#I need him on the most carnal level

[reigningmax]

Max via instagram story 7/29

[risuola]

expect me to drop some fluff in the next days, thanks for listening

[crowns-of-violets-and-roses]

There's an old probably apocryphal tale about Lyndon Johnson that was popularized by Hunter S. Thompson which goes like this:

This is one of the oldest and most effective tricks in politics.  Every hack in the business has used it in times of trouble, and it has even been elevated to the level of political mythology in a story about one of Lyndon Johnson’s early campaigns in Texas.  The race was close and Johnson was getting worried.  Finally he told his campaign manager to start a massive rumor campaign about his opponent’s life-long habit of enjoying carnal knowledge of his own barnyard sows. “Christ, we can’t get a way with calling him a pig-fucker,” the campaign manager protested.  “Nobody’s going to believe a thing like that.” “I know,” Johnson replied.  “But let’s make the sonofabitch deny it.”

Tumblr keeps making me think of this anecdote. There's a group of users on here who constantly demand if anyone mentions BDSM positively or even neutrally they caveat it by saying they aren't talking about abuse or if a man likes to call his boyfriend daddy they demand he disclaim that he doesn't support incest or if a trans girl likes to wear cat ears she needs to deny that she isn't into bestiality.

The point of this isn't that they actually believe it themselves or even a lot of the time it isn't about convincing other people that it's true but just to tar people by creating the association between two unrelated things by demanding that people constantly deny it.

[velvetures]

Hi baby!! I like your writing sm it's amazing 💓💓 If RQs are open I would like to request König stealing from readers dirty panties to use when he's self pleasuring~ she finds out and confronts him and one thing leads to another and next thing you know he's got her thighs locked on the side of his head while she rides his face so he can finally taste what he's been wanting for weeks. Thank you so much I know you'll do great with this req

Do Me?... A Favor

A/N: God, I love this! I had such a great time writing this and might've needed a lil' break halfway through. This trope has a special place in my heart. (I'm mentally unwell) So I hope you enjoy! Forgive me for being so late on this. Summary: König steals your panties and does dirty things with them. You catch him, and... well... you and I both know exactly what happens after that. T/W: !!NS/FW 18+ ONLY!!!, thievery of panties, male masturbation, fem-reader, dirty talk, fantasy mentions, face riding, exhibitionism if you have 20/20 vision, fem-recieving oral, spanking?, prob missed something... I don't proofread, ya'll better know this by now.

GIF and Story Below Cut

Extended missions with KORTAC usually meant that König would be within touching distance of you for days on end. Hearing you talk with his squad and watching you make jokes that got almost every single one of the stone-cold men melting with affection for you. There wasn’t a single one of them that didn’t absolutely adore you; Jump at the chance to help you, offer to take watches, ask to be paired with you, or just try and be the lucky one that got to either sleep with you or next to you. As Colonel, König always had his hands full maintaining order when the girl from the United States sector was sent to help them out.

On a personal level though, König struggled to hide the desperation and pathetically overwhelming feelings of jealousy he had when seeing anyone get that close to you. Having known you the longest, spent the most time alone with you, trusted you with his own mind and vice-versa, the Colonel -problematically- believed he had a bit more of a right to you than any of this men. Perhaps your own behavior towards him didn’t help out much either. So little and gutsy, you always liked teasing him. Tempting him to wrestle and always so confident you’ll win, and toying with his mask; begging so innocently to see the “handsome face” under there.

You’d been like that with him for so long, he couldn’t tell the difference between close friendship and flirting anymore. Blurring lines and also his own ability to control the compulsions to get just a little bit more of you. In any sick or twisted way he might be able to get his hands on. No man could resist your charms and beautiful little face. Especially König, who melted from a towering 6’10 to a weak and desperate boy crawling after you like a lost puppy.

He wasn’t proud of it. Then again, he didn’t care all that much. Especially when he found a way to satisfy his more carnal and disgusting desires for you that couldn’t even be tortured out of him.

In his defense, you’d been the one who started it. Calling out his name when you were in the small bathroom of the safe house and asking him to grab some clothes out of your rucksack, having forgotten to get them yourself. Half dazed knowing you were naked with just a thin, open, door between you had the Colonel making a beeline for your bag and ripping it open to do exactly what you’d asked of him.

Now… if any of his men would’ve asked him if he had a thing for panties, he would’ve very sternly disagreed with the whole idea.

But when he laid eyes on your panties, balled up and stuffed in a little side pocket in white, black, pink, and some cute patterns, the darker side of his mind slipped. Throwing him into an entirely different kind of temptation that he’d never entertained before. He’d hardly been able to deliver your clean clothes to you without incident, and spent the rest of the evening with his brain consumed with fantasies of what you looked like in all those pretty things. Surely your ass looked downright sinful with that material stretching over it and cradling your body closer than he’d ever have the opportunity to. Fuck… even your thighs would be that much more brilliant with the crease made that much more obvious by the hemline of the panties. The images kept flowing long into the night after he should’ve been asleep, his own watch hour ticking closer with each minute.

Struggling with the urge to palm his hard cock and just try to ease some of the pressure. Begging for some type of solution to his weakening self-control. König was up and headed to the bathroom, ready to take care of his painfully throbbing erection before he could even stop to think about how wrong it was to jerk himself off less than fifteen feet away from you and his men. The moment he unzipped his jeans and freed his drooling cock, his mask was shoved up so he could spit in his hand, and stuck his mask between his teeth to try and muffle his own sounds of pleasure.

Thoughts of what you’d look like gasping for breath on top of him, impaling your little body on his cock, spurred König to smear his own spit over his length. Fisting the head and rotating his palm around the tip with a deep rumble in his chest. He wished he could’ve seen you in the shower… soft skin wet and dripping with lathered soap. Rubbing those tiny hands over your body and rinsing away the sweat he’d seen soaking your shirt and running down your neck earlier during your rotation. His hazy vision cut to the shower, looking at it with a mental picture of you taking use of the handheld shower head. Putting it between your plush thighs and watching your tremor.

Only some small and purple sitting in the corner of the floor next to the bathtub froze his movements. Every muscle tensed at the sight of it, and while precum drooled from his swollen head, the Colonel couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The massive man didn’t even need to get off his seat on the toilet to pick up the delicate scrap of material and dangle it in front of his face. Taking into account his interaction with you, he couldn’t believe that your dirty underwear had fallen out of the balled up clothes you’d worn all day.

König’s cock twitched at the disturbed idea of smelling them. His body goading his mind to forgo the moral line of doing such a thing, and just do it. You wouldn’t know… his men would never find out… As long as he put them back in your rucksack before morning, there’d be no reason for anyone to question it. Besides, he was so turned on. And it wasn’t hurting anyone for him to just use a piece of your clothes to help let off some steam…

König ripped his mask off his head and let it drop to the floor next to his boot, and hesitantly lifted your panties up to barely touch he tip of his nose. The silky fabric was so damn feminine… so much like you in many ways. He rubbed them between his fingers, slowly moving his other hand up and down his cock; Nearly teasing himself with the full experience. Denying the satisfaction of experiencing your scent intimately. The otherwise self-composed Colonel couldn’t wait another moment, and buried his nose into your dirty panties with a lustful growl muffled by his hand.

His balls tightened with pure excitement, spitting more clear fluid down his shaft and filling the small bathroom with vulgar sucking sounds of his fingers sliding up and down with more desperation. Your scent was nothing short of a sweet and salty pheromone jolt of a daydream that made his brain go to nothing but static and arcs of electricity. His dick throbbed as his second inhale came as a much deeper and purposeful acceptance of this new and still very taboo action.

“F-fuucckk…” König had to whimper into your panties, his hips twitching up into his own fist.

“S-so fucking good…” Even with the very real risk of someone hearing him moaning, König continued whispering and whining his praise and pleads for you into the crotch of your panties. Going so far as to lose his willpower and reach out his tongue to feel the soft fabric and give his tastebuds one, lingering, taste of your sweet cunt. The tangy and candy-sweet remainder lingering in the threads of your panties utterly ripped König’s orgasm out of him.

His toes curling in his boots, his stomach flexing and his one fist tightening around the base of his shaft as thick and pearly release dripped hotly over veins and the between his balls before dripping in quiet drops onto the floor. The Colonel sat for full minutes, working over himself slowly and hiding his panting breath against your used underwear. He felt so goddamn monstrous for using you like this. Going behind your back and cumming over his fist like an animal in rut. Denying just how good of a release he had wasn’t possible either though. Not only had his most recent solo attempts been miserably unsatisfying, but his most horrific thought after cleaning up his evidence was that he wanted nothing more than to pocket your panties and keep them.

The Colonel blamed his own rotation on watch as the reason behind why he pocketed your panties instead of putting them back in your rucksack.

Two days later, you were still quietly in search of your panties that had apparently disappeared into thin air. You’d turned your bag inside out, went through the bathroom at least five times, and checked every other room of the safe house thinking someone might’ve found them and just tossed them somewhere they believed you’d see them. Searching came up with zero sign of your panties, and you felt like you were going insane. Not that it really mattered if they were gone… You had packed plenty of spares in the case you -for some reason- needed two back-ups for every day you were gone and couldn’t buy more. It was more so just the simple fact that you’d been so unobservant to misplace a pair of bright, purple, fucking panties.

Being surrounded by nothing but men only added to your silent mortification.

“You alright Sergeant?” One of the KORTAC guys paired on your rotation nudged your shoulder with his elbow, drawing your attention back to the -quite serious- task at hand.

“You look a little distracted, everything okay?” The look on his face made you think he was concerned that the cold weather was getting to you.

You shook your head. “M’fine. Just lost something, and I can’t fucking find it anywhere.”

He chuckled, adjusting his rifle against his chest. “Something important?”

“No. Not at all,” You sighed, seeing your breath fog up in front of your view of the forest and the heavy snowfall. “Just can’t figure out where it went and I’ve turned the whole house over.”

The Lieutenant at your side looked back towards the edge of the perimeter and then back to you with a little shrug. “Well, i suppose you could go in early. Get warm and have another look around. You’ve already had more shifts than plenty of the other guys.” He patted you on the back and jerked his head back in the direction of the safe house and outlying buildings.

You couldn’t help but grin under your face mask, eyes squinting to show your appreciation and giving him a quick ‘thanks’ before jogging back through the snow. You passed a few of the other guys out on rounds and either waved or called out a short word or two so as to let them know you’d come in for a few hours. Typically König was the one who dictated the different schedules to ensure no one got left out in the snow too long. Kicking off the frozen slush and snow off your boots, you waddled yourself inside and set out to get warmed up and find the Colonel.

Maybe he’s seen my underwear… You muse a bit mortified, unclipping your heavy overalls and yanking your tac vest over your head. God, it was a thought that made you shiver not just from the cold nipping at the wet cuffs of your winter layers and damp socks.

It wasn’t very secret that you had a very soft spot for König. He was just so damn sweet to you, and might’ve always given you a little bit of preferential treatment when you got sent to KORTAC on collaborating missions. Whether he did it because of his belief that you were a woman -and much smaller- than any of his men, or maybe for a more personal motive, you didn’t know. Really having the courage to bring up the topic was extremely intimidating. Joking around and teasing the massively tall and handsome solider was one thing. Asking him to lay out how he truly felt about you as more than an occasional partner was very different.

By the time you’d changed into some dry and comfortable clothes to hang out in for the rest of the evening, you noticed that the few guys lingering in the living room had left out. Leaving you alone, with the entire couch to yourself and a quiet house that gave leeway for a really good nap right in front of the wood-burning stove blaring heat right at you. Thank god for the KORTAC guys being so nice to you, and making sure that you didn’t have a hell-on-earth experience for your first winter in Russia.

You’d not really even gotten settled on the couch when you heard a somewhat loud thump from down on the other end of the house. Nearly like a head or hand smacking against the wall in one of the little rooms -made bedrooms- once you’d all arrived a little over a week ago. It didn’t happen again, and trying to just ignore whatever fools the guys could be making out of themselves outside to make that sort of noise, you just went ahead and closed your eyes again.

Thump.

Your eyes snapped open and stared at the ceiling, tuning your ears to the sounds emanating from the far end of the house. You waited patiently, and a third heavy and thud met your ears. Immediately you were up and on your feet, standing in the entry to the hallway leading that way, seeing that only one door was halfway shut, and it was König’s room at the very end. Eyebrows furrowed and hands resting on your hips, you stared at the door waiting for some kind of sign as to what exactly was happening. Surely one of the others weren’t setting up some kind of prank for the Colonel to come back to… right?

Oh god… he’d be soo mad. We’d all get ripped new asses if that happened.

And it wouldn’t have been the first time you’d faced König’s wrath for nothing more than someone thinking a harmless prank was acceptable. Even if the Colonel was extremely lenient on you, he wasn’t to be toyed with. He was a hard and cold man when it was called of him, and you really didn’t want to risk being thrown back out in the snow within the next twelve hours. What had your feet moving was another small and muffled sound, almost like a clipped and high-pitched sort of thing. It didn’t settle right, and you’d got to the door and pushed it open just a few more inches to tell whoever was in the Colonel’s room to get the fuck out.

You were the one struck speechless.

Through the small gap in the door and frame, you saw none other than König laying on the too-small cot with his shoulders propped up against the wall, mask rucked up over the bottom half of his face, and a distinct, purple, material pressed against his mouth and nose. The sensation of your heart and stomach jumping into your throat nearly choked you of oxygen. You could hardly drag your eyes away from his massive hand teasing his thick and hard cock. Once again, that thud reverberated through the room and it was nothing more than the erotic sight of him throwing his head back against the drywall with an -almost- silenced moan.

“Jesus Christ…” The whispered words fell from your awestruck mouth before you could stop yourself. Breathless, but damn sure loud enough for the Colonel to hear you and his dark eye to snap right to where you’d been peeking through the doorway. His whole body stiffened, and his hand stopped. Even dropping your dirty panties right into his lap. The purple fabric fluttering down to rest at the base of him.

“Shit!” You gasped, turning right around and hiding your face in your hands.

You could hear fabric shuffling and enough of a panicked movement to realize König planned on at least talking to you. Somehow having the sheer guts to not immediately act like nothing had ever happened. You heart thumped right at the back of your throat for what felt like and eternity before you heard the door behind your creak open and the distinct pattern of labored breathing. You jumped when his massive hand rested on your shoulder, nudging you to turn around.

“W-we… need to talk,” He mutters downright guilty. “About, what you just - just saw.” Swallowing the massive wave of conflicting feelings welling up in your mind, stomach, and in your pussy, you nod your head and wait until your hear König walk back into the bedroom before turning around and walking through the door to face him.

Right away your eyes fall down to his belt and take note of the -very large and still very hard- outline of his erection straining against his belt and the zipper of his jeans. Your face flushed bright red, realizing he’d pinned his cock beneath the leather strap around his waist to keep it as under control as possible. Before you could draw your eyes away, one of his hands falls down to shield his arousal, and you hear him clear his throat nervously. It draws your attention back up to his re-masked face. Noticing his eye darting anywhere but your eyes and the rise and fall of his wide shoulders. Comparing reactions, it seems that the Colonel is far more effected than you are.

