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#shame most of them will die with me
krisget-thebanana · 4 months
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Oopsies my hand slipped and I drew this
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moe-broey · 5 months
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Not your favorite! Not even your least favorite!
Like that could have been avoided. That should have been avoided. It's so easy to avoid that. And Yet
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killuaisaprincess · 4 months
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❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️
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toriliashine · 8 months
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The next splatfest opens with Shiver looking directly in the camera at telling the racists in her fanbase to kill themselves
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hmmmm. listening to Die Young by Kesha. upbeat but nothing can hide the gutteral grief in the song. she is burying someone or something. making me think of shootings at LGBTQ+ clubs and parties.
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There are two paths before me.
One is overgrown, full of thorns and bristles and broken branches. The other is sunny and clear.
Surely, the first will lead to nothing but risk, danger, and pain, while the second will be a blissful, joyful walk.
But there's nothing for me on that clear path. No food, no life, no person out there besides myself. I know that the overgrown path can grant me all those things and more, if only it weren't such a wretched way to go.
So I spend some time on the clear path, walking forward until I can't take the loneliness and discontent anymore, and I turn back. But when I arrive where I started, the first path is still overgrown, worse still than before. Frustrated and feeling helpless, I start down the clear path again. When I decide to take care of myself and survive instead of starving to death on the barren trail, I turn back again. And again, the other is overgrown and terrifying.
I go back and forth, until I fall to my knees, crying and begging for someone, anyone, to help me. To remove the thorns and bristles and branches.
And then I realize, this entire time, I've been running from the pain. I've been waiting for the trail to clear up on its own, to grant me safe and easy passage.
It wasn't my fault I was never taught wilderness survival - I don't know how to make it through such an area, bandage the scrapes and wear functional gear and step over the branches. But I can learn, even if I'll experience some hurt along the way.
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demidin · 11 months
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you ask me if I'm okay and I just give the fucking saddest look before running to you and tryna hug you only to realize you're a tumblr mutual and not an irl homie and I still try to fucking hug you because dammit I'm not at my best I need help
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neverendingford · 2 months
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#tag talk#anytime my friends point out that something I say is good advice or express that they see me as aspirational I'm always just like....#wtf how am I am example to look up to I'm just an idiot bumbling his way through life trying to avoid hitting her head on cabinet corners#honestly it's mostly just seeing mistakes others have made and going “I will not make those mistakes. I will make weirder mistakes than that#like. it feels a little like the “I'm eighty years old I'm done with putting up with everyone's bullshit” except it's#it's “I didn't kill myself so I'm not gonna put up with bullshit anymore”#like. I chose life. I'm not about to half-ass that decision. I'm not gonna walk back that decision. I'm not going to flinch away from it.#that fuckin... “what do we have to fear but fear itself” quote or whatever. like.. I died. you think anything else is gonna scare me?#if I'm going to be stuck here on this planet you bet your ass I'm gonna make the most of it. I'm not gonna be embarrassed. no shame.#we're all living here until we die and the things that matter are your own life and then the people around you.#I'm not going to miss out on a chance to find community and connection just because I'm afraid. I'm done being afraid.#though... I have been feeling shrimp emotions for the past two weeks and my stomach has tied itself up in knots over it.#I'm so detached because I'm afraid of feeling my emotions too strongly. so letting go and experiencing emotions is a lot for me.#and agghfffgghh I'm going to make it through this I'm going to make it through this but damn it's really rough#allowing yourself to get close to someone again after solidifying your position as unassailable is so hard.#especially because I've gotten so used to shielding the emotions of other people. hard to be honest when your honesty will hurt them#it's wild being around someone who's not wildly insecure because I can be genuine and honest and not worry about what I say hurting her.#I could say “I'm leaving in a year do you still want to date?” and trust that she would actually think it through and give a reliable answer#like. I can handle just my emotions because she's able to handle hers.#being in mental health spaces for so long I'm not used to interacting with emotionally stable people lmaooo#do you think I'm emotionally stable? I don't think I am. but then I meet other people who are wildly more unstable than I am and hmmm#like. sui wasn't an emotional choice it was a cost benefit analysis. I get emotionally unstable sure. but I contain myself until it's over.#I know enough to not be impulsive because I recognize impulsive behavior in others and thus in myself as well.#so like. I'm unstable but I'm not externally unstable. I know how to isolate when I'm in a wounded lashing out state.#anyway I've been processing so many emotions this past week because I'm wildly out of practice with allowing myself emotional honesty#instead of just bricking myself up behind my defensive apathy. I want to hold onto this. I want to continue to channel these emotions.#I want to be unafraid to tell people when I love them#though with her it's more of a Nerevarine situation. you are not someone I love but rather someone who might become that.#like. I haven't known her long enough to really say I love. but I very much think if things continue how they are I will be confident in it#and not even romantic love per se. I have some old friends who I genuinely love. several siblings who I love. most people I know I do not.
