#author lady-phasma

[lauraneedstochill]

god, I loved this so so so much, absolutely everything about this is perfect 💔 the tenderness she treats him with, and how it seems like with every layer of his clothes she also removes layers of his restrain, and he eventually can’t help but give in because he craves her affection and her understanding. I love that there’s no rush in your writing, and the pacing makes it feel like I’m watching a scene from a movie unraveling right before my eyes. and it’s just so soft and so beautiful!

this is instantly one of my forever favorite pieces, thank you for writing it 💔

After the storm

Aemond Targaryen x gn!reader

Warnings: all ages, hurt/comfort

Summary: what transpired after Aemond's return to King's Landing? playing a little fast and loose with dragonflight times so let's just pretend it was raining the whole way back, okay? 900 words

Your throat tightened the moment you walked into the room. You had come to him as soon as you saw Vhagar circle the city. You had been anticipating his return, anxious about his errand. There was a chance he would come back betrothed to a Baratheon but you couldn’t care about that now. You saw his wet hair plastered to his head, his eye patch dangling from his hands, his shoulders slumped as he rested his arms on his legs. He didn’t turn toward you when you approached. He had heard the door open and close, you saw his violet eye flick toward you. But the only other movement was the sway of the leather strap between his legs.

“Did it go so poorly?” You walked slowly toward him, conscious that you didn’t want him to perceive your anxiety. He didn’t answer, he only dropped his head. You lowered yourself onto your heels next to him so you were eye level with him. His eye was closed. You caustiously laid your hand on his knee and stayed silent. His face wore a curious expression of pain and confusion.

“‘Poorly’?” Aemond breathed out something like a laugh, but when he looked at you nausea tore through your stomach. He had never looked at you like that. He noticed you flinch away from him and narrowed his eye. “What could you possibly know about it?”

“I..” you tried to reply but the words caught in your throat. He turned his gaze back to the floor and you let your hand slide off his leg. You stood and inhaled deeply, steadying your nerves.

“I couldn’t know anything about it, Aemond, if you don’t tell me,” you glared down at him. “So ‘poorly’ isn’t the word you wanted. What in the seven hells did happen?”

When he looked up at you your hands went cold and you felt a twinge of guilt at your harsh words. You had never seen him cry and you didn’t want to now. The pain written on his face made your chest ache. His violet eye flicked away from your face and you glaced at his sapphire, the skin around it was angry. You let out the breath you were holding. When you stepped in front of him he instictively rested his head against your stomach. You placed both of your hands on the back of his head and smoothed down his wet hair.

“Come,” you said as you slid your hands gently under his chin. You guided him to look up at you. “Come with me.”

You stepped back, took his eye patch from his hands, and dropped it on the table. You slid your hand into his and began to walk. He stood up, a defeated man, graceless and lumbering. Nothing like Aemond at all. You kept your face neutral and calm.

He followed you to the bed, but he wasn’t with you, he was far away. His gaze was on the floor when his eye was open at all. You stopped, turning to him. You reached up and unfastened the leather tie in his hair. You smoothed wet strands back from his face. You gently passed your thumb over his cheek. He glanced at you but it was fleeting.

You began to unlace his tunic and slide it from his shoulders. Aemond didn’t resist. He let himself be guided by you. So you proceeded to remove his wet garments and boots with very little help from him. This was so utterly peculiar that you moved as if this were a task that you had to do correctly and efficiently. You didn’t speak, only focused on each article of clothing. Your hands shook at first but then the cold of his wet clothes made them almost numb. He wasn’t shivering. He was long past that.

You left him for a moment to fetch some towels from the armoire. You gestured for him to remove his pants and you held the towel so that you could immediately wrap it around his waist. He stepped out of the sodden pile of fabric as you tied the towel around his waist. Aemond muttered something and you looked at him for clarification. Your brows knit together in confusion.

“Thank you,” he said, barely audible.

You give him a kind smile in return before he looked away again. You pressed gently on his shoulders so he would sit on the edge of the bed. Slowly and carefully, you dried his face, his neck and shoulders. You watched those same shoulders shake slightly as you pulled the towel away. He would tell you soon enough, but whatever had transpired was worse than you could imagine.

As you dried his hair he rested his forhead against you. It seemed to take a long time to dry, but when you were finally satisfied you dropped the towel to the floor onto the pile of clothes. You raised his face to yours again, this time his eye was pleading, searching your face. You kissed his forehead and smoothed your hands down his jaw. You let go and moved around him to climb onto the bed. You stacked the pillows and reclined against them. You didn’t have to instruct him. Without hesitation he laid his head in your lap and curled his knees to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly over his head, his shoulder, his arm. Then he spoke.

“I didn’t mean for her to do it.”

Masterlist Aemond masterlist

[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[arcielee]

ānogar

Summary: Your husband helps comfort you. Paring: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, menstrual mentions, there will be blood, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging?, unprotected p in v Author’s Note: Thank you @schniiipsel and @sylasthegrim for being my beloved beta readers and making sure Daemon was Daemon-y enough. Thank you to the wonderful @zaldritzosrose for this banner! And thank you @lady-phasma! Your return to Tumblr and your anons inspired this depravity. 🖤 Valyrian translations: ānogar means blood, sȳz riña is good girl.

While the king only sought to sate the hold that the house of the dragon held within the Seven Kingdoms, the Lord Hand wished to find a wife to preoccupy the king’s brother. You were carefully chosen with this intention, the embodiment of what they both searched for, with the echo, “A sound match,” following your footsteps. 

Before you had left for King’s Landing, your mother made it painfully aware of the weight of the reputation belonging to the Rogue Prince. “You must satiate his appetite, at whatever cost,” came her hot whisper in your ear, pinching your upper arm to hold your attention, “and make sure it results in a babe.” 

Her words left a fluttering trepidation that accompanied your heavy steps, a hesitation that was twisting in the pit of your stomach as you entered the Council Chamber. Inside you could see that the king and his Hand were already seated, as well as Prince Daemon. 

The silence was thick around you, and it seemed the prince was almost amused with your apparent discomfort. His steely gaze washed over you before falling to your fidgeting hands; a smirk played at his mouth. 

“Well done, Otto,” he announced loudly, emphatically, and you burned from his informality. The king grimaced and Ser Hightower pursed his lips, but Daemon continued, unabashed: “Ābrazȳrys mazōrīnna.”

I accept my wife. 

Though you were wary of the marital obligations that your mother frightened into you, the prince quickly soothed them away. He was as insatiable as rumored, but not in the way you had been warned. Instead, there was an unseen kindness that was reserved for you alone. Daemon took care to show you consideration and the first month of wedded bliss was a heady haze, an entanglement of bare limbs and open-mouthed kisses that boldly bruised your skin. 

Though despite all this, you failed to produce an heir, and your shame came hot and slick between your legs. 

“Imagine my hurt to learn that my wife does not wish for my company.”

Your maids had just left you alone after helping you change into a sheer chemise and wrapping the heated stones to place on your lower abdomen, something to help soothe your cramps. You look up to see Daemon leaning against your doorframe, waiting. 

“I have been unwell today, husband,” you said, unable to hold his eyes. 

His brow knots with his concern and he glides across the cobblestone to your bedside, his hand reaching to touch your face. “You are flushed, but not warm,” he observes, his eyes trailing to your tight grip on the bed linen. His large hands are gentle to unfurl your hold, pulling away the layers until he sees the wrapped stones laying on your stomach. 

