#Naughty Servant

[naughtyservant]

CW: Bones / S/kull

Philip is a voracious predator that won't doubt shove a cute boy down his throat and crunch him to feed his powerful muscles >:3

Maybe you already realized it, but this low angle is a HUGE turn on and I love to draw it sdkljgjklgsd

Philip belongs to @izznts. Thanks you sooooooooo very much for your support with this pic my friend! <3

*There is also an extra belly rub hands version on Twitter in the case you want to take a look ;3

Don't forget like, reblog and follow me for more sexy preds OwO)~

[fashionablyenigmatic]

Continued from here.

Upon putting on the magic glasses Lark sees a rather nude version of Henry Cavill although ghostly carrying a tray of tea which was right in front of... Before Alphonse snatches the glasses off Lark's face. Leaving a floating tray of tea. "Some magic should work in mystery don't you think?"

@sweetandsoursaws

[britcision]

Eeeeh you just lost the lottery so we’re going to play “Cultures That Aren’t The Modern West Exist” and also basic critical thinking

Spoilers for the Adventurer’s Bible and Izutsumi’s actual backstory below, I’ll keep the dungeon stuff out of it

Because you’re right! Izutsumi was bought by the Nakamoto family as a kid, as a possession not a person. The people they bought Izutsumi from kept her almost naked in a cage and never fed her

She was part of a travelling freak show, and every single thing in her life improved after the Nakamotos bought her; she was trained, fed, treated like a person, and not punished from skimping on her chores

(Although when Inutade did them instead and hurt herself Izutsumi did get told off… by Hien, her contemporary

)

This is actually a pattern; Inutade and Benichidori were both also bought by Shuro’s father, Inutade as a prize fighter and Benichidori as a servant (presumably because she’s a tall-man)

The Nakamotos have a habit of buying young women from harsh lifestyles and training them to be ninjas, which includes feeding them, training them, and giving them a stable home where they don’t have to fear being sold again

All this for the low low price of “you’re probably going to die in their service, either of being a ninja or old age”, because that’s how the feudal system works; people in service to a noble family only have the rights that family gives them, and their lifestyle is set and maintained by that family

The Nakamotos notably seem to maintain the loyalty of their elite trained fighting women by taking them from a bad situation and giving them a better one, and all the women have to do in return is remain in service

If Toshiro’s father hadn’t bought Izutsumi, if she were still alive at all she’d be eating live rats and occasional scraps in a cage, half feral

And, just for fun: Izutsumi’s timeline

She was 10 when the Nakamotos bought her. She was 12 when the only real punishment she ever got for running away was administered…

The same babysitting curse that was put on Shuro, potential heir to the leader as a kid

(Note: personally I think this should have thrown Maizuru’s technique as a governess into question the first time it happened, but since she was only trained to be a ninja not a childcare provider it’s not all that surprising)

Raise your hands everyone who thinks a feral 10-12yo beastman, who has already been forcibly made a sideshow attraction once, would have survived

Now use that hand to slap yourself

Every fighting move she knows comes from the Nakamotos and while yes, she was not free as a bird to do what she wanted when she wanted, she’s a fucking teenager

A large chunk of her storyline is going to be her figuring out that she can’t just do what she wants when she wants, because that is how life works

She never faces consequences for having left Shuro’s team, per the comic you posted they were a little exasperated on learning she’d even broken the curse and was therefore unlikely to ever return, but no one tried to hunt her down again

Cuz now she’s old enough and trained enough to probably not immediately die

“Fully a slave” my fucking ass, all three of the girls the Nakamotos bought lived and trained alongside Hien in the same damn bedroom, whose family are established servants of the Nakamoto clan with enough status and prestige that she was raised alongside the eldest son of the clan leader

That, by the way, is a higher honour than being born into the clan directly at a lesser branch, because the heir to the fucking lordship is about as important as it gets

Chilling in the same classroom would give Hien a better education than 80% of the “free” population (likely peasants and most lesser noble families)

Shuro’s family rescued Izutsumi from a literal cage, treated her like a person for the first time since she was 6 and had her body modified against her will, raised and trained her until she was capable of actually surviving on her own, and let her go without a single consequence

She showed extremely early on and consistently that she would not be grateful, loyal, or even inclined to stick around, and while they could have significantly saved money and trouble by just letting her go when she kept trying to escape, they not only brought her back but kept training her to be actively independent and defend herself

Now, this wasn’t a pure act of charity, since she was still expected to at least partially pull her weight with chores and being a ninja

(Hmmmm yet no one’s talking about the ethics of teen ninjas)

But chattel slavery was an entirely unique form of evil that was significantly worse than the millennia of different forms of slavery being practiced across the world for an incredibly long list of reasons that absolutely none of the “OMG SHURO’S FAMILY OWNS SLAVES” are remotely ready to consider

(What the fuck do you want them to do? Personally overthrow the fucking feudal system?)

So let’s simplify to the most basic dichotomy:

You can be free, or you can be safe

(If you have any doubt of which you are, freely stop paying your bills and see what happens)

While she was too young to defend herself, Izutsumi was saved from being a sideshow attraction by Shuro’s family, and then kept safe until she was strong enough to take the freedom she clearly preferred

She’s not wrong to choose freedom, to turn her back on them at the first chance, and she’s not wrong to not feel bad about it. It’s all a valid series of choices, and she never lied about her intentions

Izutsumi deserved a loving home, and she never got it, including from Shuro’s family

But she was fed, cared for, trained in multiple valuable skills, and faced zero repercussions for taking that and running

She had her freedom the second Maizuru believed she’d survive it (by breaking the curse)

There’s a reason we see Inutade so often being so happy to be part of the Nakamoto clan’s servants

Izutsumi chose freedom

Inutade chose safety

And the wish granting fairy that is Shuro’s dad gave them both exactly what they wanted

Them not living to the happy moral standards of the American Dream probably has something to do with the story not being set in America

not to put too fine a point on it but like, isutzumi was fully 100% a slave of shuro's family

[haggishlyhagging]

In 1847 the stereotypes for male and female writers were very rigid. Critics expected from a male writer strength, passion, and intellect, and from a woman writer they expected tact, refinement, and piety. They depended on these stereotypes so much, in fact, that they really didn't know how to proceed, what to say, or what to look for in a book if they were unsure of the author's sex.

So Jane Eyre created a tremendous sensation, and it was a problem for the Brontës. The name Currer Bell could be that of either a man or a woman and the narrator of Jane Eyre is Jane herself. The book is told as an autobiography. These things suggested that the author might have been a woman. On the other hand, the novel was considered to be excellent, strong, intelligent and, most of all, passionate. And therefore, the critics reasoned, it could not be written by a woman, and if it turned out that it was written by a woman, she had to be unnatural and perverted.

The reason for this is that the Victorians believed that decent women had no sexual feelings whatsoever—that they had sexual anesthesia. Therefore, when Jane says about Rochester that his touch "made her veins run fire, and her heart beat faster than she could count its throbs," the critics assumed this was a man writing about his sexual fantasies. If a woman was the author, then presumably she was writing from her own experience, and that was disgusting. In this case we can clearly see how women were not permitted the authority of their own experience if it happened to contradict the cultural stereotype.

But even more shocking than this to the Victorians was Jane's reply to Rochester, a very famous passage in the novel. He has told her he is going to marry another woman, an heiress, but that she can stay on as a servant. Jane answers him thus:

"I tell you I must go," I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton, a machine without feeling and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I'm soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you and full as much heart. And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should've made it as hard for you to leave me as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionality, nor even of mortal flesh. It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed through the grave and we stood at God's feet equal—as we are."

This splendid assertion violated not only the standards of sexual submission, which were believed to be women's duty and their punishment for Eve's crime, but it also went against standards of class submission, and obviously against religion. And this sort of rebellion was not feminine at all.

The reviews of Jane Eyre in 1847 and 1848 show how confused the critics were. Some of them said Currer Bell was a man. Some of them, including Thackeray, said a woman. One man, an American critic named Edgar Percy Whipple, said the Bells were a team, that Currer Bell was a woman who did the dainty parts of the book and brother Acton the rough parts. All kinds of circumstantial evidence were adduced to solve this problem, such as the details of housekeeping. Harriet Martineau said the book had to be the work of a woman or an upholsterer. And Lady Eastlake, who was a reviewer for one of the most prestigious journals, said it couldn't be a woman because no woman would dress her heroines in such outlandish clothes.

Eventually Charlotte Brontë revealed her identity, and then these attacks which had been general became personal. People introduced her as the author of a naughty book; they gossiped that she was Thackeray's mistress. They speculated on the causes of what they called "her alien and sour perspective on women." She felt during her entire short life that she was judged always on the basis of what was becoming in femininity and not as an artist.

-Elaine Showalter, ‘Women Writers and the Female Experience’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[writememysticfalls]

Dirty Talk | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: You teach Elijah a sexy new hobby - that puts him out of his comfort zone.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Stern!Elijah

Word count: <1k

“Have you ever heard of dirty talk?” you said, snatching the spoon Elijah was using to stir the pasta, and licking it.

Elijah frowned, adjusting his two feet. “Dirty - talk?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, resting your hands on the counter around him. “It’s a sex thing.”

Elijah’s voice was low in your ear. “You’ve whet my appetite. Tell me more.”

“Well, basically…” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You have to be mean to me.”

“Mean?” he murmured.

You nodded. “You could call me… a naughty girl.” Your hair shielded your face. “Or something worse.”

“Alright, then.” Elijah frowned, resting one hand in his pocket. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Y/n L/n, you are less than perfect.”

“Dirtier,” you said, tugging his tie.

“You are… profoundly lacking.”

“Dirtier,” you commanded, sitting on the counter and pulling him between your legs.

“You are a dirty, good-for-nothing, b-”

He froze, looking down.

“Go on,” you said, your eyes wide, red spots in your cheeks.

His chest rose and fell. “I'm sorry, Y/n. I cannot.”

You sighed. “But you were doing so good!”

Elijah stared up at you, hard. “It is impossible. I cannot look a queen in the eye and call her anything less.”

You looked down. Heat prickled over your face.

Elijah laughed, kissing his way down your throat to your collarbone. “You modern women confound me! Why do you wish to be insulted by men, when you deserve to be worshipped?”

You massaged his soft hair. “I don’t know. It just feels exciting. Naughty.”

Elijah slowly sank to his knees. He looked up at you, his brown eyes wide. He kissed your hand. “And would it still be naughty if you directed the dirty talk at me?”

You couldn’t fight your smile. “Elijah, are you saying you want to be insulted?”

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “It seems rather more appropriate. After all, you are a great Queen, and I your lowly servant.”

You grinned, reaching down to cup his cheek. He let his head hang back, moaning at your touch.

“Elijah,” you murmured, “You should kiss the ground I walk on. You’re nothing but a nasty little… slut.”

Elijah’s eyes shot open. He laughed, his cheeks colouring in surprise.

You cupped your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god. Was that too much?”

Elijah gave you a smile, pouting his lips. He stood and swept your hips to his. “On the contrary. This ‘dirty talk’ is marvellous. I feel quite aroused.”

And roaring into your neck, he carried you in his arms, strode into the bedroom, and threw you onto your bed.

“Elijah!” you said, watching him unbutton his shirt with hungry readiness.

“Sorry, darling,” he said, using his teeh to pull up your shirt, then lavishing kisses on your stomach. “You talk to me that way - you'll have to face the consequences.”

[rinhaler]

step daddy gojo, slapping you across the face before pumping his load onto while your on your knees getting face fucked off because he found out you were texting college boys 😣

mmmmm okay jealous daddy gojo i see i see 🧎🏽‍♀️

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, age gap, stepcest, mean!gojo, slapping, oral (m receiving), jealousy, degradation, oral creampie :P

words: .6k

Your heart shouldn’t race like this, not with a man you’ve known for so many years of your young life and into adulthood. He’s like a different person right now. You see a man who looks younger than he is, like he’s reverted to his youth and remembering who he really is.

“Are you listening to me, princess?” he asks, landing a harsh slap on your face right after.

Your face doesn’t return to look at him again. You’re too busy processing the fact that he’s struck you, a first for both of you. A shaky hand rests on your cheek, a feeble attempt to calm the burning sting radiating across it.