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groupwest · 1 year
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i hate ppl doing the dishes when i’m around.. every clang is like a stab to my chest. not just becuz it’s noisy i just feel so useless like it’s actually soul crushing and makes me cry and feel so awful. i know it’s irrational but that’s just the way it is i want to kill myself everytime someone has to do something that i should be doing..
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scientia-rex · 24 days
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For the most part, my approach to prescribing hormones is “sure,” but I will note that the one thing I lean HARD on patients about is smoking. If you’re transgender, and you’re on hormones, the number one thing we want to protect is your cardiovascular health. That’s frankly the number one thing I want to protect in all my patients, but anyone taking exogenous hormones is at higher baseline risk. And the best thing you can do for your heart is DON’T SMOKE. It’s a bitch to quit, and I didn’t even smoke much or long before I quit in my late teens, and I STILL didn’t enjoy quitting and had smoking dreams for years. It’s harder to quit than just about anything else up to and including crack and heroin, and that’s coming from a patient of mine who recently passed in her early 60s who’d done all of those things—for years and years—but eventually was able to quit everything except smoking. And that killed her. She developed severe COPD and eventually called to say her blood oxygen saturation was dipping into the 70s, which is incompatible with life. She was lucid enough to decline medical care, including refusing to call 911 or go to the ER. A week later, after both I and one of our outreach nurses had contacted her to ask her to please go to the ER, I got a notification that she’d been found dead. She had been so frustrated that she wasn’t a candidate for a lung transplant.
One of my oldest trans patients is in her late 50s. She’s had blood clots that went to the lungs. Repeatedly. Smoking raises that risk. Estrogen raises that risk. She’s a veteran with PTSD; of course she smoked.
These aren’t theoretical. These are humans I’ve cared for over years of their lives. I have been rooting for them—my beloved former addict, who spoke without shame about her years of homelessness and drug use in the city; my queer elders, who are slowly trading in their motorcycles for power scooters. I want everyone to live their fullest, best life.
Smoking doesn’t fit into that. Please don’t smoke. I don’t want you to die like that—not now and not later. I want you to have the future that you may not be able to see yet, but exists.
Since I moved home as an out queer, word got out, and there’s a whole apartment complex of lesbians in their 60s to their 80s who come see me—sitting next to their wives in the office, nagging about blood pressure meds, tattling about not having gotten the shingles shot they said they would. To be clear, when I was growing up in town, I knew no lesbians. Not one. I knew one gay kid in my class, which eventually turned into two. We were it. To see these women living decades with their wives and being able to squabble like any couple in my office over who was supposed to bring their home blood pressure cuff in for us to check it… it means the world to me.