You squirm under his scrutiny, all too aware of how your body presses against the fabric you wore, all too aware of the crimson stain. Daemon dips his head to capture your eyes, his own showing a flicker of amusement while yours were wet with your embarrassment. “And this was reason enough for you to deny my company?” His voice was soft, but his cheeky undertone remained.  

You struggle to put the words together. “But I am unclean.” 

His eyes darkened with your admission, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s a little blood to a dragon?” He teases, looming closer to capture your lips. 

You gasp, your body already yearning to touch him. Your fingers follow along his jaw and drop to pull at his collar, to pull him closer. He growls against your skin, a low rumble that reverberates through you; his hand moves to cup the nape of your neck and he bites into your lip. 

You whine softly, a pulse of pleasure that is quickly crushed beneath the stones. You pull away. “Daemon, we shouldn’t…” but your protest is weak. Your body is already moving, spreading your legs to welcome him. 

And Daemon knows this. He smirks, his hands pulling away the stones. “If you truly believe that I fuck you for the sole purpose of a silver haired babe, then perhaps I have not done my part right.” He shifts between your thighs, his hands just as warm as the rocks removed, skimming across your flesh and pushing up your chemise until you are able to pull it over your head. “Allow me to rectify that, ābrazȳrys.”

You fall back onto the bed, bare for your husband and already burning under his potent stare. His chin falls to his chest, watching his fingers flit to your patch of hair, trailing lower and pressing to spread your folds. A cooper scent fills the air, mixing with your own arousal, and he lets out an appreciative hum. His palms press to your thighs to lower himself between, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee with a tickling touch that you squirm against. 

His hands tighten his hold on you, dimpling into the softness of your thighs. “Paghagon, sweet wife.” Breathe. The exhale with his command was a cool contrast to your heat building, your blood mixing with your passion that was thrumming to the surface. He pushes closer. “Allow me.” 

You melt from the intimate kiss he places, your head tucking to see the glint of red to his wicked grin. He watches you as his other hand moves to touch and your mouth falls open with the wet squelch of his fingers curling within you–the same that have learned you so well. You feel the stretch of your velvet walls as Daemon searches carefully, delicately, until you finally emit the softest sound. 

Daemon returns his attention to you, victorious, watching the gooseflesh ripple over you and your nipples pebbling from his touch. His fingers continue to curl upwards to that sweet spot, slow and deliberate. His other hand grips into your hip, pulling himself closer to place another kiss to your pearl that trills up your spine. “That’s it,” he murmurs against you. “Let me hear you.” 

Your body is aflame from his ministrations; the come-hither pace of his fingers have your moans falling with abandon from your lips, from the buddying warmth that spreads and begins to brim on overwhelming. “Yes,” he growls, his grip now anchoring you to this pleasure building, almost bursting. You whine, your hips bucking. “Sȳz riña, just like that.”

It erupts from you with a fiery passion, your blood searing through your veins and muscles contracting, twisting the air from your lungs. You arch your back against the mattress, your fists knotting in the sheets as Daemon continues to pull this pleasure until you see spots of light dizzying in front of your eyes. 

You are panting from this euphoria, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes before he finally withdraws his hand from you and wipes it onto the bed, a crimson red bold against the cream color. “Sȳz riña,” he repeats, and you feel something stir in your core again, sparked by the little bit of Valyrian he has taught you thus far: good girl.

“Daemon, please.” You push to your elbows, your eyes glassy. “Jaelan tolī.” 

I want more.

He glows with a sense of pride with how it rolls off of your tongue and the bed dips with his weight, leaning over for his lips to trail towards your stomach. It tingles with the mixture of his mouth and the billow of his tunic, dotted with red. “Who am I,” his each deliberate word spills as his fingers dimple into your skin, pulling himself up and closer, “to deny my wife of what she wants?” 

Your writhe beneath his weight and he moves to claim your mouth again. His lips are soft and warm with the taste of iron;  when you sigh sweetly, he swallows it. 

“You did so well for me.” His voice is velvet, a sultry praise you cherish. He shifts his body on top of you, pulling himself from his breeches and settling into the cradle of your hips. “One more for me, my sweet wife,” but he says it more as a statement than a request. 

You are already willing, already canting your hips towards him. His arm reaches between to guide his length until you feel his swollen cockhead lining with your entrance with a slick, dull pressure that jolts through you. 

He begins to move with gentle thrusts to fill you until he is sheathed deep within; Daemon stills when his hips are flushed to your own. He watches as you gasp for air, clenching to adjust, and his grin returns in tandem as he continues the slow roll of his hips, pressing even deeper. 

Your moans mix with your cry, and the sound only spurs your husband to pull upright, reaching behind your knees and pushing until the tops of your thighs touch your chest, folding you and hovering above to set a brutal pace. Each thrust sparks something smoldering through your veins and pouring into your core. 

Your cunt suctions greedily, a sticky mess. “I am close,” you gasp with the flutter of your walls. Daemon pulls away and you let out a sound. 

“Not. Yet.” His large hands grab you with force, twisting you onto your stomach. You feel his palms kneed into your lower back, a firm touch that follows up your spine, massaging your aching muscles, and you moan but in a different way. You relax into his touch, and the bed shifts again as he leans over to press his lips to your spine.

“Daemon,” you are breathless, a different ache you are begging him to soothe. “Please.”

He tsks, still grinning, still pressing his palms to your skin, and you cannot help but savor the warmth of his tongue. “Sylugon arlī.” He says. Try again.

You lick your lips. “Daemon.” You are desperate. “Kostilus.”

“Please what,” he taunts, but you can feel his biting grip into your hips, pulling your arse upwards. You gasp as he sinks into you again, stretching you from a new angle. You bury your face into the bed, muffling your moan, a wet spot forming from your spit. 

His fingers curl into the nape of your neck, pulling you up to meet with his merciless rhythm. He pounds into you, deeper and harder, and your pleasure begins to brim to the surface again. Your fingers curl into the linen as it splits you in half, a returning ecstasy with full force; Daemon allows you to fall forward, a sobbed release into the linen and its tangy mix of sex and blood. He bends over until his brow presses between your shoulder blades, a low groan as he hotly empties himself inside of you. 

There is a quiet moment that follows, the sweet exchange as you both gather your breath, the returning tenderness reserved for you alone. You feel another kiss on your backside and your skin ripples in response. Daemon pulls away, a sticky mess in his wake, and you lazily roll over to watch as he tucks himself back into his slacks, unbothered by the red stains that now adorn his clothes. 

He moves towards the door, but stops. “I will call for your handmaidens to draw you a hot bath,” his eyes flicker over towards you, “and to heat up new stones.” 

You curl into the sheets, allowing ample skin to show for your husband. “Shall you join me for the bath?” Your tone is purposefully coy. 

Daemon turns fully to look at you, his eyes raking over you and color still staining his cheeks. His heavy steps pull him back towards you, using one arm on the bed edge as the other reaches to grab you. You meet with him, hungry to kiss your husband again, and his tongue craftily rekindles the warmth you can still feel pulsing in your core.