“Aah—!” you yelp as he strikes the other cheek, moving your face back to look at him again.

You gaze up at him like a servant in a throne room, and he folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes begin to tremble as he bends over at the waist, his face close enough to yours to kiss.

“Awe.” he mocks you when you close your eyes and tilt your head to close the gap between you both. He pulls his head back slightly, dodging your lips. He chuckles at the way your lip wobbles when you realise he avoided your kiss. Though your pout disappears as he repeatedly taps his leaking tip against your swollen lips. “How many cocks have you had in here?” he asks.

You try to answer, though you’re silenced when he pushes into your mouth. Your lips pucker and pout, so glossy and full as they wrap perfectly around your daddy’s pretty pink cock.

“Unff—” he grunts as he forces himself as far in as you can take him. His tip hits against your throat and you think he might cut off all circulation to your brain if you don’t learn how to do this properly stat. “Bet it’s a lot, if your texts are anything to go by.”

Your eyes go wide when he realises he’s been looking through your phone. He offers you a wide, toothy grin despite his eyes looking full of disappointment. Every dirty text message and lewd picture you’ve ever taken and sent swims through your brain. And he sees it, too.

“Can’t believe what a slutty little girl I raised.” he tells you, groaning as he rocks his hips. Your nose is tickled with each thrusts as snow white trimmed pubic hairs roll against your face. “Thought I taught you better. Raised you better. But daddy’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

He holds the sides of your head as he picks up the pace, coming undone at the sight of your eyes looking so concerned and worried as he suffocates you with his length. His balls slap against your chin, and your mind is filled with thoughts of how scandalous this is.

And yet, he sees the way you squeeze your thighs together.

It’s enough to make him blow his load.

“Good— good girl,” he stutters, balls emptying as he spurts rope after rope of thick, tangy cum down your throat. It coats your tongue as he continues to thrust, and you never expected it to taste like that. It’s so warm. “Do you like the taste of my cum?” he asks, pulling out slowly.

His cock twitches even while softening when he sees your tongue loll out while your jaw hangs low. A combination of cum and spit dribble from the corner of your mouth and tip of your tongue. What a pretty little girl you are.

“Y-Yes— aah!” you squeak, feeling a stinging slap land on your cheek once again.

“Naughty girl,” he speaks. “I better text all the boys in your phone for you and tell them you like your daddy’s cum the most.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[queers-gambit]

Daddy Takes Care

prompt: ( requested ) in comparison, your first pregnancy was a cakewalk. this time around? not so much. good thing Daemon's there to help where he can.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader no specified House or race

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.4k+

warnings: cursing, daughter named Visenya, angst 'cause pregnancy isn't all sunshine and glow and rainbows, hurt and comfort 'cause happy (but abrupt) ending, author has never been pregnant so please forgive inaccuracies, not edited.

"My Prince! My Prince! Prince Daemon!"

Daemon purposefully ignored the errand-boy, hoisting his daughter higher on his hip. "Easy, little dragon," he spoke in High Valyrian, "Caraxes is not known for his patience."

Visenya giggled, "Caraxes likes me, Daddy."

The dragon rumbled as if in agreement, blinking his eye as Visenya laid her head on his snout; half-way out of Daemon's arms, but still maintaining a vice grip. "My Prince, please," the servant pleaded, "i-it is your wife."

Daemon whipped around, Visenya being rightened in his arms when her father glared at the young man who panted from his sprinting. "What?" Daemon demanded.

"Sh-She is with the Maesters now, my Prince, and your brother, His Grace, and the Queen Alicent, too, The baby started - "

But the lad gasped when Caraxes gave a harrowing growl as Daemon charged forward; Visenya in his arms as his dragon's breath seemingly propelled his stride forward. Visenya whimpered when Caraxes stalked out of the Dragon Pit with Daemon, only stopping when he could go no further; but he thundered his displeasure and suspicion in a grumble that made the little girl wince into Daemon's chest. "It's okay, love," Daemon told her gently in their Mothers Tongue, approaching the Royal wheelhouse they used when traveling with Visenya. He spoke softly, "We're going to see Mummy, Caraxes is just worried."

"What's wrong with Mummy?" Visenya asked in the Common Speech when they boarded.

"Go! Do not stop until we get to the Keep!" Daemon barked at the coachmen before settling his daughter down. He saw the big tears swelling in his daughter's eyes and sighed, telling her softly, "I am sorry, my sweet dragon. Daddy doesn't know what's wrong with Mummy, that scares Daddy sometimes, and when Daddy's scared, he gets a little mean."

"That's okay, Daddy," she nodded at him, looking sheepish. "I get scared, too."

"It's okay to be afraid, fear is natural," Daemon told her softly, "but it's important we do not let it define us."

Her little legs swung, "Like Lord Larys."

Daemon snickered, "Oh, you naughty girl, I told you not to repeat that."

She grinned, looking far too innocent to be Daemon's spawn. "Mummy says we should be nice to Lord Larys."

"She does?"

"Mhm," Visenya nodded, "she said 'cause he knows too much."

His head cocked, "Little Dragon, has Lord Larys ever approached Mummy? Spoken to her?"

"He tries," Visenya nodded, "but Mummy walks away, she doesn't like him." The little girl lowered her voice, telling Daemon a secret, "Mummy said his breath smells like poo."

Daemon smirked, whispering back, "I know."

When they arrived at the Red Keep, the wheelhouse was barely slowed before Daemon was scooping Visenya into his arms and getting ready to disembark. When they stopped, he didn't wait for anyone to open his doors, announce his name; he just surged out, charging for where he knew the Maester's chambers were.

However, Otto Hightower was waiting for him in the foyer, greeting, "Prince Daemon, Princess Visenya."

"Hi," Visenya waved, holding onto her father's neck shyly.

"Where is she? Where's my wife?" Daemon demanded.

"Resting in your chambers, my Prince," Otto answered, not being offended when Daemon turned heel to change direction and left him in the dust.

Nobody intercepted Daemon, but it wasn't like any tried. He didn't look at anyone, they never met his eyes; but most took note of the way he all but galloped to get to his chambers. When the shoulder that wasn't holding his daughter barged through the door, he didn't slow, just demanded, "What is this? What has happened?"

"Daemon," Viserys sighed in reprimand.

"What is the matter?" He charged forward to reach the bed. "Give Daddy a second with Mummy," he told his daughter in Valyrian as he set the little girl down and took the spot beside you instantly. You had a knowing smirk on your lips, hand taken by both of his, not even blinking when he barked, "Well? What has happened!?"

"When you take a breath, we will tell you," You told him softly, squeezing his hand and smiling with closed lips. "The Maester's have only just left, you did not miss much."

He shook his head, "I should've been here none the less."

"And deprive our little dragon rider the opportunity to bond with her favorite mate?" You teased, looking to Visenya and opening your arm (after pulling yours from Daemon's clutches), "C'mere, little one. Come to Mummy."

She was careful and slow in her movements, curling up beside you; shimmying under the covers to cuddle into your side. She pet your belly, "Does it hurt?"

"No, not right now," you answered honestly, never wanting to lie to her. It would do no good in the long run, being truthful and honest were traits you can teach (not always) and you and Daemon took it very seriously.

This was a cruel world, why sugarcoat it? So your daughter would depend on some man - some man like Larys Strong? Nope. Not on your watches. She'd be the belle of the ball with the meanest right hook in the Seven Kingdoms.

"Daemon," Viserys spoke with a calm tone, earning the attention of the room, "you must know, these sort of things can happen at anytime."

"Is it The Curse? I-Is it The Curse? Does it prevail?" He asked in desperation, looking distraught.

"No," you assured, taking your only free hand to lay one of his on your swollen belly.

"No...? No?" He repeated, then scoffed, "So, why is it I was - "

"False labor," Alicent cut him off, making his jaw steel as he glared at her. "It can occur, the mind tricks the body into thinking and reacting that it's time to deliver the babe."

"But it's too soon," he pointed out, "she's still, what? Two, maybe three months left?"

"It can happen," Alicent nodded.

He frowned, glancing at his brother, then to you. "I was with the Queen when I got this terrible pain," you explained to Daemon. "There was fluid and some blood under my skirt, we thought it couldn't be right, so, she brought me to the Maesters and sent for you."

Daemon looked vaguely surprised, leaning down to press his lips to your belly. With a sigh, his forehead rested on your bump, lifting to peck another kiss, then righten his spine, asking, "And now?"

"All was clear, I was brought back here, and your brother did not wish to leave me alone - but nothing else was able to be said before you arrived," you chuckled, caressing his cheek.

"Thank you," he told Viserys, sniffling as his eyes lifted to Alicent, "both of you, truly, thank you."

"We are family," Viserys assured, "we would not want to be elsewhere."

"There's a whole Realm to - "

"Sometimes, politics can wait and family cannot," the King spoke wisely. "We are simply relieved the Lady is feeling better and all is well. The babe will stay in her womb until the end, should she remain in bed."

"Oh, Gods, Viserys," you groaned, "we agreed not to tell him that!"

"You agreed, I did not," he shot back at you.

"What do you mean, brother?"

The King answered, "She is to remain in bed until the end of her term - with natural limitations."

"Which means?"

"She may move around the room, but not much farther; she may use the privy, keep her blood circulating, but she is to remain down for most of the time as it will help keep the babe in place."

He nodded rapidly, "Of course."

"We'll let you rest," Alicent told you both softly. "I'm sure you want time with your family."

"Actually," you sighed, "might I ask for one more favor?"

"Anything, name it," Viserys agreed.

"Take Visenya for an hour? Daemon and I need to speak privately."

"Of course," Alicent nodded, stepping up to the bed. She waited as you and Daemon promised Visenya you'd be with her soon, that you needed an adult conversation, and after giving you both a kiss on the cheek, she marched off the bed to take Alicent's hand. Viserys hobbled out after them, and when the doors shut, Daemon deflated.

"Oh, Seven fucking Hells," he muttered in a muffle against your belly. He let your hands rake into his long strands of hair, pulling any knots, just soothing him with the scrape of your nails. "I was so worried," he admitted quietly, "I just - I did not think. I have feared this possibility so much, I think I tricked myself into thinking it was reality."

"What's that, my love?"

"The Curse... The Targaryen Curse."

"Daemon - "

"We were so lucky with Visenya," his tearful eyes lifted to meet yours, "and half of the pregnancy was wasted on our worry that something would go wrong. I might've created this reality."

"You did nothing," you promised. "Neither of us caused this, it's just what happens."

"But you've suffered for months," he whispered, eyes reddening by the second. "You had endless nausea, you threw up daily, my love, you developed night terrors, and you cannot say it was anything but ideal."

"Perhaps not ideal, but so perfectly us," you answered, watching him stand with a frown. "Daemon - where are you - "

"I only mean to change," he promised, already shedding his clothing and boots and weapons belt. When he joined you in bed again, he laid off your legs but beside them, head on your belly to hold and letting your hands rake through his platinum white locks again. It was quiet for minutes longer, just enjoying the other, but he whispered, "I should've been here."

"We did not know."

"Still," he frowned, kissing your bump tenderly, whispering, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't here, but do not take it out on Mummy. She's so brave," another kiss, "so very brave to take the time and give you the most perfect place to live for now. We can't take it out on her. Not Mummy, anyone else, but not Mummy."

You felt yourself dozing off, humming in contentment when Daemon took note and started a conversation with the babe - just simply detailing his day. He said there was soon to be another clutch of dragon eggs and their sister would choose the most perfect egg for them; being all Visenya's spoken of for weeks. He told the babe how excited they all were to meet them, but when he noticed you were asleep, he hated himself for getting out of bed.

It was only to pull a dressing robe on and locate his daughter; being easy as she was in Alicent's arms two halls over - both admiring the tapestries. "Daddy said this was a big fight," Visenya was heard, pointing at the drape.

"He's right," Alicent nodded, "this depicts Aegon's Conquest."

"Big dragons," she sighed dreamily, looking at the stitching. "That's Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. Cousin Laena rides Vhagar now."

"Very good, sweetheart," Alicent praised.

"My Queen," Daemon called, approaching almost stiffly.

"Daddy!"

"C'mere," he grunted, accepting his daughter as she lunged for his embrace. "Thank you," he told Alicent.