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babydarkstar · 2 months
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honestly no wonder harrow forced ianthe to lobotomize her so she could save gideon. listen…LISTEN…if i was a secret-war-crime cult nunlet princess worshipped by my entire planet and the only person that (barely) kept me in check was my childhood nemesis—a butch a year older than me, towering over me in stature and physical prowess, and so hot it made my teeth hurt from how hard my jaw clenched in her presence, who wielded a two-handed seven-foot sword and had irritatingly huge biceps and told very lewd stupid jokes and also learned how to wield an entirely new weapon and be my bodyguard with startling accuracy in three months—only to have us finally learn to trust each other because we got invited to a magic murder mystery and then before the bubble burst i spilled the worst secret about myself that i was born because my parents murdered an entire generation and tried to Kill Her along with them and she just wouldnt die, and i told her this expecting a swift death i believed i deserved, only for her to fucking cradle me in her big butch arms and kiss me on my forehead with her soft butch mouth and just. forgive me for a shameful weight ive carried my entire life and then MAKE AN ACTUAL NECRO/CAV VOW with me despite every evil thing i have done to her……to have her tell me, in the end, bleeding and broken after putting up the most beautiful and glorious fight of her life, that she understands purpose and she understands duty and she knows loyalty more fiercely than ever now, that she knows who she is to me, that there is no her without me….to have her backed into a corner and make the ultimate sacrifice…..for me…..to recite scriptural wedding vows of eternity to me in her last wisps of soul-consciousness…..if i thought there was even a snowflake’s chance in the pyre that i could save her by turning myself into her very own locked tomb, i’d be begging ianthe tridentweirdius to crack my skull open and turn me to mush too, goddamn. i understand you harrowhark girl you don’t have to explain a thing to me. god said you couldn’t undo the lyctor’s bond bc it’d kill you. you told god and his angels that not even a lyctor’s bond could outshine the power of female spite and lesbianism and they didn’t listen. they didn’t believe you. but i heard you loud and clear and i was 17 and hormonal and hopelessly romantic not too long ago unlike those fucking dinosaurs and i’m saying it’s valid it’s what i would have done and really everyone should be thanking you for not being worse and more wretched about it, all things considered
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aweina · 7 months
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Could I request the reverse of your ‘when you catch them staring’ headcannons? And with a lot of teasing from the reader too?
୨୧. heart eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : sub-zero. scorpion. smoke + johnny cage & raiden
when you catch them staring at you.
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bi-han tries to make his staring unnoticeable. with his silver mask blocking away any emotions that he could display, his eyes have become naturally expressive over time. they gleam whenever you pass by him, a foreign softness to them. the permanent scowl is less intense when he takes a moment to memorize details of your face. your eyes captivated him the most — a whirl of emotions so deep set into your irises. he could stare at them for hours on end.
it’s when you asked bi-han to revise tomorrow’s training module, his staring is much more obvious in such a closer proximity. his dull brown eyes look restful, more hazy with warmth that contrasted his deadly cold nature — yet he still looks terrifying, but it could never be helped when it came bi-han, it was his resting face. when you quickly look up for a reply, he realizes all too late that he’s caught, yet his stubbornness tells him not to falter under your gaze as he mentally cursing at himself for his blatant act of staring.
“are you angry at me or is there something on my face?” you quirked an amused brow with a smile, tilting your head cutely.
bi-han just grunted in response, snatching the scroll off your hands and raising it against his face to avoid your teasing gaze — thankful his mask hid his redden cheeks. the grandmaster would have to die of old age before he admits that he admires you from afar. but for now he’ll deal with your relentless teasing.
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kuai liang loves to admire beauty whenever he encounters it. the vibrant, pink blossoms grown in wu shi academy always made him smile. the fresh greenery and exotic plants that he cared for always brightened his day. but all those things were incomparable to your beauty and intellect. he loves to watch you fight — even looking past the sweat and messy hair after intense training. he watches you with adoration when you converse with the younger trainees — resilient and beautiful — he thinks.
you tended to him after he comes back from a mission, offering herbal tea and a scenery of his garden under the moonlight. you converse with him, although it’s one sided. kuai liang stares at your lips, soft and pretty — curling into a sweet smile. you notice that his soften eyes were directed on your lips. a rush of heat flowed through your body, how long had he done this for?
“what is so interesting about my lips kuai liang?” you muster the courage to ask, mentally thanking madam bo for gifting you tinted lip balm.
his reaction seemed halted before he realizes he was indeed caught. he chuckled nervously as he propped himself up to turn towards the luminance of the moon. kuai liang was flustered, but when he felt your balmy lips on his cheek, all the shame in his body vanished.