He stops and pulls himself upright. Your eyes are wide, watching his signature smirk, his arrogant strut that takes him from the room. He leaves you with a fluttering warmth from his kiss, and though he said nothing, you trust that he and his insatiable appetite will return to you. 

general taglist: @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @abecerra611 @myfandomprompts @dixie-elocin

@darkenchantress @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent @namelesslosers @itbmojojoejo @multyfangirl

arcie's navi || house of the dragon masterlist period smut collab

[psycheetamore]

Piercing through invisible armour 

Summary: our lord not only wants to catch his game physically, but also mentally. And he still needs to clarify what the exact relations/hierarchy is on his planet.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, anticipation/threat of smut, talk of smut, a bit of smut, dubcon, unexperienced lead lady, talkative Feyd, predator/prey, teacher/student - the author regrets nothing

Part 3 of 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 1.6k

How Feyd-Rautha had looked forward to this very moment. He wanted to savour this experience, every second of it, every centimetre of her body. He wanted to be able to recall everything. There would not be any room for haste, only for pure pleasure.  

Securely he brought his game to his chambers. Deep in his heart he had hoped she would make another run for it, but it would also please him if she would submit. The hunt was done, now he would eat and feast. 

She expected to be thrown on her back on his bed, but to her surprise she was placed on a couch, softly, to sit. He squatted before her, to look her in the eyes.

To see her core.

Her eyes were asking for him to claim her, make her his, to take her. He had learned to recognise that look. The eyes of many ladies before her had expressed the same considerations. Doubt. Should they or should they not. He knew this meant they wanted him, yet feared him. They desired what he may do and were afraid of that. Of what this may mean for their name and reputation, for their sanity, for their body. All these reasons combined often. It was fuel to his desires, urges. Intoxicating. It was all the permission he needed to do whatever his depraved heart felt like.

She seemed to cave in, hanging her head nearly in sorrow.  

“Hmm. Don’t be like this. This is no fun” he pouted, gently placing her locks behind her ears. She responded by crouching even more. She had gone from fearsome to fearful in the blink of an eye.  

That meant he may not be able to get the pleasure he had anticipated from her. He was planning on resistance, obliging him to use constraints. But he was a resourceful man. He would make due.

Sitting next to her he towered over her. Not a good place for an intimate conversation. So he placed his hand on her back to guide her to sit on his lap. She complied without discussion.

The pressure of her body weighing on him, her bruised feet and her tiny bloodied toes dangling: she looked like an afraid little girl, sitting like this, with her hands folded on her lap and her eyes focussed on the floor. She did not show resemblance of the warrior she was. 

“Tell me”, he asked, as he wrapped an arm around her frame and rested his head on her shoulder while apparently mindlessly caressing her covered upper leg, “why are you here?” 

“I...” she stalled. She could not believe he was asking her this. Her lips moved like they wanted to form words, but nothing came from her mouth. “You...” Following yet another pause: "why...?"

A sigh left her body.

“You cannot hide from me. Your body can't, nor can your mind” as he pressed the top of his bold head against her neck, and stroked her shoulder with his cheek. If she would not known better, she would believe she felt him purr.

“You brought me here” she responded with a  voice as steady as she could muster. 

“No, little one. I won't believe that" as he kissed her covered shoulder. "You would not let yourself be captured if you truly did not wanted to" followed by a shy kiss to the bottom of her neck. "You would not have let yourself be branded as mine, if you would not have yearned for it" as his lips touched the carving in her neck. "You would rather take your own life than to be here, with me, if you did not want to be here” as he licked the wound.

He looked up to her and smiled with his black teeth, while he squeezed her hip: “tell me that isn't true. Tell me you would never allow me to best you wilfully.” He saw her eyes meet his gaze briefly, only to escape again. “Convince me of that, and I will let you go." He threw one arm in the room, to emphasise this statement. "I will place you outside the gates of the palace, with a new suit, and you are free to go, as my fellow respected warrior.”

A small huff left him, as he placed his hand back on her lap: "I will give you a head start, before I start to hunt you again, of course. You still need to repent after all." She saw a sparkle in his eyes. She knew that every outcome of what would happen, would be to his delight and manufacture.

He placed his soft lips back on her neck and repeated softly: “convince me, little lady. Tell me you don't want to be here.” 

She sniffed as if to reluctantly confirm what he had concluded earlier. “That is what I thought. You are here. You want to be here. You know you need to be here” as he wrapped his finger around a long curl that surrounded her bosom. “Be here, with me”, his finger moving to her collarbones, following the soon to be scar he had left up to her ear. "To be mine. To have. To hold. To teach. To mold. To break. To become my darling." He moaned at the thought. "Isn't that a delicious idea, my lovely? Wouldn't that make you happy? Sooth the urges that brought you onto my lap? To allow you to sooth my urges that you brought onto my lap?"

Pursing his lips, he forced her to look at him, while his eyes glanced down her gown at her chest. “Now, tell me. Did your friends know you are a woman?” he asked, while plucking at dress to get a better view, already knowing the answer. 

“No”, she confirmed, not entirely sure where this conversation would end. 

“Hmm. And have you ever been with a man?” he continued, again, already familiar with the answer. His precious lips met her ear, as she felt his warm breath flowing over her. She did not answer, but let out a small gasp as she closed her eyes. “You can tell me. I don't judge” a smoky voice said, as he started to unbutton the front of her barely-there dress. 

Automatically her hands tried to pry his hands away, causing him to grab her hands and place them on his chest. "No" as he looked at her sternly. “This is where your hands belong. For now. I will teach you.” Glancing at her: “because you are here to be taught. Aren't you? My little Fremen student.” 

With her hands carefully gracing the muscles she had felt days ago, they started roaming him. Feeling him, as if to verify the map planted in her head days ago. Hearing him moan agreeable to her actions.

“You would not give yourself to just any man" he said dead serious. "No. You were waiting for me” he stated. No question, no uncertainty. A mere statement. 

“Now tell me, what have you experienced with other men?” while he continued to pluck at her garment.

Naively she responded, unconsciously raising her fingers while she listed: “I have eaten, trained, planned, sparred, fought, killed with other men. I have killed other men.” 

“I know that, my delightful warrior" as his mouth uncovered one of her shoulders. "But what else? Has a man ever kissed you? Touched you. Licked you? Bitten you? Been in you? Filled you? Deviled you?”

“Uh... well, their knives have been” she responded ever so naively. “You have seen my scars. You have placed another one on my body.” 

He aggressively grabbed her face to look at her, only to conclude, with surprise: “you are serious?” 

Terrified by this sudden change in atmosphere, she nodded her head, surprised by the look on his face.

“You have no clue, do you?” looking at her doe eyes. “You are so sweet.” He whispered, to himself: "you are a little present. Mine to unwrap for the first time to and play with." Grabbing her a bit firmer, to prevent her from escaping, placing his soft lips on her ear again, he whispered: “I was planning on shackling you to my bed, with the cuffs you managed to avoid. Two bands to contain your wrists" as he touched one of her wrists, "two around your ankles" as he touched her knee, "and a last one around your neck” as he circled this hand upwards, to rest all digits around her neck. He felt her tensing. “Rip the clothes of your body. Have you lay there, not being able to move, while I explore every bit of your body. Fuck you with the back of my knife. Hmm, your own knife would be better. Both. Get you to bleed for me while I carve the rest of you with my blade. Enjoy your body up to the point where you beg for me to bring you pleasure or death, only to deny you both, repeatedly." He was clearly delighted with his own nasty words: "I was planning on doing vile things to you. Walk you on a leash through the palace, whip you until you are as red as blood, take you from behind while denying you air, get you to beg to hold my cock in your mouth" as he softly clenched his hand around her neck. "Which you would get, eventually. Well, your throat to be exact" as he pressed each of his fingers a bit deeper. "To fuck you so long that you shiver into unconsciousness.” 