"Is everything all right?"

"She's resting," Daemon nodded, trying to hide his fear from his voice but Alicent saw it in his eyes.

"The Maester's know how to help, my Prince," she assured softly. "She might fight against the limitations, but it's for everyone's health. She'll be okay, Daemon," her hand reached out to gently touch his forearm, "her body just needs time to adjust."

With her words thrumming in his mind, Daemon spent the next several weeks at your bedside. He was everything and more: he got you water, tea, anything to eat; always making sure you ate even a little SOMETHING three times a day. He made sure you took your medicine, wiped your flushed skin with cold cloths, braided your hair to keep it off your flesh. He read to you, rubbed your ankles and feet to help any circulation of clots, held your trembling form when you threw up. Daemon remained strong where you felt weak, doing whatever he could to assure you that your predicament wasn't a burden to him.

"You're not listening!"

"All I do is listen!"

"Daemon!" You snapped, "For weeks now, you've been at my every beck and call - catering to my whims. You are not canceling flying with Visenya, she'll be crushed."

"But you're closer to your birthing," He pointed out sharply.

"And I have not moved from this bed in days," you snapped back. "I will endure another day of this if it means you go take Caraxes out, I hear he's been a right menace."

Daemon shook his head, but something in his posture fell from defense. It made you sit up a little and beckon to him, his hand reaching for yours as he dropped to the place beside you; leaning against your mountain of pillows. "I do not know how to do this," he whispered, leaning his head to the crook of your neck in a vulnerable show of emotion. "And I know we are learning together, but I feel pulled apart - that I will disappoint one of you while catering to the other."

"My sweet husband," you whispered against the crown of his head. "You worry for nought."

"I worry for all," he whispered. "Visenya needs me, Viserys needs me, Caraxes needs me, the bloody White Cloaks need me, you need me - "

"Do not stress yourself further about this," you insisted. "Viserys has other advisors. Visenya has her aunts, uncles, cousins, anyone she could play with. Caraxes does need you, yes," you chuckled, "but he's also violently independent so I would not worry about him. And I am under the care of the Maesters, so I'd argue only the White Cloaks need you - you are their Lord Commander, after all."

"No," he refused, "I am a husband and father first, brother second, Prince of the City third, and Lord Commander fourth. I will be where I am needed, I just do not have enough hours in the day to do it all."

"You do not need to do it all," you whispered.

"You all need me."

"Visenya and I, yes," you agreed, "your job is important, too... Fuck the rest. 'S just noise."

He chuckled, you felt the pull of his lips on your neck. He hummed into your flesh, licking gently before pulling back to mutter, "I wish you could come with us."

"I do, too," you smiled softly. "But I'll be right here for you both to come back to - tell me all about it."

Daemon chuckled, "Surely."

Speak of the Devil, and He will appear.

"MUMMY!"

"Vizzy!" You half-scolded, laughing when the door burst open to reveal your daughter in her dragon-riding gear. Not a moment later, your usual handmaid, Carlee, appeared out of breath, sighing with relief when she located Visenya. "I'm so sorry, Carlee, she's just like her father and avoids all authority," you laughed when the little girl climbed onto her father's lap.

"No, I apologize, Lady," Carlee panted, "I-I tried - but she - she's very fast."

"I've got her," Daemon dismissed stiffly, your glare doing nothing to him.

"Thank you, Carlee, we've got it from here," you amended to the kind, portly woman with greying red hair. She bowed out as you reached over to tickle Visenya, "And you, my little monster! Didn't I tell you to stop giving the nice ladies a hard time. Hmm? Yes?"

She laughed happily, squirming in Daemon's arms. He 'saved' her by snuggling his nose in her neck; the squealing continuing as she shouted, "He's tickling me, Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Help me, Mummy!"

"Mummy can't help you," Daemon playfully growl, gnawing into her neck as she flailed in his grip.

"Daddy! Stop it!"

He sighed dramatically, "Oh, I suppose I could... If a certain princess promises to behave from now on."

"Of course, Daddy, it's riding day!" She exclaimed, settling more in his lap now that he stopped tickling her. Because it wasn't often that Daemon took her riding, she was usually always on her best behavior to ensure her favorite day actually occurred - but that didn't mean it was an exact science.

"Visenya, be good for Daddy, yes?" You directed, puckering your lips for her. She pecked them quickly, promising to be good, and then rushing away when Daemon told her to go get her gloves and boots. When alone again, he looked at you almost sadly.

"One day, we'll fly as a family," he promised, forehead to your own. "Do you need anything, love?"

"I'm good, thank you, though," you whispered. Then, your hands caressed your belly, sighing, "Not long now, huh?"

"It's both the longest and shortest time of my life," he laughed lightly. "But soon, we'll pray for the quiet of your womb again."

You laughed, bringing him in for a kiss. He reciprocated before you pulled back, insisting, "Go, before she burns the Keep down. You know Caraxes would do it, too, that beastie would do anything she says."

"So would we," he winced.

"We might wanna work on that..."

"In time," he teased, kissing you again. "Stay put."

"Yes, sir." He gave you a look, making you amend, "Yes, Daddy."

He chuckled, kissed you a final time, and then rose. Just as he was exiting the door, you heard him yelp your daughters name before a small bang - making you think Visenya had run full sprint at him and knocked him back a step or two.

Another few days dragged by. You were agitated, you were stir crazy, you were on the shortest fuse known to man. Visenya liked reading to you, working on her writing skills with you in bed; she even got to practice her hair braiding skills. When you snapped at servants and maids, Visenya was always chiding, "Mummy, that's mean."

She kept you level-headed.

Daemon was a wreck, however.

He was only one person and the fact that he needed to be several was far too stressful than he was ever willing to admit. "Daemon, my love," you called sternly, "stop your pacing and come here. Lay with me, please."

"I do not get that luxury - "

"It is not a luxury to nurture your seed in my body," you deflected. "Now, come here. Now."

Daemon glared, "Do not think you command me, woman."

"The vows we took certainly think I do. Armor off, boots off, hair down, get the fuck over here - now, Daemon."

He sighed and grumbled, grunting as he did what you told but made it known he wasn't happy about it. When he was dressed in nothing but linen trousers, he laid beside you. "Now what?" He snapped.

"Now hold your wife and child and just fucking breathe," you shot back, readjusting so you cuddled into him. "You reek tonight."

"Your list of demands did not include bathing, excuse me, Princess," he sneered in a condescending tone.

"Daemon, I just want you to take a pause," you bit. "You've been runnin' 'round with your head chopped off since finding out about this... This complication."

"I have much to do."

"I know, and that is why it's important to just slow down and simply breathe. Please, just breathe with me, Daemon, I need us both to be as okay as we can be for when this babe finally comes."

"There's no time - "

"We make our time,' you insisted. "Please, just pause."

He did, Daemon actually paused to just take a deep breath. After one, he took another... Then another, and another until he was doing it with ease and confidence. "I'm sorry," he whispered against your forehead, bringing you in closer. "I do not mean to take it out on you, pet, I am just... Well, you know."

"I know you're worried," you sighed. "Which is why we need this. Tell me of your day, today?"

Daemon didn't want to at first, but then relented and started on a snowball tangent that explained his foul mood. You listened, ear pressed to his pectoral; hands tracing absent patterns on the contours of his abdomen. Daemon usually tried his best to restrain himself with you, but you actively encouraged him and the more he talked, the more words that spewed from his mouth in a messy jumble. One arm remained wrapped around you, keeping you close, and his free one moved about in exaggeration.

"And to top the day off, you know what the bloody Septa told me? The one Alicent insisted was worth utilizing?"

"Septa Amelia?"

"Whatever," he huffed.

"What'd she say to you, my Prince?"

He sighed at the endearing tone you used for his title, knowing it wasn't a reference to his real station but instead, a pet name you had for him. Daemon sighed, "That Visenya might need shipped off to Dorne to attend that grueling, military school."

"She's only just turned five - "

"I am aware," Daemon cut you off. "I cursed at her before taking Visenya."

"Good, then I shall know who to yell at, too," your voice hardened. "Why do they complain about her so? 'S all I bloody hear, how our daughter's wild and untamed - saying we are unfit parents by the looks of her."

"She's fire in her blood because she is the Dragon's Seed, just as this one is, too," His hand laid over your belly. "And yet, I cannot understand why others voice their opinions on our family, which they are not entitled to an opinion on. Visenya grows within the Red Keep, she is not some wild animal, but perhaps, she lacks stimuli."

"How could we remedy that?"

"A tutor... Or a few, perhaps. From across the Narrow Sea," he told you, already sounding like he wasn't as angry as before. "Find us proper tutors who will take her on as a student to guide her where we cannot - and where others give up. What kind of a man would I be to ignore what someone blatantly needs that I can easily provide?"

You offered a small smirk, taking a fond note, "This isn't just 'someone', Daemon, you speak of our daughter. You're so good at this, you know... Taking care of us. Daddy takes care."

He tightened his hold, "I always will, my sweet."

It was quiet again, your stomach churning with discomfort; questioning, "Though I am wondering what she did today to prompt such a comment?"

He scoffed, "So, she set fire to some curtains, who bloody cares - "

You gasped shrilly as you sat bolt upright, "Visenya did what!?"

"No, hey, no," he reached for you, "no stress, no - "

But you were hobbling out of the bed before he could stop you, grumbling the entire time; yet the moment your feet hit the floor, you paused to heave for breath, stood, and felt the trickle of fluids from between your legs. "What?" You gasped, realizing what just happened, begging, "What? No, no, no, no, not now, little one, please, stay in there!"

Daemon vaulted himself over the bed and was at your side in an instant, guiding you to sit once more and promising, "I will get the Maesters. Just ease yourself, no stress, no worries, I'll get help - I'll get the Maester's." He meant to move away.

"No," you insisted, reaching for his tunic's collar to grip, yank, and hold him close, "I need you with me. We all do, please, do not leave me to do this life alone. D-Daemon, please, I'm so scared, do not leave me, I can't do this without you."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, taking your hand to hold, "but I need to get you help. Please, my love, you need the help."

You whimpered and got back on the bed by yourself as Daemon raced for the chamber door. He only took half a step, then shouted, "YOU! HEY, YOU! GET THE BLOODY MAESTERS! NOW! YOUR PRINCE DEMANDS IT!"

Ignoring whatever else he shouted, you got comfortable as the cramps began to twist in your lower gut - shooting pains down your legs, up your back, even tingling into your fingers. Sweat took hold of you like a bad fever, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew something couldn't be completely right. This sensation was strange, it wasn't at all a feeling you had when pregnant with Visenya.

Hours drug by as if sap dripping from a tree.

Your pain increased; sweating, grunting, moaning, groaning with displeasure. Daemon was stoic and quiet, just watching you writhe in pain as his heart cemented in his chest to sink into his feet and anchor him there. Visenya wasn't anything like this; he'd been present for that birth, too, and remember thinking how easy it appeared since the baby practically fell out of you.

This was much different.

"My Prince," the Maester approached him with a deep frown, "a word?"

"What?" He snapped, watching the Maester step to the side. Daemon sighed and followed, glaring, arms crossing as he demanded, "What is it?"

"My Prince, the babe will not come. I do not wish to beat around this bush, so I will tell you plainly. Sometimes, when the fetus is in a compromising position, a decision must be made: either the babe is cut from the womb and it survives or they both die or only the babe dies - there was a way to remove the baby surgically if that's the case. But you need to choose."

"Why do I have to choose? It's her decision - her body, her life, her choice."

"She is delirious with pain," the Maester deflected, "and if the babe is a boy, wouldn't you rather know and have him?"

"And lose my wife?" Daemon growled. "I think the fuck not. You will not put this decision on me, it is for her to decide."

He pushed past everyone to take the spot beside you and instantly pick up your hand. "Daemon," you sobbed, "for fuck's sake, please, please, just let this be over. Get the babe out."

"You're almost there, sweetheart."

But one of the Septas assisting the Maesters squeaked in mild alarm, and when Daemon looked, there was a significant amount of blood blooming under you. "She's bleeding, could be a hemorrhage," the Maester rushed, lifting your thin gown to judge the birthing canal.

"What's wrong?" You asked in a half-slur.