Maybe you weren’t as… upset as you should be.

“I must apologize for my… disturbing behavior,” He blurts out with a raspy tone, visually shrinking a bit. “I… can’t begin to…” Trailing off, you watch him rub at the back of his neck, in thought and obviously tense.

“I just couldn’t help but - you’re just so…”

Eyebrows furrowed and your interest piqued, you take a step closer; Seeing your used panties tucked under his pillow and a small little glimpse of purple peeking out. Screams in the back of your mind make the very dangerous assumption that he’s still somewhat possessive over the item. It makes the growing wetness in your panties more significant, forcing your to flex your thighs together.

“I’m so, what?” You press softly, your head tilting up at him with the shortening gap between you.

The Colonel audibly swallows, “So… pretty.” You’ve never heard such a whimpering and weak sound from him. Almost like it’s a desperate thought he couldn’t help but admit to you. It stokes a fire inside your belly, and you’re very quick to push just a little more.

“So you stole dirty panties?” A low, gravelly whine escapes from under his mask as shakes his head.

“They were on the floor… And I was so frustrated, I didn’t mean for you find out. I just - just needed to know…” His voice stiffens, but he’s still struggling to defend his actions, and not totally own up to the fact that you’d caught him using your scent to get himself off.

“How many times have you used them, Colonel?” Your voice lowers a little, pussy clenching in anticipation of his answer; Fluttering wet walls that silently beg for more stimulation than the pressure your thighs can provide.

König squirms where he stands, sighing heavily. “Six. Six times… Fuck, I’m so sorry.” His head drops in guilt that actually squeezes your chest with sympathy. He’d always held the biggest piece of your heart, and seeing him so hard on himself for being -not only human- but having been no more desiring for you than you’d been for him… you just couldn’t stand letting him do this anymore.

“Well that just won’t do, will it?” You’re pulling your sweatshirt over your head and dropping it on the floor before König can look up and register what you’re doing. Halfway through pushing your pants down your thighs, you hear a sharp gasp and a little grunt of a sound.

“What are you doing?” His voice has flattened, and you peek up to see his wide eyes roaming all over your exposed skin. You just smile, standing there in a soft bralette and some panties and shrug like this wasn’t making your knees quake under your weight.

“I’m gonna give you fresh pair.” You lick your lips nervously, slipping your fingers under the waistband and begin to tug them down.

“Wait!” He almost shouts, taking a couple steps closer to you and grabbing your wrists to keep you from moving. “F-fuck… just, hold on a second.” He’s panting heavily, staring at you with dilated eyes.

For a long moment, you just stand there feeling his hot skin burning against your own. Silently staring at each other like trying to read the other’s thoughts without attempting to just do it the easy way and ask. You can smell the mint of his toothpaste and that all-too-comforting scent of sandalwood lingering on his body from some kind of cologne or deodorant you’d never quite seen him apply. You’re about to ask him a question when you feel his fingers trailing down your inner wrists towards your hips, and finally resting on the waistband of your panties. Heavy hands being much more gentle than you’d ever experienced, raising chills on your massive expanse of bared skin.

“Can I…?”

His eyes dart between his hands and your eyes with such an innocent look that you’re nodding your head before you actually think it through. Implicit trust had always made you and the Colonel a good pair on the field. Never pausing to think there might be a day like today were you’d test just how good things cold be in the bedroom. He’s down on one knee and nearly eye-level with you, fingers rubbing the fabric withholding the ultimate of your intimate regions… His face so close that it’s brushing against you stomach. Steadying yourself, you grab ahold of his shoulder; Needing some kind of grounding since you can’t really feel your bare feet on the freezing cold floor.

Squeezing the meat of your hips, the Colonel hisses.

“Always thought you were the tiniest thing… Wanted to know how someone so small could be so deadly,” His teasing evolved into slowly pulling at your underwear. Dragging them over the swell of your ass and leaving them there for a moment.

“Lucky me, knowing better than anyone how you can kill a man so slowly.”

He’s slow but purposeful in pulling your panties down your legs, his head following them instead of taking the first look at your bared skin. Reverently, he picks up your bare feet one-by-one and helps you out of the material, immediately rubbing the fabric between his long fingers. Your stomach drops when you realize that he’s purposefully feeling the crotch. Giving away the sheer arousal you’d collected there in mere minutes. It should’ve bothered you, made embarrassment floor your system. Only it just proved to make your legs feel weak under you. Almost visually shaking when the Colonel slid your panties under the hem of his hood.

“Want to tase what I do to you,” He murmured, giving you the exact answer of how pressed you were to find out what was happening under that bleached t-shirt of a shield.

“Need you to watch me…” Your cunt clenched hearing him sound so broken.

Nodding dumbly, your gaze never left König’s eyes. Seeing his heavy lids close, just to open back up drunkenly with a low groan that nearly penetrated your very bones. Wet sucking sounds emanating from under the mask, his tongue lapping at your soaked gusset and leaving no question as to just how fucking hungry he was for it. Spit-covered cotton sucked dry by one of the most powerful and intimidating men on the face of the planet; Down on a knee in front of you and literally lost to your taste. Lips parted and awestruck, you tried to force some words out.

“You look so hot like that, sir.” Breathless, it’s clear just how much it’s effecting you too.

Using his title has his eyes snapping up to you. Dark and dilated pupils, wide shoulders rising and falling quickly, and one hand still circled around your ankle to prevent your -impossible- escape from him. The Colonel is off his knee and has you lifted off the ground with only one arm before you can blink. Spinning you around and dropping you down on his cot; His massive body looming over yours. Downright terrifying save for the sight of your pink underwear hanging limply in his fist. That intimidating shadow of his erection -somehow- bigger than before, twitches against his belt. You’re driving him wild sitting so innocently with your thighs clenched together on his bed. Looking like you hadn’t the slightest idea just how badly he wanted to utterly destroy you right there and now.

“Sergeant?” Maintaining his composure takes every last fiber of concentration. Seeing your head tilt to the side in silent question and anticipation nearly doubles the weight of his balls.

“You must be so needy. Waiting so patiently for someone to give you satisfaction,” He steps closer, hips less than a foot away from you. Tempting your baser instincts to lean forward and swipe your tongue over a wet spot resting just over the tip of his cock.

“Your sweet cunt tastes like she’s been neglected… Have you been neglected Sergeant?” Almost mocking, you can’t begin to challenge him. Right away your nodding your head, flexing your thighs and crossing your ankles to attempt some small relief of pressure.

“König - I -” You’re fumbling for the right words when he chuckles lowly, bending just far enough to place his palms on across your thighs and squeeze just a little.

Meeting your forehead with his own, you’re right back to where you always felt with him. Safe and like he somehow understood everything about you without ever asking. Unique to König, he could always tell when something was wrong or you just weren’t quite on your game for some reason or another. You always thought it’s what made you such a good pair. And if you had to admit it, you’d have thought you knew just about everything about him too; But now after this, there’s a question lingering if all of his sweetness was just out of friendship, or something much more significant swirling around behind that shroud of a mask. Either way, you wanted to find out more. Get closer and explore the Colonel in a way you’d never believed possible.

“If you want this… me,” Just above a mere whisper, he paused to look between the small gap withholding you from him. “I need you to say so, meine perle.” Hearing your longstanding pet name in this connotation felt so very different, yet so much more impactful than on just your feeling of standard closeness. Giving you the suspicion that König hadn’t just thought it was a simple throwaway nickname.

“Please, please. I want you.” Your answer feels confident. Specifically choosing to ask for him, and him alone.

König met your lips with heavy intention. Cradling your neck with one hand and leaning your weight back against the bed; All the while crawling overtop of you. You could barely taste your own tangy arousal on his tongue, fighting for the chance to take the other fully. While König did try to resist your little bites at his bottom lip and your fingers prying at his shirt, it didn’t take long for him to finally happily give up. Rolling onto his back and pulling you to straddle him. Helping you along with the subtle movement of your bare cunt against his clothed cock and the ridges of his zipper.

“Mm,” He pulled away from you far too soon, admiring you sitting atop him so delicately. Pink cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and a look in your eyes that made his whole body truly feel desired ****************and appreciated. Maybe even loved.

“Come here, meine perle. Let me give you everything you want.” Pulling your head down to meet his lips one last time, you sighed.

Sinking against him with so many fuzzy feelings of happiness and surreal recognitions of just how crazy this was. Of how one single change of your day had brought you to König’s room.

“Süßes Mädchen, ich will dich probieren..” It was the last coherent thing you could remember König saying as he effortlessly pulled your bare cunt closer to his face with an utterly wrecked look on his face and his tongue licking at his lips.

Hip flexors and thighs quivering, you could hardly keep your eyes focused on the Austrian below you. With your legs spread and framing his head and his hot palms cradling the entirely of your ass to keep you from squirming too much, König had spent the better part of half and hour with his tongue buried in your cunt. Snarling and growling like a hungry dog who’s chain had finally snapped. Between your almost totally fried nerves and the nudge of his thick nose rubbing against your clit while tongue-fucking your hole, you’d nearly pleaded and moaned yourself mute with a sore throat. ail scratches had been scraped into the drywall in front of you, and the strength in your legs had long faded into boneless mush that König hardly needed the endurance to hold steadily. The Colonel had been nothing but painfully patient and determined to give your more orgasms than your body could withstand.

You’d been ordered to count them, and it’d never been more challenging to count to four.

“Bitte meine Perle, komm, fick mein gesicht.” You never wanted to follow an order so badly. But fuck if you came again, you weren’t sure you’d ever resurface from the sensation. The previous had almost left you sitting full-weight on his face and blacked out in overwhelming pleasure. Mentally preparing wasn’t an option though. König wasn’t stopping for anything. Including your weak whimpers and whines that protested the command despite your desire to listen to him as closely as possible.

“C-can’t do it again-” Your voice cracks pathetically.

A loud crack of his palm smacking against the flesh of your ass releases a guttural moan from you. Spanking you firmly for the denial, and nipping at your swollen and abused little clit in punishment. You whine again, knowing your choice in the matter is being denied. König’s hunger for your release dripping out from the corners of his mouth motivates him to wrap his lips around your swollen bud and suck. Using the tip of his tongue to flick against the painfully sensitive end. That movement had brought you to release the first time, and it worked just as efficiently again to rip your pleasure out of your body right into the Colonel’s waiting mouth.

Your shaking and tears being to roll over your cheeks as König uses his own strength to help ride you through the aftershocks that cause your thighs to tremor and your stomach to flex and waver. The only somewhat meaningful things you’re able to do is use one hand to run your fingers through his hair and try to keep yourself grounded to the cot and König. By the time you feel sensation in your toes again, König has already gotten you settled back in his lap with his massive arms snaked around your bare body, holing you tight against his chest.

You feel slickness not just of your own between your thighs, looking up at the Colonel with a question tugging at your eyebrows. There was no mistaking that König had finished some time through your turn and he’d either been really good at hiding it, or you’d been totally inconsiderate of noticing.

“Schön, meine Perle. Das hast du so gut gemacht,” His wet lips press to your forehead reassuringly.

“Did perfectly, so good at following orders.” His hands cradle your flushed cheeks carefully.

Thumbs brushing over your cheekbones and sliding up until he can wipe the sheen of sweat clinging in the hair of your eyebrows. You look downright angelic to him like this. Raptured by nothing more than his own desire to give you everything he possibly could of his physical and emotional being. Giving himself the most intimate position to see just what he’d fantasized about for so long. You, being loved by him. Adored just for being yourself. Pleasured, because you deserved it.

“König… didn’t you..?” Your little pants and confused look made him smile, leaning forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

He chuckled lowly against your mouth. “I did. Twice, actually.” He pecked the tip of your nose like a little praise for you.

You weren’t in any shape to fuss with the Austrian, however you did your best to put up a fight. “Let me… I wanna give you-”

“I’ve had just enough to satiate me for now,” His voice rasped a bit. “Besides, my men will be coming in for shift changes. And I don’t have enough faith in either of us to stay that quiet, meine perle.”

It was your turn to go shy and quiet, looking towards the shut -and locked- bedroom door, but forgetting that you weren’t the only two people in the area. Actually, thee was a good chance many of the men could’ve heard you making little to no effort to quiet yourself. One glance at the Colonel still holding you close to him, and you must’ve given him some sort of expression because he started laughing softly again.

“Kein Problem. Meine Männer reden nicht über uns.” You believed him.

But it was still a little intimidating. Now that it seemed everything was out it in the open, you had a lot of questions about what was going to happen, how things would work between you, or if there was even a possibility of somethingserious. The observant Colonel didn’t miss a single beat of your heart in that moment.

“Das bedeutet nicht, dass ich ihnen keinen Gesprächsstoff gebe, meine Perle,” His head nudged yours sweetly, despite his very flirty tone. “I’d like to keep you to myself. That is… if you’re okay with that?”

Nothing could stop the grin that spread onto your face.

“Ich liebe es, dein zu sein, mein König,” You wrapped you arms around his neck, kissing his ear softly. “Auch wenn du mein Höschen stiehlst.”

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated

[de4dlyniightshade]

ilysm and ur writing omg mamas (u have no idea who I am #parasocialrelationshipcore) BUT im like A SUPER FAN ☝️😫 anyway, ma'am, i had a sudden deep and absolutely CARNAL need inside of me- and how better to solve that emptiness with your headcanons?? 😍 OKAY, so the vision was like basically how spencer would act if you like praised something about him a lot like you emphasize it sm, YK? like say u said his lips were pretty or like his style is *chef's kiss* LIKE HOW WOULD HE REACT TO THIS INFORMATION?!! DOES HE THINK ABT IT OR IS HE COCKY OR WHAT? i need this man on a scary level omfg I'm so down baddddd THE D IS FIRE! also UGH i love your headcanons like they're literally my thoughts except like they're BETTER. que yummi (sorry for allat btw I'm a yapper if u couldn't alr tell)

idk who you are but i love you. you seem so fun and sweet pls kiss me on the mouth.

also! HIS LIPS!!! YOURE SO REAL FOR THAT!!!(i have to go with his lips. they're so gorgeous.)

would probably think you're making fun of him at first bcs he doesn't get compliments often or he thinks you're just saying it to be nice so he'd just be like "thanks:]" with his silly white boy smile.

when you continue saying stuff like "i'm so jealous of your lips spencer, they're so pretty, it's not fair" he realises that you're actually serious and actually complimenting him and gets all bashful about it.

studies his lips in the mirror to see what you're seeing but just doesn't understand why you're so obsessed with them, to him they're just his lips that he's always had.

gets teased to death by derek about it, derek mocking your compliments in a high pitched voice and making kissy faces at spencer.

looks forward to your compliments every day for a little confidence boost and when you're not there for whatever reason he doesn't know what to even do with himself.

ofc you don't just compliment his lips, most of the time it is but you also tell him how good his hair looks when he gets a haircut or if you notice a new tie you make sure to mention it, the way he shyly thanks you for noticing making your whole week.

drunkenly telling him how kissable his lips are is inevitable for sure and when you do he doesn't even know how to answer you, just sitting with his mouth agape staring at you with big wide eyes and red cheeks.

when you randomly ask him if your compliments make him uncomfortable he can't answer you fast enough, immediately telling you that they don't and mumbling that he actually likes them which makes you raise your brow at him.

the knowledge that he likes your compliments only makes you do it even more, making it your mission to have him blushing and flustered at every chance you get.

loves your jokey compliments, like telling him he has a nice ass or something bcs it makes him laugh.

in conclusion, spencer is a compliment WHORE.