He looked at her shocked face, knowing that she was visualising what he was painting in front of her: “but you do not know which pleasures I mean. You are still untainted." Placing his face in her hair: "you are so pure. So sweet. All for me."

Stroking her hair, while he pushed his face harder against her, he asked with a soft voice: "do you know what fucking is? Do you have any idea?"

"Uhm.. yes. I think so. It is when people push each other" she tried to explain, as truthfully as she dared.

His laughter filled the room, as he was planning on filling her as well. "You are something special. I have never had a pet so unfamiliar with the ways of this world." He kissed her as gently as he could, as if to make her feel comfortable with her lack of knowledge.

He placed one hand on each of her thighs and abruptly pulled them apart. One of her hands was led to his ever growing manhood, after which he pushed her dress up to uncover her entire legs. Moving her panties to the side, he pushed two fingers in her, as she gasped with the speed that all of this was happening. Clinically he said while staring at her: "this here, my dearest" as he pulled his fingers in her up, touching a source of pleasure "is your pussy. I have been longing to be in there, ever since you were here in this very room nights ago. I knew you were a woman when I layed eyes on you. I could smell it." He gruffed: "you are now holding my cock, which by the way you may squeeze a bit harder."

To reward her compliance he hummed: "very good. You learn quickly."

He continued: "not only my fingers want to be in you. My tongue wants to steal all your moisture, that is so precious to you Fremen. My cock longs to be in you, to see into your core. In each of your three holes to be exact. And that is why you are here. Because you want my cock to fill you. To fuck you. Which I am happy to oblige."

By the time his monologue was done, he felt her breath having risen to the top of her chest, her face became very blushed and his fingers started to be soaked.

It caused him to declare solemnly: "it will be my duty to teach you, to initiate you, to taint you. I take my role as governor of this planet quite serious.” 

He forcefully grabbed her neck with his free hand to roam his teeth across, and growled with a deep voice that scared her: “I usually find it to be quite boring if they are not trained for my preferences." Moving to a softer voice: "but I will make an exception for you. Because you have surrendered to me, so sweet, so innocent” as he placed his lips on hers, tilting her head back and forcing her to open her mouth. A rush came over him, as she responded and welcomed his tongue. She had potential. 

Holding her tight, he stood up to bring her to his dreaded bed. This would not end here. 

+++

Next parts listed on my pinned post

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Wednesday (TV 2022)Rating: Explicit  Warnings: Rape/Non-Con  Relationships: Larissa Weems/Captain Phasma, Phasma/Larissa Weems  Characters: Larissa Weems, Phasma (Star Wars)  Additional Tags: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crossover Pairings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Abuse of Authority, Police, phasma is a policewoman, larissa is an entitled rich lady who parks her fancy car wherever she wants, if anybody cares it's cadillac escalade bc i love that fucking car, Bribery, Blackmail, Rape/Non-con Elements, Extremely Dubious Consent, Porn With Some Plot lol, overall bad porno vibes, Porn, Car Sex, Dildos, lipstick stains, porn features a Very Important Addition which is, chrome dildo, to reference phasma's armour, no don't ask me how a chrome dildo would work this is my emotional support porn shoo shoo, Strap-Ons, Face-Fucking, Face Slapping, Daddy Kink, degradation kink, Humiliation, Vaginal Penetration, Manhandling, Handcuffs, Police Uniforms, Butch/Femme, Butch Phasma, technically i guess this is self-cest bc they're both gwendoline christie characters lol, so uh, Self-cest, i guess, but i imagined them to like, have different faces, and being very distinct and different characters even if they have some similarities, Such as height, but you can imagine whatever floats your boat! 

Summary: 

Larissa doesn't want to get her license suspended, and Phasma wants to fuck a pretty woman with her chrome dildo. They come to an arrangement.

[dreamlandcreations]

2 truths, 1 lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

I should pick ONE WIP?????? Okay, okay, I can do it, it's easy *lies* Ooops

Thanks for the tag @evita-shelby @lady-phasma 🥰

No pressure tags: @kasagia @zablife @becauseicantthinkwritings @marvelmusing @youvebeenlivingfictional @withmyteeth @massivecolorspygiant and anyone who wants to

[horizon-verizon]

https://www.tumblr.com/lady-phasma/751676108988088320/the-dance-of-dragons-game-of-thrones-i-wouldnt?source=share

I'm fed up with people who bring out this scene to make people believe that they are right to be neutral...

To an extent this is true, the sides ravaged the land during the war....and then you see that the greens began this war just for their own gain, most of them were responsible for most of the disasters (the riverlands burnings, Strong extermination, Bitterbridge; invitation to Dalton Greyjoy [yes Daemon later invites him, Otto did first and the blacks anticipated so this is "both" kind-sorta]). And later the greens stole the treasury so Rhaenyra couldn't properly feed or "restore" KL as much as you can during an active war.

I think that it's important to remember that Shireen is talking to her father/the man trying to gain the throne thru his maledom and blood relation to the last king AND her entire life has been relatively in the shadows. She's a kid dependent on him raised by both him and her mom to be more or less obedient to authority figures and keep most of her thoughts to herself as to not stir shit, from what I remember. Finally, in Westerosi history, it's been taught ever since the Danc ended that the war was more a tragic travesty that decimated the kingdoms and not that Rhaenyra was a usurper, as Stannis thinks. Yes, there would be some who cite her gender as reason enough for her not to be queen AND by and large women are seen as incapable of fully ruling, the other thing is that the Targs and Robert by extension (bc some have used his Targ grandma to legitimize his rule) derive their claims through Rhaenyra's bloodline. Not Aegon's. And still, she had more supporters based on a head-of-house' right to choose and others to mind their business about it. Aegon was thought of as "grasping" by the respected Grandmaester Kaeth. So again, an unfortunate and catastrophic event where siblings fight each other and the realm (ironic, bc those lords chose to fight 🙄) suffers for it.

Even if she thought, genuinely, that Rhaenyra was the rightful ruler, she's not gonna tell her dad that (likely). Finally, I don't know if she ever said something similar in the books, I always count down the pages when I read through Davos. Not conducive to fair understanding of characters.

Still, Books > show adaptations. Esp when it's GoT and HotD, both which have adapted the orig characters form not well to horrifically ands way off base. You're just reinforcing Condal's ego thrashing that's already been shown to mirror D&D's.

[weemssapphic]

hi, can I ask for your top ten favorite fics ? :)

hi! you absolutely can :) here are some fics that literally altered my brain chemistry. this is by no means an exhaustive list. some of these I have mentioned before, some I have not. the order is also completely random, as I would die if I had to rank these - they don't deserve to be pitted against one another and, in any case, many of them are so different from one another that it would be impossible to choose which is "better".

anyway, gonna put this under a cut!

Little Cat by @lady-dimimi when I tell you every single chapter of this fic has me giggling and squealing and kicking my feetsies - it's so sweet, the idea of Larissa turning into a cat (and having such gay panic) is something I never knew I needed but now cannot live without. so well-written and every time a new part comes out I literally drop everything to read it.

Life Eternal by @milfsloverblog I've linked the first part but there are 4 parts in total which can be found in her masterlist. oh boy. I have never sobbed this hard at a fic before. I cry quite easily anyway but something about the beautiful way this was written just had my stomach in knots and tears streaming down my face. but I would read it over and over again because it's just that good.

