#but i must play a role for him too

[lilyimmsim]

i'm sitting in my bedroom, doing girly things; screaming out the lyrics to "good luck, babe", scrolling pinterest, feeling happy, when suddenly i'm snapped out of it (i think i've escaped the male gaze / the male fantasies that haunt me / but i realise i'm waiting for their approval / i am acting cute / dancing in my room / and that's just it / i am acting / pretending i don't know they're watching me / which only adds to the fantasy)

[mando-abs]

Guys, I’ve read the Wild Robot

And let me tell you, if I hadn’t recently taken a Children’s Literature class in college, I would’ve said this was the best middle-grade book I’ve read since elementary/middle school. I almost read this book in one night (I was sleepy 😴) like I couldn’t put it down.

The heart behind this book is astounding and it never shies away from showing complex and difficult concepts. You will fall in love with Roz and her gosling son along with all of the other animal on the island.

If you’ve got younger ones, I highly recommend reading this to them or having a little book club moment with them. However, be prepared for whatever hard questions may come your way (i.e. circle of life and climate issues). You know your child and how much they can handle/understand. If you’re like me and much older, it’s a quick read and a great way to finish off a long day. It’s a part of a trilogy and you bet I’m patiently waiting for my hold on a copy at the library.

If the movie is anything like the book (which, given a rewatch of the trailer, it’s looking like so), we are in for a special treat.

[blackjackkent]

Rakha enters the Counting House's high security vault on a balcony overlooking the main floor. It's an enormous room but mostly empty except for three people standing around a single chest at its center - a dwarf in a fine silk tunic and two guards armored like the ones upstairs.

No sign of Minsc. Jaheira has described him and he is definitely not any of these people.

"It's still... moving..." one of the guards quavers nervously, looking at the chest with an expression of deep anxiety.

Rakha's head tilts to one side and she squints. The chest gives an almost imperceptible twitch.

"Hush your fussing," the dwarf says irritably, pulling a pipe from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth. "Nine-Fingers had this one made especially. That little mouthful will barely slow it down."

(A/N: "Made"? This line raises a lot of questions about mimic biology and reproduction. Also, one of Glitterbeard's guards has Hector's face with an undercut and no beard, but the right eye color more or less, which is amusing me.)

"But the stories..." The guard wrings her hands.

"Stories," the dwarf scoffs. "Tall tales and big names." He pokes his pipe at the other guard, who is looking at his comrade anxiously. "Don't let them fool you, lad. Elminster the archmage. Drizzt the drow exlie. Heroes have power, aye - but not half so much as we do." He flicks his fingers, and Rakha watches with mild interest as fire flares up around his fingers, with which he lights his pipe before inhaling a mouthful of smoke.

"A little coin in the right purse," he murmurs pensively. "A soft word in the right ear. It's not glory that spins these planes, lad. It's gold. See? Now--"

He breaks off abruptly. The chest has given another distinct twitch, and this time its accompanied by a low, moaning growl that sets the hair standing up on the back of Rakha's neck.

She has only a moment to process what's happening, but it's long enough. She's seen this before, a creature disguising itself as a chest - in Grymforge, and in Moonrise Towers. A mimic, Wyll called it. A creature that is mouth and teeth and tongue and very little else, and would have swallowed her whole if she'd let it.

Extrapolation flick-flicks through Rakha's brain like lightning. The visitor logs said Minsc was here only minutes ago, led here by Glitterbeard, the bank's manager. Nine-Fingers said she instructed that he be killed. Jaheira has described Minsc as a behemoth, dangerously violent, and with his own streak of madness to match Rakha's.

There are only so many ways to safely kill such a man. One of them, Rakha imagines, is having him swallowed by a mimic.

Mmmm... whispers the beast in her brain. Too quick. Too clean. No mess left behind to show the deed was done. And yet... perhaps not so easy as they think...

The mimic gives another low moan, its whole body spasming and the eyes embedded in its "wood" flesh opening wide. And then a fist explodes outward from between its teeth.

