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NSFW Trollpostin' (void and moogle shitpost roundup, nsfw 18+)

Discussion in 'Fade To Black [18+]' started by Carnivorous Moogle, Feb 24, 2017.

  1. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [It occurs to him that if he keeps this up, it's entirely likely that Angor might not be able to stand. And considering he's currently being held up by the troll, that would prove a bit problematic. Awkward. But god he can't stop this now, no. Not when it actually lights a goddamn fire in him. Not when he feels so damn alive.]

    [He would have to have been dead to miss when the troll hits that wall a second time, the shaking and the sobbing is something he hadn't expected though. Is this really all it takes? If he's broken the troll already that would be kind of sad.]

    really?

    pathetic.

    i figured you could last longer than this

    [He growls, squirming a bit. Strickler isn't sure how he feels being held so tight.]

    too bad i'm not done with you yet

    [Holding tight with one arm, he manages to get the hand with the inferna copula up so he can gently run his hand over one of Angor's horns. The ring glows as it rubs up against his stone.]
     
  2. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [the scrape of hand over horn makes angor keen like a dying animal, and he recoils from the touch of his own soul, his name like a pretty bauble on strickler's finger. he can't move far, not with his horns caught up in strickler's; he tries anyway, not caring for the pain and awkwardness of the angle as he tries to twist away.]

    [this is not like simply being denied orgasm. that would be bad enough, infuriating, but not much more. being held back by an order, though--the need and pleasure and near-pain and urgency of each one does not fizzle, simply waits in the wings and builds, and builds, and builds. it is a torture he hasn't experienced in centuries, the memory of which he's locked away from himself like a lid slammed shut on a chest of spiders, and it is already becoming unbearable.]

    [how dare he, how dare he. angor is ancient, he has felled thousands and despite his enchantment he is a force to be feared, a tiger whose tail to grab at your own risk--]

    [--and strickler dares to use him as a toy.]

    [(--cheaper than--)]

    [rage boils up inside him, and he turns his face without warning to spit viciously in strickler's hair.]
     
    Last edited: Mar 17, 2017
  3. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [A startled grunt escapes the changeling when Angor twists his head to escape the touch of his own soul. Ow. It's not exactly the most pleasant movement for him, when his neck is already a bit stiff from the position his head has been stuck in for some time. He could just take the actual time to untangle their horns if that's what he wanted, instead of trying to sprain Strickler's neck.]

    [It's a dangerous game he's playing though, and he knows it. How far can he push? It's not exactly like there's instruction manuals on this. Hell, he's not even sure if he has the stamina to break this troll. It's fun to think about in theory but... One wrong move and he himself will be broken and left for dead. No, not left for dead. Confirmed dead. There's no way he'd get away with his life if Angor could get around the ring.]

    [Now, he knew that the troll was likely to be mad. But he was still startled when Angor spits in his hair. He even lets out an indignant squawk of surprise, trying to shove at him. Then he snarls, grabbing Angor's head to untangle their horns. Finally, at least he's free now. And then he promptly headbutts Angor's face. Painful, yes, but it's the only thing he could really do well from this position.]

    i didn't say you could stop

    get back to it

    [Anger bubbles up in his chest, and is snarled through his voice. Disobedience and disrespect isn't going to be tolerated.]

    at this rate it seems like you might never orgasm again
     
  4. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [angor only has a moment to be relieved at the untangling of their horns--one less source of stimulation to drive him toward yet another unfulfilled orgasm--before his vision explodes in blinding, concussive pain. it's enough to stun him for a moment, make him jerk his head back in pain and shock, and by the time he's blinking the double out of his vision the magic has taken over and started his hips rocking again.]

    [the moan he lets out is so pathetic it turns his stomach to hear. strickler's horns are no longer rutting his own and that helps--he's not careening toward a third nearly as fast--but the pent-up force of the first two releases swells up behind the continuing, relentless sensations like the undercurrent of a tidal wave.]

    [there's a briny, unfamiliar taste in his mouth. it takes him a moment to realize strickler has headbutted him in one of the few places his blood runs near enough to the surface to draw, and now it's running down his chin in a stream of purple-black.]

    [he's dimly surprised. strickler is not quite so weak as he seems.]
     