Hot Chocolate on ao3 by AllTheMoreSapphic, Yennefer Payne (madamspellmans_met_tet) Larissa Weems is a virgin and Zelda Spellman is a dominatrix and jfhlkjdshagkdj this fic has me in a chokehold okay I cannot explain it you just have to read it, you won't regret it I promise. it's so well-written and there's just something about it that scratches an itch in my brain.

Heat by @rippersz a (so-far) 2 part series with a third part perhaps coming. quite literally one of the hottest things I have ever read, dear lord. jaw-droppingly hot. but seriously all fics by @rippersz are an absolute delight to read, one of the most talented writers I have ever had the pleasure to come across. would devour anything they write.

Find What You Desire by @pro-weems-places super hot smut with a hint of fluff and just the best vibes overall, I re-read this one so often because it's absolutely amazing. @pro-weems-places characterization of Larissa always makes me fuzzy inside, one of my favorite writers truly <3

push me gently (into love) by @yourlocaldisneyvillain one of my fav fav fav writers, her writing is so unique and so immersive. and this fic is EVERYTHING. so silly, so much fluff, some of the most divine smut you'll ever come across. Larissa deserves her goth gf okay??

Anticipatory Grief by @wh0re4women such an amazing author, all of her fics are incredible. but god this fic HURT. had me bawling like a baby. and you know what? I loved every second of it. so well written that you can feel the grief coming off the page in waves. highly recommend if you need a good cry.

Warmth of Your Doorways by @alexusonfire and @daydream-cement have I mentioned this fic multiple times already? yes. and I will continue to do so until I'm blue in the face because I love Jane Murdstone and I love the writing and I love the plot and this fic will always have a place in my heart and my brain. <3

Shapes of Love by @dianneking Morticia x Larissa wherein Larissa is a sex worker and is hired by Morticia. this fic literally has everything I could ever want in a fic and it's finally (and kind of sadly tbh) complete - queue me re-reading this gem over and over again (all of their writing is fire though by the way)

Sugar Mama on ao3 by valda (need an ao3 account for this one) I have mentioned this one before but it will always be one of my favorites. Phasma x Rey sugar mommy AU that unfortunately I think has been abandoned, but I just love everything about it. rip never forget.

[lya-dustin]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Thanks for the tag @ewanmitchellcrumbs !!

Sweet mother (rhaenicent ft painted table)

Last wolf of Lankiveil (werewolf!Feyd Rautha x reader pov(oc))

All is bliss (aemond x velaryon!niece!oc(aemma))

Shock and delight (aemond x aemma , bridgerton au)

Delirium (drugged!aemma accidentally kills villain!alicent)

Tagging @lady-phasma @houserautha @sansaorgana @arcielee @idontevenknowhowtolife

[aemondsbabe]

two truths, one lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

thank you for tagging me ange & lana!! @bouncehousedemons @zaldritzosrose 🩷🩷

two truths, one lie for the third (and final) chapter in my claimant series! 🔪

curious to see what everyone will think lol

no pressure tags: @aemondtargaryenonlyfans @schniiipsel @arcielee @toms-cherry-trees @marthawrites @lady-phasma & anyone else who wants to do it!

[lady-phasma]

Dragon Friends Collab Masterlist

This amazing group of writers (and moots) came together because of a request that had been in my languishing in my inbox. The excitement and enthusiasm for these characters and this collaboration has blown me away. This has been a joy to participate in. Please check out all the wonderful period smut we wanted to provide for anon.

Licking Wounds - Daemon x niece!reader - by @aemondsbabe

Forbidden Temptation - Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader - by @aemondtargaryenonlyfans

Lend a Helping Hand - modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader - by @anjelicawrites

Āngoar - Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader - by @arcielee

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader - by @happilyhertale

Bathed in Silk and Blood - Daemon Targaryen x whore!reader by @lady-phasma

Devour - Daemon Targaryen x wife reader - by @marthawrites

Fear is a game for children - Aemond X Aemond Wife Reader X Daemon by @thought--bubble

Sanguine Obsession - Vampire!Aemond x Human!Reader - by @zaldritzosrose

(Alphabetically by author)

All boards by the lovely and talented @zaldritzosrose

[anjelicawrites]

Two truths, one lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

Thank you for tagging me: @zaldritzosrose!!!

So: two truths and one lie from my latest OG!Poly ask WIP

So: can you guess the lie?

Zero pressure tag: @fan-goddess @exitpursuedbyavulcan @lady-phasma @aemondtargaryenonlyfans @thought--bubble

[asimperingswannsong]

Torbi’s Journey

Author’s Note: IDK it’s just a protest over the amount of Star Wars and Marvel content Disney is spewing out without giving me Phasma’s backstory. Delilah Dawson was kind enough to provide source material but instead Disney gives us Star Wars: Andor? She Hulk?

I’m sure this timeline is muddled and I’m no great expert of Star Wars history so please be gentle.

Summary: Captain Phasma/Torbi

- reading Delilah Dawson’s novel ‘Phasma’ is a helpful prereq. An unhinged person like Phasma deserves an equally unhinged love interest. That’s the working theory here. There’s a non-con riptide swirling under the surface so mind yourself.

———————————————————————————————————

The tall blonde stood, drink in hand, and watched the glint of the lights from the chandeliers bouncing off Captain Phasma’s armor as she wove her way through the crowd. General Hux droned on at her elbow about weapons shipments and other boring bureaucratic niceties. The man was all work, even at what purported to be a party.

She’d spent the last eight years scheming, cheating, and killing her way through anyone who tried to dismiss her or undermine her in anyway. She’d eliminated anyone who tried to question her legitimacy. She’d learned well from a thief and scavenger who’d rescued her from the surface of her home planet in what came to be a sort of apprenticeship (from her failed attempt to steal from him), but his only intention was to swindle and grow his fortune by pirating equipment shipments from hyperlanes and profiting from other’s misfortunes. Her ambitions were larger in scope, and it wasn’t long before he became an obstacle.

Naturally, she’d removed that obstacle, and the next one, and the next. She wanted more than money. Her goal was crystal clear. She’d maintained the contacts her rescuer helped her make, but she also assumed new roles with contacts of different sorts.

Slowly, she’d established an identity as a legitimate supplier to the First Order. She purchased supply lines and ships, then factories. She employed workers to make the things she’d previously only stolen. Overtime, Lady Ruth Deimos emerged as someone who could be relied on to provide weapons and other supplies on strict deadlines.

Her reliability had finally gotten her here. In regular and direct contact with General Hux, and so close to her goal, so close.

“Why is her armor chrome colored?” “What, oh…” she’d caught General Hux off guard. He’d been completely oblivious during his interminable rambling. “Uh, she created it herself. At first I thought it was presumptuous but my father had an image in mind for promotional purposes. I now see her use as a figurehead for the fleet. Our troops have come far under her leadership, and she inspires them admirably.”

“Could you introduce us?”

He guided her through the crowd over to where Phasma had taken up position on the perimeter. She was, no doubt, bored; standing and watching First Order officers schmoozing with politicians and suppliers.

“Captain Phasma.” “General.” “This is Lady Deimos. She’s supplying us with new blasters for the recruits.” “Hello.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen the footage of you in battle, very impressive.” “Thank you Lady Deimos,” Captain Phasma observed the woman. She was beautiful; creamy skin, dark blue eyes, light blonde hair; tall - 5’10”? Phasma detected something in her attentive gaze that she couldn’t quite place. She was used to flattery. Since agreeing to be the face of their promotional campaign, with posters and footage of her plastered everywhere, she’d attracted a sort of fan base. But, this seemed like something else, almost a sense of familiarity.