[shotoh]

❝ TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN ❞ feat. dan heng

cw + tw. smut, 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, dragon!dan heng, dom!dan heng, oral (f!receiving), praise, pet names, marking, hinted breeding kink, creampies, subtle dumbification, mating presses

wc. 1.2k+

notes. dragon dan heng activated a neuron in me 

when it comes to you, dan heng is patient, loving, and level-headed. he likes to keep his cool, even when you try so hard to rile him up.

still, to your dismay, he insists on taking his time. he enjoys mapping out the expanse of your curves and memorize every beautiful aspect of you—down to the tantalizing swell of your breasts to the dip of your hips. his lips find themselves pressing in places that make you squirm, pulling out moans from your mouth as your fingers curl into the sheets beneath you.

“dan, there! right there!”

“hm, here?”

his lips brush against the wetness between your thighs, which involuntarily close around his head when he prods deeper, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“ah! y-yeah…” your voice quivers. as dan heng’s tongue twirls around your folds, he spreads your thighs for better access to adamantly fall apart on his face. your fingers leave their scratching on the bed to start pulling on his fluffy, raven hair.

he revels in how you crumble at him tasting your cunt. his eyes close shut to fully savor his meal as your slick coats his ravenous tongue. your pretty cries singing a symphony to his ears is the cherry on top. “you taste so good, my love. doing so well for me,” he hums his praises against your clit, not wavering in the slightest by how his actions have you tossing your head back in your pillow and dragging your bottom lip between your teeth.

it’s practically a ritual for him to thoroughly prepare you before you take him, appreciating every step along the way that has you gushing around any combination of his fingers and mouth. it always ends up with you begging him to thrust his hips into you and fill you up already, which makes the anticipation of your sweet walls clenching around his cock all the more worth it.

but every now and then, this resolve is overpowered by the voracious lust that clouds his mind whenever he manifests his dragon form. although this side to him exhibits similar traits to his regular appearance—minus the longer, gorgeous locks and stunning transparent horns protruding from his head—his self-control hangs by a thread when he has you under him, steely eyes glowing like he’s captured his prey. this dan heng relinquishes his patience in favor of immediately taking what’s his.

in this form, hungry lips mark every spot on your skin that has you whimpering pathetically in his hold. by the end of the night, you’re covered in his sporadic teeth marks and bites. the feral part of himself makes a point to stake his claim on your body before continuing to do so by pushing his cock inside your needy hole.

“i’m sorry, i can’t wait anymore,” he grunts as he holds your legs to your chest, folding your body in a way he knows will let his cock kiss the deepest, most sensitive parts of you. then he snaps his hips forward without warning and your voice reaches a higher, sensual pitch that has him licking his lips. “fuck, you’re just too good, i need to fill you up with my seed.” from under him, you can sense his carnal desperation—dragon fangs glinting and calloused fingers digging into your skin that will no doubt bruise.

despite being lost in the heady feeling of your tight walls hugging him, dan heng still manages to lean forward to slip his tongue past your lolled lips, swapping your spit together and swallowing every yelp that makes its way out of your throat.

even when you can distinguish every prominent ridge and vein of his dragon cock rubbing against your insides, you still can’t get enough.

“dan heng, more more… don’t stop.”

hearing your pleas, his eyes flicker. his pupils dilate to a dangerous degree like you’ve finally given him permission to pounce.

he swallows thickly. “i.. i don’t want to hurt you.”

“you’re not gonna hurt me, dan. i can take it, so please. fuck me already.”

there’s a sharp intake of air before he finally starts dragging himself in and out of you at a brutal pace. you didn’t think dan heng could ever be this frantic to have you babbling on his cock, but the way your body is buried deeper into your bed with every harsh drive that causes the tip to reach your cervix proves you wrong. his grip on your thighs is punishing, leveraging himself as he growls next to your ear.

“oh fuck, dan, so deep–” a long moan rips past your throat as his girth thoroughly stretches you open. you’re growing light-headed by how well he stuffs you with every strong ram of his ridged cock, curving in a way that always hits your sweet spot. the cord winding in your belly has you dragging your nails on his skin and clenching around him.

“argh.. if you keep sucking me in like that, i’m gonna cum already,” dan heng warns through gritted teeth but he doesn’t relent in the frenzied snap of his hips. he can’t have that. he wants you to cum before him.

you can feel his balls smack the underside of your ass with every pump. “god, please tell me you’re cumming soon,” he says more so as a plea. you nod frantically, unable to contain the noises escaping you so instead you force dan heng’s lips onto yours, sharing a heated, sloppy kiss that ends in the former biting your lip before wrapping his tongue around yours.

that high you’re chasing gets closer with every thrust rearranging your insides. the sensations pile on top of each other until you feel like you’re drowning in the wonderful feeling only dan heng can give you. you’re babbling his name in the throes of broken breaths and heady looks. he can’t seem to get enough as he returns your enthusiasm in earnest, dropping the hefty weight of his cock on top of you until you’re screaming.

that cord that’s been twisting in your gut bursts into blissful shocks of pleasure beneath your skin. your eyes roll in the back of your head, whites flashing beneath closed lids. dan heng can’t help the grin on lips, watching you finally lose yourself under him. it only encourages him to continue swiftly rocking his cock into you until he can sense himself reaching his first climax of the night.

“my love, this is all for me, right?” he asks, as if your reminder will be his undoing. even if his words sound murky in your pleasure-filled mind, you still have the thought to at least nod and mumble your uh-huh’s.

dan heng smirks, “only i can cream all over this gorgeous pussy.” with that, his cock twitches between your tight, gooey walls, stilling before spraying your pussy with his cum. you didn’t believe it was possible to be this full before you experienced the influx of his cum literally pushing his dragon cock out of you. as a result, his seed stuffs you to the brim, leaking out of your raw, fluttering hole.

the archivist runs his tongue along his canines at the sight. he snarls under his breath as he scoops up the remnants of cum and pushes it back in you. you whine from the oversensitivity and at his long fingers reaching and rubbing along your swollen spots.

you’re simply a beauty when you look so fucked out and full of his seed. now he’s wondering how much more you can take as his cock springs back, already hard again against his abs.

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[mypoisonedvine]

If you’re not taking multiple requests from people ignore this but you choose: soul comforting levels of Burt fluff, or soul destroying I am Not In A Good Place and I want Joby Taylor to Wreck Me smut. Or stepping on Riddly Boi.

all of these are great options but I'm in the most fucked up mood and I need joby carnally holy shit

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!, some dubcon elements, hatesex, choking, dumbification, pretty hardcore degradation, semi-public sex, overstimulation/forced orgasm, hair pulling, unwanted creampie, just fucknastiness and toxic as hell dynamics with a touch of angst at the end

"Where'd all that attitude go, huh? What about all that stuff about how you couldn't fucking stand me, how you never wanted to see me again?"

"Shut up," you hissed, "just shut up and fuck me, please--"

He shook his head, you could feel it against the crook of your neck, and curled his fingers a little more inside you; you whimpered, arching your back up off the dirty wall of the dirty backroom of this dirty bar. Everything about this was dirty, but you didn't care: the muffled, mediocre rock music coming in through the cracks in the door; the sticky floor under your boots; the smell of liquor and cigarettes and rain and desperation.

This was what you craved. This was what you deserved. This was what you always came back to.

"Please," you gasped again, rocking your hips against his hand. He pushed his fingers deeper until you felt one of his rings inside you-- he must've known what that would do to you.

"M'not gonna fuck you yet," he decided, "not until you beg for it."

"Fuck you," you groaned, but to punish you for your insolence he stopped moving his fingers.

You didn't realize how desperate you were, how much you were not in the mood to be trifled with, until he did that. But it fucking pissed you off-- and in a moment of rage you shoved him away roughly, enough to knock him off balance and force his hand out of your panties.

"Don't fucking taunt me, Joby!" you warned him. "I'm not in the mood for that shit."

"Don't fucking push me," he returned with a snarl, pinning you to the wall. "Jesus, you're such a bitch."

"Whatever," you decided as you started to writhe out of his grasp, "fuck this, I'm leaving."

"Like fuck you are," he spat grabbing you and pulling you back towards him, ignoring your yelp of pain. "You wanna play rough? Fine."

This time when he shoved you into the wall again, it was face-first; you barely turned your head in time to keep your nose from getting squished, but he didn't care, he was too busy roughly yanking your panties down to your knees.

His body pressed against yours, keeping you trapped as he quickly opened his belt and jeans. Spitting into his hand and smearing it over his cock, he forced his cock into you in one brutal thrust. When you whimpered in pain and surprise, trying to reach back to push his hip and stop him from going any deeper, he growled and grabbed your hands to pin you to the wall completely. "This is what you fucking wanted," he reminded you, snapping his hips and burying himself into you completely. "This is what you asked me for-- you wanted to get fucked, right?"

He was ruthless as soon as he started moving, of course; hard, fast thrusts that kept knocking you into the wall as you whined.

"You know better, baby," he cooed, lips nearly pressed against your ear as he spoke, hot breaths fanning your skin. "You know this is what you get, what did you expect? You didn't think I was going to be nice, did you?"

Obviously you didn't-- you don't drag Joby Taylor back behind the bar because you want to be treated nice. But as your body finally adjusted to him, you sighed a little and your head fell back because it did feel nice, in its own way.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he pressed. "Say it."

"I-- I wanted..." you mumbled, struggling to form a sentence at all. "I, uh-- fuck-- I wanted you..."

You felt his smile against your ear, and then his teeth against your neck. "You can barely talk already," he noticed.

But you don't drag Joby Taylor behind the bar because you want to talk, either.

"This is what you needed, huh?" he realized. "Needed to be fucked right so you don't have to think anymore. You always get so stupid when my cock is in you."

He must have noticed the way you clenched inside, your needy gasp when he insulted you like that.

"You like being my stupid slut?"

You managed to nod, at least-- that was probably the best he was going to get out of you for a while.

"You want me to choke you, don't you?"

You nodded again, but his hand was already around your neck.

Technically, you were the only thing that went silent in that moment-- but the static that filled your brain made it seem like everything was muffled when he did that. He only did it for a few seconds at first, just enough time to really focus on the sound of his hips slapping against your ass; your moan was weak and desperate when he gave you air again.

He knew what you could take. Even more than that, he knew what you needed. The next time he pressed his fingers down, he didn't let up until your vision was almost black and the tips of your fingers started to tingle.

Then, when he let go, you made the most desperate and pathetic. "Oh shit," he hissed encouragingly, "you're close, huh? You love it so much, Jesus. About to cream all over me just cause I choked you-- fuckin' filthy."

He cut off your next moan halfway through-- he pushed you even further that time, until you almost tried to struggle even if you barely had the power to, and when he let go you sobbed out his name. You would've been so ashamed to say his name like that just a few minutes ago, but that was back when you had a shred of dignity.

You didn't even have to say anything when you came, you just let out a wavering moan and felt your legs quiver, and he knew. "There it is," he growled proudly. "You always come so fast when I treat you like shit, don't you? What a dumb fucking whore."

Limp and helpless, you melted into it-- you were ready to go blank, be numb, just let the ecstasy carry you until he was done. Joby had other ideas, though.

His arm wrapped around you and his fingers quickly found your clit; as soon as he pressed them against it, rubbing fast circles, you jolted and tried to reach down for his hand.

"N-no, I can't," you began weakly.

"I need one more," he demanded, but it was too much; you whined loudly, shaking and shuddering and trying to jerk your hips away somehow, but obviously you were trapped. Even if the pressure on your clit wasn't enough to make you struggle like this, he was still fucking into you... it was impossibly overwhelming.

"I can't, I can't," you sobbed-- there were already tears in your eyes just from the sensation. "Joby-- fuck!"

"Shh, shh," he tried to soothe you, "somebody's gonna hear if you scream like that."

"Please," you begged-- for relief, for mercy, for just a second to breathe.

"Somebody's gonna fucking hear you," he warned again, much less sweetly than before. And when you still didn't listen to his implied instruction-- because, of course, you were already being as quiet as you could with him putting you through so much-- he found a way to shut you up.

Choking you again, he rubbed on your clit even harder, even faster-- and you were incapable of screaming, but it's what you would've done. It was brutal and raw and almost painful, but you did come again: a sharp, tugging sort of orgasm that he wrenched out of you so aggressively. And the way he never let go of your neck, keeping your pulse suppressed, only seemed to heighten it even more. Your vision went white and you shook uncontrollably for a few moments as the peak of it really hit you.

"Oh my god, oh my god," he praised through his teeth as he fucked you through it. "Shit, baby, feel how tight you're fuckin' squeezing me? Fuuuck..."

You barely registered his words, of course; you had no brain power for any of that. You were hardly even conscious, actually.

"Gonna fuckin' come inside you," he announced, "gonna fill this little cunt-- fuck, fuck--!"

His hand was still tight on your neck, so you couldn't tell him to stop-- you reached back and weakly tried to physically stop him, as if that was ever possible, but he hardly even noticed. It was too late anyways, he was already moaning lowly and slowing his thrusts down as his cock flexed inside you.

He pushed it to the last second, letting go of your neck only when he was finished, as he relaxed behind you and dropped his head back with a deep groan of satisfaction. You still made the most inhuman sound when you had air again, obviously... you choked on your own gasp for oxygen, you sobbed helplessly, you moaned pathetically-- all at once, somehow.

But you still had enough lucidity to kick him away, forcing him out of you a little sooner than he expected. "What the fuck!" you yelped at him, though it didn't sound especially confident when you were still catching your breath.

"What?" he wondered, still looking pretty out of it.

"You came in me?!" you noticed, reaching down and touching your hole to find not only plenty of cum leaking out of you but more soreness than you expected which made you wince. "Aw, dude..." you whined in annoyance.

"Was I supposed to pull out?" he mumbled.

"Obviously!" you shouted.

"Hey, you didn't say anything!" he noticed defensively.

"I couldn't fucking breathe," you recalled.

"You didn't say anything before," he clarified, "how the fuck am I supposed to know--?"

"'Cause you always pull out!"

"Whatever, I'll buy you a pill," he promised, "it's not a big deal."

"I can buy my own pill," you rolled your eyes, quickly pulling your panties back up and your dress back down before you reached for the door.

"You're seriously just gonna leave?" he frowned.

"Yeah, what the fuck else are we gonna do-- cuddle?" you mocked.

"Fine, Jesus, just go then," he decided with a scoff.

And so even though you were still sore and leaking and your knees were still weak and bruises were forming on your neck, you walked out the door and slammed it behind you, shoving your way through the crowded bar and back outside. Though you weren't really sure why, you wiped another tear off your cheek.