"Nothing, you're okay," Daemon assured softly, kissing your hand.

Your screams through labor echoed through empty stone halls. Your pain was tangible, your fear paramount. "What's wrong!?" You begged the room, "Why aren't they coming? Why won't our baby come?"

"We're trying, Princess," A Septa spoke softly.

You only cried until your exhaustion outweighed your consciousness; your mind going blank, eyes rolling back, and slipping into the weighted darkness from the blood loss. Daemon frantically shook your shoulder, begging, "My love, please! Wake up! Wake up now! What's going on!?"

"There's too much blood!"

"I told you to choose!" The Maester snapped at Daemon. "Now they will both lose their lives!"

Daemon felt his chest hallow - figuring the words were true enough. He couldn't decide, he refused to, and now you suffered and the possibility of losing your child was larger than before. "My Prince," a Septa approached, "you need to wait outside."

"No - "

"They need to operate, you cannot linger here," she insisted. "You will be called for."

He steeled his jaw, pointing a warning finger at the Maester, "Don't make the cut else your loved ones will only see you on a spike around the Red Keep."

Prince Daemon waited outside for another few hours. He paced, he refused food and drink, he simply wanted to be in there with you but had to begrudgingly put faith into the medical team working on you. He smirked when he saw his daughter, Visenya, round the distant corner and sprint up to him - Carlee chasing her.

"Are you skipping lessons, again, Little Dragon?" Daemon grunted as he caught his daughter - swinging her onto his hip by using the momentum from catching her.

"Where's Mummy and the baby?" She demanded.

Daemon sighed, "The baby doesn't want to come out, yet, love, so we can't see them yet."

"But it's been a day, Daddy!" She whined.

"I know, pet," he sighed with a frown, glancing at the closed door. "It's all right," he told the maid, "she can remain here with us."

"My Prince, she'd miss - "

"Lessons? You dare try to say lessons are more important?" He snapped.

"Daemon," Viserys frowned from his wheelchair. "Your anger is misplaced."

He hummed, readjusting his daughter on his hip as Alicent dismissed Carlee; letting Daemon begin to pace again. When the door opened, he whipped around, but only an in-training Maester slipped out of the room - giving no time to peer inside. "Well?" Daemon demanded.

"We are still working, My Prince, but I am to fetch more material," he answered, nodding once, then dashing away. It did nothing to settle his nerves, in fact, they tripled when the lad returned with a procession of aids - all carrying different material. They reentered the room, and Daemon felt his heart snap.

"Stay with Uncle, Little Dragon," Daemon told his daughter, approaching Viserys, offering him the child to which he accepted. "Stay here, do not move, Daddy has to check on Mummy. Yes?"

"Is she sick?" Visenya frowned.

"I'll check, my love."

"I can go, too, Daddy."

Daemon sighed through his nose, his daughter making him melt into a pile of nothingness - but reminded himself to stay firm. "No, love, you just stay here and Daddy will check," he assured softly as Viserys lifted his hands to keep hold of the young girl and ensuring she did not follow Daemon when he nodded, turned, and shoved through the door into the birthing chamber.

"My Prince!"

But Daemon couldn't move.

There was blood everywhere. Soiled linens, a drenched nightgown, scattered puddles of splattered life source across the floor. You looked delirious, confused; not fully present in your mind, and when he noted the Milk of the Poppy, he understood your pain was trying to be managed. Blood painted up and down your thighs; blood pooling under your cunt, but there was a baby's head visible.

Startled, he rushed for your side and knelt to take your hand. "My love," he breathed, "can you hear me? Are you with me? Please. Please, sweet wife, open your eyes and look at me."

When you did, he could tell you were unfocused and unsure who he was before realization dawned over your facial expression. "Daemon," you whispered, squeezing his hand slightly.

"I'm here, love," he promised. "Right here - I'm with you."

"The baby?"

"Almost," he promised, watching your eyes flutter.

"She needs to push, my Prince," the birthing maester instructed. "C'mon, c'mon, now's the time - push! Push, Princess, push!"

"C'mon, love!" Daemon encouraged, watching sweat glisten over every exposed surface of skin; jaw clenching, bearing down and pushing with might.

The screams echoed through the Keep, only drowned out when a storm rolled in that evening. The thunder masked the profanities shouted, lightning accompanied by each scream of pain as birth split you in half. Daemon did not leave your side, encouraging you through the entire ordeal, his trousers saturating with your blood as more dripped to the floor as you pushed, pushed, pushed, and pushed with all the strength you had.

"You gotta keep goin', love," Daemon would tell you, "gotta keep fightin' for this - don't stop now. I need you with us, our children will need us, this is not something I can do alone. Please," he begged, "do not make me say goodbye. Not until we're fat and old, remember? Huh? My precious love, you're almost done, but you have to keep fighting. It'll be worth it, soon. Just keep going!"

By the following morning, a babe was being pulled from your cunt with a gushing wave of fluid and blood - reminding the Maester very briefly of cattle birth. However, while relief colored your system, the medical attendants felt panic flood theirs - muttering, hushing, consulting the baby to the side as the Maester saw you through the afterbirth. "W-Wait," you slurred, "wh-where are they? Where? Daemon, wh-what is it? Girl or boy?"

He frowned, Septas, Silent Sisters, and other maids all huddled together without your child in sight. "I-I do not know, yet, sweetheart, but remain calm. The worst is over..." But when he looked down at you, he noticed how still you laid and felt his panic skyrocket. He begged your name several times, demanding you wake up, but you remained silent and still - skin even turning clammy as sweat dried. Daemon was actually pulled out of the way, two Maesters attending to your side, and he felt impossibly in the middle.

To his left, his child. To his right, his wife. Both of whom appear in distress, both of whom hold his worry. "She's clots again," he heard from the Maesters. "Not breathing," he heard from the Septas.

So, this is what Hell was like...

A shrill cry pierced the air, adrenaline draining from Daemon's blood as he realized this only meant the babe was okay. When he was approached with the bundle, he worried, "She should be the first to hold them."

"It's all right, my Prince," the Septa spoke softly, "you may hold her now, and later, you can lay her on your wife's chest."

Daemon nodded, taking the baby. He blinked, "Did you say, 'she'?"

"A girl, my Prince, healthy, strong, full-term."

"What's wrong with her?" He demanded. "Why does my wife not wake?"

"The blood loss," a Maester muttered, "'s gotta be the blood loss."

He couldn't move or breathe. His daughter screamed, still, but he was terrified by the sight of the Maesters flocking over your still-body. Daemon protested, but once more, he was asked to leave the chamber and had to be escorted - but he wanted to remain. He wanted to linger, to watch you, to ensure you were taken care of... Yet the bundle in his arms wriggled and sobbed, reminding him that he had a responsibility to his daughter that needed his attention.

"Daemon," Alicent perked up when the door opened, eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen swaddle.

"Brother?" Viserys worried, eyes glistening as he assumed the worst.

"She's... She's not waking up," He spoke without emotion, "the Maesters are still working."

Viserys nodded, holding a sleeping Visenya on his lap still. "You need rest," he recommended.

"No, I think I will stay," Daemon refused.

"You can't function this way," Alicent tacked on. "The Maesters will still be at work, and even after, she will not be awake for hours. Milk of the Poppy is potent, and with her exhaustion, it's sure to be an intense combination."

He nodded slowly, "I want to be here."

So, Daemon remained.

He let Visenya sit with him on the stone bench outside the birthing chamber; his brother remaining to offer moral support alongside his wife until royal obligation can calling. He remained stoic, holding his daughter and only passing her off to the wet nurse when a feeding or cleaning needed attended to. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the doors opened, Daemon shot to his feet; leaving his infant daughter in Visenya's lap.

"She's asking for you," the Maester told Daemon, smirking slightly when the Prince charged for the room. He looked around at the disarray and how dwarfed you appeared in the bed; sheets still saturated with blood.

Never before had he felt such relief, dropping to his knees as if in prayer at your bedside; tearfully picking up your hand to kiss the back of it. "You're alive," he whispered in shock, "oh, bless the Seven, you're alive - you're still here with me. With us."

You could only manage a tired, half-smile, "Can't be rid of me that easy."

He snorted his amusement, "Thought I lost you for a moment there..."

"Sorry to scare you," you whispered, "but 's not easy pushing a baby from your cunt, huh?"

"No, definitely not. Especially a Targaryen, born of Fire and Blood," he looked close to tears, "they are known for their harsh entrance into this world."

"I'd endure all of it for our children," you mumbled, taking a long breath. "I'm tired, Daemon."

He looked to a lingering Maester, the one in training, asking, "Can she move back to our chambers?"

"She might not want to walk, yet," the lad advised, "but yes. Perhaps a familiar environment will help the healing process."

Daemon had a Maester carrying his infant daughter and escort Visenya to your living quarters while he brought you. He laid you in bed, ensuring your comfort before taking his daughter back in his arms, dismissing the staff, and telling Visenya to change into her loungewear. They were going to take a nap with Mummy...

"Daemon?" You mumbled.

"I'm here, love," he rushed to your side, "you all right? What do you need?"

"It's hurting," you frowned.

Daemon laid your daughter beside you in bed, furthest into the mattress, so he could prepare your next dose of Milk of the Poppy. Visenya, changed for the lazy day, jumped into bed with you, smiling at her new sister as Daemon changed himself. When he joined you in bed, he kept the baby between the two of you as Visenya deflated on Daemon's chest. She all but instantly fell asleep, both parents allowing for several long minutes to pass; ensuring their slumbering state.

"Did you pick a name?" You asked, tracing your fingertip along your baby's belly in soft, ticklish motions.

"Not yet," he answered. "Thought that should be a decision we agree on."

"I have no preference," you told him softly, "I'm just relieved she's here."

"You and me both," he whispered, leaning over to kiss your forehead. "You did such a good job, sweetheart, to endure this Targaryen Curse for our family - such a good job."

You smiled at him, catching his lips in a full kiss as the poppy released into your bloodstream. "I love you," you promised him.

"I love you," he echoed; the serenity surrounding you both in a warm embrace. Unable to help himself, Daemon teased, "So, when do you want our third child?"

You both had to suppress your humor to protect your sleeping daughters from being rudely woken.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 1. Captive of your desires

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: choking and death threats

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— A/N: I couldn't resist. I had to write more for him. Reader, I love him. This fic might go a little wild, because I want to play into this naughty boy's love for pain. Expect some subby Feyd, some inkpies, generally a messed up dynamic with an equally messed up reader. Hope you enjoy, my lovelies! 🖤

Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty. — Bene Gesserit Coda

House Harkonnen fell upon Arrakis like a hammer — with a deafening crash and destructive reverberation. After the palace was ransacked and the most important figures murdered, their bodies piled high and set alight, the stragglers were hunted through the streets and homes of Arrakeen. There was a week of slaughter. By the end, nothing moved. All spice production had ceased. Then the violence left the city and spread out into the desert, and the whole hemisphere of the planet was captured.

Arrakeen sat near the northern pole, on thick bedrock surrounded by natural fortifications that protected it from worm attacks. It was a difficult place to escape from. Those who remained were understood to be loyal to the Harkonnens, or at least indifferent to who held the power. The Atreides rule had been brief enough to not have garnered that many supporters. Only the rumour of their goodness and grace had been planted, and the Harkonnens returned before those could take root.

There can be said to have been a second Harkonnen takeover once Feyd-Rautha arrived. The Baron’s youngest nephew. Word was spread — or rather, been carefully planted — that he was the kinder, gentler of the Harkonnen brothers. The people greeted him like a saviour. Inside the palace, the atmosphere was more subdued.

It was a stark contrast to the transition from when Rabban came to power. No mass killings, no ransacking of rooms, just an orderly takeover through which the cold and calculating presence of Feyd-Rautha flowed. Furniture was rearranged. Staff was brought in from Giedi Prime. Brand new equipment arrived, especially for the spice harvesters.

The message was clear. The new planetary governor was thorough and exacting. Most of those in the palace breathed a sigh of relief, but there was at least one breath that stuttered.

