#nsfp

Hate is regarded as a strong emotion, a negative one at that. When someone hates, despises, it is assumed it is a true intolerance of such thing. When someone loses all emotions left in them except hate, they are viewed as sub human to some. To lack happiness is one thing, but to lack even sadness is an alien concept. So what of the person who struggles to connect with their sadness, their loneliness, yet is quick to lay on their self hate? Those who dislike themselves are more often than not sad about it, so how can one hate themselves if they can't be sad?

Of course, lacking sadness doesn't stop people from hating others. Hating your inaction, hating your action, hating what you said, hating what you didn't say, this contempt of self needs nothing else to fuel it. To look back at what you've done and regard your actions, your past self, as foolish, truly needs nothing more than a spiteful heart. Now, what about regret? Can you truly feel regret if you get angry at what you've done, but aren't sad about it?

Pacing back and forth, the mistakes of the past were the only thing on repeat in their mind. You should've held back for a few moments more, should've been faster, should've been more understanding. You should've apologized. Yet, you didn't, and it's been gnawing at you inside. You knew, understood, that you should feel bad. All you felt was this strange emptiness, an ache in your chest as you thought about it, an unidentifiable emotion that you were sure you used to be able to name up until you got the Ghostwalker. Up until you seemingly ridden yourself of your "burdens."

Most people would applaud conquering ones sadness, ones greed, ones loneliness, but in their absence, what else is left to balance out the opposite? You don't magically fill in those gaps with more positive emotions, it just becomes a gap. A tangibly painful gap that throbs in your chest, a reminder of the void- or your inability to put names to these feelings anymore. It's frustrating, and in a way, isolating, as you have no real option but to move on. No one else could possibly understand how that feels, no one else could possibly help fill those voids to make life feel less empty.

Except yourself, surely.

In the end, for someone who has become other-ed through loss of human emotions has very little support. Even as someone extends their hand or lends a shoulder, what can you possibly do if you don't even know what the name of the full body ache you have is? The cheery, bright eyed girl offering a shoulder to lean on, is more likely to blankly stare, a nervous laugh, an attempt to connect with you nonetheless. One that falls short. The selfish man who's shared that similar anger in your heart, staring at you in confusion, would not hesitate to tell you he doesn't understand. And the very one you've worked so hard for? Probably wouldn't even give you the time of day. Not right now, when you should be busy with work, busy doing his work.

How sad. How lonely. How very, very frightening it must be to be so isolated.

Yet, it's all you've known since the reclamation of that sword. Even as you try to doze off, those feelings never really go away. Are you lonely? You have no idea. You want to see his face again, say hello to her again, apologize to her, anything but be by yourself, but you don't know why.

You're only human after all. It's alright.

No matter how far gone someone may seem as their emotions slip one by one from their fingers, surely they can still remain human if they have something to hold onto. But, how does one know what they have to hold onto? And how can they possibly hold onto humanity if humanity deems them inhumane and pushes them away?

You don't need them. You have 'yourself', don't you?

... Huh?

Letting yourself be weighed down by these things, you'll soul will become too heavy to move. You don't need anyone’s approval. You don't need anyone else at all. All you need,

Your eyes snap open.

is 'yourself'.

This isn't your room.

Do you know what that concern gets you?

You've been here before.

It leads you astray,

You've woken up here, over and over, with each attempt.

breaks your heart,

You shouldn't be here. Not again.

forces you to run,

You need to wake up.

and dirties your beautiful, vulnerable spirit.

You need to get up, right now.

Don't waste it on such filth. Embrace what remains, let it consume you.

Though your body feels as heavy as lead, you manage to sit up. You don't feel real.

You don't need to waste any more time on such pointless things.

You stumble over on your to the door, shoulder aching as it collides with the wardrobe. You didn't feel this exhausted the last time you were here. Something's deeply wrong.

Let me do all the thinking. I'll give you everything you want. Keep you safe.

Your legs give in. Your arms don't feel like your arms. Your body doesn't feel like your body. When was the last time your body felt like your own, though?

Make you feel loved. So very, very, loved.

You hear footsteps. You need to go, now.

Until you're choking, drowning, suffocating in it.