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tomas isn’t subtle. at all. he’s very much aware of that, even his brothers and the young trainees tease him for being so smitten at plain sight. even so, he still cannot help but continue to stare at you with a loving daze — nervously fiddling his fingers behind his back. through his daily admiring, tomas came to the conclusion that he loved everything about you. his eyes tend to dart to your bright eyes, soft lips, pretty hair, and silky skin.
when you’re accompanying him with his training, cheering and playfully applauding at the younger ninjas dueling in an tense battle. the action playing before tomas was lost in time. it was blurry, silent, unmoving but all he could see is you — manipulating this time stop in his mind with your raw radiance. then his eyes widen when you met his gaze and suddenly he’s panicking. with trained speed, he’s now looking down at his feet, whistling a broken tune.
“this is the third time i’ve caught you staring, you know that right?” you mused, uncontrollably giggling when tomas nods in flustered acknowledgment.
tomas looks up from his feet and sighs in defeat. even caught another time, he’ll still take the opportunity to look at the scene before him — your cheerful grin and gleaming eyes. if his staring problem can make you this happy, he doesn’t see why he should ever stop.
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johnny cage is a shameless man. he loves to flirt and proudly embrace his failed attempts at flirting. eye contact is key, he believes. a very effective technique to swoon others and an act of intimacy without touching. johnny loves to stare at you, in hopes of meeting your eye and share a perfectly cliche romantic movie experience. but with your oblivious nature, he hasn’t been successful just yet. although he learned that he loved your smile — instead of his usual attraction to anything below the face.
mindlessly wondering around the fire temple, johnny finds you sitting on the stairs while reading a rather thick looking book. he immediately joins your side, flashing a white smile as he enthusiastically boast about his acting career. even if your eyes aren’t on him, to much to his disappointment, you acknowledged every word and responded in interest. then he gradually stops talking until he’s mute and you grow concerned.
“johnny, did you fall asleep?” your brows furrowed as you turned to him, his head resting on his knee.
with his frosty blue lens, you couldn’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. slowly, you took the frames off his face and flinch in shock. his eyes were wide open, staring at yours with unfamiliar intensity for a moment. then you smile and turn away flustered. finally! he made eye contact and was rewarded with your beautiful smile. johnny’s hollywood charm works … most of the time.
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raiden is clueless when it comes to his staring problem. he doesn’t mean to stare half the time, it was a force of habit — automatic admiration. you were simply bewitching, even in simple attire that was paired with a stained apron. his eyes are big and soft when he looks at you, even so when he talks about you. it could take kung lao screaming in his ear for raiden to snap out of his enchanted state. he promises himself to be more subtle, and so he did.
you’re pacing around the tea house, serving refreshments with impressive finesse while warmly conversing with the local villagers. under his straw hat, raiden watches you intently — noticing the loose stands fall on your face as it tickles your neck. your soft hair frames your face perfectly, dancing through the air like silk in the wind — one of your most beautiful features. under a smitten daze, he doesn’t notice how your body is much closer and how your voice was much clearer, soothing his ears.
“it’s okay to call me over for a chat raiden, i don’t bite.” you jested as you tilted his hat back with a finger, meeting his eager gaze.
he’s blushing now, beet red. a nervous laugh escaped his lips as his eyes averted to the side — caught in the act. you only adoringly smile at him, leaving the check on his table as you tend to another customer. another friendly interaction, raiden thinks. but when he looks at the check, a small heart and the time you’re off work was written on the parchment. his cheeks suddenly hurt from smiling too hard, he couldn’t wait. but for now, he’ll kill time by watching you from afar.
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© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.
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lovetwist · 1 month
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Veil of Deception (II)
SYNOPSIS: Forced into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, you must now consummate the union. A night of unsparing obscenity. His grip on you is deadly, perhaps worsening when you seek to escape him.
WARNINGS (R18+): dub-con, first time, biting, marking, sexual content, breeding, mentions of choking, power play, violence, weapons, cannibalism
Word count: 2.6k
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PART 1
The night seemed excruciatingly long, your body overwhelmed by the sensations ruptured by your husband: pain, pleasure, pure agony.
Feyd-Rautha was transfixed on the way your hair sprawled out on the bedsheets, creating a halo around your body. You had found it to be a strange request when you were informed to keep your hair long for the wedding. Now you knew exactly who had made the order each time your husband pulled, scrunched, and ran his calloused hands through your locks.
