

#john seed core

[psybrepunk]

Thanks Max, the thought of being on my knees in front of you will definitely help me fight for my life...

[psybrepunk]

day one of trying not to think about fucking that old man

#nick valentine #haytham kenway

[psybrepunk]

*Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode comes on*

"Aw shit not again I'm at work" *thigh-high leather platform boots materialize on my body*

#fave #anyone that hasnt seen the music video for Personal Jesus u need to see it NOW #it FUCKS