[weebsinstash]

Do you ever wonder how complicated or nuanced it might be setting personal boundaries with a poly yandere Asmodeus and Fizz. Like do you ever workshop Lust Ring worldbuilding culture and realize "oh wait shit wouldn't it paradoxically be really easy AND ALSO borderline impossible to be open with and enforce your personal boundaries in a place perpetually encouraging the most openly brazen of carnal displays"?

Like. Obviously I like one of them more than the other but silly little guys are growing on me and, just. Imagine being a Sinner and being down in the Lust Ring and realizing they have a completely different culture around just, showing your body and being open with yourself and your desires and, you're suddenly not sure what things are sexual harassment or considered their normal culture and you're not sure what you're even allowed to verbally express discomfort against because. Is it actually something normal and YOU'RE being weird and mean to THEM? Or, are you unintentionally letting people do REALLY creepy things to you?

You move out of Pride and your new coworkers in Ozzie's building are constantly eating dick and pussy shaped foods? Your coworker is throating a dick shaped ice pop at their desk? Your coworkers are varying levels of half naked? That's not perverted, it's normal and healthy and they're confident in their healthy sexuality :) oh, but you think that's weird? You don't want to look directly at someone's tits when they ask your opinion on their new nipple piercings? Aw, aren't you cute, being too shy to be open with yourself! maybe we all need to show you a few things to welcome you to Lust--

Like, I know Ozzie is dead set on consent but I often brainstorm different variations of those opinions or otherwise in a yandere setting. Ozzie is accepting and open and body positive! Therefore he might be completely in the nude while he sits in a recliner and you're asked to bring him something and he ISN'T EMBARRASSED AT ALL. Aw, he doesn't care if you see his dick, he's not ashamed of his body :) and you don't want to tell him to cover up because he's so nice to you, right? Like..... the perfect fucking gentleman BESIDES these um. Conflicting opinions on modesty and boundaries. Like genuinely he is such a good man fr i want him biblicly 😩❤️

These two out here with their fucking "what are you talking about, this blatantly sexual thing we're doing isn't sexual at all, you're being weird and seeing things thst aren't there and also dont kinkshame us wow thats rude?" bullshit. Oh so you got too drunk at an office party so they made sure you got home safely so no one took advantage of you? Yeah that's cool! Or it would be if they didn't take you to THEIR home though! Oh, it was weird for you to wake up literally sandwiched between them in a pair of pajamas meaning they undressed you? Yeah? Well you had to get your sleep and there's only one bed and they wont make you sleep on the couch and Ozzie's chest is nice and broad and warm and Fizz can rest his face on your tummy and-- why are you scowling and looking grossed out, they were just making sure you were warm and cozy, but if that made you uncomfortable, they're sorry you felt that way from them just trying to so something nice for you--

I recognize it's canonically antithetical to his actual beliefs but yandere Ozzie who is like "oh you're not comfortable sharing details about your sexuality or your body or your sex life with me? I mean. Oh gee it would be like so awkward if we were having drinks as friends and I charismatically loosened your lips over time by repeatedly pressing the issues until you give in! It's not a real 'no' if it eventually becomes a 'yes' right?"

Fizz is like. A fucking jester. He's a clown. He's THE silly little guy. So you almost regard him as this nonsexual cartoonish entity until he occasionally has shit slip out of his mouth that reminds you No Honey That's A Grown Ass Man, he's saying shit like "oh wow seeing that crop over there reminded me of the other week where Ozzie and I were doing horseplay and you should've SEEN when I took one to that huge butt of his, he was SCREAMING into the bridle gag and-"

I FEEL LIKE YOU'D CATCH THEM LIKE, ULTRA WEAPONIZING T H E I R RULES. Yeah, consent is important! That's why you're not allowed to flirt with that dilfy incubus, because, what is that in your hand? Gasp, is that a single shot? You've been drinking therefore you can't consent and you're being CARRIED away if that gets you to stop talking to this guy

Like imagine you're this shy bullied little thing and Admodeus is treating you like this precious egg that he can't wait to hatch and then it's like, you're dressing up sexy and coming on to someone ELSE talking about how you wanna suck THEIR dick and suddenly he's all "uh um uh hm you know what?you're moving too fast, people are gonna take advantage of you, you're not ready, let me take you home--"

"BLOWJ0BS FOR ME BUT NOT FOR THEE" for reeeeeeeal!!!!! You're sitting in like, the living room, basically forced to be celibate (unless ya bone them) and in the next room over IN THE ONLY BEDROOM you're hearing like *spanking* *bicycle horn* *that one oh yeah sound effect* *shaking tin sfx* *water splashing* *rubber ducky squeaky noise* *slide whistle* *whoopie cushion* and then the both of them limp out of there visibly disheveled and asking if you want to order a pizza because WOW THEY'RE JUST WAY TOO HUNGRY TO COOK DINNER TONIGHT FOR SOME REASON--

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Back again because I’m a whore but I wish you would write a fic with Michael Gavey and sixty-nine because I think genius boy would bluescreen completely if he was eating pussy while getting a blowjob!

-🍍

In the spirit of the ask game, here's a tidbit...

She mewls helplessly as she feels Michael's plush lips engulf her sensitive bundle of nerves, suckling enthusiastically. The rapidly building ache makes her toes curl, one of her legs shooting out involuntarily at the sudden change in sensation.

He had been a novice in the art of cunnilingus when they'd first started seeing each other, a novice at everything to do with carnal pleasure, actually. To his credit, his eagerness to learn translated fluidly from university textbooks to physical intimacy, and he was as adept at making her feel good as he was at long multiplication in no time.

Having been a virgin when they had first met, the novelty of sex has yet to wear off for Michael and it is both a blessing and a curse for her that she finds herself on the receiving end of his voraciousness. It's an ego boost to have someone that's so desperate to have you at any cost, yet she finds she spends most evenings in an exhausted tangle in his sheets, too tired to do her coursework.

She spares a glance down at him as he works his mouth between her legs. The sight of him alone is enough to clear all worry of failing her first year from her mind. His face is pushed flush against her as he mouths greedily at her core, his glasses discarded to one side on the mattress. The wiry muscles of his back shift beneath his flesh with every movement, as he clutches her thighs with such tightness that it's almost painful. She can see from the way that his fingers press into the soft flesh that there'll be bruises there in the morning. The pain doesn't register, however, not with the way she throbs and twitches with each swirl of his tongue.

His hips move wantonly against the bed, a subconscious need for friction guiding his movements as he humps at it, and she feels a wave of guilt wash over her. So wrapped up in his eagerness to please her, she's been neglecting him. He deserves to feel as good as she does.

Tentatively, she reaches down, gently tapping his shoulder, and she gasps as she looks up. He is a vision; lips, chin and even the tip of his nose shiny with her slick, the pupils of those baby blue eyes dilated with lust. She almost forgets what it is that she means to say, until he speaks.

"Am I doing something wrong?" He asks softly. He'd almost appear innocent, were it not for the fact his face is coated in her arousal.

She shakes her head. "No, no, just want to shift positions. Move up the bed and lay on your side."

He looks at her quizzically, his brow furrowing as she pulls away from him, but he does as she says, and she moves with him until she's face level with his groin.

She can smell his arousal, the swollen pink head of his cock is glossy with it, the sight making her mouth water.

Michael stares at her, eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. She giggles, parting her thighs once more.

"Carry on then," she whispers.

No sooner have the words left her mouth than his face is back between her thighs once more, his tongue working at her with renewed vigour.

She shivers as she takes him into her mouth, the sharp taste and the way his manhood pulsates letting her know he won't last long. And as he moans against her cunt, feeling her head start to bob back and forth over the length of him, the sound reverberating against her sensitive flesh, she knows that she won't either.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

How would Croc, Bane, and Harley deal with an s/o whose libido is really high but hesitant to initiate? Like always dtf but, at the same time, not wanting to impose?

"Considerate but Wanting" Killer Croc, Bane and Harley x S/O (not poly)

While I don't deal with this particular issue, I do get why you'd be worried about that.

TW: NSFW

Killer Croc

THE PROBLEM IS... He is also very hesitant to initiate at first because of how he looks. Genuinely, he's so into you, he would consider just taking care of himself when needed to not put you out. He would take the romantic relationship over a sexual. Even with his more... carnal, animal tendencies.

There's a slim possibility he could even interpret your hesitation as not wanting that from him. It would get to the point that if you did ask, he'd insist you don't have to if you don't want to. He gets it.

Once you explain, however, he feels kind of silly about it? Not that you're silly or your concerns are silly, but that it was really just you trying to be nice vs. anything about himself. He might even joke "Because of course it had to be all about me, huh, sha?"

Tell him in the future. If he's not in the mood, he'll just tell you. The chances of that are fairly slim, though. Unless something is actually going on, he's more than happy to indulge in that wild side. Wanna go for a ride? He's not gonna complain about seeing you bounce on his cock.

Bane

He himself is fairly mindful (or at least tries to be) of things like this, so he understands. Everyone has needs and these needs should be fulfilled when possible- Whether with a partner or on their own. Plus, he'll make it clear there will be times he's not around. Whether because he's been incarcerated or his has business in other places too dangerous for you to attend...

It isn't something he would like per say or want, but he would be okay if you sought out those needs safely with a third party- Is that what this is about? He wants to be very clear and understanding on all levels of your relationship. That's just the kind of partner he is.

If it really is just a matter of feeling like you're imposing on him, he'll let you know it's not a worry. Typically speaking, even if he's not really in the mood himself, he's more than pleased to help you out. Whether it's a spicy phone call when he's away or... a helping hand between your legs when you are together- He doesn't want you to feel as if you're a bother.

In moments where he's truly unavailable either emotionally or physically, he'll just tell you. You're both adults. While some might not be able to handle these conversations with grace, he is not one of those people.

Harley Quinn

Probably the most appreciative of the gesture. She is also usually dtf most of the time but when she's off, she is off and doesn't want to feel hounded. Not that you would do that, of course, but... It's very sweet you're considerate of that. She's certainly had her fair share of partners that have tried to push even after she said she wasn't in the mood.

She would be delighted to eliminate your fear of imposition by hitting on you at every possible opportunity. If she senses that she for some reason is getting too much, she'll try to pull back but considering everything that's happened in her life, she's not shy. She's going to encourage you to not be shy, either! Be comfortable. The two of you can get real snug as a bug in each other's skin.

I think she'd really get off on seeing how long she could make that libido last. She's got a collection of fun toys you can sit on, get plugged into, whatever your fancy- She'll mark how many times you've cum in lipstick on your thighs. Or maybe you can do the same to her. It's all in good fun.

Expect spank bank pinup photos for when she's away or in an off mood. She's got you covered, sugarpop!

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

I have provided fresh meat, my Darlings!

The link to the entire fic as well as the new chapter is provided above.

@blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @richardslady121 Also please let me know if you would also liked to be tagged with updates!

CW: dubious consent; arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; rough sex; implied/referenced child abuse; blood kink; problematic smut; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced torture

Chapter summary: Feyd-Rautha and the Reader look at each other and think, "They need work, but it's fine. I'm training them."

Chapter Notes:

-This chapter doesn't have quite as much plot or action and is generally more introspective/kind of shows a turning point and transition to both the Reader starting to learn to play the game and Feyd-Rautha seeking to challenge and unnerve her. Basically the Reader thinking, "I don't think I can reasonably make him better but I can make him treat me better" and Feyd thinking, "I can make her worse😈" -There have been a lot of interpretations of Feyd-Rautha's Darlings given that there's little information we're really given within the movie and I really like the theory that I've seen going around that they're effectively animals with human bodies that were experimented on by the Bene Tleilax.

CHAPTER SEVEN: YOU'RE LEARNING

You wake up early the next morning to your morning coffee and a reminder of your mother’s advice.  She dispensed it more than once over the years, enough that you were able to repeat it verbatim: sometimes a person isn’t a person, but an obstacle. Sometimes they’re obstacles that you need to face, problems that you need to solve. Find out what they need that you can use to get ahead.

So what does Feyd-Rautha want and how do you get it for him in order to temper him, make him more amenable to you?  He’s made clear at this point what he doesn’t want: compassion that he’s undoubtedly misconstrued as pity, any reminders of his childhood and adolescence, and any insinuations–intentional or otherwise–that he’s inadequate as a man.  

That leaves what he does want from you, and for the most part you think you know.  He wants you to have his children, and that’s in progress if not now, then soon.  He wants, well, other than last night, he’s been transparent that he wants you , carnally if for nothing else.

He also wants you to properly learn to fight at the level he wants, and there’s no way it’s just for your sake, or even wanting you to stay safe as the mother of his future children.  Those are a given.  

You can’t forget the way he’d gotten hard during your training and the way he spoke about it later.  You hadn’t seen it in the arena when he was slashing throats with theatricality and precision but little else, but this must be intimate for him.  It doesn’t surprise you once you think about it; a man who enjoys the taste of your blood would most certainly get off on getting a knife at your throat, even if he’s not allowed to cut it.

So how do you use that?  The Reverend Mother Mohiam all but stated that seduction was the key to tempering and subduing him into something you can handle but that’s easier said than done.  You’ve understood on some level for years now that you’d one day have to learn to use your sex as a tool, but it’s easier to implement in theory rather than practice.  The limited experience you’ve had before this–kisses both stolen and given freely at night when you’d slipped away unsupervised, fondling over the clothes, above the waist, and once grasping and sliding your hand over a boy you’d liked as he’d panted and moaned directions at you and you’d frantically tried to finish him off before either of you could get caught--weren’t for an agenda but for its own enjoyment.  Before your wedding night the only person who’d dared go beneath your skirts was you.  And then, of course, you’re reasonably certain that most men don’t keep an entire armoire of devices to use or have used on them while in bed, that most men aren’t eager to taste their wife’s blood, that most men don’t carry around the kind of shame and buried anger that your husband does wrapped in a deep-seated need to hurt and be hurt.

But that’s the hand that you’ve been dealt, and the only leverage you’ll be getting out of this marriage is by appealing to those desires and using your own body as a tool to keep him satiated and keep you in the best of his care.

By the time you’ve finished plaiting your hair you’ve decided that you’ve learned enough since your wedding night that you can try and use to your advantage.  You’ll keep adapting and if one of the ways to win him over is at knifepoint, then so be it.

And if he wants to banish everyone from the Training Halls so he can rut into you like an animal next to a rack of knives, then fine.  You can take him however he comes to you.

You try to keep all this in mind as you leave your chambers and take to the Training Halls for another lesson.

Feyd-Rautha already appears to have broken a sweat.  Drills, you assume, and done alongside his men if their matching sheens are anything to go by.

Korvo’s back to train you, he says.  He needed to have part of his jaw wired shut but otherwise he’s fine; he just won’t be able to talk much for a while.

And strangely enough it’s true; whatever Healer Korvo went to did an excellent job because there’s not a lot of bruising or swelling.  It occurs to you that he looks a few years older than Feyd, and you can’t help but wonder what Korvo thought about the hushed rumors about the Baron’s proclivities years ago.  About Feyd-Rautha, the boy who’s become the man he now serves.