“Please – ah – slower!” you gasped underneath him.
What a mistake to beg or plead. His pace seemed to only quicken with every whimper you released. It had been hours, he was entirely relentless in his pursuit of unraveling you. Every time you felt as though you’d die, he’d slow and make you wet once more.
You hated the way you would arch for him, your physical body betraying your moral dignity. You hated how he would smirk every time, calling you ‘pet’. Most profoundly, you hated the mirror above his bed exposing the shamefulness of every position he took you in and the wanton expression you wore during them.
Feyd-Rautha was a skilled lover, but he was greedy in chasing his own release – which seemed to never end.
Your mother couldn’t prepare you for this, the Bene Gesserit had very little information on the na-Baron’s likes and weaknesses aside from rumors. He had killed the previous Sister sent to seduce him and broken the neck of another Sister who attempted to plant a trigger word in his mind.
Perhaps it would be a miracle if you survived your wedding night.
It was almost animalistic the way he pounded into you with limitless stamina. His seed was still dripping down your legs as he flipped you over like a hound. Your cheeks flushed at this positioning, he was treating you like a beast in heat.
“Cry for me, pet,” he’d sneer every time tears stung your eyes.
“I-I’m not your pet,” you’d pant trying to adjust to his speed. Your defiance and spirit would only set him off further into lunacy.
You’d never forget the raptorial look in his eyes when you first bled. He had prepared you well with his fingers and tongue, but his extraordinary size still pierced your hymen painfully. Feyd-Rautha arrogantly reveled in the fact that he was the first man to claim your maidenhood – and subsequently subjected you to every single one of his primal desires.
His bites on your body ached initially, followed by thorough licks of every reddened wound with his hot tongue. During the brief intermissions, he traced the bruises marked on your hips and thighs smugly. Your husband was a paradox, torment and pleasure wrapped into one.
The experiences he gave you differed wildly from anything you had read upon the marital bed. Though you were disappointed in the lack of romance, you did enjoy his physicality. His allure was striking with chiseled facial features, piercing eyes, and a toned body.
You didn’t fail to notice the flex of his muscles with every thrust into you or how his voice would drop several octaves when he was close to release.
His hands were rough, but his fingers were beautiful – the masterful way they would tease your breasts and sadistically wrap around your throat. You’d shiver when he licked your ears and nipped at your swollen lips.
Feyd-Rautha didn’t kiss you often, but when he did it could only be described as an unearthly procession of dominance. He was aggressive and vicious in the way he forced his tongue down your throat, exploring every inch of your mouth while his large hand locked your face in place. You couldn’t deny that your body was in complete submission of his depravity.
He smirked each time you moaned and mewled into his kiss, flattering his ego. The way he overpowered you so easily made your head spin.
“No more…” you groaned as you gripped the sheets beneath you, already wet with sweat and cum.
He’d sneer and scoff as he denied you, further burrowing himself into your hair and savoring your scent. You couldn’t oppose this predatory creature on top of you, not when he held your entire being in the palm of his hand.
“You belong to me, we stop when I say so,” he growled every time you tried to turn away. He held your wrists down with both arms, caging you beneath him like prey.
The last thing you remember from your wedding night were the rays of sunlight pouring through the curtains when you finally lost consciousness.
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The morning light filtered through gaps in the velvet curtains, casting a gentle glow over the chamber. You stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, your body still tingling from the intensity of the night before. Memories flooded back, mingling with sensations of arousal and embarrassment.
The bed was cold. Instead of your husband, you found a silver tray placed next to the nightstand with delectable plates of food.
‘Eat.’ was elegantly scripted on an adjacent card. You rolled your eyes at his overbearing personality but couldn’t deny the pangs of hunger.
After breakfast, you decided to take a bath. As you placed both feet on the ground to walk, your legs wobbled terribly. Sitting back down on the bed with a long sigh, you decided to wait for servants to eventually come fetch you.
Hours passed and no one came. When the sun rose high enough to be early noon, the doors burst open.
