#and he is trying so hard to be good and faithful and a servant to the blessed andraste and to the maker

[silverhalla]

making YET ANOTHER inquisitor when I’m not even done with the original one, as ya do

[gremlinmodetweeker]

binge reading your works is my best part of the day ><

anyways, I'd like to request kidnapper!könig with an apathetic reader, so tired they decide to stop reacting! (I just need to see könig comfort and cuddle his beloved)

I am so so sorry for not getting to this sooner. As I stated in the last post, I’ve been without a permanent address (but I’m staying with friends) so it’s been hard to find time. I keep hunting for a place to live, but sadly the rental scene is not kind to people on disability. I do not have much money to go anywhere, but I keep trying!

Anyways, I tried to follow the ask, but maybe the ending might be a bit too much? I kept it a bit ambiguous, so you can take it as you will. Either way, it’s a nice fluffy bath scene which should be all fluffy and good for all of us. Lord knows I need to take a shower! I might do that soon actually…

So, you know the drill, story under the cut.

18+ MDNITW: yandere König, suggestive content, kidnapping

Idle

How long had you been here? You’d been staring at these same four walls for days, maybe weeks now. You could see the sun rise in a tiny dingy window up above before setting far far away from where you sat. The moon followed suit like a faithful servant to their glorious master. You only watched with dim eyes.

König came down multiple times every day to speak to you. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to him. Instead, you listened to him prattle about his every day. You learned he was ex military, discharged for an ‘accident’ related to his mental health. He didn’t go into detail. You didn’t ask.

Listening to him prattling on about whatever was on his mind that day helped make the days pass by quicker. The dull and insipid meals he presented to you quickly ramped up in quality. His meals became elaborate, and though some were blunders, he was quickly learning and adapting. However, it was all lost on your dull tongue.

At this point, you wondered if there was any difference between spending time in the world outside or being locked away in this basement. The mattress was hard and your back was beginning to hurt. Your arms ached when you lay on your side, but what else was there to do? It didn’t matter that he piled a plethora of hobbies and crafts around your bed in a desperate hope to invigorate you. It was all lost on you.

Heavy bootsteps trod down the creaking wooden stairs like the treading of a great machine. His gears creaked as he ducked under the doorway, and he grunted a cloud of smoke as he approached you. When he neared, he smelled of cigarettes and beer, but there was something else that was hidden deep beneath. If you weren’t so tired, maybe you would’ve been intrigued, but instead you simply shallowed your breathing to avoid taking in his pungent odor.

“Pet, why are you so sad?” you felt rough calloused fingers trace along your cheek. It felt nice, but you couldn’t bear to give in to his advances.

“When can I go outside?” you retorted.

König slumped into a crestfallen crouch, “Not for some time. If you are good, then you can go out, ja?”

“Aren’t I good now?” you sighed.

König shook his head.

“Being sad does not mean you are good,” König stroked your matted hair, “I bring you hairbrushes and combs, yet you still don’t take care of yourself. I even got your skincare from your old place. Yet still, you won’t wash your face. When did you last brush your teeth?”

You shrugged, “A while ago.”

König chortled as he walked away, “I can tell. Let’s get you cleaned up. Maybe that will make you feel better?”

You didn’t bother reacting. You knew there was no point.

König drew a bath for you in the other room for you. You could smell the sweet scents wafting through the air, and despite yourself, you relaxed. When he unlocked your cuffs and carried you to the washroom, you took in the hot steamy air that had fogged the bathroom mirror. The lights were off, but sweet scented candles had been set out for you. When you were placed down, he’d made sure to set you on a puffy bath mat.

“There, my pet,” König murmured as he brushed your sides down, “now let’s get you undressed. Raise your arms for me.”

You did as he asked. You’d learned that despite his rough and irritable ways, he was a gentle giant around you. He took care to touch you as little as possible as he took off your clothes, tossing them into the laundry for you before helping guide you to sit in the bathroom.

You let out a sigh as he carefully helped you lay back. You hated how perfect everything was. It would’ve been so much easier to hate him if he weren’t so damn loveable. Everyone you knew would have been sickened by how easily you let this man take control of you. You never thought of escaping, but König didn’t know that. He was still so worried that you’d leave. It pained you, in a strange way. How could you care for him so deeply but also hate his entire existence? Was it worth thinking about? It didn’t matter. You were trapped in this basement, and you doubted you would ever feel the sun on your skin again.

“Oh pet, why won’t you smile anymore?” König mourned as he sudsed a washcloth for you.

“Why should I?” you snorted.

“Because I am here for you now,” König reminded you, as though it wasn’t the constant of your every day.

He set the washcloth aside and squirted some of your shampoo on his hands. When he sunk his hands in your greasy hair, you couldn’t stop yourself from sighing and relaxing into his hands.

“There… Isn’t that better?” König murmured into your neck, “if you just let me take care of you, everything will be okay.”

You didn’t reply, instead sinking into his scalp massage. He must have been watching tutorials for this. There was no way he was this naturally skilled. In a way, it touched you that he would go out of his way to learn all these new skills for you, but on the other hand, how did he have so much time? Where did he get all the money? Was it worth asking these questions?

He washed your hair with warm water. You couldn’t help but let go. It was so nice to finally feel clean. You could already feel your hair returning to its normal state. He brushed your hair lightly, wincing whenever you hissed and taking care to be gentle on the worst of the mats. He was so careful for such a hulking goliath of a man. You didn’t think his large hands could be so dexterous, but here you were, relaxing in his hands as he massaged conditioner into your hair. He was careful and methodical as he worked, ensuring you were perfect cared for, free of any pain or stress in the world. You caught yourself nearly smiling a few times. You had a feeling he saw, but chose not to comment. Smart man.

“There,” he took the washcloth again and started rubbing deep circles into your aching back, “I know the bed is no good. You will sleep with me soon, I promise. No more pain.”

You closed your eyes and let him work the knots out of your back.

“I promise it will get better,” König promised, “you will be meine Frau, and then we will be happy.”

You’d long since learned that ‘meine Frau’ meant ‘my wife’. At this point, you didn’t bother correcting him. Sometimes you looked down at your hands and you were surprised that there was no ring on your finger. It bothered you.

“I’m sorry, Frau,” König sighed as he dipped down, “but you need to be clean. I want you healthy and safe.”

You let him clean your lower parts without question. He was thankfully quick and efficient. It was a small comfort that he tried his best to avoid hurting you too much. You figured the reason he hadn’t suggested that you do it yourself was that he knew you wouldn’t so much as lift your hand to take the washcloth from him. Still, it would have been nice for him to offer, or that’s what you kept telling yourself.

“All done,” König’s hand retracted as he rinsed the washcloth, “now just your hair.”

He rinsed your hair with the shower attachment, thankfully gentle with the remaining mats. He muttered something about ‘keeping your beautiful hair’ as he worked diligently. You figured it had probably grown a bit since you’d come here. Maybe you’d need a trim.

The rest of the bath was calm and relaxed. He left and let you soak for a bit on your own before he came back and took a towel from the dryer below the sink and pulled the plug on you. When you got cold, he wrapped you in the plush towel and helped you dry down. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief. You’d never get a bathroom without a washer and dryer in it again. It was just far too convenient.

He carried you back to your bed where a new change of clothes had been set out on freshly changed sheets. So that was what he was doing when he left you in the bath. It was a nice gesture, but you knew that wouldn’t make the mattress any softer. At the very least, it would smell nice.

You changed into the modest clothing he gave you, all comfortable and soft to make you feel more at ease in this foreign environment. It was a nice change to having to make yourself up in stuffy clothing for your office job at least.

Your kindly captor gave you a tiny hug before he locked you back in your ankle shackle and left you in the basement. The only reminded of his presence was the faint lingering smell of cigarettes, a smell that had become surprisingly comforting since you’d adjusted to staying here.

He kept promising that you could go out, but hope left you as the days crawled by. A part of you hated him, a part of you was grateful he’d spirited you away from your past life. The meals were certainly more substantial, and you’d gotten a little bit more well rounded, but not to the point where you were upset with yourself.

Your life had become perfectly calm. There was no stress of socializing with people who hated you, no worrying about rent or bills, no threat of eviction or skipped meals. It was idyllic, really. So why were you so sad?

Art supplies were littered before you, something you once would have jumped at. He had a space dedicated to working out if you should so please. He even had a state of the art desktop lined up for you, primed with both his and your steam account and a few emulators ready and primed for you. It was all perfect, but you only lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.

Life was meaningless, and so you ignored the world. However, as much as you tried, you couldn’t ignore how soft König was with you.

You curled into the warm sheets. The ceiling was still there to be stared at. The craft supplies were still there to be ignored. But this time, your toothbrush and your hairbrush seemed more enticing.

Maybe you’ve been here for too long.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Your work inspires me so much!! If its ok, could i request something…? I´m in need of some angsty headcanons, since i dreamed about this particular scenario… How would the kings (who are deeply in love) react after discovering that his beloved MC is madly in love with one of their most faithful subordinates? MC has rejected their romantic advances before, but they are only now realizing why… And that… Hurts. I imagine would be Satan-Sitri, Beel-Bael, Levi-Foras, Mammon-Bimet?, Luci-Marbas? (my heart can't do this with Gami, its his little broo), and Belph-Beleth. Sorry if my english is bad, but thank you so much for your hard work!

WHB kings reaction to their crush liking someone else

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

A/N: Aw, thank you and dw your english is good! ^^

Warning: Some of these get a bit yandere :)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Well, Satan is seeing red

He's unable to look at Sitri the same

In doing so he spends more time with Amy, which makes Sitri mad

The two eventually end up having an argument about it and if you haven't told Sitri yet, he's in for another shock

Being the good king he is, he won't stand in your relationship as long as you hide it in front of him

If he sees you two together without leaving a space for Jesus, one of you is getting kicked across the whole Hell

Also to add onto the angst: his visits to pubs and heavy drinking get more frequent

At some point it gets so bad that the smell of alcohol just carries with him, but his mind is still sound enough to be a king

       ༺☆༻

Oh...

Well, this is a first

Wanting something, but he can't have it?

So this is what it's like to be a common peasant

Mammon hates the feeling of that

He would never hurt you, you're his master and you're free to do what you want

Still, that doesn't mean that Bimet won't feel the sting of it

So Mammon gives him less and less change

Bet you feel stupid now, since Bimet has barely any money

Oh, and look... Mammon just so happens to be very hot and fanning himself with a stack of money

Care for a 5* hotel stay at the most expensive spa in all of Hell?

       ༺☆༻

Full Yandere mode

What, did you expect anything less from the king of Envy?

How foolish you are, really...