You manage to drag yourself to the door. You feel something is creeping up behind you. You try not to think about it.

Where are you going?

You gave your dominant arm a good thwack in an attempt to wake it up, get it back into motion, anything. You finally manage to get your arm raised up- too late.

You don't have to turn around to see who or what the hand grabbing your wrist belongs to. You don't want to. Fingertips sharpened to a point, jet black with just the faintest tints of red that shimmer under the oppressive white light. If it weren't for those, the rest of the hand, the arm, the glove and clothes, would be unmistakably human enough. To be taunted with such vulnerabilities is one thing, but to be met with the disguise it wore in your first encounter was another.

"It's quite rude to leave just as soon as you arrive, isn't it? Ah, if only Shedletsky had some sense to teach you manners," it leaned down to your ear, the smile it wore nearly tangible in its words, "but he doesn't have any sense to appreciate you either, right?" Cooing, it relaxed its grip, gliding it's hand down your arm, rubbing it's thumb over a spot as if to comfort as it reached your upper forearm. "How pitiful, so unappreciated, so overworked... so, so tired. Aren't you?"

You're barely able to get some biting words out, resentment towards it, resentment towards it's disguise once more. It's already revealed it's true form to you, why bother with the effort a second time? Why bother if it was just going to warp it's disguise further, evident by the now clearly demon-like fingers it sported, almost showing them off at this point. It merely waved off the dissatisfaction with a chuckle. "Don't you want something to ground you? Things that are familiar to you would fit that just fine. That's what helps you the most, things that you know, things that you've seen before, touched before, passed by before."

Feeling it press against your back just a centimeter closer, you question it on how it'd know what works and doesn't work for you. Your body jerked away feeling hot breath on your throat, an amused exhale leaving it, "How do I know? How wouldn't I know? I told you before, didn't I? Greed, solitude, fear, those were all your emotions. You're smart, what do you think that would mean for me, hm?" You remained quiet. You knew the answer all too well, but you didn't want to say it. Whether it be your ego, or resistance to giving into it's whims, you refused. Yet, it only seemed to entertain it further. "You know... it's not just your emotions I know."

It's other hand wrapped around your waist with an unearned closeness, another rope-like object wrapping itself gently around your lower leg. "Your favorite things, how you deal with emotions, your preferred order of eating things like cake with strawberries," you feel the arm around your waist slide up word, your hand weakly grabbing at it's wrist as it's hand rested just below your chest, "and your thoughts. Every, single, one."

You express irritation, what does that have to do with anything? You were overthinking about your emotions, certainly, but it wasn't nearly as up close and personal with you before. You struggle to think up of thoughts that could even remotely brush against the issue at hand, coming up almost completely empty before you land on a few more private thoughts. Or, what you thought were private. As much as you hoped in your heart there wasn't a correlation, it seemed to be right on the money, it pressing closer towards you at this point.

"Poor, poor little thing. Going out all on your own, no one to comfort you, hold you, hug you close...," it's grip on your arm suddenly tightened, pulling it off to the side away from the door, "... and even still, that wouldn't be enough for you, would it? If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this yearning was from your greed." You already knew it was futile to pull your arm away at this rate, so the most you could do was pull your other hand away before it restrained both, to no avail, unfortunately. "But you already took care of that pesky greed of yours, didn't you? Wonder what could be the root of it then. Perhaps you're just a greedy person deep down underneath all those heroics you put on."

Both of your wrists trapped in it's grasp, it pushed it's weight against you, pushing you against the door as it pinned your arms above your head, your heart beginning to race. "Though... of course, there are other emotions you haven't dealt with. They don't weigh you down after all. So... I guess the answer is," despite how sweetly it spoke, there was clear mockery underneath it, cooing into your ear, "maybe you're just needy by nature."

As you attempted to protest, it hushed you, shifting it's hands to keep your wrists pinned under one while clamping your mouth shut with the other. "You don't need to fight anymore. You're tired of fighting. Exhausted. Worn out. Even if you had to, you probably couldn't even stand against a wandering noob right now, could you?" You felt something start creeping up underneath your shirt, and you knew for certain it wasn't it's hands. You desperately tried to pull away, or at least see what it was, but it's grip on your wrists and your jaw kept you in place. "Aww, poor thing. So weak, all tuckered out with no one to help..."