Your husband strode in, his presence commanding the entire room. His eyes, still burning with yesterday’s fire, swept over you. He took in your disheveled appearance with a hint of amusement.
"Good, you’re alive," he remarked, his voice laced with self-satisfaction.
"Apologies for the disappointment, but I don’t die so easily,” you retorted, unable to keep the edge out of your voice.
He ignored your comment, crossing the room in long strides until he stood before you, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers trailing along the marks on your chest in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate.
"You fainted,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I hope you’ve regained your strength.”
"Don’t touch me,” you shot back, unable to suppress the surge of defiance.
He grabbed your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You are my possession. Mine to use, mine to break if necessary,” he reminded you, his voice a low growl. "And you will open your legs for me. If not, then I’ll have to use your pretty little mouth."
You bristled at his words, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of something else— fear, perhaps, or maybe something more primal, a recognition of the power he held over you and a heat forming in your lower core.
For a moment, you were tempted to push him away, to fight or defy him once more. Not all battles were won in a day, you thought to yourself.
Thus you didn’t protest when he ripped the sheet exposing your naked form, and you stubbornly ignored the fact that you came three times underneath him that afternoon.
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On the fourth day of your marriage, you become suspicious of why you never see servants. Every day you awake, and everything is remarkably already prepared.
“Why do I not have any servants to attend me,” you questioned.
“You do. Only, no one is allowed to enter my chambers without prior permission,” he replied flatly.
“Well then, I’d like to leave for my own chambers.” You weren’t confident if you even had chambers, but you guessed they must be storing your clothes and belongings somewhere.
“You will leave when I no longer require you here,” his voice boomed. “Aren’t you enjoying our honeymoon, pet?” he mocked.
“Do not call me pet, Feyd-Rautha. I am your wife, not an animal you can cage and entertain on a whim.”
“Right,” he drawled. “If you had been an animal, I would’ve already broken you a thousand times over,” his eyes glinted with interest. “Especially one that doesn’t know when to shut its barking, wife.”
As Feyd-Rautha's words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence enveloped the room. You could feel the weight of his brutal nature pressing down on you, suffocating any resistance that simmered to rise within you. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, refusing to cower before him.
"I demand to know why I'm being kept prisoner in this room," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.
Feyd-Rautha's eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening with anger. "Prisoner?" he scoffed.
"You are performing your marital duties, na-Baroness. Do not sour my mood. Lest you’ve forgotten the purpose of this union, I need to fuck you until your womb swells with my seed,” he gritted his teeth, “It’s been pleasurable so far, hasn’t it? You moan like a whore under me each night."
Speechless, your mouth gaped at his profanity.
"It would be a mistake to disobey me."
A surge of frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over. "And if I refuse?" you challenged, daring to meet his gaze head-on.
His lips curled into a cruel smirk, a glint of malice dancing in his eyes. "Then you will suffer the consequences – which you would not be able to bear, little one" he replied, his voice dripping with menace. “Do you want me to show you?”
Before you could respond, he clapped his hands twice. The doors to the chamber burst open, entering a group of armed guards standing at attention. Feyd-Rautha's expression turned into a dark leer.
"Escort my wife to her personal chambers," he commanded, his tone deceptively calm. "And make sure she doesn’t go anywhere without a guard. From now on, she is not to enter nor stay in my rooms."
As the Harkonnens moved to seize you, you realized with a sinking feeling that you were truly trapped in this gilded cage, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty you had yet to understand.
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Deep within you, a flicker of rebellion still burned bright, a willful resolve to reclaim your freedom and dignity, no matter the cost.
Your room, surprisingly luxurious, boasted a large balcony that offered an overhead view of the training grounds. It seemed purposeful, chosen to serve as a stark reminder of the life you had been thrust into: perpetual violence.
You weren’t alone in your room; servants flitted about, attending to your needs with a silent efficiency that bordered on eerie. They all looked the same, simple white garbs and shaven heads. Attendants moved like shadows, their presence barely felt and never acknowledged. It was as if they were part of the furniture, existing solely to serve.
As na-Baroness, you only had a few measly duties assigned to you: organize balls and events of state. This was laughable as events on Giedi Prime occurred only a few times per year, mostly none with consequence or importance.