Leviathan gets commisioned a golden cage that's installed into his bedroom and that's where you stay

If you try to escape too many times, he'll even go as far as chaining you to the metal construction

For extra security, while he's away, there's at least five of his servants guarding you

If you're to go somewhere, it's only with Leviathan himself

Even Barbatos and Glasyalabolas can't be trusted

Oh, and Foras? He's lucky to even be alive

Anytime they cross paths in the halls, he's hanging from the cieling in a matter of seconds and isn't let go until he's passed out from the lack of oxygen

       ༺☆༻

Ahahah, nope

That doesn't stop Beel

No, he dosen't even acknowledge the fact

You're his

Bael? You fell for him while he was dressed up as Beel and now you're just confused, silly Y/N.

Is he gaslighting you or himself? Kinda both, actually

Poor Bael is just witnessing the whole thing and can't do anything about it

Beel is just an unstoppable force and nothing can change his mind

It's probably best to just let him forget about his feelings towards you

Let's hope that'll happen within your lifetime, otherwise youv'e got a stalker that defies all natural and supernatural laws

       ༺☆༻

Now, Belphie might be asleep most of the time, but that still doesn't mean you get to just run around and wanna be with anyone else

Oh, it's Beleth you're into?

Hm, looks like Belphie has to have a lengthy talk with him about it then

Since he hates long convos, it has to be short, sweet and straight to the point

And that's how Beleth finds himself smothered by the king's power as he's practically threatening to make him evaporate if he doesn't back off from you and reject all your advances

(Actually, you can still be in relationship with Beleth outside of the king's palace, but if Belphie finds out from someone else or smells your scent on Beleth, you're both gone)

       ༺☆༻

Lucifer tries to be as mature as possible, but there's still this jealousy gnawing on him from the inside

Asks Buer to help him with some meditation and breathing excercises to chase away his feelings and the thoughts

As one of the Seraphims, he had to learn to share God's love and this comes in handy

Actualy, what's wrong with having more than one partner? This is Hell, afterall...

The rest of his nobles know not to bring up you or Marbas in the same sentence or even the same context

Luci, being the demon of pride and all, firmly believes, that your feelings for Marbas are just temporary and soon you'll come to realise which demon is superior to that sex-crazed maniac

If things take a little too long for his liking, however, he's not against serving you a special type of tea strained through his underwear to speed things up

But don't worry, he's doing this for your own good :)

[nyrasproblm]

LET THE WORLD BURN

Feyd-Rautha x fem!reader

Summary: Feyd's actions make you try to run away from him.

Word Count: 0,7K

Warning: ANGST, deaths, power imbalance, jealousy, possessive behavior.

note: this story was posted before my blog was deleted and is also available on AO3.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

You kept running as fast as you could, even though you somehow knew it would be useless. His fear spoke louder than his reason, the tears flowing freely down his face were proof of that.

Your knees were shaking slightly from all the time you ran, the hallways all looked the same. You always hated that about Harkonnen Fortress: everything looked exactly the same. Turning another hallway, you leaned against one of the walls to take a deep breath, still looking around with wide eyes.

Your husband's hoarse voice was still present in your ears, you thought you would never forget it.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

The sick psychotic man you were stuck with for the rest of your life. That thought made you shiver slightly. Feyd treated you well, as well as someone like him could, but then you perhaps abused his good faith, spending too much time with other people than with him, spending more time with other men, laughing with them. Feyd gave you a warning to stop it, or he would be seen as a weak husband who doesn't have his wife's respect, but you didn't listen, so he started being extremely violent, not physically and not towards you, of course.

Feyd seemed obsessed with you since before the wedding, the possessive behavior seemed to get worse.

You had only been married for about a couple of months and you couldn't take it anymore, Feyd would kill anyone for anything. Before it was just the servants, but then he started killing guards, officers working for his uncle, and one of his concubines. It wouldn't take long for your turn to come.

You should calm down and not think like that because at your wedding Feyd swore at the altar that he would protect you, but you knew that wasn't true.

You took comfort in the fact that if Feyd laid a finger on you he would answer to your father, and the alliance his uncle had formed with your planet would end. But tonight... tonight made you forget all that.

Feyd seemed more skittish than usual, aggressive. He had entered his quarters and was breathing heavily, his nostrils flared. You remained quiet, but it seems that your silence irritated him even more, he started throwing the furniture in the room, the dresser, the mirror, and turned to you. You could have sworn you saw his eyes red with anger, without waiting another second you ran away, getting lost in the maze of colorless corridors of this place.

Your thoughts returned to the present moment when you realized that you had been standing in the same place for a long time, Feyd could reach you if you stayed there. Walking back, you sighed heavily and groaned in frustration when you saw that the next hallway was exactly the same as the one you were in.

Before you could turn back and see if you could enter another hallway, a pair of muscular arms closed around you, your back pressed against his chest, warm and hard from years of training. You looked down and immediately recognized the hands with the fingers full of Feyd rings. Before he could scream, a large, calloused hand covered his mouth.

"I was too weak, I shouldn't have fallen in love with someone treacherous like you." his voice tickled your ear. "I let you get too close, that will change."

You struggled and tried to free yourself, but it was useless, Feyd was bigger and stronger from the years of training and fighting.

"I know you think you can get away, but I'm the only one." he tightened his grip. "I can't let you go, don't you understand?"

He released you and turned your body, making you face him, then pushed you towards one of the dark walls, you felt your back pressed against the cold stone. Then he pressed himself against you, pinning your arms to your sides, bringing your body closer to his.

"You don't understand, you don't understand what I would do for you, woman." he nuzzled your cheek and you held your breath. "I would burn the world down, I would burn the whole world down for you. It would just be you and me, you would call my name."

"Don't say that, Feyd..."

"If I can't have you, then no one else can." Looking into his eyes, you knew that was true.

You were his forever.

[razorblade180]

Petty Bet

Mualani and Aether: *eating together*

Paimon:…..Are yall gonna kiss or what?

Aether:*chokes aggressively*

Mualani:W-What!? Where did that come from?

Paimon:You’re always hanging out. Everyone is thinking it. All are watching with interest.

Aether:No, you’re just a busybody. What, you make a bet or something with my relationships?

Paimon:….*averts eyes*

Aether:You’re betting on me!?

Paimon:Maybe! Who could say!?

Mualani:Haha, that explains the intense approach. Who the heck are you betting w- it’s Ajaw, isn’t it?

Paimon:He needs to know failure! To be humbled!

Aether:What was the bet?

Paimon:He said “despite the mediocrity of my lowly servant, the blonde would easily fall victim to Kinich before some chatty Beach Bum” and Paimon thought that was stupid and said “Aether’s been falling for Mualani faster than a rushing tide. If he’s wants to be with anyone it’s clearly someone as likable as her!”

Aether:Now why would you repeat that last part?

Mualani:I’ve been giving you nonstop surfing lessons every chance we get when you ask.

Aether:Because it’s fun! We’re having fun!

Mualani:Also , “chatty beach bum?” I might have to tell Kinich about that one.

Paimon:Oh yeah, losing means Paimon has to “bow celebrate his glory as a faithful servant.”

Mualani:And if he loses?

Paimon:He gets locked up for a week.

Mualani:Aether, I think it would be incredibly irresponsible of you to not kiss me.

Aether:You are shockingly petty.

Mualani:It’s Ajaw! Nobody wants a world where he’s winning. A week of us hanging out with Kinich and Kachina in peace.

Paimon:Why are you pretending you don’t literally fall in love with a land and its people in every nation.

Aether:*holds Sandshrew* For your information, I’m trying to set a good example my child and take matters slow like the responsible adult I am.

Sandshrew: Rawr!

Aether:See? They agree.

Paimon:You flirted your way out of court case against in Fontaine.

Mualani:That’s impressive.

Aether:Thank you. I surprised myself.

Paimon:You’re not even denying it!

Mualani:Admittedly, my pride would be ever so slightly bruised if Ajaw did win that bet. In the grand scheme of it all however, it doesn’t really matter considering I’m dating Kinich.

Paimon:WHAT!?

Mualani:Yeah I’m not surprised Ajaw didn’t mention that part. Kinich actually made the first move. I was super surprised. That’s probably why Ajaw was so confident you’d lose.

Paimon:That little- of course he’d play dirty.

Aether:And what are you doing right now?

Paimon:Irrelevant.

Mualani:Don’t be too hard on her. To be fair, Kinich and I are just as competitive in our own way. Like how we plan fun one on one activities with you. And don’t pretend you don’t know we’re flirting; otherwise you wouldn’t have felt the need to explain your lifestyle. You totally like the attention.

Aether:*red* It doesn’t happen often. I feel a little special is all.

Mualani:And there’s nothing wrong with that. I honestly like just hanging out. I’d do it regardless if you’re interested in me or not.

Paimon:You’re totally is type. It’s actually embarrassing.

Aether:I’m gonna grill you.

Paimon:What!? We both agree Mualani and Kachina definitely should get the chance to meet Amber and Collei. They’d be the bestest friends. Especially Amber and Mualani.

Mualani:Oh? Now I’m interested. She sounds like quite the individual.

Aether:Hehe, yeah she’s incredible.

Meanwhile….

A burning stove

Amber:….

Eula:I didn’t think buring water was possible. *freezes stove*

Amber:What can I say? I’m full of surprises. *lowers head* Let’s just order breakfast today.

xxxxxx

Mualani:Well the way I see things, you have options that all lead to fine outcomes. If you’re not interested in either of us that’s perfectly okay. If you aren’t attracted to me that’s alright. I know I’m a lot.

Paimon: (I see he hasn’t gotten to his Fontaine stories yet…)

Mualani:However, if you do happen to be interested, then I have it on good authority that leaning forward right now wouldn’t be embarrassing at all. *smirks*

Paimon:I’ll cover Sandshrew’s eyes.

Aether:How the heck did I end up becoming the equivalent of a bounty?

Paimon and Mualani: You’re a catch.

Sandshrew: Rawr!

Aether:….

xxxxxx

Paimon:Hello Kinich! *side eyes* Ajaw…

Kinich:Mind your tone, anemic bloaty floaty. Soon you will be bowing in reverence to the mighty-

Paimon pulls out a photo she took of Aether and Mualani from a distance, creating the assumption that she did it in secret. It was the two of them sharing a gentle and whimsical kiss by the water with their meal.

Ajaw:WHAT!? IMPOSSIBLE!

Paimon:Oh it’s very possible. You’re looking right at it. They’re dating and you’ve lost.

Kinich:Well I guess that’s that. *stands up* It was one week, correct?

Ajaw:Don’t you dare! This thing cheated! It had to!!

Kinich:You know what they say. “You play stupid games…”

Paimon: “You get stupid prizes.”

Kinich:Time to honor your reward for losing.

Ajaw:I swear to the heavens themself if you dare- *banished*

Kinich:Realistically I’m probably going to need him after for four days to do something.

Paimon:Every second will be cherished. Also, you’ve been invited to go camping and to a dinner.

Kinich:Heh, I suspected as much. *smiles* I really can’t keep with all you sometimes.