“General Hux.” His comm interrupting. “Yes, trooper?” “Sir, we’ve detected activity outside the banquet, there appear to be two people trying to gain access not on the guest list. We suspect they may be rebels.”

General Hux nodded to Captain Phasma who immediately turned to collect her guards before exiting to investigate.

Lady Deimos sighed in frustration inwardly. Every time she tried to move in, her efforts were thwarted in one way or another. She tried again and again over the next few weeks to gain direct contact with the captain, but Phasma maintained only a passing interest in the ordering and supply of weapons. As long as they were there when needed, she wasn’t overly concerned with where the weapons came from. After a few weeks of failed attempts at gaining direct access to the captain, Lady Deimos fell back and decided to switch gears entirely.

——————————————————————————————————

She left her operations manager in charge of luncheons and other tedious interactions with the General. She put away her gowns and finery, donned a leather jacket and some canvas work pants, and began to frequent very different sorts of gatherings; a series of dives on backwater planets; some of them she owned or at least owned a stake in. They were places frequented by scavengers, bounty hunters, rebels, anyone who wanted to drink, eat, gamble, or meet up outside the gaze of the First Order. A few evenings spent next to a few drunk and extra friendly patrons along with some well placed bribes and she came away with a name.

He was going by Gavin, but his actual designation was trooper TS4067. She intercepted him on his way to provide his rebel contact with the latest intel he’d gathered. After a few drinks, the promise of greater riches than the rebels could comfortably provide, and a light sprinkling of the threat of bodily harm, she’d received a promise to be advised of troop movements.

After a few months, the opportunity she’d waited for finally presented itself. A few scavengers had inflicted enough damage to a shipping hyperlane to attract the notice of the First Order; like a fly biting the hind end of an ass enough that it finally swings around to scratch it on a tree and squash the fly in the process.

She knew from TS4067’s report that the order knew virtually nothing about the encampment where the scavengers where hiding. She gathered as much information as possible from a few of her sources and arrived in advance for additional reconnaissance.

She was safely stowed away in a rocky outcropping with a good view of the village through a set of quadnocs when Captain Phasma, TS4067, and a small group of other storm troopers arrived.

The settlement was not large. It contained several low dome-shaped structures designed to withstand sand storms. There were village elders dotted around the perimeter playing large harp like stringed instruments.

The music emanating from them was a high pitched sort of whiny sound that couldn’t be described as pleasant. At first, she’d thought maybe it was a primitive religious practice designed to remind the citizenry to remain penitent? That was the only reason she could think for why they would tolerate such a caterwauling. Of course, when she discovered the actual purpose, she knew immediately that she could use it to her advantage.

Predictably, the order did not waste a great deal of time considering the anthropological origins of the harpists. They executed them almost immediately, unknowingly, sealing their own fate in the process. She could only hope that Phasma would live up to her reputation when the time came.

The silence caused the people to begin exiting their homes to investigate the sudden change.

The troopers wasted no time in rounding up the inhabitants. The scavengers were pulled from the crowd and executed in front of the others as an example. The soldiers continued by killing people at random, ransacking their possessions, and sitting a few of their dwellings ablaze before the consequences of their actions arrived. It started with intense ground tremors. Suddenly, three very large and angry Tr’chasian dragons emerged from underground burrows.

TS4067 was devoured whole pretty quickly; a loose end nicely tied up with no effort on her part. Now she grew tense as she saw Phasma engage with one of the creatures while her troops continued to be decimated around her. Phasma discovered quickly that her blaster was no match for the thick armor like scales on the exterior of the beast. She was attempting to maneuver herself underneath it to look for weak points when she was caught by the swipe of its back foot and sent flying. She impacted with the side of one of the dwellings. That was her cue to intervene. She activated the beacons she’d placed earlier throughout the settlement. A reproduction of the harpists song flooded the village and sent the beasts retreating back into their underground burrows.

———————————————————————————————————-

She waited as Phasma recovered. The medical droids had stopped her bleeding. Her ribs were healing, and she expected her to regain consciousness at any moment. While she waited she admired the Captain with her helmet removed.

She was quite beautiful in repose, pale skin, blonde eyelashes and eyebrows that almost blended into her skin, close cropped blonde hair, longer in the front where it hung in messy waves from humidity maybe. She had surprisingly delicate pink lips with a scar above the right side that Hetaera was resisting the urge to trace with her fingertips.

She began to consider the potential outcomes for this iteration of her plan. This site she’d brought Phasma to was a relatively new acquisition of hers. A watering hole that had recently begun to turn a decent profit. The hidden medical bay which she’d designed for this specific purpose was also doing a decent trade in providing care to wounded rebels and others who’d had unfortunate encounters with the order. She’d hate to see it go but she was prepared for the possibility that Phasma would lash out in anger.

She mentally snipped the thread tying her to this place and let it go in her mind. Next she considered the possibility that Phasma would report back to Hux and compromise the entirety of the business she’d created under Lady Deimos. She was by far the most lucrative of the half dozen identities she’d cultivated over time. But riches were not her goal. If this identity and all of its holdings collapsed, so be it. She only needed to retain enough wealth for the next phase of her plan and she’d more than made that sum over and over again.

Phasma awoke suddenly and began to test the restraints on her arms and legs. She struggled for a bit, found them unyielding, and dropped her head back in a huff. She turned to find Lady Deimos regarding her. She was standing, watching her, and holding one of her old blades.

“Did you save me for the satisfaction of killing me with my own blade?” “Do I looked dressed to kill?” Phasma took in the flowing blue gown that accentuated her figure and matched the blue of her eyes. It was an incongruous pairing with the makeshift weapon in her hand.

“Then what does Lady Deimos, the First Order’s arms supplier, want with me?” Lady Deimos smiled, “I brought the blade as a clue to my identity. Lady Deimos is just another fiction I invented while scheming of ways to be here with you. She was just a means to an end.”

“The only thing the blade tells me is that you’ve been scavenging on my home planet.” “I didn’t scavenge it. It was given to me by my mother. She pulled it from the sand after you’d dropped it in battle.”

The only hint of recognition was a brief widening of her eyes before Phasma re-schooled her expression to mask any emotion. She regarded Ruth intently a few moments. “There were no survivors. You cannot…” “Siv was behind the blast doors of the medical facility before Brendol Hux bombed the planet’s surface. She survived, as did I.” “That’s imposs…” “Is it?”

“Where is Siv now?” “Dead, I assume. She went out hunting when I was twelve years old and never returned. I was not able to locate her remains.” “And what is your name? Your actual name?” “Torbi.” “And what is it you want? Toture or some other revenge?”

Torbi smiled and took a seat on the ledge of Phasma’s medical bed. “No, none of that.” “My mother regarded you as a blood traitor and a savage who couldn’t be trusted.” “I don’t necessarily believe that to be inaccurate, but I think she failed to consider a motivation behind your actions that all the other Scyre failed to consider as well.” “Oh? Care to enlighten me as to the insights you’ve drawn about me without ever having met me before?”

Torbi reached out to delicately rearrange a strand of hair that’d fallen into Phasma’s eye. Phasma roughly shook her head to remove Torbi’s hand. “With pleasure dear, I think they all failed to notice that they were a doomed race that refused to lift a finger to try and change their fate. They failed to see that the brutal disregard you showed for your parents, your brother, and the rest of your people was born of necessity. That you were the only one with the will and the determination to survive and now their bones are buried in the sand and here you are, surviving. Thriving. I can’t pass a screen or a wall without seeing your face or hearing a summary of your latest act of valor.”