You squirmed against the foreign touch, jerking as it seemed to caress different parts of your torso. You didn't have much wiggle room, and even if you did, your body still refused to cooperate with you. It wasn't until you felt another strange thing start crawling up your body that you began to relinquish your fight. This one seemed to remain on top of your clothes, simply wrapping itself around your torso. It coiled loop after loop before finally stopping, the shift of it dragging itself around the fabric just slightly tangible through your clothes.

"There you go. Good. Save your energy." Though it praised you, you were more than certain in a way it was looking down at you in that same breath. Feeling another strange thing start crawling up your arm, you managed to catch a look, confirming your suspicion that it was one of it's tendrils. You remember fighting against them before, some seeming glossy with suspicious liquid dripping down them, while others seemed to be matte yet sharp, ready to slice through you with one flick. In this moment, it felt neither wet nor sharp, rather it merely felt "warm". The one wrapping around your torso felt like any normal hug, yet the absence of flesh left you deeply unsettled, knowing it was not arms holding you, but a weapon wrapped around you, holding you even more still than it'd already had you.

It didn't take too long before you once again grew alarmed, the tendril moving up your dominant arm wrapping itself around your wrists, firm and taut. It released it's own hands once it seemed certain you weren't able to release yourself from it's grip, once more chuckling in amusement as you confirmed with your attempt at a struggle once more. "You can keep trying if you want. But you know, they say doing the same thing over and over thinking you'll get a different result is insanity. I worry you'll drive yourself crazy in an attempt to be sane, you know..." It's hands traced up and down your torso, thumb brushing against the area your nipples should land through your hoodie, "Safety, your safety, is my number one concern. Isn't it?"

You couldn't even bring yourself to bite back towards it's blatant mockery of someone’s words. You've lost the energy you just regained through your failed attempt to at least regain freedom of your hands, and it's hands and tendrils touch were starting to get to you. Even as you tensed up feeling it's teeth press against your neck in a play bite, you felt your body starting to go slack. You wondered if it was draining your energy at this point, to make you compliant. Keep you from fighting. Trying again to move your arms wielded nothing, though you were starting to lack strength- or mental clarity- to feel alarmed.

"Good, stay still, just like this. I'll take good, good care of you." Your breath hitched feeling it plant a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, teeth grazing against your flesh once more. "You're doing wonderful. Absolutely perfect." Something in your chest felt strange. Once more, a feeling you couldn't quite place began to radiate through your body. You feel frustrated, finally managing to get something, anything out. Complaining about how it was playing with you more than caring, how it's praises were just setting you up, though it merely let out a huff of breath, tone uncertain to you. "Oh, there's no need to be so cold. I'm being genuine. You're doing so good for me. On the other hand... can't you say the same about him?"

You aren't sure if it was just your head, or if it really had changed, but the feeling of the tendril under your shirt seemed to grow more... wet. Fleshy. Warm. It's touch grew from gentle brushes to more firm touches, moving with more intention than before. "He knows you've been struggling, been so exhausted, barely getting any rest between your missions. But what does he do? Send you right back out, doesn't here?" It's hands took hold of your hips, breath hot against your neck, "I hear your thoughts. Your struggles. Your pain, exhaustion, and desperation. You don't just want this. You need it. I'll give you what you need. Unlike him."

It slid it's thumb under your pants hem, sliding it down just enough to get a reaction out of you before stopping. "Humans don't just need safety to live. They need comfort. It's not enough to just survive, they want to feel nice while doing so. In other words," you felt some number of tendrils slide into your pants through the gap it'd made with it's thumbs, smaller ones wrapping around your legs and larger ones pulling more than just your pants down, "I worry not just about your safety, but your comfort. Your happiness. Your pleasure."

Your legs twitched with this many foreign things wrapping themselves anywhere and everywhere around your lower area, some only serving to tease your thighs, others seemingly coiling and slithering around your legs idly. It wasn’t until you felt one rather larger one slide up your crotch, pressing rather firmly against your folds, that you finally felt some part of your brain snap back into place. Before you could attempt to move your hips away from it, you felt yourself get lifted up off the ground, just enough for your feet to be too far from the ground to try to stand on your tippie toes. The part of you that'd regained its train of thought was beginning to grow more and more alarmed, your body blatantly at it's most vulnerable at this point.