[cvlutos]

OUR FAIRYTALE ENDING

✡︎ May.09.2023 | 2.3K| Commissioned by @starstruckcaptain

✡︎ Yandere! Kalim A. | Fem!Reader

✡︎ Yandere | Angst | Kidnapping | Stalking | Obsession | Lovesick | Different POVs | Timeskips | Noncon | Smut | Blood | Manipulation | Etc | Proceed with Caution, My Love.

✡︎ Synopsis: It started with a simple fairy tale, the devolved into a obbesassion, the became an illness. One that has no true cure.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five |

“A true love kiss that seals is binding. Ties to lovers together. No matter the odds.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

The thick pages of the large hard-covered book are heavy in his small hands, placed heavily in his lap, as his wide garnet red eyes dart quickly across the old, yellowed pages, reading the old fading ink. He hears the gentle rustling of wind that dances through wooden wind chimes, creating gentle clattering as he focuses on the pages. Lips a gap in utter awe with the old fairy tale.

The young heir is tucked away in a dimly lit corner of the ancient library, sitting crisscross beneath a dust-covered wooden desk, using a long wax candle, placed upon a golden hand-held candlestick, using the gentle orange flame to light the small corner of where he sat and give him the ability to see. Still dressed in his silk pajamas and barefoot as he sits upon the plush velvet cushion, one that he dragged from his bedroom with the help of his faithful servant and closest friend, Jamil Viper, who has currently disappeared somewhere in the library, though Kalim, knows he’s always near.

He always is.

Yet that isn't what the young heir cares for, not at this moment. He wants to fall in love like the prince in his story does. Who is so kind and sweet, who gives to the poor, who sees the good in everyone. The prince in his tale showers his love in gold and jewels, and dances within sunlit days and cool moonlit nights away. Who holds them close and seals their love with a kiss. Yes, this is what he desires more than anything.

To get married to his own love. To his princess.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Shall I have you for all my own! Yes, I shall slay dragons, fight demons, and save you for all you are! Because I love you! And what is stronger than love?"

— Childhood Fairy Tale

“Do you think soulmates exist?”

Kalim walks along the towered wall, arms outstretched as he balances, placing one foot in front of the other, with Jamil by his side, holding the young heir’s belongings as they walk around the large vibrant courtyard, wasting time before Kalim's next school lesson, which is history. One of Kalim's least favorite, since the tutor is quite rude.

The large grassy courtyard is filled with unique plants--ranging from distant flowers, that fill the air with a rich fragrant aroma, and lush green bushes that hid colorful berries, to elegant and giving fruit trees, that Kalim occasionally takes from, filling his stomach with fresh oranges and plums.

“I don't see why they don't exist.” Jamil’s answer is simple, honest—like he hadn't bothered to think about it more than a mere moment, allowing Kalim to indulge in his fantasies, while he focused on making sure Kalim didn't topple off the stone wall and hurt himself. Which he knows Kalim wouldn't care about, wanting to immediately visit the palace doctor, desiring to be spoiled and given a handful of sweet candy for listening so well. Obviously trying to avoid the stern history tutor. While Jamil knows the doctor will send him to be scolded by his parents for being so careless about the young successor's health.

Which is something Jamil would rather avoid.

Charcoal grey eyes occasionally glance over, watching the heir’s feet skip and balance on the wall, occasionally wobbling, which nearly gave the young retainer a heart attack.

“I wonder where my soulmate is! She just has to be thinking about me!”

Not paying attention to Jamil's clear nervousness and annoyance with constantly having to divide his attention, Kalim continues hopping and bounding along the old wall carelessly. White hair shifting in the mild breeze as the loose clothing he wore sways and is pulled by the wind. Earning a delighted laugh from the young successor follows the wind’s pull, carelessly falling off the wall in one fluid motion. Jamil’s face pales as he rushes to the other side, jumping over the fence, still carrying the heavy school bag. Watching Kalim lay on his back, unphased as he lands in plush grass. Staring up at the bright blue sky, arms spread out gaily.

“And when we met Jamil! I'll give her the sweetest kiss! Then we’ll get married!”

Jamil bites his tongue and merely nods in return, gently placing the bag on the ground, taking the moment to sit in the shade of the stone wall, listening to Kalim laugh away. Letting the young heir to the Asim Family have his daydreams. Cause eventually, he will be saddled with reality, a harsh reality.

Even Kalim Al-Asim is not untouchable to the world of arranged marriages.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“Even in your faults of delusion. I shall cherish you—clear your mind of horrors and love you eternally.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

The pen scratches along the paper, held by a shaky hand that moves across the page, quickly and frantically. Barely aware of what he writes, but knowing he has to write down what he remembers of his dream. A dream so vivid that it seemed real—that it was real. His milky white hair was in complete disarray, with drool decorating the side of his lips, and sweat coating his skin. The cool desert air does little to cool him, as the windows remain open, giving a clear view of the bright full moon that barely illuminates his pages. He can barely see, barely make out the words he writes messily, still in a half-sleep daze, but he needs to remember.

It’s late in the night, and he's awake before either Jamil or any of the other numerous servants checked on him, eager to serve every whim and need. While only the two guards were stationed outside his door possibly awake, but quite unaware of the quiet rambles of the heir, who drew a messy portrait of the woman in his dream. He sits upon the plushness of his bed, with a leather-bound journal in his lap, filled with other dreams of this same woman and stories that were written poorly but stories he adores that speak of you and him.

You have filled his life unlike any other.

Kalim dreamed of a pretty woman with pretty eyes. A woman that loved him, that desired him, heart and soul. That threw herself into his arms and held him so desperately. Cupping his face and whispering over and over and over how much she loved him. How she'd wait forever and ever and ever for him. Those dreams would matter less once they met.

The brain is a cruel thing.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

“If you do not love me, then I accept that your feelings are your own. But I cannot deny mine, my pure feelings of want! I will love you. Forever.”

— Childhood Fairy Tale

There’s slight worry in his ways, a slight obsession that fills Kalim, as he turns woman after woman away, only holding eyes for one and giving no other a chance. Holding out for the woman he loves and loves him in return.

Still, kindness is etched into his being, rejecting each in utter honesty, speaking of why he cannot love them. Each woman leaves with nothing but understanding, that leaves with the feeling of rejection... Dull.

Leaves each to hope and to find love in one who's as devoted as he, as Kalim speaks of nothing but his true love. As his presence alone emits such devotion and passion with great fervor that you would think that his love was real.

That all he speaks was truth. That this mysterious woman was real—and she is. To him.

Jamil is the only one aware of the truth, the only one aware that Kalim lives within his own lies—within his own delusions.

Yet he keeps such thoughts to himself.

Allowing the young heir to ramble on and on, to speak endlessly about his beautiful, enchanting lover, to show sketch after sketch and mourn that he could never recreate her beauty, but once he found her, he would know immediately. Jamil says nothing, merely sits, and watches Kalim flip through his journal, page after page filled with nothing but her, her, her.

A Her without a name.

══════ •✦• ════════════ •✦• ══════

Night Raven College does nothing to curve his growing obsession. To stomp out this flame that burns and festers within his chest.

"I had another dream."

Jamil tries to keep his placated look, only sharing a brief look behind him, watching garnet eyes look utterly lovesick. Remembering not of his outbursts that follow after he awakes from his dreams—dreams that have Kalim waking up screaming—sobbing his eyes out in pain as if he was being stabbed and ripped apart. Screams that frighten the other dormmates, as their housewarden wakes up covered in sweat, tossing off his blankets and pillows in mass hysteria. While others desperately call and usher Jamil into the room. Who forces the others out as he holds Kalim onto the large bed, forcing his body to go limp from exhaustion. Sobs turning into faint mumbles, silently wailing about how badly he needs them, how he could die from the simple pain of being far from them, and how fate keeps them apart.

"It hurts," he cries, it hurts that he can't be with his love. Eyes fluttering close. After so many years, it's so painful to dream. Nights that force Jamil to remain by his side, forced to console his "friend" who doesn't want kind words but merely wants her.

And in the mornings, it is no better.

With Jamil ushered his heir awake, gently shaking his shoulders, waiting for Kalim to open his eyes—to open his eyes to the waking world. Only for him to throw tantrums, sobbing and begging for Jamil to let him go back. To let him her. "Please, let me see her. Please", Kalim sobs, body limp as Jamil practically drags him from bed.

Kalim wants to spend his days in his fantasy only.

His retainer does well to avoid the topics of love and dreaming, doing well to keep Kalim, for the most occupied with anything else. Leaving no time for Kalim to think about her--you--for a moment.

Yet sometimes this obsession seeps through the cracks. Slipping past the several walls Jamil has built to keep him sane.

Kalim's voice is a whisper amongst the sea of people, walking side by side with Jamil, who carries his and the heir's bag with a tepid look, more focused on navigating through the many students and not be late to their next class. Wanting Kalim to do anything but speak about you.

Kalim doesn't notice his friend's disinterest, used to Jamil's silent air, and far too deep in his mind, far too in love with the idea he has built.

He continues talking.

“But this time it wasn't in the courtyard, but the school gardens.” There’s an optimistic tone in his voice, one that makes Jamil sick. He says nothing, as Kalim walks with a certain breeze in his step as he moves, unconcerned by the weird glances he got as the two glid through the crowd, a delighted smile upon his face. Jamil gives a short hum, letting Kalim know he was somewhat listening, which Kalim believed was highly important. Jamil had to listen, and he had to absolutely like his lover, and care for her as his retainer cares for him.

Which is something Jamil has heard numerous times, from long-time friends to distant guests he was sure that Kalim would never see again. And under any other circumstances, Jamil would give a blunt ‘Absolutely. A friend of yours is a dear friend of mine’, with a deep bow, while easily lying through his teeth with a faux sweet tone, something that Kalim would believe without any worry.

Yet this time, Kalim was serious.

Garnet eyes were unmoving, and lips pressed together, sitting more poised like a ruler--like a king that deserved respect. Kalim was not asking, nor making a random comment nor gesture of goodwill. He was demanding that Jamil swear it--swear upon his oath that he made to Kalim since the day he was born. To vow that he would care for his love.

Forcing Jamil to not see him as an overly innocent man who was hopelessly in love, but as the next heir of the Al-Asim Family who had found his future bride. He, whose word is absolute. And Jamil did, pressing his forehead to the cold marble ground, swearing upon his life to care for her. And after a moment, Kalim was satisfied, returning back to his carefree self a moment later.

“Jamil… She said she was here. Waiting for me to find her.”

Kalim stops, the halls clearing slowly. His gaze stares out into the school courtyard below, standing silently in the open stone halls, wind rustling through his hair as he gathers his thoughts before the large open windows. His hand clutches the ends of his shirt with nothing but a grin.