She was there at his arrival, watching from a distance together with the throng of Arrakeen locals, Fremen and others, who gathered to see the procession. It was early in the morning, just before sunrise. He walked differently than other Harkonnen she’d seen. Rabban stomped through like a bull. The servants grovelled. The Baron was so fat he had to be suspended in the air. But this one, this one strolled through with confidence. Sleek and slender, he was beautiful in an inhuman way. That much she could make out from a distance.

He struck out at Fremen sietches on his very first day, using artillery fire and on-the-ground troops. An old way of doing things, but effective. It painted the new governor as precise, determined, and strangely honourable, and then word spread around the palace that he’d struck his own brother to the ground and made him kiss his feet. The word ‘humiliation’ was uttered. The news sewed a sliver of hope in the hearts of the longsuffering palace staff.

She had evaded close contact with the Harkonnens until then. It only made sense, as she was in hiding, slipping through the cracks of their negligence until she could procure safe passage off-planet, but that was getting more difficult by the day. What they lacked in caution, they made up for in paranoia, and all comings and goings were kept behind esoteric layers of bureaucracy. She was in the process of making contact with a smuggler when Feyd-Rautha gained governorship of the planet, and all her hopes were dashed.

It was the evening of his second day on the planet when she was called. The servant that summoned her looked at her like she was an apparition — which, in a way, she was. She had managed to remain undetected, keeping herself busy, staying out of sight, acting like she was meant to be there. She’d become part of the scenery and could dispel suspicion if anyone got too close. Her Bene Gesserit training was good for that if nothing else. But there was no escaping this. Somebody had finally found her and knew exactly where she was.

She followed the servant — a heavily armed pasty-white figure, crooked and willowy — to the chamber door of what she knew to be the largest office of the governor. He opened it for her, pushed her in, and locked the door behind her.

Like a tiny sun, a glowglobe floated through the room, its light falling on the smooth black surfaces of the furniture and the pale stone of the walls. She folded her hands before her, hidden by the long sleeves of her dress, and followed what the light revealed. The room was large and windowless, stripped bare of any useless item. The table was empty, the chairs were in their place, and upon the plinths set in the corners, no potted plants or works of art stood. Only one thing moved there, together with the light. Feyd-Rautha paced slowly, quietly, on the other side of the room.

“My lord na-Baron,” she said in a smooth and submissive voice. Her knees bent in a slight curtsy — respectful, but not too much. “You summoned me.”

She wore a garb that didn’t belong to any particular function. The long black dress would have fit just as well in the kitchens as in the cleaning staff, and the head covering was suited for the Arrakis weather, worn by any female. All of those with hair, anyway. The light material bent around her, giving her a slightly oval shape, soft and harmless. But when she looked up and caught the na-Baron’s gaze, he would have seen a sharper look there than that of any servant.

His eyes were cunning too. They looked upon her knowingly and with amusement, a strange manner for a Harkonnen.

“Who are you?” he asked with a playful squint.

His voice scratched across her skin like kitten claws. He didn’t sound the way he looked, and she admitted it surprised her. His tone, nevertheless, was gentle. Deceitfully kind. He could kill me in an instant, she thought, and take pleasure from it.

“My lord, I —”

“You were not on Rabban’s stafflist. I know that, because he didn’t have one. And you’re not on mine, because I didn’t ask for you. We have as of today an account of all the palace workers, but the list comes up with one extra room unaccounted for.”

Nights in Arrakeen were cold, but her skin just turned colder. What rotten luck, to be in the palace right when they decided to actually investigate who worked there and did what. It’s my own fault, she said to herself. I relied on their incompetence for far too long. Now I pay the price. So be it.

“I have been a servant in this palace for many years, my lord na-Baron,” she said with a slow bow of her head. “And I wish to serve you as well.”

“Is that so?” he purred, coming closer. His steps were lazy, but the pace was measured. He had more control over his body than his playful swagger let on. “Many years, you say? You worked for the Atreides, then?”

“And for Count Fenring before them.”

He stopped. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes and smiled in quiet satisfaction. Lady Fenring was a skilled Bene Gesserit sister and had lived in Arrakeen with her husband for many years before the Atreides decided on it for their capital. She was the most logical choice as a secret envoy to the Harkonnen heir. And if Feyd-Rautha met her, it could only mean one thing.

Uroshnor, she thought. He’s likely been imprinted with the usual prana-bindu phrase. It would stun him, if only for a moment. But long enough… It didn’t provide her a means of escape, but it gave her hope. It gave her room for manoeuvre.

“I am not a spy,” she said, straightening her back.

“Of course, a spy would say that.”

“You may test me in any way you wish,” she said with a playful chuckle.

Feyd’s eyes darkened at her proposition, a smile bending his full lips as he stepped closer. Oh, he could think of many ways to test her…

“What are you, then?” he asked, his voice scratching low and close as he stopped close enough to touch.

She could see now that his eyes were a clear blue. Not the sort of blue brought on by long-term spice exposure, that dark electric shade, but blue like water, like the sky, like a shard of ice. His jawline was firm — that of a biter. But his lips were pillow-soft and curled around the edges in a smile that wouldn’t go away. Lips made for laughing, made for kissing, made for love. He’s such a delicate boy. The thought ran through her mind before she realised.

“I served the Lady Fenring as a housekeeper,” she said.

“Lies.”

“My lord?”

“You’re one of them, aren’t you? A damn witch.”

She remained completely still, her eyes locked on his. He was trying to dominate her with a hard incessant glare, but she held his gaze merely for the pleasure of it. What a comforting colour they were on such a harsh planet… No matter the malice behind them.

“You’re a Bene Gesserit. I’ve met your kind before,” he continued, looking down her body in a cruel, suggestive way. “You hold yourselves the way no other women do.”

“Perpans not like Harkonnen women.”

He chuckled, the sound scraping up his slender neck. “All women in the known universe are the same, given the right circumstances.”

“But not the Bene Gesserit.”

“Yes, not you,” he sighed, head tilting as if his mind was trying to escape a painful memory.

His eyes stayed upon her figure, trailing down the contours of her dress. Then he reached out a hand and touched it, his fingers tracing a silky pleat so lightly that it barely moved. She felt it still, the slight disturbance his caresses caused, but willed her body to stay motionless. There was no trace of aggression in him now.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“You have not dismissed me, my lord na-Baron.”

He chuckled faintly. “I mean on Arrakis.”

“I wish to remain in the palace.”

“Why?”

“The deserts are harsh.”

“Many prefer that to serving a Harkonnen.”

“One master is as good as another.”

“I’m sure it must’ve felt like that to you,” he said, looking her in the eye again. His fingers left her dress and went to rest upon the hilt of a dagger at his belt. “So I take it you were one of Lady Fenring’s servants. A… fellow sister, would you call it?”

“I was part of her staff, yes.”

“And you didn’t leave with her and the Count when the Atreides came?”

“I remained behind to assist with training their staff,” she said with a bow of her head. Even now she retained a certain respect for that dead House.

“And Lady Fenring,” he hissed, the name dripping from his mouth like poison, “she never wanted to retrieve you?”

“I believe they think me dead.”

“Yes, she is not the sentimental sort,” he chuckled, and his cold gaze caught hers.

A dangerous thought was taking root behind those eyes, she could see it germinating. She waited, reading his body, scanning the minute changes in his expression, and tried to determine what went on behind that pallid mask.

There was envy there, and regret, and longing. The Harkonnens never kept Bene Gesserit truthsayers, nor were there any among the Baron’s concubines — all of them were young boys anyway. They were unique among the Great Houses in that way, and although she knew that Feyd’s mother had been a Bene Gesserit herself, he probably didn’t know what it was like to be raised by one. Why else would he be looking at her now as if he wanted to peel her clothes away, and then her skin, and reach toward her heart and grab it?

“How can I help my na-Baron?” she asked, her voice a whisper, her gaze a caress.

“By not getting above yourself,” he rasped with the air of slapping her offer away.

Her heart stuttered in her chest and she bowed her head to hide her terror. Did I read him wrongly? she thought to herself. I must not fear.

“House Harkonnen has no use for witches,” said Feyd.

She felt his strong hand grip her shoulder, slipping past the veil to curl around her neck. He stayed there, holding her in a half-choke just firm enough to feel her heartbeat in the palm of his hand.

“I ought to kill you,” he said sweetly, “and feed you to my darlings.”

Her lips parted, swelling slightly, and she felt her face go pale. The little death takes on a whole new meaning, she thought with grim amusement.

“But I do want to know one thing…”

“Yes, my na-Baron?” she asked in a shaky voice.

He breathed in sharply at the sound of it. He liked it. When she looked up into his eyes again, the grip around her throat felt not so much murderous anymore as it did greedy, possessive.

“I want to know… Do you have one of those pain boxes too?”

[naughtyservant]

A wonderful new pic of this sweet couple having fun at the lockers. Y'know, the usual think. A good f/uck, being vored by a huge c-ock and then churned into sweet thick c/um~

James (Pred) belongs to James The Beast (That I also designed his human/kemonomimi version in a previous commission :P)

Malus (Prey) belongs to Malus

A very huge thanks for your support with this pic!

Uncensor version on my A/ryion and T/witter as always

Don't forget like, reblog and follow me for more sweet couple moments with vore endings UwU)r

[mariacrow]

How would tfp cons react to their human female s/o got captured by Airachnid?

Sorry for typos or any kind of mistakes 😭 I lose my darn concentration while writing this long

Hope you like it! 💜

STICKY SITUATION

✦ TFP Decepticons x reader ✦

2nd person

female reader

AU where the reader has joined the Decepticons and mostly works in the lab or helps with repairing

reader is captured by Airachnid mostly because of her envy

kidnapping, possessiveness, threats, heated arguments/fight (physical)

injuries, blood, rescue, comfort

MEGATRON

Airachnid would hunt you down, wrap you in that sticky web-like substance of hers and bring you to lord Megatron with an excuse that you sabotaged a project and set the whole lab on fire while in fact it was her doing

Accusing you of unloyalty while standing before Megatron's feet, you'd scream and beg him to listen to you, claiming Airachnid is lying

Airachnid: SILENCE, YOU TRAITOROUS RODENT!

She would shout as she'd seal your mouth with the sticky substance

Your lord would observe, doubting you'd do anything like that. As he'd look into your pleading, innocent, tormented eyes, his spark would ache. Not that he expressed it. He'd rather perish than express his vulnerability for you

Then he'd look into Airachnid's eyes full of hope that he’d tear you into tiny pieces of young flesh as he’d get struck by her tiny, devilish grin

Airachnid: my lord. Your wish is my command. I can inflict indescribable pain on her if you let me. She deserves it.

Megatron: no. She does not.

Would be all he'd say before he'd walk to you and free you. You'd start desperately trying to explain yourself but he'd nonchalantly interrupt you:

Megatron: accidents happen. You shall proceed. Shockwave awaits your assistance back in the lab.

He'd give an order and wait for you to leave. Then he'd walk back to Airachnid who'd be in pure shock

Megatron: if you want to terminate her, lying to your leader would be the unwisest way to do it.

Airachnid: my liege-

Megatron: SILENCE! Do such thing again and you shall be the one torn to pieces by my own bare hands. DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?

Airachnid: yes, my liege... *as she'd reluctantly bow*

Megatron: and stay away from her. She is far more useful than you are, Airachnid.

Naughty you would stay close to the door and listen. You'd giggle to yourself as you'd hear your master play favorites

Airachnid is not oblivious though. She noticed he cares for you which she'll use against him. She would already start making new plans on how to get rid of you, lord Megatron's pet.

💜

STARSCREAM

He’d be in shock when he’d get a report from the vehicons that you’ve been attacked by Airachnid

He’d order his soldiers to show him where you are as he’d call for backup

When he’d find you wrapped in a cocoon upside down in a storage room, being threatened by Airachnid, he’d order her to stay down as he’d aim his rockets at her

Airachnid: oh please, Starscream. Like a couple of your cloned servants could stop me.

Starscream: you fool! Free her this instant or perish.

Airachnid: so it is true~ commander Starscream has a new pet human~

Starscream: I do not care for… a human! I am simply fulfilling my duty! We need her for the project!

Airachnid would hiss and threaten to slice your throat

Airachnid: and why would that stop me from getting rid of this infestation!

Starscream: Megatron will have your head! And so will I.