“What is this? You have some sort of crush on me?” Phasma asked with disgust in her voice. Torbi laughed. “Maybe it started as something like that a long time ago. It was fairly lonely on the planet’s surface with just my mother to keep me company. But I think it may have evolved slightly from there.”

Phasma grew annoyed with the restraints holding her down. “What do you want?” she scowled, furrowing her brow together. Torbi reached out, placing both thumbs on the scowl lines in between Phasma’s eyes. She gently smoothed the lines with her thumbs, lightly running them out and along Phasma’s eye brows, before gently drawing a few circles at her temples in a soothing manner.

“What I want is to broaden your perspective out past the end of your nose. I too survived and escaped the planet’s surface. I too had to act in callous disregard for those around me in order to survive and to thrive in my own way.” Phasma drew her brows together again as she waited for Torbi to continue.

“My point is, it would be a great shame if you and I went through all that trouble and all that effort just for the Scyre to come to an end when we perish.” “My childhood crush had at one time pictured a future in which I was able to tame your animalistic instincts and form you into a partner that I could love. But you are thoroughly entrenched in your new role with the order and I’m not so certain I could ever really trust you.” “I’ve grown inpatient with waiting just as you have with being restrained in this manner. Only I’ve waited far longer. So I can only apologize and tell you that I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a few blood samples from you while you recovered and I plan to use those samples to isolate your DNA. I will then recode donor sperm with your DNA and I will continue the Scyre race beyond us. I want to thank you for your role in starting our family Phasma.” With that Torbi leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Phasma’s lips.

“I’m sure you’ll destroy this place but I want to encourage you not to hurt yourself trying to escape. The droids who treated you have been programmed to wipe their circuits and deactivate and the restraints holding you in place will release you shortly.”

“I hope to see you again sometime. And I hope to do so without being disemboweled for my troubles. Goodbye, Captain.”

[psycheetamore]

Another escape, another hunt 

Summary: Our lord has managed to get his Fremen prey into his palace. But she will not succumb to his desires so easily, even if her body wishes to do so. How he loves his game.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, anticipation of smut, predator/prey - the author regrets nothing

Part 2 of 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 1.8k

Losely based on chapter 11 of Choosing to Follow Destiny

His slaves were standing outside of his quarters, as the na-Baron sought entrance. 

“Is she readied?” 

“My Lord…” and the slave paused. “My lord, we could not get the cuffs on” as she fell to her knees and started to grovel asking for forgiveness.  

He kicked her to the floor and proceeded: “you are lucky. I am in a good mood.” 

Several minutes ago, the terrified slaves that had dressed the new interest of the lord Harkonnen, locked her up in a separate room in his quarters. It did not take a lot of effort to force the lock. She felt vulnerable, dressed in clothing that did not deserve that word considering how little of her frame it covered and that could be meant only for ladies of the Harkonnen night. Feeling the mark he had left on her neck, which seemed to have been treated. Her braids loosened to have her long black hear flow across her back. Horrible shackles the slaves tried to put on her. She could not allow herself to think what he was planning to do. For her sanity, and to keep control over her physical urges that seemed to long for him. She could still feel his strong fingers gracing her lips. Yet, it could not distract from the recognition that she needed to move. The longer she was in his vicinity, the more difficult it would be to escape.  

Feeling her heart throb in her throat, against the healing wound he had left, she surveyed his chambers for any weapons or other tools that could help her gain some leverage. But it did not come at a surprise that nothing was present. It could not be anything else than that he prepared for roaming around here. Fear started to seep into her bones as she started to understand the gravity of the situation she was facing. The second-best option was looking for heavy blunt objects. Something that could allow her to issue a blow and try to get away. As she was scouring as quickly as she could for such objects, she heard him arrive and talk on the other side of the door. She grabbed a plaid laying over his bed and scooted softly to hide in the darkness next to the door.  

She noticed a body drop and the door opening. This was her one chance. As he walked in, she threw the plaid over his head and pushed him, making room to run away.  

Surprisingly, he was disconnected for a blink of a moment, just enough. She did not wait for a second opportunity, and dashed.  

The hallways were as dark as his room, the night having fallen and scarcely lit. There was no distinction between the left and the right side of the hallway, so intuitively she took off to the left. 

From a distance she heard him shouting: “run. Run as far as you can. Challenge me. We both know you will end up chained to my bed.” Shivers flowed over her back. 

She ran and ran. She should find some light coming from the moons anytime now. That would give her guidance on where to go. It felt like she ran for hours, probably mere minutes. Corridors went up and down. What was this place other than a maze, she thought, completely lost and getting out of breath. Functioning on pure adrenalin she forgot her fatigue and anything else holding her back. She just ran. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming from a corridor she was running towards. With muted steps she backed up against the wall, carefully peaking around the corner. A chance to sip some air, and perhaps more. A guard, dressed in a black Harkonnen uniform, was paroling. He did not seem to be on high alert. Perhaps her escape did not yet reach everyone. She pressed herself against the wall, waiting for the guard to walk past, so she could overtake him. Completely oblivious the guard walked past her. It took her one well-placed kick to the backside of his knees to get him to fall on the ground. He fell on his hands and knees, but it still made a terrible noise. This would surely attract other guards or Feyd-Rautha himself, so she immediately started kicking him to the head, bruising her feet, adrenaline masking the pain it caused. It took a few kicks for him to lay flat on the ground, allowing her to grab the bat and dagger he was carrying. She started to run in the direction he came from. 

After yet another corner she took, she lost the little sense of direction that had remained. But there was no time to worry. 

She continued to run until she abruptly recognised an imposing figure in the shadows from afar. The stance, the body, the clothing: it could be no other than her captor who had spotted her, staring at her with a tilted head and black smile on his face. She stopped, froze for a second, turned around and started running the other way around. Even with her newly acquired weapons she was aware that she would hardly be a match for him in these circumstances. 

Feyd-Rautha chuckled. Feisty and spirited. He was happy to see that she lived up to his expectations. He did anticipate she would free herself from the first room, and try to make a run for it. There was a reason he did not bring guards. He had, however, imagined that he would be able to keep her in, as he had carefully removed all sharp and heavy objects. A true fighter he was dealing with. And, by god, she even managed to obtain some weapons. Lovely. She clearly had not given up just yet, just like he asked.

His hunter instinct was kick-started by seeing her flee away. How he loved a game like this. With his longer legs, boots, and overall better condition, it did not take too long before she was within an arm's reach of him. 

She heard him gaining distance on her. His footsteps grew closer and closer. She gave it her all. She needed to outrun him. Her heart was throbbing in her throat from exhaustion. She needed to push through. Or find a way out. But where? No tangible options presented themselves. A sudden ambush perhaps. Short term, but still. 

He was just steps away from her, she could hear it. She decided to push for a last final sprint, to get him to speed up as much as possible, allowing her to suddenly divert her track and use his momentum against him. In the process, she managed to dart around him, while brushing the dagger across his arm. Now standing behind him, he turned to face her. Wearing his evening clothing, but still with boots and a belt with weapons, he showed her the blood on his fingers, which came from the wound she inflicted. Yet another wound he would have her repay.

“It is a dangerous game you play, little one. I have killed for smaller offences” he said menacingly, although his face gave away the joy he felt. "How is my mark on your neck feeling?"