"You were asking before, why you could barely lift a finger even as you woke up here. You've been exhausted for a while now, but that was a new experience for you, wasn't it?" Your breathing grew more and more unsteady feeling the tendril rub itself back and fourth into your cunt, your heart skipping a bit as you felt the palm of it's hand against your upper inner thigh. "Hmm, to answer, or not to answer... haha, well, you're not gonna be able to think clearly in a moment, so I can't ask you to guess. That'd be unfair, and fairness builds the rules of our platform." The tendrils pulled you close to it, it's chest pressed firmly against your back, "You wanted this. More specifically, you had such a deep hunger for this, for me, you subconsciously lost all that drive to fight against me from before. You're desperate. Starving."

It seemed to pull you back from the door, closer to the wardrobe. You were so focused on getting out of the situation you were in, you hadn't even noticed how much it'd taken over the room, red flesh-like material bursting out from the corners of the walls, vein-like tendrils sprouting and rooting into the walls and floor. It turned your body over to the mirror, hand gripping your lower face as it brought your gaze up to the mirror. Seeing yourself so vulnerable, wrapped in numerous tendrils, holding you in such positions, all while it stood behind you with it's hand wrapped around your waist, it felt... strange. Bad. Humiliating would be your closest descriptor, yet it also felt incorrect.

Your eyes squinted, nearly shutting as you felt it's fingers brush against your clit, the tendril between your legs slowing it's pace while relenting it's force against you. "See what a mess you are down here? You've just about soaked it by now. Poor, poor thing...," It pressed the tips of its fingers more firmly against your nub, a sharp exhale escaping you. "Everything about you is burning for rest, for relief, for someone to take care of all this frustration. Why fight back? Why not let me take care of every bit of aching desire in your body? No one else will, so you'd end up all pent up and feeling sick otherwise, wouldn't you?"

Before you could respond, the tendrils started to pull at your limbs again, pulling your legs further apart, giving them a slight lift as well. "There we go. Let's make things nice and easy for us." Before you could say, or try to say, anything else, your instinctively clamped your mouth shut feeling it start to rub circles around your clit, pressing against it with it's middle and ring finger. The warm feeling in your lower region kept growing, threatening to knock out your newly regained bit of thinking power, before your brain once again clicked off as the tendril began it's firm movement back and fourth again, shaky breaths and huffs leaving your mouth.

"Hmm... for all I know about you, I don't know what your preferred pet name is." In contrast to it's seemingly casual conversation starter, it moved it's hand slightly downward from it's previous position, tendril between it's middle and ring finger, "I'm sure you'd love some teasingly mean spirited ones, but it would be better I spoil you rotten. Sweetheart? Darling? Little toy? Oop-" Pretending to catch itself slipping up, it gave a short laugh almost mocking, "Perhaps toy would be a bit much." You were far too flustered in such a vulnerable position and too far into the actions going on to even try to bite back, though you were certain at this point it knew how much you wanted to. It probably enjoyed your struggle, snuffed out by your fatigue, or rather, your inability to even think up of a sentence let alone a word at.

You felt the tendril pull back, pressure relenting after however many minutes of teasing you, a slight sigh of what you felt was relief as your legs buzzed with remnant pleasure. It didn't last long, of course it didn't. You felt it's fingers take it's place, pressing just slightly into your slit, before spreading the lips apart, your slick wetting it's fingers in no time at all. "I wonder what would better help deal with this. A different tool for every job, but there's some instances where more than one tool could work in a situation. What do you think?" Just a second after it asked what you already presumed was a rhetorical question, it clicked it's tongue. "Actually... let's not have you think at all. Your thoughts are dangerous to you right now."