An evil smirk would grow on Screamer’s face plate as they’d charged their weapons at her. She’d reluctantly and angrily release you, making you painfully drop on the floor and yelp

Airacnid: until next time, rodent.

She’d say as she’d crawl her way out of the storage room, disappointed that her plan of getting rid of you had failed

Starscream would slice the cocoon open and free you as he’d emotionlessly tell you to get up.

You’d thank him as he’d walk you out and say:

Starscream: not a word to anyone about this, got it?

Totally into you but his dignity and ego can’t allow him to admit he fell in love with one from the species he hates the most

💜

KNOCKOUT

Knockout: YOU WHAT!?

Airachnid: relax, Knockout~ No one will even notice she’s gone~ and we both know everyone dislikes her-

Knockout: I DON’T- I mean- WE DON’T! Lord Megatron needs her to complete this project! She became one of the key members of the lab, I-

Airachnid: indeed. Indeed she did. She’s taking your position. Soon, lord Megatron will replace you with her.

Her cunning aft would try to manipulate him

Knockout: the only one who can be replaced on this ship is you! You’re afraid of her. Now tell me where she is before I cut you into pieces!

He’d say as he’d get his saw out and aggressively rev it at her to which she wouldn’t even flinch, bluffing

Airachnid: calm down, doctor, it isn’t a big deal. Just a little game I like playing with her. And my my~ so it is true~ doctor does have his favorite assistant after all~

Knockout would groan and go look for your. He’d turn the whole ship upside down until he’d find you somewhere well hidden with tied limbs

He’s dramatically scream and free you carefully as he’d baby talk to you

Knockout: look what that wretched femme did to you! Nt nt nt… Don’t worry, little one, I won’t let that creepy spider lady get near you ever again, no no~ Doctor’s promise~

Y/N: don’t say that ever again-

Knockout: what I thought it’s cute-

As he’d carry you back to the lab and shower you with kisses

💜

BREAKDOWN

She knows how much he cares for you and how easily distracted he gets which she’d cunningly use against him in battle

She’d capture you and make you hang upside down a thick tree branch the moment he’d attack her

Airachnid: are you sure you want to play this game again, Breakdown? Because we have a new contestant~

Breakdown would freeze as he’d see you desperately trying to scream with your mouth sealed

Airachnid: I think she wants to say hello to her precious boyfriend~

She’d say as she’d free your mouth and let you scream for Breakdown. But instead you’d encourage him:

Y/N: BEAT HER ASS, BREAKDOWN!!!

To which he’d frown and power up, get his hammer out and roar like an animal as he’d charge at her

You’d watch the epic boss battle and keep encouraging him until all of your blood would flow down to your head and make you feel unwell

Airachnid: hurry up, boyfriend~ You chose a very delicate being for your lover~ She will die if you don’t get her down in time~

Breakdown: YOU TALK TOO MUCH!

She tried distracting him more but instead she only made his anger grow. His helm boiled as he kept mercilessly hammering her

The moment he knocked her out and yeeted her somewhere, he rushed to get you down. He panicked a little but managed to rescue you on time

Breakdown: you’re the best life coach even when you’re dying~

He had to pull a cheesy joke

💜

DREADWING

She’d pull the same trick on him like on Breakdown

She’d use you as his biggest weakness - fear of losing his closest ones just like he lost his brother…

Both of you would have your limbs tied as she’d make you face each other

Airachnid: now that we have the whole scene set~

Dreadwing: Airachnid, do not be a fool. You are playing with fire. Release her this instant!

Airachnid: or what!?

She’d say as she’d give you a big, deep scratch across the back and make you yelp

Dreadwing: NO!

Airachnid: watch her suffer.

In a blink of an eye she’d stab your torso by the side with one of her eight unsettlingly long legs and make you bleed badly

Dreadwing would scream as he’d desperately try to free himself. Filled with fury, he’d manage to rip the sticky substance that was tied around his wrists

Dreadwing: YOU WILL NOT TAKE THE ONLY THING THAT I CARE FOR IN MY LIFE!

He’d jump her and obliterate her, making her run away with deadly wounds

As he’d kneel next to your wounded body, he’d free you and gently pick you up and request an immediate ground bridge.

He’d watch your fragile, almost lifeless body curling in his servos…

Dreadwing: do not fear, my love. I shall take care of you. You will not leave this world. Not while I stand…

💜

SOUNDWAVE

She thought she could just snatch you from the lab while you were alone and get rid of you that easily

She forgot Soundwave, that has developed strong feelings for you, is the eyes and ears of the ship

He’d cut her off in one of the hallways and have a stare down

You’d scream for help

Airachnid: silence! And stand down, Soundwave. Her playtime with big robots has officially come to an end.

He’d launch his tentacles at her and try to zap her which she’d avoid while running towards him

He would maneuver wisely and swiftly while trying to snatch you from her servos

You’d get slightly injured due to their “doll snatching” game

The moment he’d managed to get his servos on you, he’d create a ground bridge right underneath her

As she was about to fall into it, he’d grab one of her creepy legs and speak:

Soundwave: Soundwave superior. Airachnid inferior.

Before he’d let her fall into the portal and teleport somewhere, precisely above the ocean

Y/N: you… you can speak?

To which he’d just look at you and put his index finger across the lower part of his face plate, gesturing this shall stay a secret

💜

SHOCKWAVE

Shockwave: I find your behavior… illogical.

He’d say in his usual monotone voice, trying to calm the situation down as he’d catch her wanting to preform torturing experiments on you in the lab

Airachnid: don’t be naive, Shockwave~ You and I both know she’s nothing but an infestation on this ship!

Shockwave: that statement is illogical as well, Airachnid. She is my assistant.

Airachnid: oh curse your assistant!

Y/N: Shockwave! Please!

The moment he’d hear his secret lover plead, he’d charge his blaster at her

Shockwave: do not test me, Airachnid. You clearly are not aware of my abilities.

He’d say as he’d start slowly approaching the berth she held you captive on

Airachnid: oh no, dearest Shockwave. Clearly it is you who isn’t aware of our common enemies!

And there comes another epic boss fight. To your surprise it was quite short

Shockwave broke two of her spider legs with ease as he’d throw her around the lab

He did completely or mildly damage some of his equipment but at that point he couldn’t care less. All he cared about is your well being

Shockwave: take advantage of this situation and leave with dignity before I call reinforcements and inform Megatron of your disgraceful act.

Sometimes words can hurt more than actions. She hissed at him and crawled out of the lab

He released you and earned heartwarming gratitude from you

Shockwave: I have always found her way of perception… illogical.

Dividers belong to @kiwicidios , @firefly-graphics and @kimjiho1 💜

[anomaly-076]

mixing whb with tkdb again... What do you think each ghoul's biggest fetish is?

Sorry for filing up your inbox so often 😭😭😭

Tkdb boys idiosyncrasies (18+)

‎‧₊˚✿Masterlist✿˚₊‧

♦ Don't worry at all! I'm glad someone's interested in my writing! ^^ I also went all out with their full idiosyncrasies like all the WHB demons have, so I hope you don't mind ^^ ♦

  ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Jin

Master/Servant play

A Prince of Frost, who'd do anything to keep his peace. The only ones allowed into his chambers is his trusty servant Tohma and you. He might be cold, but should you tempt him, things will heat up fast.

Tohma

Capnolagnia (smoking)

Timophilia (gold, wealth and high social status)

If you feel a pair of observing eyes on yourself while in Frostheim, rest assured it's the Prince's advisor. Fear not, however, he's merely making sure you cause no trouble. He's usually the center of attention during Frosteim's balls.

Lucas

Crurophilia (legs)

In search for his twin brother, Lucas finds little to no time to relax between studying and training. Many other students, including his good friend Kaito, have said he simply needs some healthy distraction.

Kaito

Mazophilia (boobs)

Katoptronophilia (mirror sex)

As confident he is, the moment you're around reduces Kaito to a babbling mess. Give him a few moments and he'll compose himself only to attempt charming you.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Alan

Sthenolagnia (muscles and displays of strength)

Asphyxiophilia (choking) - after he overcomes the fear of hurting others on accident

A gentle giant with an air of danger who is like the older brother of all his fellow Vagastrom students. Some gossips say he's done some bad things in his past, but nobody dares or knows to say what.

Leo

Autagonistophilia (being in front of an audience/camera)

A small social media influencer with a tongue sharper than most blades. Him and his partner in crime, Sho, are the primary source of trouble in the Vagastrom dorm with Leo being the sole insinuator.

Sho

Amaurophilia (blindfold kink)

The students of Vagastrom are known to never pass up a good fight and Sho is no different. You're likely to either run into him at his food truck or in the Vagastrom garagaes, tending to his bike Bonnie.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Haru

Doraphilia (texture/feel of fur/animal skin)

The naughty and energetic president of Jabberwock who carries his son Peekaboo around everywhere. If you're not shy ask to pet him, he'll let you, and then he'll also let you pet Peekaboo too.

Towa

Dendrophilia (plants) - plants need love too, ig (sorry, again T-T)

A romantically oriented ghoul with a very light-hearted and curious nature. Don't let that fool you, though, his hugs are that of an anaconda about to strangle its prey. He's so in tune with the nature he eats flowers and the weather reflects his emotions.

Ren

Fictophilia (fictional characters)

A gamer who, despite being chosen into an outdoorsy and hardworking Jabberwock, has the right opposite personality traits. He's an overthinking homebody and will refuse to do even the slightest tasks unless he gains a reward or an achievement for it.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Taiga

Anthropophagy (cannibalism) sorry

Erotophonophilia (murder)

The lunatic president of Sinostra, with very particular tastes. Anyone who's seen him eat will tell you he doesn't mind getting his face dirty while devouring his meal. His impulsivity makes him very trigger-happy.

Romeo

Hoplophilia (guns)

Romeo is a perfectionist and expects nothing less from his partner either. Curiously, one of his closest Sinostra residents is Taiga, who is nothing of that sort. After spending some time around Romeo, you will find yourself getting whipped into shape.

Ritsu

Hybristophilia (criminals, people who committed crimes)

Dikephilia (justice)

Always striving for justice, yet always seeming to condone criminals' behaviour as evident by his lack of interference and defense of Sinostra's president. Perhaps his moral compass more arched than expected?

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Subaru

Chirophilia (hands)

A legacy-bound actor who constantly worries about minuscule things. His compassion knows no bounds even if it might place him into a dangerous situation. His fellow students would say he simply needs a reassurance from someone he trusts.

Haku

Stigmatophilia (tattoos and piercings)

Capnolagnia (smoking) - you couldn't pry this HC from my cold dead hands

Some students might describe him as nothing but nice, and yet some account him to be a mischievous flirt. Both are true, but only his chosen person gets to fully experience how real those rumors are.

Zenji

Metrophilia (poetry)

A truly gifted poet constantly seeking for another source of ideas for his erotic poetry collection. Loves seeking out new partners to inspire his writing and doesn't shy away from describing acts between him and his partner in his poems.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Edward

Hematolagnia (Drinking/seeing blood)

Odaxelagnia (biting/being bitten)

The ever so thirsty president of Obscuary, though barely few students could testify to seeing him in the flesh. His chambers are only for the most resilient due to the lingering smell of death and mess of clothes, his or someone else's.

Rui

Voyeurism

Calygnephilia (beautiful women)

To many students and employees he is known as a bartender. To many female students, he is known as an irresistible flirt, but who really knows what happens at his bar after the closing hours?

Lyca

Autozoophilia (being/acting like an animal) - for him it's his wolf form

Amychophilia (getting scratched/scratching)

A young werewolf, who is still struggling to navigate living in the human world. He's very curious and eager to learn. He may come off as a bit intense, but those are only his wolf instincts coming out.

  ⋆˚✿˖°

Yuri

Piquerism (cutting/stabbing someone with a sharp objects)

His personality strongly resembles Henry Frankenstein, which is a reputation he gladly upholds. The image is even enhanced when his assistant is around. In the surgeon's eyes, humans are only interesting or mediocre specimen.

Jiro

Free use kink

A stoic and reserved medical assistant, who isn't opposed to most things. His mobility may not be the best, but he will try. He may not feel strong happiness or pleasure himself, but seeing his partner experience them is enough for him.