There were two ways you could see your husband: on the training grounds or when he came to fuck you.
Feyd-Rautha was a formidable warrior with carefully honed skills and keen senses. However, he often flaunted his prowess to the point of showmanship. Having nothing else to do, you watched his sparring sessions sometimes.
Under the black sun of Giedi Prime, it all seemed like a colorless nightmare that you’d hallucinated. Blood, violence, and the never-ending screams haunted you even as you closed the balcony doors. This was no nightmare, it was reality.
Your husband was a disciplined man who adhered to a tight routine; training early each morning, proceeded by visits your room.
After your confrontation, he hardened towards you. There would be no conversation, Feyd-Rautha had the mind to only satisfy himself and left quickly afterwards. He always slept in his own his chambers.
His anger did not ever seem to dissipate, only replaced with lust temporarily.
The monotonous days left you feeling isolated and adrift in a sea of strangers. The only reprieve came in the form of letters you sent to your family. They’d ask you how you were faring and you’d carefully craft missives that painted a picture of marital contentment while concealing the ugly truth. Of course you couldn’t tell them, not when everything hinged upon the success of this union and the delivery of an heir.
On some lonely nights, as you lay by yourself in the large bed, you regretted asking to leave his side. After all, your golden cage hadn’t expanded and you still exercised no authority.
Four weeks later, you felt relieved that your blood came. True it was your purpose to bear a child, but there was a part of you that feared your husband would simply leave you alone for good once he confirmed a pregnancy.
That afternoon, you gently denied him access to your body. “My courses have come,” you explained, crawling off his lap.
He was shocked for a moment, but then slowly released his grasp on you. He left the room without a word.
Later in the evening, feeling brave or perhaps missing his touch – which you’d never outwardly admit – you decided to break one of the rules by visiting his chamber.
You thought of things to say to him.
I’d like to spend more time together as husband and wife.
I think it would help our marriage to get to know one another.
I want to explore the estate and Giedi Prime.
Your musings were interrupted by the synchrony of female voices and laughter coming out of your husband’s room.
In a momentary fit of shock and fury, you ignored the guards and pushed open the doors.
He was polishing his dagger leisurely with three naked Harkonnen women laying across his bed.
“How dare you enter my chambers without permission,” he hissed. You didn’t miss the way he angled the tip of the dagger towards you.
“Who are they?” you demanded, voice unable to conceal your disturbance and a hint of jealousy.
“My pets, they require special attention,” he replied coolly, at which the harpies giggled in unison.
You understood that they were pleasure slaves. It was common for noblemen to have concubines; you just hadn’t expected your husband would as well. Did he spend the night with them? Is that what he did after leaving your bedroom every day?
You stood frozen in place, humiliated at your naivete. You meant nothing to him, another whore but adorned with an empty title. A guard swiftly followed you inside the chamber, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you out.
“Na-Baroness, you do not have permission to be in here–”, the rest of his sentence could not be heard as Feyd-Rautha slit his throat and sliced his arm. The man fell where he stood.
“Perfect timing,” he growled. “My darling pets were getting hungry,” he squinted his eyes at the dead guard as though he was lowlier than filth.
None of the other guards dared to touch you after that display.
Monster. Traitor. Killer. 
When the three women ran down to divvy up the bits of his body, you had to fight the urge to puke. You stare at their markings, soulless ebony eyes, and sharp black teeth as they devour the man’s limbs, you’ve never felt more disgust or fear in your life.
Harkonnen. Monster. Traitor. Killer. 
Feyd-Rautha approaches you, expressionless and without any hint of remorse. “Go,” he commands. “Get out unless you want to become fodder for them as well.”
As you turned to walk away, tears fell like raindrops, marking the path of your departure with silent rage and hatred.
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dilftaroooo · 4 months
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Request: True form Sukuna claiming his offering in front of her village.