A chill runs along Jamil’s spine, staring at Kalim with unrevealing eyes, lips pressed together as he gives a firm nod. Inching to move as he watches garnet eyes fill with something unlike him while searching his retainer’s before frowning.

“You don't seem happy—”

“I am.” Jamil’s words are quick, watching the dark look unfamiliar look disappear quickly, his smile automatically returns. Unable to hide his happiness nor remain still, he practically lunges onto his closest friend with a tight hug, squeezing tightly.

“You’ll help me find her…” Kalim speaks, but he follows with a gentle sigh and a headshake, “I know you will.” It’s a command. One that isn't forceful, nor threatening, but an expectation.

Jamil is his servant after all.

“Of course, I will.”

ⓒ 2023 cvlutos — all rights reserved. Any sort of plagiarizing, copying, modifying, translating, editing of my works are strictly prohibited.

[nonbinaryeye]

Forced to Take a Break

Written for @gortash-week

Day 4 - Relax

Enver Gortash is a busy man; he has no time to relax. Not of his own free will at least. Sometimes the circumstances force him though.

Read on AO3

...

His pocket watch is neatly tucked in his breast pocket. He assembled all the fragile metal parts, all the little cogs inside them, himself. Yet they keep betraying him over and over, again and again, by ticking a time away a bit too fast for his liking. He thought he had more time. He always thinks he has more time and no matter if it is true or not, he also always needs more time. Sometimes he is willing to cheat and buy it through any accessible means. Yet he is always surprised when the hour to pay the price arrives.

Gortash does not remember falling unconscious. He was working late, even later into the night than he usually does. There are so many changes he needs to make as the newest Director of Foundry and it is always so hard to find people who are not only loyal but also at least a bit competent. At one point he was doing the last revision of the newest instructions for Bane’s faithful – servants to himself as much as to their Dark Lord – and the next one he finds himself in a dream-like hastened state. He is still vaguely aware of everything happening around him but the reality seems to be several layers of thick fog away. It would be so easy to fully forget of it, if it had not been for the familiar voice cutting right through like a dagger through flesh.  

“Has someone finally managed to kill you or has the tyrant forgotten again that a body requires sleep?” The Dark Urge chuckles, tone filled with playful teasing reserved just for their Banite ally. They appear to stand right behind his chair. Gortash has not heard any steps nor doors or windows being opened. But even in a much more awake or straight out vigilant state it is almost impossible to notice them before they themselves wish to be noticed.

“For someone who criticised where I can fall asleep, your choices do not seem to be that much more comfortable…”

You can hardly compare falling asleep on the desk to taking naps in piles of viscera or freshly dug graves. Gortash attempts to scoff at them and slowly rise so he can with no doubt see them baring their deadly sharp teeth in amusement. But he cannot.

His limbs feel so heavy. Unmoving. No matter how hard he tries or how much he wills for them to raise up or at least twitch, his body is refusing to respond. Gone on a strike for the mistreatment he has put it through. No matter the effort he puts into it, no coherent sound comes out of his mouth. His tongue does not feel like part of his body right now, it is just a dead slug lying in his mouth uselessly.

“Enver…?” they do not let any sign of worry slip into their voice but the fact that they called him by his first name is proof enough of their concern on its own. As much as Gortash has a bit of complicated feelings towards his first name he enjoys the way they roll it on their tongue. But his mind is as slowed down as the rest of the body and he struggles to put his thoughts together properly, draw some conclusion from their worry, his name on their lips and how he is feeling about it.

Gortash senses them moving closer. The Dark Urge places their fingers on his neck to the side of his windpipe to check his pulse over his carotid artery. The deadly claws, so often covered in blood, so used to ripping throats, touch him gently and linger over him much longer than they need to. Gortash fails again trying to turn his head, wondering what expression might be on their face right now. What is going through their head?

“Hmph, this thing again,” the clinging sound of empty glass bottles meeting each other lets him know they have noticed the used-up speed potions. “You should be more careful with this stuff. It is not good for you,” they lecture him because they can never understand, they refuse to consider that sometimes his work cannot be postponed and he needs to push through to finish what he is doing. So sometimes he needs a little boost of energy.

The Dark Urge leans to his ear. He can feel the tingle of their icy cold breath – a feature of his dragonborn heritage. Their tongue must be almost licking his earlobe as he speaks.

“You would be so easy to kill like this,” morbid flirtation sneaks into their tone as their hand is placed on his throat again in suggestion of a longitudinal cut through his trachea. One movement, easy and natural for their sharp claws to make, and he would be dead.

That would not be very satisfying though, would it? To kill me like this? Gortash does not answer as he still cannot force his tongue to work. At this point even he recognizes he maybe should feel a sparkle of fear, being so helpless in the presence of a predator, but all his senses are too numb. Besides he knows them well enough to be able to tell when they mean their threats.

“What should I do with you like this, Enver?” they sigh and Gortash is not quite certain what they mean. This is their cue to leave. Maybe laugh at him for it later during their next meeting, start another pointless discussion about his habits and that he should be more careful about his substance abuse. To which he will point out that no one but them can sneak up on him unharmed by all his various traps and that he really did not intend to fall hastened and this is a really rare one-time occurrence which they unfortunately get to witness.

But they stay. He feels their arms wrapping around his body in an embrace and he does not realise what they are planning to do till he feels himself being picked up. He is not a lightest man and his muscles and limbs are uncooperative. Dead weight. Yet they do not seem to struggle at slightless in handling him. It should have not come as a surprise. They must have enough of experience in carrying unresponsive bodies around.

He instinctively tries to protest against being manhandled but there is nothing he can do nor say to stop them. Completely at the mercy of a bloodthirsty killer. They can choose to do with him whatever they desire.

And what they seem to desire to do is to carry him and put him in bed. He feels the silken sheets of his bedding welcome his immobile limbs as the Dark Urge lays him down. There is a pause and Gortash starts to suspect they are done with him, that maybe they left and his mind starts slipping to a proper darkness before he feels their hands on his body yet again. Tugging at his shoes, slipping a coat of his shoulder, rolling him around and undressing him before they wrap him under covers.

Maybe he should feel embarrassed over his ally seeing him like this. Helpless. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Weak. But only emotion embracing him and filling his mind is satisfaction, a strange pride because who else can say to have a murder incarnate tugging him gently in a bed.

“Your work will not run away from you, unlike mine,” they chuckle and Gortash would like to object. So what if the victim they set their mind to kill slips through their claws one evening. The Dark Urge could just get them the next one. There is no place in Baldur’s Gate to hide away from them. They do not really have to worry about work running from them. Gortash, on the other hand, is the one who needs to be always alert, every time he blinks there is a chance he missed some fleeing chance to further his goals.

Of course he says none of those things as he still cannot speak nor move and in the end there would be no point to saying any of this even if he could. Because he can imagine them being just as amused by his worry. They would argue that he is doing well enough, his achievement and their speed is impressive enough. Yes, he knows he is doing well but he could still be doing better. He has no time for their foolish suggestions that he should take more breaks from time to time. That it might even do him good.

“Get some rest for that brilliant mind of yours,” the Dark Urge brushes his hair off his face, their voice uncharacteristically gentle, filled with a suggestion of fondness he cannot properly decipher for now. “Sleep well, my tyrant,” their claw lingers on his face longer than necessary with gentleness that he did not believe they might be capable of. It feels right, and as crazy as such a thought must be, it feels safe. Something in Gortash yearns to reach for it, reach for them and pull them closer.

Luckily, he is still trapped in hastened state and so no matter how much he longs for their touch, how much he desires embrace of the deadliest assassin, his hands will not move and his mouth will not speak and even his eyelids remain shut.

He wonders if they are aware he can still hear them or if they think they are talking just to themselves. It already feels like a dream. He wonders how much of their action will he remember in his conscious state in the morning and how trustworthy he will find his own mind and memory.

Gortash hears them no more and that is as good indicator as any that they are probably gone for good. He has a lot of things to think about now but it is still as if he has forgotten even how to think. He needs to hold this feeling while it is still lingering in the room before it disappears with morning light. He needs to analyse and draw conclusions and make use of it. But the more he is trying to get his brain matter to work the quicker the final threads of consciousness seem to be slipping away from him. Till at last it all goes to black and he is embraced by peaceful darkness of dreamless sleep bringing him much needed rest.

[etz-ashashiyot]

I admit, I don’t personally think it’s possible to truthfully combine a worldview that the Torah is divinely inspired, or at least any worldview that involved an all powerful g*d as a source of morality, and slavery.

I don’t really see how an all good all powerful g*d would send plagues to free one people from slavery, but could not even order those people not to keep shaves within their own kingdom

I’m sorry if this comes across as me shitting on your beliefs, evidently you have them so I can’t claim to don’t exist and they’re also very important to you. It simply seems logically inconsistent from my point of view. Although I may also be misinterpreting your point as well.

Hi anon,

Is this in response to this post? If so, I'd ask that you read it again, as that drash explains it far better than I could.

In my experience, Judaism is a very practical religion, with an eye towards elevating the physical by imbuing it with the spiritual. It's why we keep kashrut, it's why we observe the holy rest of Shabbat, it's why we sanctify sex and menstruation through taharat mishpachat. We say brachot over food, but also over sights, pleasant scents, and extraordinary natural events. We even have a bracha for after using the bathroom!

It's a very enbodied, earthy religion.

And because of that, it is typically very pragmatic about how people live and in trying to meet people where they're at, in the society they live in, in the time they live in. That does not mean that this is Hashem's ultimate ideal for us, but rather follows the principle that a middling step that will be followed is superior to an idealistic rule that will be ignored.

See the thing is, we weren't freed just because freedom is good. (Obviously freedom is good and slavery is bad.) Bnei Yisrael were freed specifically in order to become the servants of Hashem and entering into the Covenant of Torah. Their freedom is immediately qualified by the brit.

And the other thing is that we are all given free will. Hashem gives us free will to do what we want. We can make good choices, or bad. We can do good things, or bad things. An oftentimes, what is good and what is bad are less than obvious, and we find ourselves trapped into deciding between two or more bad options, trying to find the least harmful.

If Hashem takes away our free will, sure He could impose upon us a perfect, ideal world.

But that's not what we were made or set up to do. We were given choices and instructed to continuously learn and strive to be better.

So yeah! Yep! The Torah has a lot of things in it that were made for a different society with things we have since learned from and have moved past. We don't stone people to death for violating certain mitzvot. We don't burn adulterers alive. We don't engage the sotah ritual in the case of suspected infidelity. We don't keep slaves, and don't support any model of society that relies on slavery. These are all difficult, painful lessons that we have learned, collectively, over millennia. But they are very human lessons, lessons that we only learnt because we as human beings have the free will to create interpersonal harm and structural inequalities as well as to improve.