  5. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [Strickler would be offended, if he knew just how weak Angor seemed to have originally thought him. Far too lax with his affections, his need to connect with others, his attempts to belong... but weak? Strickler would never have considered himself weak. He would never have survived this long if he was weak. If he folded and snapped under the slightest pressure, he would have long been dead. Angor knew nothing of weakness, in his opinion. The troll at least knew a life before his servitude, before this. He would likely know a life after it.]

    [But that's not really any of his concern right now.]

    [The scent of blood hits him before the sight of it. No wonder his head is ringing slightly, he hit the troll hard enough to draw blood to the surface. He wrinkles his nose in disgust.]

    [After all these centuries, he still had never grown fond of the stench of blood. Human or troll. (And especially not his own.) If anything the smell makes his chest hurt, in a familiar and unpleasant way. Instead he decides to focus on Angor's moans, and on the way his body feels.]

    [His lower half aches a bit, not enough to deter him. Certainly nowhere near enough to make him stop. The motion of the troll's hips is nice, it feels good. And is so fucking satisfying because he knows that he's the one controlling it. That if there was any say in the matter, this would be over. He'd be dead or dying and this wouldn't be fun at all. But no, right now he's the puppet master. He holds the strings, the leash, the everything.]

    [And he's safe while holding them.]

    see, now that's a good dog

    keep it up and maybe you'll get a treat
     
  6. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [angor shudders and moans raggedly, hips keeping steady time despite the shaking of his body and the pain in his face. strickler is going to do this for as long as he wants, that much is clear; angor grits his teeth and wraps his fingers around that long, delicate cock again, starts to stroke. hates himself for giving in even that much. hates the look of disgust on strickler's face at the blood running down his own, the blood he drew.]

    [as if to make up for his weakness, he moves the hand in strickler's hair to grip a pretty ivory horn and pull his head back without warning. his rhythm falters the slightest bit when he presses his face roughly into that long, scrawny throat, and he can't help but hiss--his nose hurts--but it's worth it to smear his dark blood across strickler's throat in an act of disobedience. a sign: i was here.]

    [like paint, murmurs a part of him he isn't sure he likes, and it sends a thrill of unwanted fire through his belly that drives him that much closer to orgasm.]

    [fuck.]
     
    • Like x 1
  7. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [His breath hitches for a moment when Angor starts stroking his dick again, and it distracts him long enough that he can't even react when the troll snags him by a horn. His head is tugged back, exposing his neck, and pulling a surprised yelp out of him. Strickler arches and growls when he feels the troll's face pressed against his neck, smearing blood all over his throat. But it's over before he can remember the words to tell him to stop.]

    [The blood is a mark, like paint, like scent. And he hates it, and it makes a growl settle in his chest. But punishment is pointless right now, considering continuing to have sex might as well be a punishment in and of itself. Strickler manages to calm his growling, shifting his outward attitude towards a purr. He rolls his hips, panting lightly. Leans his head back to show off his throat. Fine, Angor wants to smear his blood on him, then he can look at it. He even moans, although it's obvious through his motions and noises that he's trying to tease the troll.]
     
  8. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [it's not quite the reaction angor had expected. if anything he'd hoped it would put him off this whole thing--he clearly doesn't like blood--and certainly he hadn't expected even a mocking show of submission, not from strickler, not like this.]

    [and mocking it is. it's a blatant ploy, and it's infuriatingly insincere, and still it makes the fire boiling in his stomach flare higher. his blood, his throat to lick or to tear, his strange too-long, cat's-tongue-rough slit to fuck, his angled nose and uneven fangs and pretty pointed horns, his sulfurous eyes, his--]

    [he's going to kill strickler. he's going to kill him, kill him, his third orgasm is creeping up and he could hold it back just maybe if those scrawny rolling hips would stop--]

    [he does the only thing he can think of to stem the begging bleeding up from his throat like an open wound. he buries his face in strickler's neck again, wraps his jaws around the skinny throat and bears down with all his teeth as hard as the ring will let him, and he can't keep the edge of frantic distress from his snarl as the third release towers over him.]

    [his]
     
  9. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [Oh good, the mocking show of submission pisses the troll off. He probably should have thought ahead on what to do when that worked, because his plans are maybe a little shortsighted at the moment. But he was having fun playing with Angor, the whole thing was a game. Right up until the troll buries his face in his neck again.]