You felt the tendril slide back up, the tip of it seeming much more blunted than before- or maybe this was a different one entirely. You had no idea, there were an innumerable amount of them all around you. Frankly, you couldn't care either, given you were more preoccupied with watching it press itself against your entrance in the mirrors reflection. You wanted to close your eyes from embarrassment of watching yourself in such a way, but you know it'd just find a way to make you watch anyway. Might as well try to have some control over this situation. Maybe if you just got this over with, you'd be in and out of this place, this corner of your brain. Maybe you shouldn't have thought that, after hearing it chuckle behind you.

"There's so much I could do with you here, I can't really land on a specific one. Guess that means we'll have to do all of them, right?" Your eyes widened in mild horror hearing it say that, before squeezing shut feeling the tendril roughly push into you, your breath catching your throat feeling it spread and fill you in such a short amount of time, pressed as deep as it can into you. You swear you can feel it pulsing, throbbing inside you, the thought of it making you weaker in the legs just for a moment. "Look at you, you took it so well. Such a good little thing for me."

It barely gave you any time to get your bearings before it started thrusting in and out of you, the tip of it dragging against your inner walls, curling and uncurling as it prodded against as many inches of you as it could. Despite it's rather brash entrance, it seemed to take its time, moving in and out at a slow pace, taking an unusual amount of care to not push in as deep as it did on the first thrust. Some part of you still felt reluctance to give in, not to the pleasure, but to the embodiment of what you felt were your worst emotions standing right behind you. It's lulled you into a false sense of security before, you were more than certain this was just another instance. Yet, every other part of your brain didn't particularly care. Whether you wanted it to feel good or not, it did, and you wanted more.

"There you go... you can feel yourself relax more, right? Good, very good." It wrapped its arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, eyes fixated on watching your reaction in the mirror. "Such an adorable little thing. So fragile. So vulnerable. So defenseless." The corner of it's grin twitched watching concern start to dawn on your previously blissful expression, though whether it was from amusement, or it's natural twitch it had was difficult to tell. "It feels good, right? I bet it does. You've been wanting this for a long time now, poor thing."

It leaned its face towards yours, voice in a low, raspy whisper, "I wonder how good it'd feel for me to slide my fingers in you, press against your sweet spots, feel you close around me. Though, maybe you like this a bit more." It's hands slid downward towards your slit, mainly as a gesture, "This fills you up more than my fingers would. But that's not the reason it excites you more. Each prod, curl, throb, all going on inside such a sensitive area... I bet you'd love to feel it pump you nice and full of something else, right?" Your breathing grew more and more rugged as it kept talking, legs squirming against the tendrils grip. You couldn't tell if it was just you overthinking, but you feel yourself growing more and more sensitive inside with each passing moment.

"You know what else can do all that? I bet you do. No, I know you do. You want that the most, don't you?" For just a moment, you felt the tendril thrust in with just a bit more force, a shake going through out before it settles, sliding in as far into you as it can once more. "I could've started with my fingers and worked up to here, gave you something more... human. Then I thought, perhaps I could start off with something like this, and give you something more human, more normal, afterwards. As a treat, for being such a good little thing for me."

The tendril remained nested in you, the faint feeling of it throbbing still tangible, even more so as you feel your sensitivity has most definitely heightened. You nearly zoned out to the feeling before your awareness crashed into you feeling one of it's hands wrap around your neck, palm gently pressed against the side. "Be honest, you want that, don't you? I could stand here, play with you to my hearts content like this until you've gone limp. You wouldn't fight against it. But if we're talking about familiarity... you'd go crazy with me on top of you, breaking you over and over and over, until you're brains gone numb and you're thighs are coated."

It's grip tightened, just a tinge, fingertips barely beginning to dig into the skin. "You can say you want that, or you can just stay silent and let this continue. Which do you want? Because I know what you want." You stayed silent, hesitating. Confliction evident in your eyes. "Don't think. Just feel. You feel it burning in you, you want it, want me. Say it." Though your voice wavers, you reluctantly obey, submitting to it's demand. You're promptly filled with the feeling that was a mistake barely a second after, seeing something malicious gleam in it's eyes. "Perfect."