People think that just because G-d is all powerful, all-knowing, and all-good that this means Hashem will do all the hard work for us. That G-d will prevent bad things from happening to us good people and deliver divine retribution to bad actors, and are disappointed when it doesn't work like that. It's certainly caused a lot of people to struggle with and even give up their faith. People will ask "where was G-d when— " instead of asking "where was humanity"?

Show me whatever "it" is for you — and lord knows the Jewish people have a small multitude to select from — and I'll show you the ugly and tragic human acts behind it.

"Where was G-d when— " where were you?

[wixxid]

IVORY  · PART I

Fandom: Dune

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Female OC

Words: 2,176

Warnings: dark themes and arranged marriage

Summary: An arrangement is forged between two apposing houses to save your world the cost of war.

Fear is the mind killer.

It snakes inside of you, twisting and strangling until bitter death. It’s an escapable pit of darkness. A place where light fears to tread and all life suffers. You feel it now, the deep ripple of dread as it slows your precious breath.

The laces of your corset are drawn tight, narrowing your passages even further. Your humble servants dress you in silence; their faces veiled in sheer fabric. They don’t dare speak on this occasion. It's ritualistic. The way they prepare you in lavish fabric and accessories the color of gold and deep crimson.

It marks your arrival.

A fiery sun, rising upon a dark and desolate planet; far from the one to which you were born. There is no green on Giedi Prime. There are no vast oceans or scraping mountains. Their world is shrouded in black and white, a monochromatic wasteland.

Metallic toxins ruin this world, while great machines plow the surface; devouring its resources like a hungry beast. You’ve not stepped foot on this sphere, and already you can feel the shift. It's quick to form a haze over your mind.

This is no place for you.

This isn’t the future you envisioned, but rather the one to which has been so cruelly dictated. It’s a strategic alignment that only the Bene Gesserit would dare to conjure. The task has been assigned, and now you must survive. Failure is unthinkable - unacceptable.

There is only the union.

A pact to save your world the cost of war.

Walking the grand gangway of the starship, your father lead at the head of the envoy; a steady hand rested on his sword. Gurney stood guard on your fathers’ side, whilst your servants trailed at yours. The rest of your family – your lady mother and older brother – had remained on Caladan.

It isn’t custom to have them in your company. It’s the father’s duty to relinquish the daughter, as an act of traditional and good faith; but this is merely a transaction. This is a trade of life for peace, and as much as you despise the fact, your opinion has no meaning in the era of entitled men.

Maintaining your line of vision, you try not to allow your gaze to wander too far from the site of your own kin. This place is foreign and cold, and it wreaks of violence. The instant you detected the small huddled committee of Harkonnen officials, all waiting for your arrival, you shivered in realization of your pitiful reality.

“We welcome you to Geidi Prime, Duke Leto.”

A particularly lanky man stood eerily emotionless as he received your house; dressed head to toe in black layers. It’s a stark contrast to his otherwise hairless and pale skin. It didn’t take long at all for you ascertain the being’s true nature. You could sense it. A twisted mentat who serves logic to his master.

“Where is he?” questioned your father, voice absent all formality and kindness. “Why is the Barron not here to greet us?”

“He awaits your arrival in the hall,” gestured the mentat. The way ahead is lined with armored Harkonnen soldiers; far from a warming embrace. “This way, if you will.”

The skeptical glance Gurney gave your father only serves to unease you more than you’d prefer. You know that look. You know the two men hold little to no trust for these people. They’re all savages. A race of violent individuals who’ve somehow thrived in their own wickedness.  

Several lifetimes ago, the two of your bloodlines crossed, but it’s hard to image their sinister race could ever be related to the likes of your own. In truth, the Harkonnen’s are the most alien of all the great houses; with their balding heads and pale flesh.

The archives can only tell you their past, but what you see all around is the present. It’s terrifying and with each step you take, you wonder how someone like you could possibly exist in their world. The back of your throat tightens, yet you shift to stand taller as you proceed to walk the grand hallway.

Pride keeps your strong, for now.

Despite the palace’s mega structure, you feel imprisoned within its steel walls; soon to be shackled by a vow. The mentat before you signaled two of the soldiers, bidding them to open the large doors of the hall. The smell of iron and soot wafted into your lungs; tainting them with every breath.

The room itself is expansive and minimalistic; eerily empty despite those occupying its space. The thick stream of light illuminated the foreboding figure which sat on the heightened, cushioned throne. You can hardly believe the sheer mass of the Barron, and yet it’s no kept secret.

“Duke,” spoke the deep voice of the Barron. The hulking man gestured outwardly with his hand, in what one could only presume to be a greeting of sorts. “Here you are – at last."

“We expected to be greeted on arrival,” replied father; clearly unimpressed with our reception to the planet. “We’ve travelled light years – and yet here you sit.”

“And there you stand, Cousin. Do we not greet each other now?”

The tension is palpable, and the seconds of silence feel more so like eternity. The duke’s bitterness hardly went unnoticed, and whilst others would try to correct themselves in fear of their lives, your father remains headstrong. The man's a pure representative of your family’s values, but he forgets.

This is their planet.

These are their rules.

It’s best you learn fast now, lest you shatter. If your family could offer no comfort here within your new life, then that leaves only yourself left to care. As the daughter of a duke and offspring to the sisterhood, your mind and body is its own protection.

The Bene Gesserit have governed you since you were a babe. They’ve showed you things few ever witness. They’ve taught you their ways, and now they’re to be the pillars of both the survival and success of this alliance. You are your only strength and weakness.

Observing the room, there’s only those of your own envoy and the close confidants of the Barron. Particularly, it’s hard to mistake the broad and brooding man standing to the left of his glutenous uncle. Rabban appears stiff, if not livid as he glares distantly at your father.  

Wide fists clench noticeably at his sides, displaying his obvious displeasure of the situation. Rabban can be described as simple minded, but a brute. He uses sheer force to conquer, and for that reason, he’ll gain nothing of any real value. Power is more than strength.

“Come,” spoke the Barron. “I want to see her.”

“Where is he?”

It drew you to realize your father’s pointed absence of the man in question. You’ve only ever known your suiter by name and reputation. Feyd-Rautha. Ambitious and psychotic. You wouldn’t know his face to pick it from the rest.

“Is it your nephew’s intention to insult my daughter, or was he simply not made aware of our arrival?”

The Barron gave a low groan, his tongue tisking against his grey teeth whilst he leant into his throne. A clear sign of impatience. This is the Barron's most inner dominion and so far, your father has only defied his every will and word without hesitation.

Stepping forward, you moved with steady purpose upon your intention to diffuse the rising hostility. Gurney is the first to stop you with an outstretched hand, only for your father to intervene. Despite his reluctance, the duke knows this is an alliance even he can’t afford to break.

Amusement shone in the Barron's eyes upon your willing approach. Ascending the slabbed staircase, you watch as the silk donned man rose eerily from his seat. The mechanical and unnatural elevation of his large body caused you to stop.

“There you are,” he grinned as he hovered closer. “Bold, just like your father.”

The Barron's thick limbs reached out, slowly lifting the veil that sheltered your face. In all these years of residing within each other’s existence, the two of you had never met until now. Gazing up at him, you saw his pale and wrinkled face morph from intrigue to impassive.

He gave a low hum, “And so we meet.”

The way his eyes roam over your face and body feels more analytical, rather than that of a perverse nature. You aren’t entirely sure if he’s disappointed or curious. The room turns silent, and everyone waits with bated breath for what the Barron will do next.

“You’re prettier than I imagined,” he announced. Hovering away from you, he slowly sat himself back onto the cushioned seat of his throne. “No matter the sort, beauty is a rare site to be had on Geidi Prime. It certainly doesn’t last for long.”

“She's to be unharmed,” interjected your father. The protectiveness in his voice is further stated with the underlying hiss of a threat. “As soon as she’s with child, she’s to be escorted back to Caladan.”

“Nonsense!” boomed the Barron. “If your daughter is to marry my nephew, then she’s to remain on Geidi Prime.”

“If?”

Turning, you faced your father to see his angered expression. Despite the intimidating and strange aura of this planet, the site of your father is still apposing. Standing in full uniform, you know with time and familiarity that the duke won’t accept or backdown.

“My nephew can be stubborn. Youth is so often irrational.” Shifting in his seat, the Barron sighed whilst narrowing his gaze. “As suited as she may be, your daughter isn’t the only hand of worth within House Major.”

“I see,” scoffed your father. “Then you’d willingly allow yourself to break law and dishonor the name Harkonnen? The Benne Gess –.”

“Witches and spies!” cursed the Barron. “I’ll not have them dictate the future of my house!”

“And I’ll not have you shame mine! Feyd-Rautha will take my daughters hand in marriage, as agreed. House Atreides holds not only political power, but the largest arsenal in the whole of the empire,” he boasted with intent. “There is no other of worth.”

Immediately, your gaze lowered with his proclamation. It's difficult to hear your father defend your house, whilst also acting to secure a marriage neither of you desire; but he does it for the people. It's his responsibility and your duty, but even still, you can't help but feel betrayed.

“Then you have my word. Let our houses be united once more," smirked the Barron. The mentat was summoned forward, “Piter will escort your daughter to her chambers. I won’t bore her with the concerns of politics."

As quickly as you arrived within the Barron's presence, you were now dismissed from the huge hall. Daughters aren’t privy to such discussions, but you know to what it will most likely pertain. You know there’s terms and conditions to matches as important as this one.

Lowering your veil once again, you headed down the steps to the awaiting mentat; who’s now no longer nameless. Piter walked steadily in lead, and whilst you couldn’t interact with your father in this moment, the two of you locked eyes in passing.

Despite the tragedy of your new circumstance, he'll always have your best interest at heart. At the very least, he’ll fight for your comfort and safety within the confines of your new home. He’d never travel the galaxy, let alone leave you behind if he didn’t think you would be safe.

“This way.”

Piter turned the corner, and soon you felt as if you were being burrowing into the bowls of the abyss. There's no windows this far into the heart of the palace. You’re cut off from all aspects of nature, and all that’s left is a labyrinth of metal and synthetic light; producing a warm yet sterile glow.

“This one’s for you,” he spoke monotonously as we stopped outside of a doorway. “You’ll be called upon later in the evening.”

Piter went to leave before you decided to speak, “Where is he?”

The man showed reluctance before turning to face you. Clasping his hands, those dull eyes stared into you as he asked, “Whom do you refer?”

“What are you, if not calculative?”

The mentat's face shifted at your taunt. Stepping forward, he appeared serious. “The two of you have yet to meet, but certainly enough you will.” Piter waved a hand over the doorway consol. “Embrace what peaceful moments remain.”

A quick turn, and you stood watching as the mentat traversed back down the lengthy corridor. Piter’s words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. It's a warning. Perhaps even a threat. You've heard too much to think it's not.

Despite the sheer vastness of space, it’s whispers which travel the fastest. Feyd-Rautha is a name that’s passed by your ears on more than one occasion. Stories or truth. You’ve heard the court recount his cunningness and brutality.