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im gonna write this as a drabble :3
★tags/tw: uhh implied cannibalism + cervix fucking + sukuna is pretty misogynistic + fem!reader + discrimination against humans(?) idfk + true form!sukuna + loss of virginity
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You delicately sit in the middle of the stage, introducing yourself to the slew of men and women scattered about like spilled salt on a kitchen table. Your legs are spread to present to them your blooming flower--still pink and untouched. It twitches under the many watchful eyes of diverse emotions--horror, confusion, lust, envy. They all poured down on you amid a lethal storm, droplets pounding your skin and soaking you thoroughly. You turn your head to avoid the plethora of wicked gazes. The feeling is overwhelming.
Behind you lies a demon. A great being, an entity that holds more power than anyone close or far. His teeth are sharp, his eyes are beady, and his stomach is hungry for the innocence of a fresh maiden. The people of your village brought you here. They made sure your scent was pleasant and that you were garbed in the cleanest of silk--your uchikake was adorned in floral patterns reminiscent of the trees that bloomed near your home.
They knew you'd be deemed a perfect offering for Sukuna-sama, the King of Curses--you're a sweet girl with a pure body, your breasts are full and your thighs are plump. They were sure if their King ever grew bored of you, he could easily dispose of your youthful frame by savoring your flesh and keeping your skull as a precious souvenir. Innocents always taste sweeter than most.
Though your legs were spread, they weren't spread enough for Sukuna as he already gripped your thighs with a strict pressure you weren't unfamiliar with. The squelch that leaves your pussy parts as he further widens your limbs was a sound everyone managed to capture. You're wet and slimy and maybe somewhat aroused. Your King is an attractive beast with a chiseled chin and a beguiling grin. Intricate, onyx lines surface the apex of his taut muscles and the sight makes you clench around thin air. You ponder on what he'd look like if he were a mere human such as yourself.
"All of you!" He starts, his voice booms through the premises and you're surprised by how powerful the echo is despite not being in an enclosed space. As expected, everyone gears their eyes toward the four-armed monster in preparation for his next words. "I want you mortal freaks to watch me fuck this girl you were so kind to offer me. If it hadn't been for this young duckling I would've already slaughtered this putrid village and watched my militia of curses swallow you whole."
He's quick for his size as he brings you onto his hefty lap, and from there you already feel one of his cocks coat itself against your wet slit. He's huge and lingering at the back of your mind, you wonder if you would die at first thrust. His tip is an angry red, livid from the languid teasing performed by its heaving owner from rubbing it across the length of your weeping cunt. It isn't long before his playful ministrations are seduced into slamming inside you.
You weren't even spared a moment of reconsideration for your hymen was already snapped into two, disintegrating upon impact. It would have been a shame to experience your deflowering with a prominent tummy bulge if it wasn't for how much your mind and soul revere the beast overlapping your weak presence.
You were his and he was his own as he violently hammered himself down to the hilt. You bathed him in the blood of a former virgin while he hits that bruised cervix within you. Your back is against that sculpted chest you worship dearly and his sweat rubs off on you is strong with his pheromones.
"Sukuna-sama," You mewl because he's so deep in your pussy that you can't fight back the urge to call out his name. He responds with a finger to your clit and a hand on your breast, making it his duty to circle a thick finger around your nipple.
"I don't remember granting you permission to speak now, did I?" His tone is dark enough to make you believe you've done something utterly wrong but your apology comes out in a series of wanton moans. He chuckles at how the pathetic always act so miserably.
"But since you're clasping around me so tightly," Burgundy red orbs glare at the side of your left cheek, previously moistened with tears of pain and gratitude. "I'll let your sheer idiocracy go. I don't think any of the past wenches you humans throw at me grip my dick this hard. I assume they were used up til they were nothing but a gaping hole." Then he frowns.
"They must think poorly of me."
Sukuna cherishes the screams rushing out of your throat as you take him inch by overbearing inch, stretching you out to accommodate his length and girth. You're nothing but his plaything.
You practically forget the crowd casted in front of you once you hear subdued chattering coming from multiple voices, all laced with different tones with different perceptions. You feel like a common whore.
Throughout, Sukuna never kissed you. He believes he should not taste the lips of a revolting human for it'll taint his palate. He just fucks into you as you bounce like some ragdoll abandoned by a little girl. But if life has fated you with the opportunity to become Sukuna's, your King's, toy, then may you not change the inevitable.
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