You braced yourself for the tendril to rip itself out of you, pleasantly surprised to feel it slowly pull itself out, the vaguest sensation of a 'pop' at the very end. Though, you then braced to deal with it itself, and you were right on the money. The hand still at your waist slid down to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as the pain made you wince. What you weren't expecting was for it to push into you so soon. You never saw it pulling it's pants down or anything, though you weren't sure it really needed to in actuality, given it was essentially just piloting a humanoid body it conjured up to begin with.

Even as you felt your body beginning to lose it's strength once more, you managed to inquiry on how much of this it could feel. You were certain these tendrils were part of it in some way, yet just as cutting fingernails doesn't hurt, perhaps it never felt anything earlier. Perhaps it couldn't feel anything entirely, and was just playing with you for it's own sick pleasure. You wouldn't be surprised. Humming, it did at least seem to give you an answer, "Not those. But I will feel this. And I'm gonna enjoy every moment of it." Just as it did with it's tendril before, it rammed into you with no proper warning, it hissing through it's teeth as it felt you around it, while you felt your brain numb again.

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. You're all mine now." You didn't expect it to be gentle, not even after earlier. So it came to no surprise it wasted no time beginning a ruthless pace, ravishing you to it's hearts desire. The claws digging into your hips had began to full draw blood at this point, though you were certain your sense of pain had been numbed by it. Even watching blood draw from the scratch marks in the mirror, you barely felt anything beyond a few pricks of pain. That, or your mind broke on impact with the first thrust. You weren't sure. But you felt good. Really good.

It's breath was hot and heavy against your shoulder, hand previously around your neck having moved downwards to your waist, scratching and clawing into flesh everywhere it grabbed, "Mine, mine, mine..." Emphasizing it's point, it bit into your shoulder, sharp teeth sinking in effortlessly as blood began to soak into your hoodie. "I sat here waiting for a long time. Hearing your desperation. Your thoughts. Images of you panting, drooling, broken. All I could do was wait."

Your sensitivity from earlier, coupled with the fact you hadn't been given the opportunity finish earlier, had been pushing you closer to climax, your brain slipping as you relented to the now overwhelming pleasure it'd trapped you in. The hand at your torso once again moved to your face, your chin, tilting it upward to get a good view at your face. "How wonderful... such a good little thing for me, aren't you? That's right... just let me take care of you, take care of everything..."

You felt yourself at your limit, torn between trying to hold on for just a little bit more, or to just let go, though it seemed to try to force an answer for you as it angled itself to graze your sweet spot with each thrust. It only took a few more thrusts for you to cum, legs shaking and walls clamping around it. The tendrils brought you closer to it as it's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you rode it out. Whether the sensitivity had gotten to you, or if you were just really pent up, your brain felt fuzzy, static filling your ears as you tried to come back down from it.

"That felt good, didn't it? I know it did, you looked so cute just now. It felt even better than the earlier thing, didn't it? Feeling me ram into you, spreading you nice and wide?" You lazily nodded your head. You weren't sure if you actually agreed, you felt the sample here was a bit skewed, but you didn't care that much. It felt good, and you want more. It knows. It loves it. It loves you. It wants you. It's not done with you.

You weren't sure how fast it actually happened, but one moment the tendrils wrapping you were there, another moment they weren't. You were only being held up by it, now carrying (dragging?) you to it's bed, planting you flat on your back with your hands pinned above your head. It wasted no time jamming itself inside you in a frenzy, loud sound of flesh on flesh filling the room, glancing up to your face lost in pleasure, and down to where the two of you were joined. It brushed it's thumb against a few of the cuts it left on you, palm pressed against your stomach, before it went to your neck, palm pressed to the side as it gripped with enough force to bring your attention back to it.

"Look at you, powerful foe to some, reduced to this. A mess. Drooling, silently begging for more and more." It leaned down, pressing it's forehead against yours, "Pathetic. Dirty. Needy. You say you hate how weak you are, yet look how good it makes you feel to let yourself break apart like this." A hum rumbled in it's throat, taking joy at seeing you avoid it's gaze. "You're still holding yourself back, aren't you? Don't you remember what happens when you do that? You ruin things for yourself, for others. You disappoint them." Despite its cruel words, you felt it's thumb brushing the palm of your hand, a soothing gesture ill fitting of it's words, "You want to be deserving of good things for once in your life, don't you? Quit holding yourself back, don't ruin this for you, for us."