You've heard him in your dreams.

It bleeds you with fear, and fear is the mind killer.

[animeniac-writings]

Sickness - Sanji Vinsmoke headcanons

Anime: One Piece

Modern AU kind of, I was sick as shit last weak and could have really used Sanji caring for me :(

You Being Sick

Overreacts (with so much care behind it).

Sanji feels extremely guilty when you're come down with an illness, sure it's inevitable for everyone, but he can't help but think it's his fault- he should have made you healthier foods, something to boost your immune system, smoothies or supplements, he should have given you his coat sooner so you didn't catch a chill- his self blame is nearly endless, until you weakly ask him for something and he immediately shoots into gear.

When you do get sick he is your faithful servant, waiting on your every request, and fretting the entire time. He hates seeing you suffer and there's really nothing he can do to ease your suffering.

Definitely makes you chicken soup, Zeff did when he got sick when he was little and told him to "Just try it, you'll get better." when he asked 'why', and later explained that's just what you give someone who's sick, that it helps.

And he did get better, and wanted to know exactly why it helped, what was so special about chicken noodle soup? "Damn old man knew what he was talking about."

Tells you this while he's making the soup, you're fast asleep on the couch all bundled up, in clear sight for if you need him.

But his nerves are frayed, and it's far too quiet, with just the sounds of his cooking and your labored breaths, so he talks to you. He fills the silence and tries to calm his nerves.

Definitely called Zeff up, even at 2 in the morning if that's when your sickness hit, and wanted the exact recipe he his soup.

Of course he could figure it out himself, or tweak a recipe for guidelines, but...the old man's recipe works best. Even if he does sound like a sentimental fool.

Hates going to the store to pick up anything you need because that's far too long of being away from you and not knowing how you are, but he also doesn't trust anyone else to go get what you need.

Will buy only the best medicine he can find and makes sure to cover all your symptoms, and that you take the next does exactly on the clock.

But also worries because it's hardly working and giving you more is also bad, frantically checks a time sheet and clock to be sure.

He tries to make you as comfortable as possible, tissues and blankets and fluffing your pillow, anything to help.

He acts like you are on your death bed. If you even say you feel like you're dying, it goes straight to his panicking. You're already back in a fitful sleep but now he's sitting at your side changing the rag on your forehead and biting his nails that what if it's worse than expected??

Humidifier on and with some tea tree oil if you can, and will apply camphor rub to your chest and back for you, and massage it onto your feet and whimpers when that seems to make you feel worse.

Very stubborn once you start feeling better and getting restless, he wants you to still keep resting, that you aren't fully recovered yet.

Hovers. Almost worse that when you were sick, so worried about you relapsing for a few weeks afterwards, even when you insist you're all better!

Even manages to decline an physical advances to 'prove you're all better', as much as it pains him.

His chest aches when you thank him for taking such good care of you.

Sanji Being Sick

Sanji doesn't really get sick often, but when he does it's bad.

Not someone who can try and fake being okay because of how quickly and hard it hits him, as soon as he gets a fever he's burning up and dizzy.

You immediately notice and carefully guide him back to bed, you press your lips to his sweaty forehead to check his temperature and he can barely mumble something to you with eyes fluttering shut.

Hardly getting sick as a kid meant he never built up a good immune system, normally he was healthy as could be but when he was sick, it was awful.

He often become delirious, his mind dredging up memories of when he was truly small and making him feel even worse.

Needs your help with everything, from lifting the mug of tea your made him to his lips to half-carrying him to the bathroom.

He would feel so guilty about it afterwards, but can't remember much of anything that happened in the thick of it once he's better.

Mumbles in his sleep a lot while he's sick, he tosses and turns and you want to wake him from whatever he's dreaming but know he's needs the rest, instead sitting beside him and petting his damp hair.

You recall him once snarking about Zeff's brusque caretaking, but that he always made warm soup when he'd get sick, even into his teens. "Not like I'd needed it, I could make it far better after all."

Zeff was surprised to get a call from you asking for an old "special chicken soup recipe" of his, but was happy to oblige, even promising not to tell Sanji about it either.

No matter how he feels about your cooking skills there's a nagging feeling that he should make a pot of soup to bring over too upon the second he hears Sanji is sick again, and has to stop himself multiple times from doing so.

He also asks for updates on how Sanji's doing.

You mostly guess Sanji's symptoms and hope there's nothing you can't see when it comes to getting him medicine, he doesn't really have the energy to tell you what's wrong but weekly complies taking whatever you give him.

Hates feeling gross though, so if it's taking too long to get better he will try going to wash up and take a bath on his own, very bad idea but you catch him and watch to make sure he's okay.

Luckily tends to sleep through most of it, but when he wakes up for a bit he just wants to be able to see you, whether that's sitting up or laying on the couch just so he can watch you with bleary eyes before falling back to sleep.

Really thinks you are his loving angel to take care of him like this, even if you don't feel like you're doing all that much.

Once his fever breaks and the worst of it is over he recovers quickly, not one to have a cough linger, and you'll wake up from where you were beside him last night to find his spot empty and the familiar sound of pans clinking as the scent of breakfast waifs in.

Calls you his angel and the greatest nurse he's ever seen once he's back in health, and cheekily adds that he would have loved if you ever wanted to wear a nurse's outfit if he gets sick again...

His words lack usual gusto or the spark in his eye as he tries to cover up how vulnerable he feels about it.

You know how truly grateful Sanji is, for everything you do, and just press and soft kiss to his head and promise to always be happy to care for him.

He can never find the words to tell you how thankful he is.

[aporeticelenchus]

Slightly More Opera Literate Summer 2024:

La Nozze di Figaro (aka The Marriage of Figaro; Mozart)

As part of Slightly More Opera Literate Summer 2024, I'm going to do write-ups with summaries + highlights of some of the operas I've seen. Join me in learning about stuff, or come see what I inevitably get wrong! (Apologies in advance for the fact that I Just Can't Handle adding correct diacritical marks; sorry, Italian.)

Let's start with famed comic opera La Nozze di Figaro, aka The Marriage of Figaro, aka Figaro. Music by Mozart, libretto by Da Ponte, and based off a play by Beaumarchais.

You can watch the whole opera subtitled in English on youtube here:

I haven't watched through this version and can't speak for it, but it looks good at a quick glance through!

Short Summary:

Opera Australia has a great 1 min summary I'm going to just post:

But if you prefer text, here we go.

Working class couple Figaro and Susanna are getting married, yay! Or maybe not yay, because Figaro's employer, Count Almaviva, wants to pressure Susanna into sleeping with him and is going to sabotage the wedding until she gives in.

Fortunately Susanna's lady, the Countess Rosina, is heartbroken by her husband's behavior and wants to help the happy couple. Figaro, Susanna and the Countess scheme to have the Countess catch the Count trying to cheat, so she can pressure him into letting the couple marry (and to be more faithful in future, maybe.).

At first they plan to have teen page Cherubino (who has a crush on every woman and is constantly getting caught in compromising locations) dress in drag and pretend to be Susanna. But when the jealous Count almost catches Cherubino half-dressed in the Countess rooms, they move to plan B. Susanna tells the Count she'll meet him in the garden that night, and she and the Countess secretly swap clothes so that the Count will have an assignation with his own wife.

IN B PLOT LAND, Figaro owes money to the lawyer Bartolo's somewhat elderly maidservant Marcellina, and he has to marry her if he can't pay up. But when Marcellina and Bartolo take Figaro to court it's revealed......that he's their long lost son! Marcellina and Bartolo recall their past love, and decide to have a double wedding with Figaro and Susanna.

Susanna and Figaro get married, but since she hasn't told him about the clothes-swap plan, he finds out just enough to think his wife is cheating on their wedding night. Fortunately he recognizes her when he approaches "the countess" - but the philandering Count, chasing "Susanna" through the garden, sees what looks like his wife embracing his servant. He flies into a rage...until his wife appears to join the chorus, and he realizes she was the "Susanna" he was wooing. He begs forgiveness and everyone decides to be happy. The end!

(Ok, that wasn't so short, but it's a four hour opera based on a play with a lot of moving parts!)

Fun fact! The original play was widely banned for having an aristocratic antagonist defeated by clever lower class heroes. Scandalous, class warfare, etc!

SOME HIGHLIGHTS: This is hard, because I honestly love almost all of this opera. But here are some of my favorite and/or the most famous bits. I've tried to pick out versions with English subtitles to make them easier to follow.

Cinque, Dieci, Venti (Act I)

In the opening number of the opera, we're introduced to Figaro and Susanna on the morning of their wedding day. Figaro is measuring out the space for their new bed while Susanna admires the cap she made for her wedding.

Get you a man who pick up your melody and sings with you about the sweet headdress you made.

Non So Piu Cosa Son (Act 1):

Pageboy Cherubino (traditionally a trouser role, i.e. a male character played by a woman) is having lots of confusing feelings! It's so hard to be a hormonal teen. He's flirting with Susanna, sighing about his adoration of the Countess, and asking for help after he got caught with the gardener's daughter by the Count. He pauses to condense all his Teen Feelings (tm) into an aria.

(The video quality on this one isn't great, but it's one of the few I found with subtitles and I love the singing).

Fun Fact! In episode 2 of the Jeeves and Wooster tv show, Tuppy Glossop drags Bertie to the opera to see the woman he's wooing. She's singing Cherubino, and we hear some of her Non So Piu.

Non Piu Andrai (Act I):

In a series of misunderstandings, the Count catches Cherubino hiding in Susanna's room...and realizes that he must have overheard the Count pressuring Susanna to sleep with him. The Count decides to get rid of Cherubino by giving him an army commission. Figaro secretly tells Cherubino to stay, then pretends to be very enthusiastic about Cherubino's future in the army.

Fun fact! This is the official march of multiple guard companies. Because it slaps.

Also fun fact: "Narcisetto" (diminutive of Narcisuss) makes me laugh.

Voi Che Sapete (Act II):

It's....Cherubino again! What can I say; he has the best arias. Cherubino reports to the Countess' rooms so that she and Susanna can give him a cross-dressing makeover. While he's there, the Countess asks him to sing the song she hears he's written. Similar themes to Non So Piu: Cherubino has Lots Of Feelings and wants to sing about them.

Fun Fact! In the 1996 Pride and Prejudice, Lizzie sings a bit of Voi Che Sapete, with English lyrics.

Sull'aria (Act III)

The Countess dictates a letter for Susanna to write to the Count, so that they can trap him with their clothes-swap scheme.

Fun Fact! This is the song that Andy Dufresne plays over the prison speakers in The Shawshank Redemption.

Crudel Perche Finora (Act III)

I feel like I should get something with the Count in here (plus Mozart composes great duets imo). Susanna approaches the Count to pretend she's given in to him. The Count wants to make sure Susanna really means it, while she struggles a bit playing along.