[devilmen-collector]

He Reacts to His Shy Crush Confessing to Him (HC)

Requested by: anon :3

Pairing: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Beelzebub, Lucifer x gn!reader (separate)

Warning: suggestive

Scenario: You love him but you were too shy and never found the courage to confess your feeling. One day, you gathered all the courage you have for a lifetime to tell him how you feel about him.

Satan

Has a wicked grin of his face

Pulls you into an embrace and kisses your lips. His kiss is so passionate that you have the feeling he sucks all the life force out of your body.

"You let me wait for so long. But you are mine now, I won't ever let you go."

Gets his motorbike and gives you a romantic ride for your very first date.

"Don't be shy, since you are in Hell, where everyone is honest about their feeling." Satan says before speeding up the vehicle.

Mammon

Lifts you up to properly embraces you

"You don't know how long I have waited for you to say those words."

Has the servants give you a bath and dress you up in a beautiful new outfit then takes you on a shopping spree. Literally will buy anything you look at. Won't settle for any amount less than that can be transported by three big trucks.

After the shopping spree comes the dinner date with a private room and a table with more than 300 dishes.

You will be spoiled rotten. Just be prepared for a big change in life.

Leviathan

He has always had the feeling that you wanted to say something to him. So this is it - a confession.

"Starting from this moment, you will move in and live with me."

Yeah, that's his way of saying that the feeling is mutual.

Strikes when you are least expecting it and kisses you while you are still processing about what's going on.

"Stop spacing out! We haven't got all day. The moving must be finished within today."

After the moving is done, he takes you on a romantic date. And yes, it's a traditional romantic date with exquisite dishes and wine, flowers and candles.

Beelzebub

"I have been waiting for you to say this."

Takes you on a romantic dinner date. Though it's not in a fancy restaurant with candles and flowers, that's not his kind of romantic dinner. The date is at a bar or pub where they serve peculiar food.

Naughty grin when you have finished the meal.

"It's time for the main course!" 0v<

Pulls you into his embrace, hugs you, kisses you, sniffs your hair,...

Ah well, let's hope you can get out of the bed the next day.

Lucifer

Kabedons you

"You don't know the consequences of the words you just said, child of Adam."

Kisses you and bites you. He craves for you but he has been holding back, especially when he saw that you were shy and all. But your confession changes that.

Wakes up the next day and feels that he got the order wrong, he should have taken you on a date first. Secretly hopes he didn't scare you away.

Takes you on a date as soon as you can leave the bed. The king of Pride will take you somewhere where he can tell you things he has vast knowledge about, like a religious or really old istorical site, a natural history museum, etc.

[captain-hawks]

ask me

barbatos x f!reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about Barbatos' forked tail, and he's well aware, so he decides to show you exactly how he likes to use it over tea one afternoon.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, masturbation, tail kink, penetration in both holes, tail sex, praise kink

“Ask me.”

The smooth, low tone of Barbatos’ voice softly nudges you away from your idle thoughts, and you glance up from where you’d been staring down into the depths of the cup of tea in your hands. 

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Ask you what?”

A ghost of a smile plays across his lips as he tilts his head to the side, casually running a gloved finger along the filigree adorning the lip of the mug. As if in answer, his tail winks into view for a moment as his demon form pushes to the surface, twin tips twirling together before disappearing back under the table. 

Your heart rate picks up at the sight, and your fingertips dig into your thigh as you stretch and rotate your ankle in an attempt to stave off the desire to bounce the nervous energy right out of your leg. 

“The servants are a chatty, nosey bunch,” he muses, steepling his hands together as his green eyes sparkle.

Not quite trusting yourself to respond otherwise, you launch another question as you evenly ask, “Are they?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly and nods, leaning in slightly as if he’s readying himself to share a secret with you. “Leave anything out in the open, and they’re certain to see it.”

It doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out what he’s getting at. You’ll never forget the horror of tiredly walking back into your room at the House of Lamentation after a long day of classes last week to discover you’d left a new toy right on top of your sheets.

Asmo had excitedly drug you to a naughty looking little shop in town when he’d found you loose-lipped and horny enough one night to blurt out that one of the things you missed most about the human world were vibrators. Needless to say, you’d worn yourself out that night as you shamelessly plunged your new purchase into your needy hole, bringing yourself over the edge thrice before you finally collapsed beneath the sheets, tossing the sticky toy aside and quickly falling asleep.

And it would have been fine, really. 

You’d have no issue earning yourself a whispered little reputation at RAD for masturbating, for fuck’s sake. You certainly weren’t living in a house of angels, after all. 

The issue was the specific vibrator that you’d chosen. The one you’d been unable to look away from after your eyes landed on it across the store, subtly clenching your thighs together the entire way home as you felt the weight of it in the shopping bag knocking against your leg with each step.

When Asmo saw the immediate glazed over look on your face the moment you walked into the store, he had gleefully explained that the Devildom’s selection of vibrators and dildos might be a little…kinkier than you were used to seeing in the human world. 

Kinky didn’t even begin to describe it.

But there was one particular thing nestled amongst the shelves of monstrous cocks of all shapes and sizes that you couldn’t look away from: a teal-coloured vibrator shaped like a forked tail. 

To your surprise, Asmo said nothing when he met you at the counter with a basket full of his own purchases—he simply offered you a mischievous grin as he nudged a small bottle of lube toward the cashier for you as well. 

It was only later, safely in the darkness of your bedroom, that you let yourself think of it. 

Think of him.

Face buried against your pillow and tears of pleasure leaking from the corners of your eyes, Barbatos’ name was a silent scream on your lips as you fucked yourself with the toy, one end of the tail stuffed into your cunt while you slid the other into your ass. 

You came so hard the first time you nearly blacked out, holes squelching wetly as you greedily chased two more orgasms while the demon butler’s face flashed in the forefront of your mind. And you’d left the evidence like a beacon right on top of your bed when you’d rushed out the door for class the next morning, not sparing a single thought for the servant that would likely be in to tidy up your room in the afternoon. 

Something brushes against your bare ankle, bringing you back to the present, but you can’t bring yourself to look at Barbatos. Not now that you’re certain he knows you purposely bought a fucking vibrator that looks like his goddamn tail. 

As if he can feel the mortification pouring off of you in waves, Barbatos lays a gentle hand on top of yours. “Ask me if I enjoy using my tail on my lovers.”

You suddenly wish you’d taken Solomon up on his invitation to join him in researching teleportation spells. Turning your hand over, Barbatos begins to rub a comforting circle with his thumb into your palm, patiently waiting for your response.

One could say it’s difficult to want for anything with seven demon brothers willing to dote on you day in and day out during your stay in the Devildom, especially when you live with them. But, in perhaps the most cliché manifestation of the age-old adage of wanting what you can’t have, you’ve found it a battle in and of itself to stop thinking about Diavolo’s elusive butler. 

At first, it was his deep voice that set you off-kilter, the tone stroking its way down your spine like liquid fire. Paired with eyes that always look like they know more than they let on and a disarmingly handsome face, the brothers and Lord Diavolo himself are hard-pressed to maintain your attention at the times when Barbatos skirts about the edges of the room, unnoticed by some but always seen by you.

While your time spent in his presence has been meager in comparison to how frequently you see your housemates, Barbatos often makes the most of it with playfully witty remarks that leave you reeling long after he leaves and kind gestures that make your heart ache, like the way he made sure the House of Lamentation was stocked with your favorite tea after you made an offhand remark about it one day. 

With a menagerie of demons eager to monopolize your attention, you were nearly ready to accept defeat in the face of an impossible conquest—because in what world was Diavolo going to let you seduce his fucking butler?

Your plans to stamp out the burning embers of your little crush went to hell in a handbasket the day you saw Barbatos flash into his demon form though, unfortunately. As if seeing his elegant horns wasn’t enough to get your heart positively racing, you’d outright choked on your soup when the real star of the show revealed itself—that goddamn fucking tail. 

Levi had patted you on the back as you gasped for air, vegetables and broth launching an assault on your throat as your wide eyes took in the sight of Barbatos threateningly pointing the forked appendage in Mammon’s face as he held out a hand for the money he owed Diavolo. 

Once you saw that teal, forked tail in all of its slithering glory, there was no going back. The only direction you could spiral was further down into a frustratingly horny purgatory, wondering whether or not it would be uncouth to proposition the demon butler to fuck you with his tail. 

And now, it’s the steady reassurance in Barbatos’ eyes as he squeezes your hand that allows you to let the words tumble from your mouth before you can think better of it, “Do you enjoy using your tail on your lovers, Barbatos?”

What can only be described as a devilish smile curls at the corners of Barbatos’ mouth, and he briefly darts his tongue out between his lips before coyly responding, “In many ways. Was there a specific one you had in mind?”

Your mouth goes dry, confidence faltering at the insinuation in his tone. “I…” you trail off, unable to muster up the filthy thoughts about the male sitting in front of you that have long-since taken up residence in your head.

A contemplative noise escapes his lips as he shifts into his demon form, slowly pushing both of your teacups aside as his tail slithers up onto the table. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lazily flicks the forked edges before pressing it closer to you, the surface of it cool and smooth as it ghosts along the curve of your jaw.

“I’ve been told the secretion has a…pleasant flavor,” he muses, eyes glittering with delight when you unconsciously part your lips at the feeling of his tail now prodding against them. 

Sweet, viscous liquid that vaguely reminds you of honey, though more slick than sticky, hits your tastebuds as one forked tip presses against your tongue. 

And fuck does it taste good. 

You let your jaw relax, and Barbatos readily accepts the invitation, slipping his tail further into your mouth as the other tip caresses your throat. A fresh spurt of the sweet nectar pours onto your tongue, and you greedily gulp it down, moaning softly as you begin to suck on his tail. A soft growl of encouragement rumbles in Barbatos’ chest, plates and mugs clinking in protest when he tightly fists a hand in the ornate tablecloth. 

“And there’s also this…” he adds, tail sliding out of your mouth and trailing down your chest, effortlessly flicking open the buttons of your RAD uniform. 

Knowing full well Lord Diavolo could return to the Demon Lord’s Castle at any time, it’s a battle in and of itself not to cry out at the feeling of Barbatos squeezing your breasts with his tail. But once he uses the twin tips to tease both of your peaked nipples at the same time, the shameless whine you let out can’t be helped, not in any realm. 

Meeting his gaze, you try to steady your breathing as you ask, “Where else?”

Barbatos licks his lips. “Would you still like me to…show you?”

You nod, and his tail disappears under the table, wrapping around one of your ankles and tugging your crossed legs apart. One forked tip pushes your skirt up and out of the way and then tugs aside your underwear, the other spreading your thighs so wide that you slip down in your chair slightly.

And the moment that Barbatos slides his dripping tail through your equally slick folds, your body trembles with a jolt of searing hot pleasure, and a moan so wanton and desperate tumbles from your lips that you know you’ll never be satisfied again without this—

The feeling of one end of his tail firmly massaging your swollen, throbbing clit, the other teasing at your entrance.

The desire written plainly across his face as both tips curl around one another before he begins to ease them into your cunt.

The way he leans across the table and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, fangs scraping against your skin as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

The damp material of the chair beneath you, sodden with the combined arousal leaking from his tail and your wet heat.

The softly uttered, “Beautiful,” as you whimper his name. 

The feral, possessive snarl of frustration that escapes him at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

…the way Barbatos continues to fuck you with his tail even as Diavolo unknowingly strolls into the room with a grin on his face, seemingly none the wiser to the activities hidden beneath the long tablecloth. But after he deftly snatches the last biscuit off of one of the plates in front of you, he offers you a sly wink before turning on his heel and leaving, none too discreetly closing the doors to the sitting room behind him.

You’re nearly on the verge of making a comment about what just happened, but all rational thoughts leave your head when Barbatos quietly rasps, “This is my favorite place to use it, though,” just as a forked tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle nestled between your asscheeks.

He pauses, just for a breath, and you whimper, “Please.”

Appendage covered with both of your fluids, Barbatos begins to stretch your asshole open. If you weren’t so busy moaning and whining unintelligible sounds, begging him to go deeper, you’d laugh at the thought of the silly vibrator now tucked away in your room. Because while the toy had certainly felt good, you know now that nothing can compare to the exquisite pleasure of Barbatos using his real, dexterous tail to fuck both of your holes at the same time. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching across the table once more to stroke your face, thumb sliding across your cheek. “So wet for me. You take me so well.”