As for your husband, it’s as if the past couple of nights never happened.  He seems indifferent as he hands you your shield device and a knife.  There’s not a trace of the quiet rage from early yesterday morning nor the cold domination of last night.  Not that you were ever going to ask him, especially not with other people around, but he gives you your answer to the silent question, When are we going to talk about yesterday? The answer?  Never .

He has Korvo start off slowly with you, a warm-up of sorts, movements guarded as you go over strikes and parries before taking over for the rest of your session.

You think you’re prepared for it this time as he starts to speed up, stops going through the motions and actually starts sparring with you.  You tell yourself that no one’s going to catch you unawares again, but well.  His training is a lot more extensive than yours.  You let out a yelp, realizing yet again that you weren’t focused enough on his footwork and he’s taken the opportunity to trip you.  You stumble, catching yourself just in time to avoid a fall.

“You’ve had a day to rest,” Feyd says.  “There’s no reason you can’t be pushed farther.”

To rest .  He was the one that told you not to come and train yesterday.  You clench your jaw and strike again.  If anything Feyd-Rautha seems amused by your irritation and sends you stumbling again with a swat on the backside with the flat of his knife.

You turn, incredulous and with an insult on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t strike in anger,” he says, holding back a smirk.  You raise your chin and try to level your gaze at him as you try to collect yourself.

Hey, this is actually a good sign , a part of you realizes.  There’s something almost close to playful in the way he’s looking at you right now.  He’s already in a far better mood than he was yesterday .  This is working for him.

You roll your shoulders and take a defensive stance, silently gesturing for him to strike first, and this time he actually grins.

Breakfast afterwards is its own task.  You’ve gotten your appetite back this morning, but only when you forget everything except your own hunger and especially try your best to ignore the man at the head of the table.  You’ll try to bury what you know about the Baron for now, or at least try to act like he doesn’t disgust you.  Not that he’d care what you think of him, not like you can do anything about it.

Instead you wonder about what motherhood looks like on this planet.  You’ll not want for anything, you’re sure, in terms of space for the baby and help raising it, but you hope the Baron isn’t an indicator of how children are raised here.  You haven’t seen many children in the Fortress–the sons and daughters of captains and generals, you’re sure–and you haven’t interacted with any. Feyd-Rautha mentioned military and combat training for any sons you’ll have but what about general schooling?  

When the children come, surely you’ll be a part of their lives somehow?  You’ll make certain of it.  You have to; they’ll be raised in the Harkonnen culture but they’ll still be half you , and you’ll do everything to make sure they never forget that, where you come from and the half of them that you represent.

“Not too tired from your training session, are you?” Feyd-Rautha asks, and you realize that you’ve been drifting off, staring into the distance.  You hadn’t expected him to notice.

“Oh, no, husband,” you tell him.  “Just lost in thought.  Actually, I was curious about where one might put a nursery in the private quarters.”  Not that there would’ve been any use for them within the royal family in decades, but surely there must have been something installed before?

As soon as Feyd starts to answer, the Baron interrupts, “What are you training her for?”

“Just in the event of an emergency or ambush, I want her to be prepared to defend herself.  If the time ever comes that I’m not there to do it for her,” Feyd-Rautha adds.

The Baron looks at him with those beady blue eyes.  “You really think such a thing will ever happen, boy?” he asks, and there’s an undercurrent to his tone that makes you look away, never mind that they’ve started talking about you as if you aren’t there.

Boy .  As if not just Feyd’s title but his very manhood is a privilege his uncle bestows on him that he can revoke at a moment’s notice.

Feyd ignores the taunt.  “Just planning ahead,” he says.  It doesn’t come back up.  When you excuse yourself to use the bathroom the Baron doesn’t react when you come back.  He barely seems to notice you’re there.

To him, you are not family.  You are the orifice his handsome young nephew buries himself in and the birthing canal that will add to the Harkonnen lineage, but not a real person who’s earned any familiarity with him nor will you ever be.  That suits you just fine and you find that you’d rather he ignore you than pay any special attention to you, just so long as he never gets to sink his claws into your future children.  

Speaking of which, “The Fortress has everything you could need,” Feyd says.  “Our children will have their own quarters and plenty of staff to watch over them.”

And how about allowing me to watch over them? you want to ask, but won’t, especially since you’re not alone.  Or do ladies of leisure outsource all of that here?   Idrisa will know; you’ll save your real questions for her.

After breakfast Feyd-Rautha offers you his arm.  “I imagine you’re interested in the relaxation chambers now?” he asks.  “They provide massages.  Great for the joints.”

“I could be persuaded,” you tell him, feeling not just sore from earlier this morning but from two days ago.  You’d never considered yourself a lazy person but you’ve also never committed to any kind of daily training regimen and the nighttime and occasionally additional morning routines in the bedroom certainly haven’t helped.

“It’s interesting,” you tell him, “training with you and seeing how you do it, even if I’m not there for all of it.”

“That wasn’t my last training session for the day,” he says.  “I’m going back soon.”

You blink.  “Why?” you ask him.  He’d clearly started early and gotten his heart pumping by the time you’d arrived.

“To be as physically prepared as I can for the arena showing on my birthday.  It’s less than three weeks away at this point,” he says.

You look over at him with your brows furrowed.  What does he really need extra preparation for?  He’s in no danger, there’s no real risk.

He seems to understand your confusion.  “It’s important that I look like I'm in top form,” he explains, which just presents further questions.

How will they even know what your body looks like?  If it’s anything like last time, you’ll be the only fighter in the arena that’s fully dressed .

“Well, alright,” you finally.  You look back at him.  “So you’re going to have to get changed again into training gear, and then shower again and change again after that?”

“Yes,” he says, voice curt.  “Appearance is important here.”

Yours is, certainly , you don’t tell him.  But you do realize that your uncle’s still the Baron and he floats around in his suspensor chair wearing a long nightgown?  If he’s ever cared about his appearance, he must’ve stopped years ago .  You suppose that it’s one of many ways that Feyd’s turned out differently from him, although not the most important.  It’s not for nothing that even though you have no idea how he’ll turn out as a parent–yet another thing that scares you about this–he still won’t be as bad of a parental figure as his uncle.

He looks at you for a moment and you realize that you haven’t spoken and have just enough sense to realize that giving a simpering compliment about his looks will come across as not only disingenuous but suspicious.  “My apologies,” you admit.  “I was just thinking about what expectations will be placed on our children.”

“Our son, although we’ll need more than one, will embody all Harkonnen core values: power, ambition, resilience, intellect.  I’ll accept no less and neither will anyone else on Geidi Prime,” he says. How long has he been thinking about fatherhood, you wonder?  Or is he repeating what he’s been told time and time again what the Baron wants out of him? 

“And if one of our children is a daughter?” you ask, hoping that doesn’t happen.  It’s bad enough to be a man on this planet.

“She’ll be expected to be gracious, discreet, and always careful and cognizant of her surroundings,” Feyd says.  “She’ll be composed even under pressure and adaptable.”

You try to absorb this, wondering how much he thinks you fit that mold yourself and assuming that you come up short.  “I thought the first word you were going to say was fertile ,” you tell him.

“That goes without saying,” he says.  “It’ll be her greatest contribution to the family to add to its lineage.”

I think you just described my responsibilities and expectations here, you think as he escorts you to the relaxation chambers.

Before he leaves he gives you a brief kiss–a little reward, perhaps, for minding yourself.  “You’re learning,” is all he says.

You’d expected the rooms to have the same austere black and gray background as the Dining Halls, the Throne Room, even the bedrooms, but whatever materials used for the doors and panels emulate the colors and patterns of cedar even though you doubt it’s real wood and the textured walls are painted a warm, pale cream.  It feels like a different environment entirely, reminiscent of the women’s bathhouses on your home planet.  The attendant inside recognizes you immediately, although you assume that it’s hardly a challenge.  “ You can’t mistake the Na-Baroness ,” you’re sure servants tell each other, “ she’s the only one in this Fortress with hair. ”

Most of the attendants are women, and again most of them seem young, hardly more than girls.

“Welcome, Na-Baroness.  We do so hope that you enjoy our accommodations,” the first attendant says, her head in a respectful decline as she curtsies.  “How may we be of service today?”

When you tell her that you were hoping for a simple massage because your joints have been feeling stiff she reacts as though you’ve told her that all your bones have shattered.

“I’m so sorry to hear you’ve been in discomfort, Na-Baroness,” she says.  “We’ll make sure to ease all aches and pains.”

As she guides you away and towards a private room you sense people looking at you and notice a couple of higher-ranking women in dressing robes, undoubtedly here for a bit of relaxation themselves.  As soon as you look over at them, they glance away, pretending that they’re looking off into the distance.  You want to stop, walk over, and introduce yourself to them ( they know who you are, though.  Everyone knows that the Na-Baron just married an arranged non-Harkonnen bride from another planet ) but you don’t get the chance.  Instead you tear your gaze away to follow the attendant to another room with what you must assume is a synthetic material that effectively mimics the appearance and grain pattern of wood, complete with a changing station, a table with oils and towels, and in the middle a covered massage table with a servant on either side who bow as soon as you enter.

It’s an interesting experience, to be sure.  The servants attending to you are quiet and gracious, but you’re made starkly aware again of your foreignness.

Your hair confuses them, for one thing.  They look at and touch it as if they’re not sure whether or not they think it’s attractive when you've spent your entire life before Geidi Prime being told that it’s beautiful.  They’re gentle with you, careful when undressing you and guiding you to a massage table.  When kneading oil into your sore muscles they treat you as if you’re delicate, even though they’re smaller than you are.  They work silently, your own muffled moans when they work out a particularly sore spot the only sounds other than the ambient mist coming from the next room.  

You wonder at first if it’s because they only speak Harkonnen and not the Imperial Standard, but as they’re getting finished one of the young women–probably not much older than you, although it’s still difficult to tell without any hair or eyebrows to better indicate her age–timidly asks, “Would the Na-Baroness like to be given stimulation as part of her massage?”

You blink, not sure you heard correctly, and raise yourself up on your elbows.  “Stimulation?” you repeat, brow furrowing.

“Some people enjoy other kinds of massage as a form of relief, Na-Baroness.  We’d be honored to indulge you if you prefer,” she says, looking down the moment you look up.

I’m still lost , you almost tell her before it sinks in.  “Oh!” you say, the single word slipping out.  The woman flinches, undoubtedly worried that she’s offended you.  It’s probably why she hasn’t said a word this entire time; she has no idea how to talk to you, what you would consider appropriate or not, and would rather not speak at all than risk saying the wrong thing.  You gape for a moment before managing, “No thank you.  A-a normal massage is plenty.”

She bows.  “Very well, Na-Baroness.  Is there anything else we can do in service to you?”  

You’d been curious about the other rooms but suddenly you wish for nothing more than to leave.  “No thank you, not today.  The massage was all I needed.”

“It was our pleasure, Na-Baroness.  We are at your disposal,” the woman says, words you’ve already heard multiple times.  “Let us help you redress.” 

They gently wipe off any excess oil with damp washcloths and dry you off before guiding you back into your clothes as if scared they’ll hurt you, or rather, scared that you’ll say something that gets them in trouble.  Even a foreign woman commands fear if she’s married to the right Harkonnen, even if she’s never going to be a true Harkonnen herself and whether they’re scared of you because of who you’re married to or also because of who you are, it makes no difference.

In spite of everything, when you get back to your quarters you realize that physically, you feel great ; better than you have since your wedding.  You feel pliant and loose-limbed, your skin soft and supple.  In theory it should give you all the energy you need to continue your studies of this planet and its language.

But your self-imposed Harkonnen lessons aren’t holding your attention; the grammar structure is fairly simple, and you’ve learned a few basic words and phrases (and obscenities, because you’re pretty sure that that’s most of what Feyd-Rautha grunts in your ear when he’s fucking you) and you can’t help your restlessness as you settle back in your chair.

You tap your fingertips against your desk, mind wandering to your husband, your body remembering with a throb how he feels inside you.  You’re getting used to it more and more, for the most part even learning to enjoy it.  

He might be coming back from his second training session soon.  Maybe he’s already come back and is taking his second shower or bath of the day.  Maybe you’ll ask him about his armoire, which he hasn’t opened for you since that first night, but, and you pause, thinking it over, picturing him sweaty from his training, and think, no.   The armoire can wait.  If you want to improve your seduction game, you can start by being the one to initiate your encounters.  You can start now.

You strip again, wondering how he’ll react to you entering his chambers.  Hopefully amenable to it; he probably won’t dismiss you if you come to him like this.  If nothing else he has an incentive to put a baby in you, you think as you wrap yourself up in one of your robes and pad over to your bathroom.

You press your ear to the door joining your bathroom to his.  The water’s running: he must be showering.  You wait, heart pounding, thinking, It will be fine.  Think about this morning; he seemed reasonably happy with you this morning.

You shut your eyes for a moment, take a breath, and open the door.

He’s standing in the middle of his shower, his eyes on you from the moment you step inside.  He turns the water off and watches you silently, eyes falling to your robe.  He must be fully aware of the fact that you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Sorry to interrupt, husband,” you say, hoping that your intuition is correct.  “I was just…” bored? Interested in your company? Curious about how else you decompress after training? You swallow, fiddling with the sash of your robe.

Feyd says nothing at first as he steps out of the shower and onto the soft mat on the black granite floor.  Any words you have die before they can reach your lips as he steps in closer and the height difference between you feels vaster than it’s felt before.

His eyes flicker to your robe.  “Take that off,” he says.

You look him in the eye, raising your chin slightly as you unfasten the sash around your waist and brush the robe off your shoulders and onto the floor, presenting yourself for him as naked as the day you were born.  The two of you stand in silence for a moment; he’s dripping wet and you’re, well…you bite your lip and hesitate before reaching out, wrist turning as you wrap a hand around him.  You feel awkward in the ensuing silence, brushing your thumb over the tip of him and glancing between his face and his cock, breath catching in your throat as you see the way his gaze darkens.  You open your mouth to speak but find yourself at a loss for words.

It doesn’t occur to you that he might prefer this to any polished seduction or that he likes your nerves, your earnestness.  That you've come to him as if yesterday never happened and like he's a whole intact man with no buried shame.  He stiffens rapidly under your touch, silently daring you to keep fondling him.  You wonder if it would be worth it to sink to your knees and take him into your mouth–you’ve done it once before as a preamble to the act itself and remember every detail and lesson of it vividly–when Feyd-Rautha starts walking you backwards, backwards, until you reach his bathroom wall and you drop your hand in surprise.

“I…” you start and he silences you with a kiss, gripping the back of your head and tilting your head up to meet him.  Once he has you where he wants you, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, his hands slide down your sides, over your hips and ass, coming to the backs of your legs, nudging you forward.

“C’mon,” he says, his rasp quiet but commanding in the echoes of his bathroom.  You can’t help your nervous laugh as you hop up and he catches you, hands under your thighs that he quickly wraps around his hips, holding you in place as his cock brushes against your folds, your lower belly.  It’s filled out and ready and you bite your lip as you think: how to maneuver…?  

You glance back up at him and his expectant gaze.  Come on, pet, he seems to tell you.  You’re a clever little thing, you can figure it out, and so you grip his cock again and position it at your entrance, almost laughing at how two weeks ago you’d have been hard-pressed to know exactly where it is and how to properly penetrate it.