(General tw for any Count and Susanna scene; they all involve him being a creep while she has to kinda put up with it.)

Aaaaaaand no Act 4, sorry not sorry.

Enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!

[writeblrfantasy]

🌙NANOWRIMO BOOK INTRO: FIRE IN THE VIOLET MOONLIGHT

🔥genre: high fantasy

🌙status: first draft finished at 60k

🔥tropes: master/servant, grumpy/sunshine, strangers to lovers, magic/sword. themes of self doubt, conditional vs unconditional love

“Forgive my ignorance, my lord, but I’m afraid I still don’t understand. I have proven myself to you and you still don’t trust me," Ellund says.

“No one should follow me with such blind faith!” Rashan yells. “I’m not a Revered anything. I’m not a god. I’m not a being capable of fiery power. I’m just a man. Just a mortal, Ellund. And yet I am responsible for so much. I chose this. I fought hard for this throne, and I will never regret taking it. Yet sometimes I wonder if I’m meant for it. if it’s not just a cruel joke that will come crashing down on my head one of these days.” Ellund strokes his thumb over the bones in the back of Rashan’s hand, sending a shiver through his whole body from that simple touch. “Whether you be mortal or god or Revered Firelord, it is the same. You are a good man.”

surprise! this is my third time doing a secret book, and it's been an absolute joy! no one at all knew about this. it really is easiest for me to draft a book when no one knows about it and there's no pressure whatsoever.

the blurb:

Servant meets master. Spark meets tinder. Will an inferno ignite?

Sovereign Rashan may be a Firelord by blood, but not by practice. He is an independent man--he took himself from farmhouse to throne, he serves his country, and he is trying to end the war between his home and the Firelords he feels no tie to. He is most certainly not looking for love.

So when one of the engineered servants of the Firelords defects and pledges himself to Rashan, Rashan is flabbergasted.

Ellund is brilliant, beautiful, and powerful, a deadly combination for a sovereign trying to remember why he cannot accept Ellund's offer. After all, one being cannot possess another. When the war comes to a head, Rashan must decide--accept Ellund as his servant and lover by embracing the Firelord nature he's defied his whole life, or continue to stand alone.

in typical me fashion, i didn't think i was doing nano, then came up with the idea the night of halloween and absolutely pantsed my way through to a surprisingly coherent draft that needs very little editing.

writing 60k in 11 days was...Interesting. my wrists are barking at me. (dw i've been doing wrist stretches for my life) but i have absolutely no regrets and only a sense of distinct pride.

(why do i try to finish a novel within two weeks? what is wrong with me?)

also would anyone like me to make a post about how i do write so quickly so consistently because i think i have some good takes and i have the evidence to back it up

PLEASE let me know what you think of what you've read so far, i would love to hear all the things about it now that it's out in the world instead of just in my brain!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @worldbuildng @muddshadow @nikkywrites @47crayons @directionoftime

@chayscribbles @magic-is-something-we-create @rodentwrites @notwritinganyflufftoday @rustywritessometimes

[ofallthingsnasty]

tags: dead dove: do not eat, power imbalance (he is your god, after all), hard noncon, snuff, chubby reader pairing: Enel/F!Reader word count: 1k note: read the tags and read them twice. heavy stuff ahead. some thoughts I have after the Sky Island arc. I saw that he had one fat 'handmaiden' and that was the end of it for me lol. so. just me rambling.

The way Enel delights in destroying Skypiea and seeing his followers, his little lambs, fear for their lives and then ending those very same little existences made me think … 

We know he's lazy, that he has a grand attitude - it's why I think that if he wanted to fuck you, he wouldn't just order you to do it. 

He knows you'd do it if he just asked you to but isn't that boring? Every single one of his servants would. They'd slit their own throats if it was for some greater good he proclaimed, especially little old you. He sees it in your eyes, in the way you stand by his side, how you nervously peel a banana for him when he asks you to, how you stutter your answers, always eyeing him if your words are the right ones, if you're agreeable enough. 

He enjoys toying with you, picking on you in his little ways - the thought of making you do debauched things in front of his court sometimes tickles the back of his mind, but he still has a reputation to uphold. 

So he bids his time.

Out of all the followers in his shrine, it makes sense to kill you last. You watch them getting cut down, one by one - all shocked and scared - and it's so beautiful to see. You’re all nothing but pests to him, little things he uses to get what he desires. It’s cathartic to finally have you grasp the full extend of his power, for each and every one of you to cower and snivel and plead - and you’re no better, no, you’re fucking worse because he kept you for last. Crumpled to the ground, nothing more than a mess of snot and tears, hands pressed over chittering teeth, you beg him with your shaky voice, torn between asking him why he's doing this and to spare you. He answers neither, he just smiles.

It's delicious to see the realization in your face that he - your god, your protector - betrayed you, is out to destroy, to kill. You devoted your whole existence to him and he doesn't care, even seems to hate you for it.

The way betrayal and fear swim in your wide eyes and you shake with hysteria, with grief and pain and terror is so, so satisfying. He can see your faith and innate need for survival fight each other, can watch how the urge to run away is making your hands twitchy and your brows furrow, yet you still obey him. That little part in your brain that has accepted him as your god still hasn't been overridden and you act on instinct, accepting his orders as they come out of his mouth.

You expose yourself to him so easily (he just needs to twirl his staff once and you're cowering in fear, any smidge of defiance wiped away in an instant) and the tears you cry just make it all the sweeter. This is his parting gift, he thinks as he watches you peel off your clothing from your place on the floor, just a little bit of indulgence before he truly ascends. He barely has to say anything to make you crawl into his lap once he sits himself down just across from you, forgoing the comfort of his cushions just because he’s so impatient. When you lower yourself down onto him it’s better than any inkling he’s ever had - you’re so tight. Fear has made you tense, dry - but he welcomes it. He should tease you about not being prepared for your god but he’s too busy savoring the feeling of you trying to fully take him in, pain obvious in your face. Yet, you carry on, millimeter by millimeter, suffering through it for him. And of course, you are expected to put in the work, to ride him - even if he’ll take the light out of your eyes in just a few minutes, he’s still the one to be worshiped, or maybe it’s because of it. Propped up on his elbows, he watches you. Aren’t you enjoying yourself, he asks once you’ve found a rhythm, slowly heaving your ass up and down, fucking your god? What a great honor it is to be found worthy of this, to serve him in this way in your last few minutes of your precious little life. You’re such a lucky little lamb, aren’t you? (Of course, with the smile he wears on his face, the both of you know that he isn’t quite serious. That he’s just mocking you in your despair, in your torture.) My, he even allows you to steady yourself on his shoulder when your adrenaline runs out and you’re just you again: soft and pudgy and a little out of breath as you try your best to satisfy him. You’re just as entertaining as he had hoped you would be. Although you could go a little faster. 

Maybe he should get you to piss yourself with a little shock (then again, that’d wet his own pants, what a nuisance), but he settles on just telling you to hurry it up, that he doesn’t have much more time for this and it makes the tears in your eyes fatter and hotter as they drop on his skin. Your existence is reduced to nothing more than a few thrusts and he tries to console you with the fact that he chose you and no one else for this honor, that it makes you his most precious follower, at least for a short while.

You’re so silent. So obedient. Devoted. Even in the face of death, you readily serve him. And that taste of total control is addicting - but he has places to be, goals to achieve. He’s merciful and grabs you when you least expect it, just in the moment he can feel his orgasm coming in - you yelp in shock as he lunges forward and makes your body shake and seize and give out in his grasp, until the he can’t hear your little gasps anymore, until you aren’t you anymore. Maybe he’ll remember you, he thinks as he lays you down, the tiniest flicker of fondness washing over him. You were worth the wait, after all. And isn’t that the highest honor? To be fondly recalled by a god?

[manias-wordcount]

HIII i really love your writing!! and i was wondering if you’d be able to write smut of royalty!lisa minci (genshin impact) x servant!afab reader? maybe with a teeny bit of angst…

NO WORRIES IF U CANT i completely understand!!

When the Lord Steps Away (Lisa Minci x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝘃𝘆-𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗱𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗼𝗳 (𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮) 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲! 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀, 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆!

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚!! 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿/𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽, 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗻𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗽-𝗼𝗻𝘀

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You haven’t seen Lord Minci around the estate in a while.

In fact, it has been a long, long time since you’ve last seen him. And even now, you’re having trouble recalling what he looks like despite the fact that you’ve been working with this family for so long. But Lady Minci started telling you to call her Lady Lisa. And that as Lady Lisa’s most faithful and most obedient servant, you didn’t have to worry about silly things about where has her husband gone or answering to anyone else who holds a title above you.

  No, you just need to be able to lift your skirt and spread your legs whenever she asks. Just like she taught you. 

  She tells you that you don’t need to worry about the other maids and servants and butlers too. She tells you that they’re just jealous. Envious even. Of your beauty. Of your grace. Of the attention that she spares towards you. She tells you to ignore their whispers and glances. She tells you to avoid speaking to them. To avoid talking to them. And for the most part, you listen. Because why would Lady Lisa lie to you? Why would Lady Lisa try to hurt you? She wouldn’t. At least, you don't think she would. Now if you can just figure out why everyone’s eyes turn so sad when they look towards you. If you could just figure out why…

  But to you, it’s no matter. At least, Lady Lisa makes it so that it doesn’t matter. After all, she’s very kind to you. She smiles at you so gently. And she feeds you good food. She brushes your hair with pretty brushes. And she dresses you in fabulous clothes too. The ones that you see in those fancy shop mirrors on the days you’re sent to the market. The ones with the expensive fabrics and jewels and gems sewn in. The ones that glitter and shine in both the sun and the moonlight. And Lady Lisa tells you that you look so beautiful in them. That you look absolutely gorgeous. 

  She tells you those same exact words when she takes them off you and sits you down on the hard thing that stands up in her lap. The makes your breathing unsteady and parts your legs in a way that’s unladylike- even for someone of your status. But Lady Lisa says it’s okay as long as you do this for her and her alone. 

  So you do.

  This time it was a purple dress. It had frills and lace and a low, low neckline. The type of neckline that made you feel like one of those ladies of the night. One of the ladies who you know all the lords fall for. The ladies who are always at the center of a big, big scandal. You giggled as spun in the mirror for her, letting the dress fan out around you. And Lady Lisa said you looked so, so pretty when you smiled like that. And so you smiled even harder at the compliment, waiting patiently for instructions as she walked up to take off your dress. But instructions never came. 

  Because somewhere in her attempt to pull the dress off of you, she started pulling the dress down on you. Enough to expose your bosom to the cold air of this spare bedroom. But Lady Lisa said that was fine. She had even asked you if your bosom had grown since the last time she had dressed you. You shyly answered that you didn’t know, but as reached out to hold and grab and play with your chest, she said that she could have sworn that you’d gotten bigger, but there was only one way for her to know for certain. And when you asked what that way was, she didn’t respond. 