“Kill me” she taunted. “Let's get this over with.” 

“No” he answered. “We both know I won't do that. You are far too lovely to meet such an end. In any case not such a quick end” as he grabbed a knife from his belt in a leisurely pace. He started to walk towards her, shifting his head from left to right, seeing straight through hear face into the inner workings of her brain.

She tried to maintain their distance by moving back as he closed in on her. But there was only so much space, as she was backed against the wall.  

He tigered around her, managing to get her into a corner. “Your strike, lovely lady. I will give you one strike” as he invited her through a gesture to come at him.  

She looked in his eyes and saw darkness. This was a dangerous man, with dangerous games. He was in control. Her only way out would be to disarm him, and hold him hostage until she could get out.  

She decided to make a go for it. Holding the club in her right hand and the dagger in her left hand, her strategy would be to get him to focus on her left hand, lose the club, switch the dagger to her other hand and strike.  

But her eyes gave her away. As she tried to execute this plan, he knew what was coming. He had seen every step that she had anticipated, and before she knew it, his hard chest, just covered with an evening tunic, had pinned her against the wall. She could feel his heart beat through the nothings they both wore. She could feel the heat flowing from his body to hers, as he kept her legs in check by pushing one of his between hers. His growing groin pressed against her bottom. Her body started to respond involuntarily, creating the moisture he craved. Forcing her hand to open, he managed to release the remaining weapon and kick it away. Only now did he turn her to face him, while holding her shoulders with an iron grip. 

She tried to kick him, causing him to push his entire body against hers to keep her still. As response, she pushed her hands on his upper arms. His strength was felt as she was pinned against the wall. His solid arms, his muscular torso, the growing excitement in his nether regions. It caused a further growing excitement in her nether regions as well, the likes of which she had never encountered before.  

“Why do you resist me? You belong here. You want to be here. You want to kneel before me and take everything I have to give to you.” Vile, tainted words came out of his mouth as honey, while his lips touched her neck and ears. He started to kiss, nibbling on her ears, allowing his warm tongue to roam over the ridges of the wound that was sure to become a scar from her ear to her shoulder, claiming her, marking her as his, while holding her head still. “Don't resist” he said with a chanting voice, feeling how her breathing located to the top of her chest. With nearly nothing covering her, she started to fear he would feel the warmth and wetness radiating from her body onto the leg that he had positioned so strategically against her most sensitive area. He wrapped his arms around her back to press her against him, as he softly bit on her neck. “Don't resist. Succumb to me” he continued to chant. He felt she was slipping away, as if her legs were not providing support anymore. 

“I can't” a small voice said with a deep sigh. His mouth on these sensitive areas, his vicinity, all the vile words that had left his sculpted mouth; she started to loose control. Breathing more heavily and rapidly, which he could feel through his chest that still forced her against the wall. 

He knew she was starting to break. All it took was a bit of affection. It was quicker than he had anticipated.  

He softly replied: “you can. And you will” as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Pinching her bottom, awfully near her core with a mind of its own, he said: “you want to submit to me.” 

+++

Next parts listed on my pinned post

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

20 Author Questions

thanks to @statelysapphicfor the tag!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

28!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

162,944

3. What fandoms do you write for?

it's that sweet gwendoline chistie brain rot for me :))

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

push me gently (into love) -> (nsfw) -> two chapter Larissa x reader story in which reader is an art teacher at Nevermore. fluffy, cozy, and sweet, featuring easily skippable smut. rom-com vibes.

when the last restraint is gone -> (ongoing) (nsfw) -> an intense victorian romance between Jane Murdstone and her lady's maid, Laura. sort of in the style of Sarah Waters's historical romance novels. heavily influenced by Vita and Virginia's love letters. featuring a lot of sensually read victorian poetry and dirty, delicious smut.

danger level - one (nsfw) -> filthy smut featuring the good ol' sex pollen trope. Phasma x fem!stormtrooper!reader. hot and a bit silly. straightforward and simple porn lol.

particular (nsfw) -> Larissa Weems x (adult) Wednesday Addams, aka the fic that got me cancelled. ongoing, but written. still in the process of posting it. rom-com with dark humour and some more mature themes, but still relatively light. sort of a coming-of-age story.

so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) -> Brienne x princess!reader. very fluffy. Brienne is very good with a sword, but a bit oblivious in the matters of love. featuring good ol' lesbian yearning.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try my best to! i feel like i either wanna rant abt my blorbos and my thought process or i want to be polite. someone took the time to write a comment, and i feel like that warrants a thank you!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmmmm. perhaps the sad ending option for my ruin tastes so sweet (almost as sweet as your lips) -- it's a choose your own adventure story!

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

it would have to be either so very chivalrous (and so completely oblivious) or push me gently (into love) which now that i think about have a lot of kudos and comments and hits, so i guess ppl love happy endings hahah

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i'm the queen of controversy apparently, and i was cancelled! but the fic itself didn't get as much hate as ppl didn't even wanna read it lol, i personally got hate mail. so fics? i suppose not. but there is still time, who knows what else i'll post (i know, and ppl will likely have opinions about it)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i very much do lol. the real hot kind :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i've written exactly one! larissa x phasma bc. reasons. it's smut. chrome and lipstick

11. Have you ever had a fiction stolen?

not to my knowledge! but ppl have heavily copied my work :)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

not to my knowledge!

13. Have you ever co-writtten a fic before?

tried to, but the person in question sorta ghosted me lol

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

ughhhhh idk man. i guess the one i spent the longest being obsessed with is malora. i have a dark past lol.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i hope to finish them all Eventually lol but idk, we shall see!

16. What are your writing strengths?

characterisation, point blank haha. i have a sense of rhythm that i sometimes put to good use.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

uhhh i tend to be vague abt things i am bored with while i write, and plot driven things aren't my forte. i can get very dash and comma happy lol. sometimes i tend to Fixate on a word or a phrase and i'm like okay gurl let it go lol, you've used this too many times. i am not very meticulous and i hate doing outlines and i feel like Sometimes it Shows. i feel like sometimes you can tell english is not my native language no matter how hard i try.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

speak the language at least somewhat, please. otherwise it's really hard for it to land well. personally, i feel very lukewarm about it

19. First fandom you wrote for?

uhhhhh. i honestly don't remember. supergirl perhaps?? or ouat.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

our little dance and particular :)

tagging: @the-frankenman-writes @dianneking @zephyr-is-tired @alder-saan @notinmyvocab @theflashesoflove

[houserautha]

Well this just made me cry😢 Writing is such a brutal hobby to have and it makes all of it worth it to know that means something to at least one person

Thank you for tagging me🥹 @kpopnstarwars and right back at ya

There’s probably so many people that I’m forgetting but I want to celebrate these authors that I love so much!! (If we’ve never interacted, just know I appreciate you! And sorry if anyone is double tagged!)

@sansaorgana @immortan-valkyrie @kylowritten @harkonnen-darkness @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @dreamlandcreations @harkonnin @lady-phasma @austinbutlerslovers

nothing will ever amaze me the way fanfiction authors do. like, you wrote silly little stories about my favorite little guys? and i can read them?? for free??? that’s fucking wild.

you poured your heart and soul and very being into your writing and then put it out there for anyone to read? insane.

you spend a truly incredible amount of time writing novel-length, high quality stories, again, FOR FREE, that anyone can read, again, FOR FREE??

shoutout to every single fic author in existence, you guys are fucking incredible and i love all of you so much