Maybe you were just far gone by now, maybe it's words got under your skin enough, you weren't sure. You weren't sure about a lot of things anymore, to be fair. You wrap your legs around it's hips, the repositioning granting it just a little more room to pound deeper into you, it wasting no time to bottom out and grind into your hips. "There you go. Was that so hard?" You weren't sure if it was it's own hand, or one of it's tendrils, but you felt something petting your head. "You can feel how much better this feels, surely. Every single bit. All you had to do was quit being so stubborn."

After hovering so close to your face for so long, it finally pressed it's lips against yours, pulling it's hips back before pounding into you again. It wanted to get a taste of every single thing you had to offer, including the noises you were making, no matter how quiet or loud. It didn't take long to force its tongue into your mouth either, growls and groans of bliss as it felt around every single part it could. Even as you started to struggle for air, it didn't relent, not until you were on the near verge of blurring out of consciousness again. Once it pulled it away, it looked you up and down, with a look that you felt the word "starved" wouldn't do justice.

"Look at this. Look at you. This is all you were meant for. Nothing grand, nothing noble." It leaned down to your ear, it's fangs just barely grazing your ear, "Even if you could mean something, you wouldn't want that, would you? You see where fighting, clinging onto ideals like that got you? If you can't forgive yourself now, how could you possibly forgive yourself later?" Tears start to well up in your eyes. You don't know if it's because of how rough it's being on you physically or emotionally. "Stay like this, stay with me. Even if you try to run, you'll come back, just like you did today."

You feel its thrusts become more desperate, needy. Slow, deliberate, ruthlessly ramming into you and drawing out painfully slow, all while it's breath gets more and more heavy. "You're so, so beautiful like this. Do you know that? You should know that. Stay like this, stay beautiful for me, for us." It's claws started to dig into your flesh again, light beads of blood surfacing in some areas, larger cracks of crimson welling up in others. It held itself back from biting into you again, ripping into you like a piece of meat. "Stay beautifully submissive, obedient, powerless like this. You'll never have to worry again."

While it dragged out its own pleasure, you were close again, barely holding onto a fragment of consciousness before you got blissed out. You knew better than to fall for its degradation, for its tricks and attempt to take over your heart again. Both of you knew you'd still put up a fight, that you'd be sooner dead than give in to the ire that claimed to live in everyone. You wouldn't lie if the words it said didn't get to you a little bit though. Not necessarily that you believed it's words, rather... it felt nice. Being seen as "lesser" means you weren't expected to be anything, and that was a bit of a relief. Almost. If only it wasn't, well, the embodiment of spite, hate, ire, irritation, so on and so forth.

Nonetheless, pleasure is pleasure, and it didn't take much longer from it's careful movements for you to hit your peak once more, the feeling of it inside you as your walls clenched and shuddered again nearly breaking your composure. On the contrary, it seemed to send it over instead, it letting out a blissful groan before it bit down on your shoulder, pushing itself as far as it could and pumping its cum deep into you. Though it's previous bite drew a lot of blood, this one seemed to barely break skin.

"Mmhn, look how good you can make others feel when you're not so stubborn..." Seems like it never runs out of fuel to try and drill your insecurities into your head. "I want... more... more of this, more of you. Make you mine, mine alone."

As it leaned up to look at your face, it's eyes widened in shock, feeling a sword jammed into its chest. No blood, no anything, just the blade piercing into its chest, "fabric" unnaturally deformed into the wound. You did your best to keep yourself from hitting a point of no return to prevent it from doing the exact same. Even if you couldn't defeat it, you could certain keep it at bay, just as you've done before. It looked down to the injury, back up to your face, before giving a bitter smile.

"... After all that care I did for you. You never cease to disappoint people, do you?" You don't respond. Not because you don't have anything to say, but because you were, in fact, drained. Despite the clear anger in its eyes, voice wavering, it leaned back down, gaze nearly boring holes into your own, an attempt to pierce your own soul. "You'll be back. I'll ravage you again. We'll do this little song and dance over and over. You won't win against me. You never will. No one has." Before you could say anything back, it shut your mouth with its own, tongue forcing itself through your lips in one last messy, greedy kiss.