Blood spatters across the ground. The scent fills Rakha's nose and her vision goes white at the corners. She grips the balcony railing, struggling to regain control, and watches in astonishment as a huge, muscular form uncurls itself from within the mimic's body, ripping its jaw upward with a sickening crack.

The mimic screams and shudders to stillness, its tongue lolling out along the stone floor. Minsc - for certainly this is Minsc - straightens up, his eyes bright with rage as he glares down at the dwarf.

"There is no gold in here!" he bellows, pointing at the dead mimic. With a grunt, he lifts the whole creature up by its tongue and hurls it aside.

"If there is one thing Minsc hates more than beasts with bad breath," he growls. "It is those who are tricksome with the truth."

His head cocks to one side, and then he smiles, showing all of his teeth. "And turnips. But you are no turnip! Let that be a comfort to you in your final moments!"

At Rakha's side, Jaheira laughs suddenly - a sound Rakha has never heard from her before. Every muscle in her body has relaxed with sudden visible relief and her eyes have brightened as she steps forward eagerly. "Meet Minsc!" she says cheerfully. "He still seems very much himself to me."

Rakha grunts. The smell of blood from the eviscerated mimic is still plucking angrily at the strings of her brain, and it is taking most of her available effort to retain control of herself. If this is Minsc, Jaheira can handle the reunion without her.

(Part of her is intrigued, attentive. Just as she has been led to believe, she can already see something of herself in this huge behemoth of a man - the rage and edge of madness in his eyes. The brute force ripping and tearing of flesh and teeth. But there will be time to understand that when she can breathe again.)

Let Jaheira reveal herself.

Jaheira steps forward, letting her boots click loudly against the marble of the floor. Minsc stiffens at once, turning to look up - and his eyes widen, seeing her face.

"You..." he hisses.

There is something strange in his eyes - it does not look like happy recognition. Surely Jaheira sees it too - but just as surely, she doesn't want to. Her smile takes on a forced quality. "Stone Lord?" she calls down teasingly. "Better to call yourself Stone-Head."

(A/N: For once when I say in my writing that there's a long silence, I actually mean it - there was a good fifteen seconds of Jaheira and Minsc just staring at each other with Minsc looking increasingly puzzled. XD )

A long silence passes, during which Minsc's expression shows his inward struggle to parse what Jaheira has said. Then his expression goes very dark, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Your false face does not fool my eyes!" he roars. "I will cut until you look like the monster you are!"

The words resonate inside Rakha's head. The beast keens eagerly. Yes, cut, cut, cut... spill her blood, spill all their blood, rip out their throats and then we shall rip out yours, Minsc of Rashemen--

Jaheira's brief moment of relief has vanished. She has gone utterly still and a muscle is working in her jaw. "Somehow you are making even less sense than usual," she says hoarsely.

And then a voice, all too familiar, echoes across the vault. "Perhaps I can explain!"

It's Jaheira's voice.

And at the far end of the room stands... Jaheira. Or someone who looks like her, at least. Her skin shimmers with the lingering Weave-ripples of the teleportation spell they have seen before, the one used by the Absolutists and the nautiloid. She raises one eyebrow, her lips curled in an unpleasant smirk.

Understanding once again cracks through Rakha like a whip. A shapeshifter - one of Orin's doppelgangers, this time wearing Jaheira's face. But not quite her manner; the smirk is too hard, too cold, and her voice rasps with a disdain that, even in the worst moments, Rakha has never seen from her companion.

"The Stone Lord sees through your lies, shapeshifter!" she barks up at Jaheira. Her voice rings like a bell in the high-ceilinged room. "Count yourself lucky he cannot stay." She turns the sharp edge of her glare down towards the dwarf next to the dead mimic. "Nine-Fingers set a poor trap, little banker. Let the Absolute's faithful show you how it is done."