You shudder at the praise, hardly able to contain yourself as a wave of pleasure like you’ve never felt before rises up inside of you. And when Barbatos curves his tail so that the part not ruthlessly plunging into your fucked out holes rubs against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you tug on the tablecloth so hard the teacups go crashing to the floor, your entire body shaking with the force of your orgasm. 

Barbatos lets you catch your breath a moment before he pulls his tail out of you, and you can’t help but whine at the emptiness that follows. 

Smirking, he brings the forked edge coated in your cum to his lips and licks it clean before purring, “I have some other things I can show you, if you’d like.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Gale x Tav

words: 1992

rating: E

pairing: Gale x Tav (post game pairing)

summary: since you all are so thirsty for an extended verison of the NSFW headcanons post, I guess I had to make one. I am nothing if not a servant to my people.

tags: magic sex (literally. but also metaphorically), exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation (kind of), Gale using magic for naughty reasons, projection!Gale

part ii part iii

“Alright class! Please turn your alchemy text to Chapter 8, page 394.”

There was a loud, unanimous sound of rustling paper as all the students in the lecture hall flipped through their books to the requested text. You don’t know what Gale was always complaining about. This teaching thing wasn’t that hard.

Gale had to leave for a community conference of the Blackwater staff and some of the other schools of magical arts in Faerûn. Given that they were all wizards, you had asked why they all couldn’t just project their consciousness into one place and avoid the travel, but Gale didn’t have an answer for that and left earlier that week. In his absence, he had asked you to take over his Introductory to Magics class while he was gone. Given that it was an introductory course, which mostly meant learning the basics and text anyway, and you’d had ‘private tutoring’ from Mystra’s former Chosen himself, he insisted you were more than qualified to act in his stead.

It had actually been pretty fun. The young weave masters were all eager to learn. Honestly the hardest thing was keeping them on task with the subjects instead of running off with a lot of questions about your victory over the Elder Brain and recuse of the realm. It was flattering, but not apart of the testing materials.

The students all wait patiently with their books open for you to begin, and you turn around to the blackboard. All of a sudden you felt a twinge between your legs. Not a painful one but more….

“Professor [Y/N], are you alright?”

You turn to look over your shoulder at the class, clearly spaced out for a moment, before you smile and tell them, “oh yes. Sorry. Let’s talk about alchemy then.”

You begin to write and talk to the class when you feel the sensation again. It was faint, but distinct. At first you thought it was just the seam of your trousers rubbing against your apex. But it was too consistent for that. The sensation would come. Then the sensation would go. You tried to keep your mind on the lesson but the more it came & went you had to wonder what was going on.

It couldn’t be Haarlep. Despite your adventure being over, your contract with the sex demon wasn’t. He still used your form from time to time, though your popularity in Avernous seemed to be waning as he hadn’t called on it in some time. If it were him the sensation would be constant, before fading away like a breathless sigh off your lips. So it was something else.

By the time you get through explaining the 4 key groups of alchemy, and made it to page 396, the sensation had crawled up from your core and just to the pit of your belly. You were having a harder time focusing on the lesson. Your attention now spilt between 50% focused on what was happening to your body, a mere 10% on the lecture, and the rest on the stimulating sensation between your legs that was just too pleasurable to resist.

To save face, and avoid any embarrassment like moaning out loud in front of a class full of minors, you quickly pivot the class schedule into independent study. Telling the students to go out around campus and find 5, no 15 herbs, floral, whatever to craft with for tomorrow morning’s follow up lecture on application.

Some of the students seem confused. While other just look excited to have the afternoon off for ‘foraging’. Still, the all leave rate orderly while you wave them off, and just as the door closed behind the last one you let out a deep breath you didn’t really you were holding and brace your hands against the desk.

Your body felt like it was on fire. Teased, tormented, toyed with. Your hands still splayed on the desk, you spread your legs and let out a moan. Conventionally thinking would lead on to believe that rubbing your thighs together would make the sensation stronger, yet somehow spreading them apart made more room for…whatever this was to work. Your clit throbbed at the feeling of something rubbing against it. If they weren’t in front of you, you would have sworn it was your own hand touching you. The sensation was so similar. Your fingertips twitch at the thought. Prepared to slide down the front of your pants to finish you off.

“Hello there!”

You jump with a start. Eyes wide in alarm at the sound of a voice. The immediate thought coming to mind that another professor has come to ask why the entire Introductory to Magics class is out picking herbs & flowers instead of being in a classroom and caught you on the cusp of a very public private moment. Thankfully, it wasn’t. Only Gale’s Mirror Image projection standing there looking cheerfully at you. “Gale? What are you doing here?”

“I assume you mean what is Gale doing sending me here.” The clever non-corporeal remarked. “Gale has sent me here to see how his new technique is working out. And, judging by your flushed cheeks and wanton appearance, I would say it’s going splendidly!”

Your brain struggled to gather all the bits of information the projection was dealing out through your fog. But you gather enough to finally understand what’s going on. “Gale did this to me!”

“Doing. He is doing this to you ma’m.” As if to prove a point of the explanation, there was another, firmer press of rubbing against your clit. One that made you moan again and knees nearly buckle. “Gale has informed me, to tell you, that he enchanted one of the stones on his ring to be linked with your…well…your own stone. He also wants me to tell you it’s the ruby one. On the silver band.”

The one you bought him. “Can I ask…mmm…why he did this?”

“You can ask! He says it was to give you pleasure while he was away. Long distance relationship can be tricky.” It had been less than a week. “He thought this would be a good resolution in the intermedium. And, perhaps other times in the future.”

You’re not sure if you should feel violated by Gale’s magical molestations or marvel at his creativity. It didn’t really matter in the end because all you could think about was the nagging need to cum. And one other nagging thing – “and you couldn’t possibly wait until I was home to try out this new technique? I’m in the middle of teaching your class. I’m still at the academy! What if someone comes in here right now??”

“Oh. Not to worry. Gale has informed me that the door is magically locked until 2:30 this afternoon. Something about office hours? No one can enter until after that time. Does that help answer your question?”

You let out another long, heavy sigh. One of abject relief and feeling your legs give way as you fall back into Gale’s chair. All the energy sapped from your body as you gave way to the pleasure that had been bubbly up. No longer holding it back, but instead letting it wash over you.

“Gale says he’s happy you like your present.”

You open your eyes. Seeing the projection staring at you with a blank, but soothing expression. Those unending eyes seeming to look right through you. Or perhaps, more to the point, stare past itself and straight to Gale. It was kind of hot. The coolness of its gaze. “My present, eh?”

The projection nodded. “Yes. He says he did this for you.”

“Just for me?” You unbutton your blouse. It had been feeling terrible constricting for quite some time now anyway. The projection doesn’t say anything. Nor does its expression change more than the slight tilt of it’s head, as the fabric gave way to relieve more skin and the outline of your breast in their bra.

“He says yes. But the pockets of his mind I can access independently lead me to believe it’s not purely altruistic.”

You giggle at the projection’s honesty, before your laughter turned into moans. The feeling on your clit more intense. As if Gale was trying to change the conversation.

“Fuck…Gale….” Your back arched off the back of the chair for a moment before it came back down again. “I can’t take it anymore. Are you as anatomically correct as before?”

“Hmm…I believe so.” The projection looked down at itself. Seeming to ponder the concept, as well as all its parts. “But Gale has instructed me that he’s not interested in me using that ability with you. The time in Shar’s Caress was due to the other guests in attendance. With you, Gale wants you all to himself.”

There was an odd feeling of arousal at Gale’s possessiveness, even against himself in a way, but also disappointment. You were close. But the sensation from Gale’s ring to your core wasn’t enough. You needed more.

Just as you were again about to shove your own hand down your pants, you feel a new sensation of hands on you. Not just one hand, or two, but multiple hands. Mage hands. They play with your breasts, your nipples, your ears, your hair. You lean back in Gale’s chair with your eyes closed. Moaning and panting with a white-knuckle grip on the arm rests as the invisible hands play with your body. One finally gives you what you want. Phantom appendage digits thrusting into your inner core, wet and hot.

Your hips jerk up as you let out a wordless scream before the fall back down and you let it fuck you. Legs wide. Blouse open. Mouth agape as Gale abuses his power to abuse your body in the most pleasurable way possible. You’re about to cum probably harder than you’ve ever cum in your life and your pants were still on. How insane was that?

You open your eyes, half lidded and only for a moment, to see the projection still staring at you as you fall apart. Then, you finally do. You cum hard. Bowing back off the chair so hard you hear it creak, before you fall back limp against the soft leather.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

You look up at the projection again. Trying to catch your breath and right your world again. “Yes.”

“Good. Gale is glad you did. He also says that it’s made up for a rather dull afternoon of meetings.” A shiver ran up your spine at the thought that Gale had done all of this during a meeting. “The time is now 2:00. If you would like to freshen up, I suggest you make haste before 2:30 when the doors reopen. Gale says that enjoys how you look right now, but it is probably not appropriate for academia.”

“Then maybe don’t do this at ‘academia’ locations.” You quip back as you smooth out your hair.

“Fair.” The projection agrees. “Gale would like to know if you would like to do this again then when you are not in academia. Perhaps tonight? At home?”

You bite your lip at the thought of it. Doing this all over again, only this time naked in your bed. Perhaps even able to participate more now that you knew what was going on. “Absolutely.”

“Splendid!” The projection offers you a smile before it fades. Disappearing with a last, “see you tonight” as it reabsorbed back into the weave.

Alone again, you stand on shaky legs and try to right yourself for the next class. You still had two more classes to teach before you could go home that evening and become Gale’s play thing again.

The thought made it completely impossible to be totally focused on your lesson plan. You may have told some impressionable young wizards that Fly and Feather Fall were absolutely the same spell. Oh well. Mistakes happen.

[amymbona]

Thinking about being very bad, a bad fucking girl, suffering from terrible and overly sensual dreams of being fucked from all sides and angles by demonic, spiritualita beings. And you're so desperate, unable to get a single night of good sleep, so exhausted and unable to perform even the most basic of tasks.

In utter desperation, you seek the guidance of your local priest, kissing the crucifix pendant hanging around his neck and then kneeling by his feet. He sees you as a completely shattered little thing, in dire need of being saved, of having your mind wiped clean. And that is exactly what he is here for.

He pulls you over his lap and allows you to confess all your sins, spanking you for admitting how much of a naughty girl you have been. Soon, you're a mess of tears, begging to be forgiven, to have all your sins wiped away, kneeling between his legs with your red ass stinging and burning. This is what you deserve, the most suitable punishment for having naughty, sinful thoughts.

The priest makes it his personal assignment, a goal to reach, to help you get rid of whatever thoughts your little head has produced and make you a good, christian girl again. He has you demonstrate whatever the devilish spirits are doing to you in your dreams, proceeding to bury his fat cock in your untouched, made in heaven, pussy while you guide him under the impression of chasing your worries away.

Candles burn around the perimeter of the chapel as he makes you kneel by the altar, pounding into you from behind and cursing the saint's name. He's the God's servant, possessed by the spirit, and knows what's best so you allow him, of course. Anything for a good night's sleep. Plus the striking ache of your punishment is soon transformed into pure pleasure, convincing you that all the words the devil has whispered in your ear must be far from sinful.

[paraphwrites]

in the month of december niko makes a "santa's naughty and nice list" because she thinks the gang should be nicer to each other. here are the gang's reactions:

charles claims it isn't effective on him but niko moves him to the naughty list and he spends the next three days crying/essentially becoming niko's servant

the night nurse is offended that she's included in this. she is put on the nice list and feels very happy about it but tells no one. niko knows tho (niko knows all)

edwin is irritated because every time he says something bitchy (every other sentence) he's moved to the naughty list. in the end he buys everyone holiday mugs to be moved to the nice list. he does also argue about people's placements, constantly

crystal tries to subconsciously influence niko into putting edwin on the naughty list (read: tattle-telling every time he's bitchy). she has a great time with it

litty and kingham actually do everything within their power to be put on the secret third list, "super naughty ;)" they get christmas sweaters thrown on them