You gasp, head falling forward as you sink down onto him and cry out as he jerks his hips up, filling you the rest of the way.  It’s always such a deep ache and stretch when he buries himself in you and you’re never quite given enough time to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving and it feels like he’s so deep in you that can hardly breathe.  Every time he picks a new angle to fuck you in it almost shocks you how he seems to find another way to make as though there’s no part of your insides that he hasn’t touched, and you hold onto him, trying to rock back down on him, and finding you can only really cling to him.  He buries his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair and the tonic you use for it, before pausing, shifting you further onto him, and moving away from the wall.  You yelp, tightening your thighs around his waist and wondering what he’ll do next, where he’ll take you.   

He carries you, then, out of the bathroom and to his bed where he drops you unceremoniously on your back and following you as you go.  You both grunt as he lands on top of you and pushes your legs further back towards your chest and he braces his arms on either side of your head.

It’s hard and rough and fast, your knees pushed back nearly to your shoulders that he spreads wide to make room for his own.  Your cries as he pounds into your open, vulnerable body spur him on and he drops his forehead to yours, panting against your mouth.  He speaks in the Imperial Standard this time when he says, “Like a little songbird, making pretty noises for me,” and brings his mouth to the juncture of your neck and jaw.

You let out a whine as he continues, his tongue flickering and then lapping at the sensitive skin like he’s done before to your cunt.  You gasp and readjust your grip on his shoulders, almost stunned at the visceral reactions he can pull from just that.  You’d known it was a sensitive area, had been kissed there before, but especially juxtaposed against the pounding of him inside of you it’s–it’s–

“A -aaah! ” you manage, clenching around him, barely holding on, your legs shaking as he speeds up, his mouth continuing the onslaught.  The whimpers that spill out of you escalate and turn to a sharp cry as he bares his teeth and bites down.

He grunts, hips pumping, as he comes inside of you, his teeth and lips on the sensitive skin of your neck and your arms wrapped around him.  He gives one final thrust for good measure before dropping his head to your neck, his breath harsh.  You hold onto him for a moment as he pauses and pulls out.

Will you let me hold you again?  I liked that.  I liked when you rested on me and I got to pet you as if you could ever be made docile .  You don’t ask, and don’t know how to.  He rolls over onto his back.

“I trust that training went well, husband?” you ask instead after you catch your breath and start to come down.

He grunts an affirmative and for a moment you think that’s the end of it.  He takes a breath, though, mulling over the silence between the two of you.  You wait, sensing his realization that you’d like to hear more.  That the two of you can have a normal conversation like a normal married couple.  “Sparred with a few of my men, then a couple of criminals in the dungeons.  They don’t provide as much of a challenge but it still keeps me alert to practice on someone who actually wants to kill me.”

“They weren’t sedated?” you ask.

He shakes his head, exhaling.  “Not these ones.  Didn’t want to contaminate their bloodstream,” he says.

You think back to over a week ago, and something Idrisa told you.  “So you could safely feed them to your Darlings afterwards?” you ask.

He turns his head to you and you do the same, mirroring him.  His full lips part as he mulls your words over.  “Now where’d you hear about them?” he asks, clearly trying to think back to a time when he’s mentioned them to you and coming up with nothing.

“Idrisa,” you add when you don’t see any recognition in his eyes at the name, “my personal attendant, mentioned that you had pets that you fed human remains.”

This piques his interest, it seems.  He rises up on one elbow, turning to his side, leaning over you.  “How did she describe them?” he asks.

You shrug, not sure how that makes a difference.  “She didn’t.  She just said that you feed human flesh to what you called your Darlings,” you say, not bothering to hide your distaste.  You’re not going to pretend to like or condone everything he does; not like it would stop him.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes glint.  He breaks into a smile that is equal parts delighted and cruel.  “Is that really all she told you?” he says.  He doesn’t move a millimeter, but you can sense his growing excitement coiled tight within him like he’s ready to pounce.

“So…what are they?  Canine or feline?  Or aquatic?” you ask, not sure if you want to know or get a more specific image but asking all the same.

Feyd-Rautha looks at you as though you’ve given him the greatest gift he didn’t even have to ask for.  “Would you like to meet them?” he asks instead of answering your question.

No, of course not , you want to tell him.  I have no interest in meeting a bunch of animals who devour people whole .  “Sure.  Why not,” you say.

His black teeth and gums are unnerving against the pallor of the rest of him before his smile turns closed-mouthed again into a smirk.  

When you’ve both dressed and left his chambers, you assume that he’s going to lead you to a dungeon, but he instead starts walking down a corridor not far from the private wing.

“I’d keep them closer,” he says over his shoulder, “but they make such a mess.”

So a pool or a moat would be out of the question, but a shark tank is still feasible , you think.  

He reaches a door, and the first moment you step inside and see what’s on the padded platform in front of you, you want to roll your eyes and walk back out.

So he’s taken me on a detour first to meet his concubines , you think.  

Three naked, lithe, bald-headed women lie curled up sleeping, nestled against one another like a pile of kittens.  You raise your eyebrows, letting out an irritated huff.  You should’ve known that he keeps concubines; most leaders from Major Houses do.  It’s just that he’d seemed so preoccupied with you that you’d almost forgotten that very possibility.  These are the women he normally slakes his lust with and what he’ll go back to once you’ve confirmed that you’re carrying his seed.  You have a snide remark on the tip of your tongue about how nice it is to meet the other women he fucks.  

But then you notice that there’s blood drying on their hands, caking their sharp-nailed fingertips and you realize what the smell of the iron tang that permeated the air really is. Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“What’s going on?” you say aloud to no answer.

The women stir, and then they open their eyes.  They have neither pupils nor irises.  Pure ink black, stares, unthinking, back at you.

When you first met him you’d been quick to assume that Feyd-Rautha lacked all humanity beyond his physical form, but this is what it truly looks like when a person has no human essence.  You’re not sure what they’re seeing when they look at you but they perceive nothing except the sight of warm meat.

Abomination!  Abomination! you think, too frozen to scream it out loud, the sound of it only coming out of you in a pitiful squeak when they start to move, clambering towards you.

Oh, Great Mother, they move like animals, on all fours .  One of them opens her mouth, teeth and gums as black as her master’s but her teeth are sharpened into fangs she bares in what may be a smile, may be a snarl. 

Oh, fuck this.   

You turn and start to run when Feyd-Rautha holds his arm out to grab you around the chest and pull you to his side as he says something in Harkonnen that you try to grasp.

Something-something woman something-something food.  Okay, that was a negation.  He’s saying something like “she’s not food.”  You gasp and dig your nails into his forearm, unable to look away from them, the way they tilt their heads at you.

You can hear them hiss and chatter, put out that he hasn’t presented them with a meal, and you realize that they’re speaking in neither the Imperial Standard nor Harkonnen battle-language but a vague imitation of human speech.

“What the fuck?  What the fuck? ” you say aloud, struggling in Feyd-Rautha’s grip, watching as they scurry closer to the two of you, sniffing at you in particular.

You stare at the fathomless depths of their unblinking black eyes and how they tilt their heads, even their curiosity utterly fucking terrifying.

“You said you wanted to meet my Darlings,” Feyd-Rautha says in a satisfied tone.  “Don’t be rude.  They like you.” He says something in Harkonnen to the women that you can’t decipher, and their chattering ceases and demurs into near-purring.

One of them sniffs and nuzzles at your stomach and you flinch, wondering how quick she’d be to open her mouth and take a bite of your sensitive skin if her master allowed it.  Your stomach that within a few months will swell with Feyd-Rautha’s heir.  Does she understand what any of that means?  Do any of them?

How naive you were, thinking that he kept animals as his pets, normal women as his concubines.  How silly and childish to think that he wouldn’t be as much of a degenerate as you feared.  

Just when I think I’ve adjusted to this insane planet I see something even worse.    

Feyd-Rautha closes the door and directs his gaze up and down the length of your body, the tremors in your hands, your entire body shaking, in fact, and settles on your face.  He says nothing, waits for you to go first.

“What…” you bring a hand to your forehead, hoping that this is a nightmare, “ are they?”

He doesn’t smirk but you can sense his satisfaction.  He undoubtedly gets some entertainment out of each time he gets to introduce someone new to his Darlings, or rather, inflict his Darlings on them.  He probably doesn’t get the opportunity as often as he’d like.  “They’re a Bene Tleilax experiment,” he says.  “They thought we might enjoy them.”

“Why would they…” commit a crime against nature like this?  

“Because they can,” he says.  

“Then why have them?” you ask.

He looks at you as if you’re the unreasonable one.  “They already exist, and I’ve found some use for them.”

As his concubines .  “So you…” you feel nauseous at the idea, barely able to say it aloud, “...fuck them?”

Your shoulders sag with relief when you he says, “No, I don’t fuck them, Y/N.  They’re nice to look at but it would be akin to fucking a wild animal.  They can be entertaining, though.  And they’re a decent tool for intimidation.”

Entertaining .  You could use hundreds of words to describe what you just saw and the wretched nature of their existence and entertaining would not be one of them.

Still, you realize what he means.  His menagerie needs to eat to stay alive, and it provides incentive to stay on the Na-Baron’s good side.  No one wants to end up as food.  And how many men can honestly say, “ If you don’t do as I say I’m going to feed you to the trio of feral cannibal women I keep in my Fortress” ?  It’s a far more unique and memorable threat than any you’ve heard.

So they’re not his concubines; you don’t believe for one moment that he’d care enough to lie to you about that, which just makes you wonder where his real concubines are.  “Who were you fucking before I was assigned to you?  I wasn’t your first.”  

Feyd-Rautha’s lips quirk up for a moment in a brief almost-smile.  “There are times when people see me in the arena and want to know if I’m as much of a brute as I seem,” he says.  

“Are you?  With them?”  You haven’t forgotten that he’s expected to be better-behaved with you than he probably would be with someone else.  Someone potentially disposable.

His expression is carefully neutral as he seems to think on how much he wants to frighten you some more or how much he’ll let your own imagination do the work.  “I give them what they’re looking for,” he says after a moment.

You glance back over at the door.  How many people whisper about his trio of naked women the way they keep their head down about the Baron?  Does that not bother him, how people who know about this undoubtedly think, If he’s willing to stick his cock into them , what else is he capable of?

“You do know that calling them your Darlings, having them naked like this–it makes it seem like you have sex with them,” you tell him.

Feyd-Rautha looks unsurprised and unmoved.  “They can be sedated into being dressed sometimes.  It’s just too cumbersome to try and change them every day,” he says.  “Besides, people can think what they want,” he says.  “I don’t care, just as long as they fear my name.”

Very Harkonnen of you , you think.  “What are their names?” you ask instead.

He seems amused by the question.  “Didn’t bother.  They don’t need them,” he says.

You look back at the door.  They can’t always have been like this, could they?  “Did they not have names once?  Before…this?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.  “They won’t remember.”

You can’t help but stare at him when he says that.  These were people once , you don’t need to tell him because he doesn’t care.  You don’t know what to say to him; the words dry up in your throat.  Here you were trying to bring out the human side to him when you get a stark reminder that for many people that side of him doesn’t exist.  You try to remember how the Reverend Mother assured you that he has weaknesses that you can use, just like any other man.  How he has his own, albeit twisted, moral code and sense of honor.

Count yourself lucky that it extends to you, you think.

You don’t like yourself very much when you think about it, the palpable fear he instills in everyone he thinks he can readily discard, and the fact that you’ve already decided that you’ll do your best to overlook it, for now anyways.  You have yourself and your future child to look after first.

[morgana-ren]

I wanted the full analysis!!! 🙏 Also I can't become a goddess </3 sadness

You wouldn't want to, babe. Sounds like fun, but Godhood is-- well, it's not great in DnD. It attracts exactly who you think it would: The naive, or the power-hungry and unworthy.

Well, let's look at Gale and his ultimate motivations:

When you meet him, he's straight-forward although fully polite, charismatic, and very much a 'wizard' archetype, as in noticeably and actively intelligent but in a strangely awkward way. Charming, talkative, but earnest. As you get to know him, you learn more about his plight and his struggles, his prodigal upbringing, his dalliances with Mystra, his fall from grace, and his inevitable charge with 'ending' this little uprising by the upstart Dead Three-- and ending his own life in the process.

Most people, you would think, would have an ounce of self-preservation upon being told "Hey, you need to kill yourself to end this." Even the rest of the group, up against ridiculous odds, are holding on to the glimmer of hope that they can survive.

Not Gale. Gale just basically goes "Okay. So be it." While he does mourn in a way, he mourns more over his initial mistake than he does the loss of his own life. He thinks of all he did wrong, all the 'pain' he caused. the loss he caused himself, and his rejection at Mystra's hands for which he entirely blames himself.

Gale is a victim of grooming. It is framed in a strange way, since the one doing the grooming is a Goddess, but he is absolutely a victim. He tells you that Mystra has been with him since he was a boy, which yes, you can frame as he is a wizard and she is essentially magic incarnate, but it doesn't stop there. She doesn't encourage him as a pupil-- she takes him as a lover. As a conduit of her own power. Carnally.

She takes him into her bed, and as a lover.

Had Mystra been just an elderly powerful witch, this would have been way more fucking obvious to people. But because she is a God and her whims are unknowable, it's essentially shrugged off-- which I feel like is part of his arc.

Gale did what he did because he was on completely fucking uneven tier with his own lover. The power dynamic was abusive. He could not be on her level and she expected him to be fine with that. She demanded excellence but when he delivered, she spurned him. He was expected to be brilliant and perfect-- but not too much. And when he was perfect? He still could never be enough. She is a goddess and he is expected to bow and scrape. She groomed him to admire and revere and worship her, and then told him to sit down and be happy with what little he was given.

He needed to prove himself her equal. He needed her approval. He needed it because it was a relationship to him, and one he physically could not win at.

Gale is a human. He needs love and connection and fairness. Mystra, by her own nature, cannot give this-- and she doesn't want to.

Gale knows well the callousness of the Gods. Not just with Mystra, but from his tower, he can see injustice and pain and misery. He is extremely empathetic and cares so deeply. His eldest companion, the Tressym Tara, was an accidental summon that stayed with him for life and became intrinsically involved with his family. He knows love. He knows pain. He is a good man.

Gale seeks knowledge, though he does not seek it for power. He seeks it out of genuine and earnest desire to help. To make people's lives better. Yes, he seeks to be seen as intelligent and brilliant because he is, but he is not a selfish being.

For 'good' players, he is one of the easiest approvals to get, because he very much approves of just being a good person. Helping. Being kind and lending a hand. Saving lives. Using your strength and power for good.

But again, Gale is human. And the folly of the clever man is to believe everyone around him is a fool. He, in all his brilliance, found a way he thought he could help. A path that has been tread time and time again with naught but the misery and bewailings of those who came before to show for it as a warning. But he thought he was different. He thought he could pull it off.

He could become a God.