  She just leans down in front of you, took off your nipples between her lips, and sucked. 

  Oh, how you squirmed and squealed! Lady Lisa’s tongue always felt weird against your body. She always moved it so strongly- so boldly. And always on the most intimate parts of your body. You remember when she dragged it up on down across your torso. You remember when she pushed it into your mouth as she captured your lips in a heated kiss. You even remember the time that she decided to push her tongue past your lower lips. How she got mad whenever you’d try to move your weight off of her face. And how happy she was when you sprayed that clear liquid everywhere- including her face, her clothes, and those brand-new sheets on the bed she had you on. You apologize so, so many times. She only asked if you could try to do that again for her.

  But now, it’s not her tongue pressing past your lower lips. Rather it’s her fingers this time. They snuck down your body while your attention was captured by the way she suckled at your breast. But now your mind is jumping back and forth and up and down between the sensation of your nipple being sucked on and covered with slick, slick spit and the loud, loud noises that your most intimate parts make as Lady Lisa takes two of her fingers and curls them deep inside of you. And after a while, you start finding it hard to stand still as she makes your hips shift and move and jerk in that way only she knows how. You also start finding it hard to think as she pulls soft gasp after gasp from your lips. And soon enough- that odd feeling starts to grow inside you. That tightening cord. That deepening pit. It starts to grow. It starts to become too much.

  But suddenly, she stops. 

  It’s instinctual how you whine at the loss of pleasure. But Lady Lisa pays you no mind she pulls her fingers out of you and releases your now-sensitive nipple from her mouth. Instead, she just stands to her full height and gives you one of those gentle, gentle smiles before she starts to pull off her own dress. And sure enough, the familiar little toy is there. Standing loud and proud between her legs- held up by the harness that wraps around her hips and bottom. 

  At the sight of it, you swallow nervously. But you don’t need to say much as she takes you by the hips and guides you onto the bed. In fact, you know you don’t need to say anything to her at all. You just let her lead you to bed and let her lay you down. And she hovers above you for a moment. She leans down and kisses your lips. Letting her tongue slide against your bottom lip a few times before deepening it even further. And when she’s had enough of your lips, she moves down. Pressing her mouth against your cheek and your jaw and your chin and your neck. Once again, her hands move up to your bosom. And this time, she starts massaging your breasts and her lips make their way down the valley between your breasts. And then all the way down your stomach. And to the top of your mound. Before place a few lingering ones against that extra sensitive little button you hide between your legs. 

  But before you know it, she’s standing up again. Pulling you to the edge of the bed as she instructs you to spread your legs just a teensy bit wider for her. And your breath starts to hitch as she takes a step closer, and runs that hard, hard thing against your wet slit. Coating it with your love juices, as she calls them. 

  At the sound of your sharp breath, Lady Lisa spares you a glance. Her eyes were bright, and her gaze was electric. And that gentle smile of hers and an underlying emotion. One that you’re not sure of what you should call it. But one that reminds you all you need to is relax and not tighten up so much now that Lady Lisa is sliding that thing inside of your eager little hole and filling you up so nicely. One that reminds you that she likes it when you squeal and squirm and cry out when she starts to snap her hips all rough and fast inside of you. That she really likes it a lot. But most of all? It’s one that reminds you all you need is Lady Lisa in the end. 

  And all she needs is you and that pretty little body of yours too.

[prettybrownelf]

hii! how you doin? 👀 Can I request a Genderfluid Loki who thinks the Male Reader is straight (therefore thinking is impossible to get him) but they realize he's actually a bi disaster?

The Favored Servant

Non MLM/NBLM DNI

Pairings- Loki x Male! Reader

Summary- Loki invites their servant into the shower with them, just for a little fun

Word Count- 1310

Content Warnings- They/Them Pronouns for Loki, Loki Switching From Masculine To Feminine, Bi Male Reader, Oral (Loki Receiving), Praise, Hair Pulling, HandJobs (Reader Receiving)

You are annoyingly handsome. That's all Loki can think while they stare at you. 

Was it right for him to drool over a random servant in his home? Of course not, especially when that servant is so obviously straight. 

‘He only looks my way when I'm feminine, it's almost like he avoids eye contact every time he sees me as a man.’ A small pang of sadness enters the god of misfits' hearts as they make their way to their shower. 

When you're called to bring clothes to Loki, you don't think anything of it. They enjoyed having you do things for them so they could tease you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Loki was truly an enthralling creature to you. The way they transformed back and forth made your brain fuzzy, how could they look so good as both? It's unfair!

The sound of the running shower makes your face get hot as you knock. “Master Loki?” You ask, waiting for the door to open. 

‘They love taking their time.’ You groan to yourself as the door finally opens. Your eyes meet theirs as you desperately try to keep yourself from looking down. They looked so good in a man's body, and a woman's body, it makes you unreasonably turned on. 

“Here you go, my lord.” You cringe at the shakiness of your voice as Loki takes the clothes with a smirk. “Thank you, dear.” It takes everything inside of you not to swoon as you begin walking away. “Where are you going?” They ask, looking at you as if they were genuinely offended. “Did you need something else, my lord?” Loki grins as they open the door to their chamber wider. “Get in.” They say, although it seems more like a command. 

A small nod is all you can give as you step past them, looking around the beautiful bathroom. The large shower in the middle was quite stunning, although it's a bit hard to focus on at the moment. “Are you going in with your clothes on?” They ask from behind you. Confusion paints your face when you hear their voice change as you turn around to see them. In the blink of an eye, Loki's body changes. Being this close to them when they change almost forces you to notice the small changes they make. 

When they decide to be in a feminine body, their hair gets longer, their cheekbones get higher. But when they decide to be more masculine, their neck gets thicker, and so do their eyebrows, their ears even look different. 

Loki's snapping fingers breaks you out of your thoughts. “Hey! I don't want to be here forever!” 

Loki’s brain can't stop moving. You came in even though they don't look like a girl, which may mean you're not straight, but you're acting uncomfortable, so maybe you only did it because you thought it was a command. 

Then when they changed, you acted the same, as if you can't meet their eyes. Disappointment begins to sprout as Loki decides to just take a leap of faith. 

You look like a frightened deer when they place their hands on the side of your face. “Is this ok?” They ask. You nod as you feel Loki's lips meet yours. 

Soft, their lips are soft. Every thought you could possibly have immediately leaves you as you sink into their touch. The feeling of them smirking against your lips does nothing but heighten your arousal as you feel your dick growing harder. “Getting excited, pretty boy?” You feel like you're going to faint as you look up at them to nod. Loki drags their finger across your jaw as you follow it, feeling yourself completely give into their every desire. 

“Do you like me more like this, or, the other way?” They ask. You can see the small bit of fear in their eyes, even if they're trying to hide it. “Both.” You whisper, watching their shoulders drop from their position. “Good to know.” 

Within a second their smirk is back as they step away from you, making their way to lean against the shower wall. “Come here, handsome.” Before you can take a step towards them, they stop you. “I didn't say to walk.” The pressure building in your lower stomach is all you can think about as you sink to your knees. Loki's smile tells you you're doing the right thing as you crawl in front of them, their green eyes staying on you the whole time. “Good boy!” They praise you as they run their hand through your hair. 

You gaze up at them as they pet your hair, clearly taking in the moment. “Do you really like me as both?” You nod as you lean into their touch, enjoying the feeling of their fingers on your scalp. “Of course I do, why wouldn't I?” They give a small chuckle as they take in your flushed face. “Honestly, I thought you would only want me as a woman.” “I do want you as a woman, that's how I first met you. But I want you as a man too.” Loki gives a genuine smile as they rest their hand on your cheek. “That's a bit hard to believe still, even like this.” You laugh a small bit as you rub your hand up their thigh. “Do I need to suck you off to prove it?” Loki cocks an eyebrow at you with a devious grin. 

The second you blink they change. You have to fight everything inside of you not to stare at their hardened cock in front of your face. “If you insist, go ahead.” The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you swallow your fear. 

Taking them in your mouth a small bit is all you do at first, getting used to their girth as you lick around their tip. Loki gives a low groan as they lightly push on the back of your head to make you go deeper. “I don't mean to rush things darling, but I do need to meet with my family soon.” You take a deep breath as you take more of them in your mouth, trying to fasten your pace. Loki's grip on your hair sends pleasure through your whole body as they move your head for you. “You good at this pretty boy. Have you been dreaming about this?” A whiny moan is the only response you can give as you feel them twitch in your mouth. “Shit, you really are good at this.” Loki throws his head back as they moan, squeezing their eyes shut. “You gonna swallow puppy?” You whine as you attempt to go faster. 

They don't give a warning as they cum down your throat, holding your head against them as you swallow. “Now let's take care of you before I leave.” Their breath is still shaky as they sink down, pushing you back so they can crawl between your legs. Your mind is so shaken you don't even realize they’ve gone back to their womanly form till they look up at you from between your legs. 

Their hand wraps around your cock, clearly enjoying the way you immediately begin thrusting into their grasp. “You're so pretty when you're desperate (Y/n).” That's all it takes for you to cum, watching it fall down their hand as you continue their motions through your entire orgasm. The second you try to get away from the overstimulation they stop, rubbing your thighs gently as they lean up to give a small kiss to your lips. “Maybe I can be late to see my family, let's just stay here for a while.” They whisper as they crawl onto your lap, sinking into you as you wrap your arms around them. “Yeah, I'd like that.” 

[thethingaboutdeath]

Only 1-3 of my kids did anything akin to a genocide run (Jacklyn along with Clover in some runs and Frisk that one time), but if the others did of them did here are their theme/motivations

Liliana - It is my duty as a faithful servant of God to cleanse the Earth of this demonic filth. I don't care how long it take or how many obstacles I must overcome. It is God's will, and it will be done.

Brooklyn - So they plan to go to war with humanity? Tsk tsk. If only they knew just how ruthless we can be. I'll spare them the pain of finding out the hard way, I'll spare humanity the burden of having to waste supplies when this hypothetical war comes, and I'll spare whoever is next to fall of this responsibility.

Amari - If I'm gonna get past the king and go home, I need power. And killing monsters give me that power... Well, it's time to play the waiting game. I got plenty of time and monsters to kill. No use trying to get attached to creatures like that.

Lyric - These beasts are a dangerous and hypocritical race. They wish for freedom, for war, and they will kill children to achieve it. They have no morals or principles, nothing like that. How disgusting. They aren't worthy of mercy. Why show compassion for beings that show none for me? They only showed me hate and malice, they wanted to kill me like it was nothing. They murdered those poor children as if they were nothing. They murdered Amari as if he was nothing. It's as if they didn't even see them as people, just another human for them to eliminate. If they got the chance, they wouldn't hesitate to do the same to all of humanity. And yet, they acted as if that was good, as if it would even change anything... Things like them are better off exterminated.