    [He lets out a surprised and less than sexy yelp when he feels teeth. Oh god there's teeth around his throat. Panic shoots through him hot and paralyzing and instantly clouding his thoughts. Everything is overtaken with the thought that he is going to kill me. Even though the teeth don't clamp down, this doesn't even hurt, he's screaming inside but his body won't move. It's one way to make him stop, it seems. The only movement Strickler makes is trembling, his body gone rigid and tense with panic and fear.]

    [Stupid, it's stupid. God why did he show his throat. Angor can't hurt him but he can scare the fuck out of him, and it seems he's going to do that. It makes it hard for any words to escape his lips, instead a low distressed whine bubbles up from his chest. He's still not moving, even though it occurs to him that those teeth can't bite down any further. Fear settles in his stomach like a lead brick in his guts. Getting too comfortable will cost him, as he's already learning.]
     
    • Like x 2
  10. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [angor is preparing himself for another awful, concussive, unfulfilled orgasm when strickler stops dead in his jaws. he can't stop himself from moving entirely--his orders won't let him--but that slit is no longer rippling and squeezing around him in time to his thrusts, and it's just enough loss of stimulation for him to cling to the edge by his fingernails. not another one, not yet, even if his body aches and quivers for release, even if he has to muffle keening into strickler's throat.]

    [he waits for the inevitable punishment, be it violence or continued fucking or something else; but nothing comes, and it takes a moment to sink in that strickler is still paralyzed in his grasp like a rabbit in a trap. he makes no move to pull free, or to order angor to release him, only stares at some point in the distance and trembles violently.]

    [his fear-scent is roiling and thick and above all satisfying, and more than that he seems incapable of giving orders like this. his hips are moved stiffly by angor's steady rhythm--there can be no stopping, not without his say-so--and his dick pulses and grips hard at angor's hand, as if driven by his fear.]

    [best to keep him occupied, angor thinks dazedly, and pumps his cock hard and fast as he flexes his jaws and snarls into his throat. he can't give permission to come like this, and white pressure is building behind angor's eyes with the effort of holding himself back from the edge, but if this will be unpleasant for him, he's determined to make it just as much so for strickler.]
     
    • Like x 2
  11. Stricklander

    Stricklander I've got my own interests to look out for.

    [Of course he doesn't let go of his throat. Those teeth just barely pressing into him, holding him there. Strickler can feel drool drip down his neck and chest, all the while he desperately tries to fight his instincts that have slammed the pause button on everything his body was doing. Don't move, don't move, don't move; is all is brain screams at him, as if that will make Angor let go. But it doesn't, and won't unless he can find the words to make him.]

    [But he can't make his mouth work, beyond pathetic terrified whining.]

    [And then Angor starts pumping his dick hard, and snarls, and before he can even think to bite down on the noise he keens loud. Very loud. It's disorienting and nauseating to have the combating sensations of fear and panic and pleasure. If he's honest, he is a bit afraid he might throw up. It's uncomfortable and unpleasant and if he could just get his fucking words back he could get it to stop. He'd call it off. The whole goddamn thing would be done and over and he'd leave. But no, he's still stuck here with sharp teeth around his throat uselessly threatening him and his own instinct fucking him over.]
     
    • Like x 1
    • Winner x 1
  12. Angor Rot

    Angor Rot would you rather i rip off a piece of yours?

    [strickler is still, and he is quiet, and it is perfect. it's getting more and more difficult to hold himself back, his body crying out for release, but angor slows his hips as much as he can to savor strickler's helpless terror. his drool and blood trickle down strickler's chest, and he flexes his jaw again, lapping his tongue over the jugular. can't bite down, can't chew, but he can imitate the motion, and he does. moans and rumbles into his throat and chews on him without breaking the skin, as he continues to jerk him off.]

    [the noises are incredible. ridiculous, frankly, but making strickler lose all control and keen with fear and pleasure both is. gratifying. and so intensely arousing it blurs his vision white. he can't quite seem to stop his hips from speeding up a little.]

    [angor wonders, with an earthquake thrill, how many times he'll be able to make strickler come before he puts a stop to it.]
     
    • Like x 1
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