Secretly, he found a way to put himself on even tier with Mystra-- and do what she did not have the compassion, kindness, or even desire to do. To use Godhood for good. To use all that magnificent power to achieve goodness rather than greatness. To be an active God in the lives of mortal men. To make the world better.

He thought that he could maintain his connection with humanity through his apotheosis and ultimately exist with one foot in each world; To straddle mortality and immortality and put reins on them both.

You are warned repeatedly throughout the game that this is bad. That many have tried and all have failed. Humans are not meant to be gods, and you cannot exist as a hybrid. If you are a God, you are a god. If you are a man, you are mortal. The mortal mind cannot tether Godhood. It is not possible. Best case scenario, you lose yourself. Worst case? You are punished eternally for your hubris.

To be a God is to be unknowable. To see the threads of time and the futility of it all. You are ripped from your conscious mind as a man and you can no longer relate. Lives and suffering, they are all fleeting, miniscule things from your mountain on high. All men must die; why is tonight different from any other night? Why is your suffering so great that a god should take interest? What are you to me, little mortal? Your kingdoms shall fall and burn and crumble and be rebuilt and crumble again but my temple shall remain, and when you are but dust in the fickle wind, you too shall know my eternal glory.

The way Mystra looked at Gale.

An instrument. A tool. A temporary amusement and benefactor. He is a mere man and she is a Goddess and when his bones bleach in Selune's unforgiving sun, she shall choose a new apprentice to take unto her bed. And so the wheel of time spins endlessly on.

A large theme of the game is the malevolence of some Gods and the utter indifference of others.

Selune's perceived abandonment of Ketheric that led to his downfall and madness. He lost his wife and daughter after an entire life of servitude, and he did not even receive comfort in return. She is considered a good natured Goddess, and even she is cruel in her neglect and indifference when it does not suit her.

Shar and her utter disregard and even active disdain for her most devout-- and everything else. Viconia, who committed her life to Shar, cast aside for a Selunite orphan on a whim. Her hatred of living creatures and her manipulations. Her outright malevolence and reverence for their suffering. You see her cruelty both from an outside and inside perspective, and her circular doctrine that makes no sense, her faith that demands all and gives nothing in return.

The Gods that are active are only so malevolently. Bane devouring Gortash after his defeat despite how far he'd gotten in his name. Myrkul abandoning Ketheric as well in the end. Bhaal discarding his own children when the do not suit his whims.

"We are but bronze pieces in their pocket to be traded on a whim. You may have beaten me, but the truth is, the Gods beat me first."

It is literally a thematic constant.

Sure, they can do good. They have devout worshipers and can be seen doing some level of good-- Isabelle and her protection of the Last Light, for example. But it's never quite them, is it? It is the humans that utilize their power. The humans who care. Selune did not protect them of her own volition. Her magic was invoked.

Gale's goal was to become both. To have the power and will of a God but the consciousness and mind of a man.

Mark my words, you would go mad.

Gods see eons. The endless tide of eternity drifting endlessly on. Imagine the incessant screams. The pleading. The misery. The death. The horror at the hands of man and your fellow Gods. Even all of your power, all of your prestige could not save them all.

And even if you could-- even if you could-- Ao demands a level of indifference. It is one of the fundamental rules.

Gale must accept this, or he will become that which he sought to rectify. He must learn that to love and care so deeply is to be mortal. That to retain all that made him beautiful and wonderful, he must be humbled and rather do as he can rather than all he feels capable of. He must seek Mystra's forgiveness (disgusting) on a symbolic level and accept that he is a mortal and his hubris would be his downfall. Gods and mortals should not mix.

But if he does not? If he utilizes the Crown of Karsis?

He becomes a god. He gets his wish. And in true Faustian fashion, the price he pays makes the prize worthless.

He becomes an arrogant, disconnected, detached, miserable pile of sectorless divinity.

He becomes callous. Cruel. When asked about all those people he longed to save, he shrugs. He no longer speaks of the mortal realm, he speaks of the beauty and frivolity of Elysium. Of the wonders of Godhood and all he understands-- or has forgotten. He has completely detatched from mortality and only deigns to come down from his fucking halcyon world to bless you-- his former friends-- with his magnanimous presence. To let you know how lucky you are. How blessed.

All that power he has? Useless. Used to prop himself on a pedestal same as every other filthy fucking God.

His deepest, most treasured friend will tell him this, and how does he respond? By basically telling her 'You don't know shit.' He ignores her. Threatens you if you try. A man who was willing to give his life selflessly to save the world will now threaten divine wrath if you even so much as irritate him. He will swing that hammer of power down just to prove a fucking point.

If you loved him and refuse him? Utterly disconnected. No genuine feeling. Just looking down on you like the silly little human you are. When you refuse him, he is disconnected from who he was and what he ever felt for you. Gale, a man who was groomed and just wanted love on an equal playing field; a man desperately lonely in his brilliance; a man so distraught by what he felt that he sought to break the barrier and become a god, not for power, but for benevolence-- he becomes Mystra.

He is no longer Gale. He is the God of Ambition. Another useless god in a pantheon of useless ideas. What good is ambition if it does not serve a purpose? To make him the god of ambition is to spit in his face, because what was his ambition? Where is it now, Gale? What are you?

What is your ambition and where the fuck is it now?

Gale is a kind, caring, compassionate man who went through a horrible, traumatic event that changed who he was fundamentally. Dumped and abandoned by his Goddess, it burned him. It hurt him in such a way that he made it his goal to change this dynamic and to become what she could not.

He was still in love with her. Of course he was. How it must be to love something that you know can never love you back. That you are one of many, and your time is over. You have served your purpose. And if you die, you die. If the realm dies, so be it.

Gale's is a story of hubris born of love. A man gifted with intelligence and power that he only wanted to utilize for the best; to do what he thought was right. He wasn't clawing after the crown for raw power's sake. He wanted to help. That's all he ever wanted.

The bookworm that will talk your ear off about his cat and his studies and his love of books. A man so brilliant that it's painful at times. A man who loved his mother and his cat. A man who loved a goddess and, in a story that could have no happy ending, decided to give everything to make it so. If it meant dying, then so be it. He wasn't clawing for the crown to save his own life. He was doing it to save everyone else's.

He fundamentally misunderstood the nature of the Gods. He touched divinity and it looked at him with a human countenance and so he believed he could grasp it.

The Gods are powerful, and yes, they are unknowable and, in a way, infinite-- but they are callous and cruel and indifferent. They are power with no outlet. Useless. They gaze upon humanity like rats in a cage, uncaring and unfeeling. Separated entirely. Sometimes they deign to make their presence known. But mostly? They sit on their heavenly thrones and revel in their own brand of bullshit.

This is what Gale will become. It is an insult to an incredible man to take away all that made him incredible and make him another b-lister jumpstart God up his own ass. Caring and love are work. They are pain. It is suffering and agony. But that is what separates us from them. We do not, and in some cases, cannot separate. It is our world, and we live in it. We must breathe in the poisons. Smell the blood that soils the earth. It is our world and we cannot separate. We love and we help and we learn--

Gale wanted to help. So he became a God.

But what do Gods do?

They watch. Through the gray window of indifference, they watch. They watch us tear each other open. They watch other Gods tear us open. They watch the wounds. They watch the graves. They watch the fires rage.

They watch and they listen to the screams. And when they are bored of them? They shut them out.

Gale became a god.

And so too shall he watch, removed from it all.

Not an ounce of humanity left in a man that ached so for humanity itself that it damn near drove him mad.

[tavyliasin]

Villain-Fucker Angst Hours

Good timezone, darlings~ Are you ready to get all up in your feelings? No? Me neither, loves, but here we are regardless so the words are going to flow as they usually do... This is focused on Raphael from Baldur's Gate 3 and his fandom, but the latter section can easily apply to any villain fandom.

Self-Analysis of Devil-Fuckery, Or Why Do I Adore Raphael When He Is Very Obviously Evil: A Short Essay by TavyliaSin (Who Still Cannot Name Anything With Less Than A Full Paragraph) ((NSFW)) (((Game Spoilers)))

The following may discuss heavier topics, but without specifics, so whilst it should be safe for most to read without triggering any difficult memories please be aware of Raphael's entire vibes, the content and context of his story, and I'd also like to mention that this isn't a "woe be us for we are terrible people" piece, it's actually more about:

"There is an inherent kindness and warmth to much of the Raphael fandom, and I think there could be some common threads behind that, pulling us all in closer in a comforting blanket that we wrap around each other to keep out the cold of the world."

So, what in the nine hells am I on about? Well. Raphael-fandom is a wild and wonderful place to be. The rest is in sections, so feel free to skip through to what you feel is relevant to your interests. I am so prone to waffle I should open a restaurant~

Who Are Fans Of Raphael? What Do They Want?

We are feral, unhinged, all sheets to the wind "I want that devil man, carnally, and there is no force in all the planes that could stop me". There's the vanilla to the extreme and every level in between, tops, bottoms, versatiles, Doms, subs, and switches - there are a whole lot of people who would love to get their hands on either (or both) of Raphael's forms, for a simple smooch or something far more spicy~ [edited in] To add on to this, not all of us even desire him in a sexual way, for many it is romantic, soft, or even just the rather pleasant thought of spending an evening with drinks by the hellfire because he would be fascinating company. Aces, Aros, and AroAces may all find themselves well within the devilish corners of fandom too~ which is a whole other essay~ [end edit] So, I see you. I'm one of you. Extremely loud and utterly hingeless in my fan appreciation for Raphael. He's one of my favourites to write about, I seek art of him, and the same goes for his mirrored other half, Haarlep, who I arguably love more despite there being far less content of them in the game.

And the Fandom? The Vibe?

From my experience in the Raphael Fandom areas, we have a very deep and abiding understanding of consent, respect, and treating each other with an absolute and uncompromising kindness. We've had talks about keeping each other safe in fandom, exchanged details of people we have encountered who need to be avoided, even shared details between moderators of different fandom servers to pre-ban people proven to be creeps and/or art thieves. We've also discussed consent, including the issues with it in the game, and how areas of the story can only really be considered dubious at best and could easily be triggering for people. And these discussions have been open, honest, fair, and with the acknowledgement that most of us love these scenes anyway. So there's a sense of care that runs through everything, behind the horny-posting and fan content, behind the endless thirsting after our favourite fictional characters. We have a depth of kindness that warms my sinners soul every time I see it.

What Does This Have To Do With Self-Reflection, Raphael, or Villainy In General?

Well let's look at Raphael. He's a villain, obviously. He's manipulative, devious, and inherently evil by his very nature. He keeps Hope chained in his basement, constantly subjected to endless torture. There's also mention of how Gortash was sold into his service at a young age, clearly not an enjoyable experience given the other details and how things turn out (particularly as Raphael would need Gortash's own plans to fail entirely in order for him to succeed in his own and get that crown). And as fans, we accept that. We don't sit making excuses, or trying to say "well actually Gortash is a little shit and Hope probably deserve it", and we don't shy away from or conveniently ignore those darker sides of him with malicious intent to enable more evil to flourish. What I noticed, when I allowed the thoughts to continue, is that there is a theme here.

If Evil Can Be Loved Then So Can I

That's the core. Of course, darlings, I am not claiming to be a heinous monster. I certainly do not have a laundry list of crimes that would make the devil himself say "Uh, that's a bit much." But I sure as fuck treat myself like I do sometimes. You see, I think a lot of us have that tendency, to judge ourselves far more harshly than anyone else. Our patience, understanding, and forgiveness for others runs deeper than the Mariana Trench, but when it comes to our own flaws? One minor mistake and we think ourselves to be the worst beings ever to disgrace the earth. Thus, the villainy we see reflects how we are treating ourselves. So by loving and accepting all of those things that should be terrible, hated, we are actually learning that no matter how poorly we think of ourselves that we can be worthy of that same love and acceptance. We are extending the affection we are unable to show ourselves to someone we see the worst parts of ourselves amplified within. And that's why villains attract the people with the most kindness. The most forgiveness. Because it takes someone with a truly huge amount of empathy to find love for the embodiment of evil.

Or, IDK, maybe villains are just hot and we're too far down to care.

But wait, before you go!

THERE'S SOMETHING WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT.

All of this is about FICTION. We should never be accepting of the kinds of evil we see in the game irl. We do not owe anyone kindness if they do not show it to us.

What is hot in fiction is not always OK IRL.

Look after yourselves out there, remember that consent is key in all things, and please do try to learn to love yourselves, darlings, you are worthy of it and you should judge yourself by the same standard you judge others. If you are in doubt, if you are worried, if you feel afraid - reach out, talk to someone. There are many who will listen.

Treat yourself as you would treat a friend. You deserve that much.

Oh, and all Raphael fans who understand kindness are welcome around me, any hour of the day, I adore our little fandom circles and would gladly collect all of us together. I'm following a lot of you as soon as I find you, like hunting shiny pokemon~

See you in Avernus, my darling Little Mice, may we all find joy in the Cambion's Embrace~

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 9th

Glory Hole, Papa Emeritus I x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Glory holes; sex work; gn!Reader (but reader has a vulva); major inspiration from those slavic glory hole porn videos (iykyk); free use; fingering; overstimulation; cunnilingus; pussy worship (because of course there is); body worship (because this is Primo we’re talking about, man will lavish you in praise unprovoked); squirting; multiple orgasms; unprotected sex; piv sex; spanking; I may have accidentally made this reader plus size so if you are, great, if not, also great… ;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

There were times in one’s life where partaking in sins of the flesh wasn’t quite as romantic as one always wanted. The church, of course, always promoted the use of sexual rituals when it came to invoking the Dark One, as well as carnal lust being one of the most important fundamentals of their beliefs. However, sometimes sex was a bare necessity. Banging one out was akin to taking your car to the mechanic to get the oil changed, or cleaning your house and resetting it every season.

Primo, being the old man he was now, didn’t often find himself partaking in rituals anymore. Didn’t feel like he wanted to play cat and mouse with a pretty young sister - or old sister, he wasn’t picky. The idea of wooing a goddess every time exhausted his old brain, thus when nature did call on him, as rare as it was, he would go down to the basement levels where strings of Siblings also needed some attention and couldn’t be bothered with chasing down someone they deemed attractive. Where faces could remain hidden and the thrill of anonymity heightened the pleasurable experiences.

The Ministry’s glory hole.

Now, it seems ridiculous and kind of culty that a religious sect would own a plethora of custom built glory holes, I completely understand. But it just seemed fitting to have one when so many people live in a small space, and a large portion of these people are insanely horny introverts.

So, Primo walked into the corridor that lead to private rooms, chose the orifice he wanted to use and entered the room. After knocking, of course, he wasn’t a monster. The Sibling who was waiting for him had been propped up on a cardboard structure, the perfect height for the average penis-wielder. They were positioned on their stomach, allowing whoever came in two holes to easily play with.

Primo grabbed the camping chair that had been folded neatly in the corner of the room and placed it in front of the hole. His head was at the perfect height to play with the Sibling with his hands and mouth, which is something he intended to do first. Primo, like all of the Papas after him, was a very attentive lover - gracious, even with people he was to spend only twenty minutes with. He had no idea how long they’d been there, but he could see by their bare and swollen folds (and even a droplet of cum on the floor) that they had been used before him. Therefore, he wet two of his own fingers and delicately placing them inside them, tentatively, so as not to hurt their already sensitive pussy. They hissed at the feeling, the overstimulation catching up to them, but the moan that followed afterwards told Primo that they were still ready and happy to go. The light above their hole was green, so he knew the other person was consenting to this.