The kiss didn't last as long as the last one, it parting ways after only a few breaths, before its hands moved up to grip and tighten around your throat, your grip on your sword handle waning. You swear you see the room around you grow darker for a moment, the red tendrils that had grown into the room glowing with malice, though you weren't able to get much of a good look at it before your vision seemed to cut to the ceiling of your hotel room, the creature of rage no where to be seen.

The situation you were just in seemed to give you an unusual burst of energy despite having just woken up, with you being able to beeline to the dresser mirror with no issue. You checked around for signs of struggle, signs of injury, anything. Though you definitely weren't as torn up as you were in it's realm, you did seem to have some odd bruises around your hips and just barely on your neck, some light signs of scratches around those areas. It wasn't unusual for people to scratch themselves in their sleep for various reasons, one being bizarre dreams, of course. Yeah, you could probably just brush that off as a very weird... and very, very wet dream.

You sighed in relief, at least thankful it wasn't anything questionable. The last thing you needed was your friends inquiring about it. Despite everything, you didn't hate it. You did feel relieved of certain "things", and it did keep you from overthinking any further, so to an extent, you're somewhat happy all that happened.

You're welcome, "creator".

There was a voice in her head—an evil, miserable voice that deserved to die—that reminded her why it was so good. What, exactly, had sharpened his skills in this area. A kinder voice told it to piss off. It wasn't like she was some blushing virgin.

Her peak was approaching faster than it had any right to.

Fuck, shit, dammit. Corella had never been vocal during sex—not in that sense, at least—but she cried out when the wave hit her. It was a pathetic, whining, whimpering sound, and she hadn't the sense to stifle it. She could feel the way Martin's fingers dug into her skin the second it left her mouth.

Much to her embarrassment—and probably to his pride—her legs truly weakened in that moment, even as her walls continued to clench around nothing. Both of his hands returned to her hips, and with the spell they gently prodded until she gathered her senses enough to push herself off and sit to the side of him, still breathing hard.

Martin turned over onto his stomach and looked up at her, smirking, eyes roaming shamelessly up her body.

"Well don't you look like the cat who got the cream," she mumbled.

Martin responded by licking his bottom lip in an absolutely obscene manner, exaggerated for comedic effect but somehow still divine, and she hit her head against the headboard.

"Now that you mention it," he said, "I'm still a little peckish."

"There's half a loaf of—oh, you're not serious."

"Of all the things I could jest about, this?"

"This can't be comfortable for you."

"Truly, I'm just lying here."

"No, I mean..."

Martin cocked his head. Dibella save her—why was this so hard to talk about? Just spit it out, Corella.

"Arousal becomes uncomfortable for men, after a while."

"Oh," said Martin. "That...isn't a problem."

Corella scoffed. "You don't have to be gallant. I'd enjoy returning the favor."

Now it was Martin's turn to look a little embarrassed.

"I already took care of that."

It took a moment for Corella to catch up. His arms hadn't been tired; that wasn't what the spell was for. He'd been...he'd been getting off to that. He'd needed his hand to touch himself. Those sounds hadn't been her at all. Had she been that out of her mind, that she managed not to notice?

"Fuck," she groaned, which only made him laugh.

"See? Nothing's stopping me."

"You don't..." She was at a loss for words.

"Please?"

Gods help her. Gods help her, Corella would go to her grave still followed by the memory of Martin Septim, heir to the throne of Talos, looking up at her from under those thick lashes and begging her to let him pleasure her again.

"I may not survive as long," she said weakly.

"Good."

"I mean, I may be begging you to fuck me in five minutes."

"I won't have it in me in five minutes. You'll have to be contented with my mouth."

Corella tilted her head back and threw an arm over her eyes. Martin seemed to take that as an invitation; she felt his hands wrap around her hips and pull her towards him so that she was half-lying on the pile of pillows. Somehow, the rough handling didn't bother her in the slightest. He moved so that he was stomach-down with his face pressed into her hip, one leg hanging slightly off the bed, the other crossed over it. Corella ran a hand through his hair, crooning an apology when she snagged a knot. Martin—that bastard—bit her thigh in response. Her cunt clenched.