Green light - good to go.

Yellow light - stop what you’re doing and switch it up.

Red light - stop completely.

Everyone within the booths had buttons to press to express their consent as well as alarms just in case someone overstayed their welcome. Big and burly Ministry officers would come charging in and forcibly remove the other person if needs be. Safety was always the most important thing.

When Primo pulled his fingers out, the only thing coating them was the Sibling’s juices, meaning whoever had used them before had cleaned up after themselves. Primo grunted in appreciation. He didn’t mind eating cum out of a pussy, provided it was his own. With the confirmation he needed, Primo nuzzled into the Sibling’s folds, and allowed his tongue to flick over the sensitive bud softly, tentatively making sure this was okay before proceeding to get more intense. The light remained green.

So, Primo placed his hands on the Sibling’s deliciously plump ass and spread them apart, giving him complete and unobstructed access to his favourite place of worship. His tongue darted erratically over the Sibling’s clit, alternating between licking and sucking. He knew this was a hit with the Sibling, given that their hips were rocking back and forth, working Primo’s nose deeper into their wetness. They tried not to give away their identity with their voice, but their moans and little gasps of “yes!” and “more!” wasn’t helping them. Thankfully, Primo didn’t recognise their voice, but his cock was certainly standing to attention and appreciative of the noises it was hearing.

Pulling away temporarily, Primo inserted two of the same fingers into the Sibling’s slick hole and curved downward, roughly fingering them as he sucked on their clit. He had been around long enough to know exactly what to do and how to please whatever partner he was with, and the Sibling’s gasps of affirmation was enough for him to know that they were seriously enjoying him. It wasn’t long before his fingers felt the familiar tightness, and his face became drenched in the Sibling’s cum, their squirt trickling out of them and flooding the shelf they were lay on. Papa only stopped when he saw the light turn yellow.

He stood and removed the chair, placing it back to where he got it from, before undressing himself. He was a traditional man, preferring to be completely nude under his robes, and so he stood as naked as the Sibling, cock standing freely and begging to sink into the sopping cunt in front of him. In reassurance, and perhaps a gentle warning, Primo placed one of his hands on the Sibling’s ass and stroked it gently. He ran his cock through their folds once, twice, three times before easing himself in gently. The Sibling’s gasp was music to his ears, and it took everything in him not to thrust forward and take his own pleasure. But he held on to the very last bit of sanity he had for the sake of this poor Sibling’s overworked hole. Even with his cock working its way inside the Sibling, he was still giving them reassuring touches and being as gentle as possible. But their pussy was warm, and wet, and fluttering with every movement. He hadn’t felt this good in years.

Papa didn’t care who knew he was in there, he just wanted to make sure the Sibling was comfortable. “Flash your light green when you’re ready for me to move.” He requested.

After a few seconds the light flashed, and Primo began his assault.

The thrusts were tentative and shallow at first, but soon enough he let his wants take over him. His pace quickened and his hands gripped tightly onto the Sibling’s hips to ground and allow himself to hit the right spots more precisely. He would alternate between quick, short thrusts to long, powerful hits where he’d slam himself back in and reach the very back of their hole. He needed this. He didn’t realise just how horny he’d been until he sank deep into the Sibling. He’d almost forgotten how good a tight, wet cunt felt wrapped around his achingly hard cock. Sathanas - if He was good, He would allow Primo more reminders of his youth so he could come back down and play with as many Siblings as he could get his hands on. But he almost wanted to keep this Sibling forever. He wanted to find out who they were. He wanted to bring them up to his chambers and watch their voluptuous ass bounce on his cock as he lay on the bed like a King.

He watched with intent as their ass jiggled at the recoil, every time his hips rammed against it and bounced with the force. He bit his lip and let out a groan, resisting the urge to spank. He didn’t want to do anything the Sibling was uncomfortable with. “C-can I spank you? Fl-flash if yes.”

Another flash, this one even faster than before. Primo chuckled. His hand came down with a slap over and over again, the intensity getting bigger and bigger until their right cheek was red and raw with the impact. Every time he hit them, they squeaked like a little mouse. Between each hit was a reassuring rub, followed by an even more intense one. Sometimes, he would couple the slap with the timing of his cock hitting their cervix. This would earn him an unintentional scream.

When Primo had tired of the spanking, he moved his hand under their bodies and began working his middle finger at the Sibling’s clit. They had already cum once by Primo’s mouth, and it felt great when their cunt constricted his fingers, but he was desperate to feel it around his cock. With the amount they were worked up, he didn’t believe it would be long before they came. And sure enough, the familiar tightness began to appear and Primo felt their walls closing in again. His own throat released a growl as the Sibling’s orgasm ripped one of his own and his balls emptied inside them. They stayed connected for a moment, Primo being too tired to move but also not wanting it to end. But eventually, he pulled out, hissing at the loss of warmth.

His eyes were transfixed on the Sibling’s pussy, watching his cum ooze out of them like melted ice cream down a cone. His finger ran through the mess and gathered it before licking it off. He couldn’t help himself. Once more he unfolded the chair from the corner and set to work abusing their cunt in the sweetest of ways.

The Sibling, who was now almost entirely fuck-drunk and brain dead from orgasms, was babbling incoherently to themselves on the other side of the wall. Their hips were bucking at the feeling of Primo’s tongue eating his own cum out of their cunt and they could hardly contain themselves. Their hand moved backwards, reaching for Primo’s bald head and pushing him further into their cunt as though they were desperate for another orgasm. “Papa!” They cried. “L-like that! Right th-ere. Oh fuck! Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!” And it didn’t take much more than a nudge to the clit to have them tipping over again and cumming for the third time from Primo’s body alone. They were completely breathless by the time Primo pulled away, and in their somewhat delusional state, they clumsily climbed out of the hole and exposed their entirely naked body and face to their Papa.

“Hey, hey!” Primo said, concern in his voice as he watched the exhausted Sibling sway. He gently moved them to the seat and had them sit on it. “Are you okay, little one?”

They nodded. “I wanted to see you.”

Primo chuckled fondly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He wrapped his own robes around the Sibling, who was now shaking, and stood behind them giving them an awkward back hug, trying to bring warmth back to their adrenaline-filled body. “What’s your name?”

“I’m ___.” They answered. “C-can I see you again, Papa? Please?”

It had been a long time since a person had attached themselves to him because of his bedroom prowess. “Only for coffee, little ___. Your head is not clear enough for other decisions.”

They nodded. Primo found themselves looking at them in adoration - they were so unbelievably cute. If nothing else, Papa may have just made himself a new friend.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[actuallysaiyan]

I Think You're Holding The Heart Of Mine(Part Twelve/Epilogue)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, Gojo being a sweet uncle, fluff, AU, Non-Shibuya AU word count: 1k pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: in the end, you and Nanami will always be by each other's side along with a few good friends. a/n: This is it. The last chapter. It was a good ride, my friends. I hope you all love this ending and that it's good for everyone! taglist: @beneathstarryskies @sparklynightm4re @seireiteihellbutterfly

Masterlist|Original Thirst by @carnal-lnstinct|Original Fic by @carnal-lnstinct

Without you, this series probably would have never existed! Thank you everyone who's enjoyed this series and thank you for being awesome!!!!!!

THREE YEARS LATER…

“Have you seen her?! She’s adorable! She has sensei’s hair and cute face! And she has Nanami-san’s eyes.” Nobara gushes to her colleagues.

Itadori sighs, “Yes! She’s sooo cute!”

Fushiguro rolls his eyes but cracks a smile, “She’s just like the both of them.”

After marrying the love of your life and finding out you were going to have a baby, you and Kento decided to take a very long sabbatical from work. Being Jujutsu sorcerers wasn’t going to be a good idea while raising a child. And now that your daughter is three, Kento had decided he’d go back to work.

All three of you were in Yaga’s office at the moment, just talking about the role that Nanami would be taking on as he returns to this world.

“Nothing dangerous, Yaga-san. I don’t want my wife to be a young widow.” Nanami explains, holding your hand and soothing his thumb over your wedding ring.

Yaga shakes his head, “I promise. Only teaching and very light missions.” He then turns to you, “Any plans on coming back as well?”

Your cheeks flush, “Well, for now, it’s going to be a no.”

Emi comes rushing over to you, wrapping her arms around you and you hoist her onto your lap. She begins to rub your belly, making you blush even more.

“She won’t be returning for some time. We have a second child on the way,” Kento says proudly. “But we need to get back to making sure this world is safe for our children. And I wanted to get back to teaching the students we have.”

Before anyone can say anything, the door swings open and in bursts Satoru. He’s beaming at the sight of the Nanami family. You laugh at his antics, while your husband rolls his eyes and sighs. But there’s that cute grin trying to hide on his face. Emi’s eyes light up.

“Oji-san!” Emi calls out to him. Gojo squats down to be at her level on your lap. “Oji-saaan!”

“My my, who’s this big girl?” Gojo teases her before plucking her from your hold.

You watch as he carefully holds her, then he tosses her up in the air. You feel your heart flutter but the sound of her squealing in joy makes you realize you don’t need to be so worried. It’s just your motherly instincts.

“That settles it. We’ll be glad to have you back, Nanami-san.” Yaga concludes, and Gojo looks over at you.

“Nanaminnn! Returning to the workforce?”

Kento sighs, “Yes, but I’m not doing anything dangerous. I need to stay around for my girls.”

Gojo smirks, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Kento feels a warmth blossoming inside of him. Even if he finds Satoru so annoying most days, he’s still grateful to have his friend nearby. He knows that Satoru wouldn’t put him in a difficult position anymore, especially since Satoru knows how important it is for Nanami to get home to you and Emi.

“Don’t you even worry one bit,” Gojo says to you. “I promise that Nanamin will never be overworked.”

“He better not. We have a lot of preparations for when—”

Everyone is a bit silent. You hadn’t even really properly announced it to anyone except for Yaga just now. Gojo smiles even wider. Emi knows you’re pregnant, Yaga knows you’re pregnant and now Gojo knows.

“ANOTHER BABY?!” Gojo squeals. He places his hand on your stomach, feeling for the little fetus.

“Yes. Emi’s going to be a big sister.”

Gojo nods, “Yes, and this is why you’re coming back, usagi-chan.”

All four of you leave the office, Emi is hanging off of Gojo’s sleeve and begging him for piggyback rides and all kinds of other things. Gojo happily obliges as he asks your husband all kinds of questions. Kento feels happy to know that he can come back to this work but also not have to worry about if he’s going to come home to you or not.

“I’m grateful for this, Satoru. I know I don’t always show it, but I am grateful.” Kento finally says.

“Awh shucks, Nanamin! No need to thank me!”

Kento shakes his head, “If you hadn’t asked me to return to the sorcerer world all those years ago, I never would have been reunited with the love of my life.”

Kento takes your hand in his. The trio of students come to join all of you, and Emi begins to act a little shy. Nobara is the first one to kneel to her level, and Emi looks at you.

“Yes, baby. That’s mama’s student. That’s Nobara, you can talk to her.”

Emi waves at your student shyly. Then Itadori is the second to show his face. Kento explains who that is, and Emi smiles widely. Fushiguro is the last, and somehow Emi is so drawn to him. You love the way this day is going. It’s so nice to reunite with everyone.

While Gojo and trio take Emi on a little walk, you and Kento sit on a bench and think about the future. He turns to you and smiles sweetly. You lean in to kiss him.

“All those years ago…” he begins to reminisce. “When I first met you, I was enamored.”

You blush, “Stop it. There was no way that was true.”

Kento laughs, “Oh you should have asked Haibara. He was probably tired of hearing me gush about you constantly.”

This makes you blush even more. Kento reaches over to gently brush some hair out of your face. You two share a very sweet and tender kiss. When you pull away, he rests his forehead on yours.

“I think Haibara was probably tired of hearing us both gush about each other.” You finally say, making Kento laugh.

“He’d be so happy to see us like this,” Kento comments.

You nod your head, “If we have a boy, can we name him Yu?”

Kento’s heart flutters with affection, “I’d love that.”

A gentle breeze flows over the both of you. You can hear Emi calling out for you as the group starts walking over to you. Kento kisses you once more. 

Everything is right in the world…

[liyawritesss]

ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ ２３ － Ｑｕａｌ��ｔｙ Ｔｉｍｅ

－ A King's Wish - T'Challa Udaku - Marvel's Black Panther

－ In which during a tumultuous time during T'Challa's duties with the Avengers in America, he pays a visit to a certain someone ro calm his mind.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

A King should never get too comfortable in his position - and if he is, then he shouldn’t be king. It was one of the many morals instilled upon T’Challa as crowned prince to the Wakandan throne. He knows he’s got a lot to risk for himself, for his people, and unfortunately he doesn’t have the ability to allow himself to get too comfortable. Though, just because he’s King of arguably the most powerful nation on earth, doesn’t mean he’s absolved from having guilty pleasures.

And it just so happens that he’s on his way to visit said guilty pleasure right now.

He has to keep a low profile, though. More than raised eyebrows would occur if people saw a member of the Wakandan royal family casually strolling into a college campus, accompanied by brightly colored warrior women trained to kill. So he dawns much more casual, American clothing, and so do the two members of the KingsGuard accompanying him, because of course, he couldn’t come completely alone.

With so much happening the past few months, all T’Challa truly wants is to be in your arms. To remember how they feel around him, to cement your kisses into his skin so that they never disappear again. It’s wishful thinking, he knows it is; there’s only so much time the two of you will have together, but he doesn’t like to think about that. Instead, he chooses to relish in the present, and perhaps, speak on what future instances would look like.

He remembers the day the two of you first met. Being introduced to each other by his friend who taught the graduate level african history class you were enrolled in, the professor relayed your expressed interest in Wakanda and the desire to study the history of the nation on a deeper level. While he could not grant you access inside the tightly secured country for reasons, T’Challa was more than willing to oblige in your questions to assist in your research. Little did he know that the mere prospect of assisting you in your extended project would lead to something much more deeper.

It was a breath of fresh air for the royal, a change of pace from his constant need to save face. You didn’t treat him like a King - which, granted, he had to get used to - but rather an average scholar you were bouncing ideas off of. While most of his life he has been molded to be a pillar of sovereignty, with you, T’Challa was able to have some semblance of normalcy in his life. Something he didn’t know he craved so carnally until he met you.

He sighs as his fist raps at your door, his body already buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing you again after a long time being apart. You open it, and T’Challa’s lips immediately crack into a smile.

“Now, I remember telling you to let me know when you’re coming by,” you say in a voice akin to disbelief, standing in the doorway of your apartment that resides close to campus, “y’know, instead of knocking on my door like you’re the police or somethin’?”

“Can you blame me?” T’Challa retorts, “I was in a rush.”

Well, there’s little you can do about the King who seemingly lost his manners, besides welcome him into your home - and your heart - for the night.