The Weave rocks. From every corner of the room, figures with weapons and spiked armor shiver out of the dark. Absolutists. Bhaalists. Rakha's staves are out in her hands before she has fully registered what is happening.

"Now come, Stone Lord!" the imposter barks. "We have the gold - and the Absolute has need of it elsewhere."

For a long moment, Minsc does not move, just looks up at Jaheira - the true Jaheira - with narrowed eyes. Then he turns. "As you say, Jaheira," he rumbles. Crossing the room with a few enormous strides, he moves to the imposter's side.

The imposter's smirk widens. And then there's another flash of dark energy, and they're gone, and the cultists begin to close ranks on all sides.

Jaheira has gone very pale with fury and alarm. She pulls her scimitars free, but there is no time for her to do anything but watch as her friend disappears in the Absolutists' company.

"Stlarning shapechangers!" she roars, almost matching Minsc in thunderous volume despite her smaller frame. "Enough - let us deal with these cultists, then find out where they are nesting!"

[longagoitwastuesday]

Jacob Elordi and Margot Robbie as Heathcliff and Cathy seems like out of The Onion

[mirdaniaa]

tbf, this movie glosses over so many details that he might as well be anlaf’s son and the writers just forgot to elaborate on that lol i just assumed they weren’t related bc they do stress on the father-daughter thing a lot more with astrid and she does call him father

but headcanoning him as anlaf’s son does add more gravitas to the story

no no i think you're right, i just watched the movie and was like

[worstloki]

random thorki headcanon time (if u want)

they were both envious of what they perceived the other having for so long that they struggle with grasping the perspective of the other. their immediate assumption is always to doubt the other brother recounting their feelings of an event properly, making communication the largest hurdle between them when trying to repair their relationship.

[meownotgood]

I had a dream about gamer boyfriend aki... we went to a gaming convention together and then this weird guy kept chasing me so I ran to aki and aki punched him in the face lol

and then aki was sitting with a laptop, and I sat on his lap, my arms were wrapped around him and he had an arm around my back, he told me he would give me attention in just a minute, he had to finish his placements for league of legends lmfao

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong—lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[incognit0slut]

Tempting the Cowboy

Summary: The team has been trying to bring Spencer back to the BAU after he hung up his badge to live on his ranch peacefully. It’s a good thing you’ll do whatever it takes to persuade him, even if the rugged cowboy wants to bend you over in the barn.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) softdom spence, nipple play, handjob, fingering, female and male oral, semi-public sex

word count: 6k (i had too much fun, okay?)

a/n: This is such a random plot. Cowboy spence seemed so impossible, but then again, so did prison reid and look what happened.

Never in a million years would you ever have thought that a certified genius with an IQ of 187, after fifteen years of dedicated service to the FBI, would change career paths and settle down in the countryside. Yet here you were, driving to the middle of nowhere, trying to find that man.

The GPS led you down dusty backroads, past fields of golden wheat and weathered barns until finally, you arrived at his ranch. The scent of hay and the distant sound of cattle filled the air as you stepped out of the car and you couldn't help but feel out of place.

Your usual black pants and fitted blouse seemed like a striking contrast to your surroundings, especially with the sleek boots on your feet. Adjusting your shirt, you finally approached the farmhouse, the gravel crunch beneath your feet echoed with every step you took.

A group of men caught your eyes as they emerged from a weathered barn at the end of the road, and you found yourself approaching them instead. Clearing your throat, you called out to them.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," you began, "I'm looking for Spencer Reid. Is he around?"

The men exchanged knowing glances before one of them, a weathered cowboy with a straw hat shading his face, spoke up.

"You must be lookin' for the doc," he said, nodding towards the stable. "He's over there tendin' to the horses. You can't miss 'im."

With a grateful nod, you followed their directions. Nerves fluttered in your stomach as you walked into the stable, unsure of what to expect from the man who had once been your colleague but now seemed like a stranger in this unfamiliar setting.

As you pushed open the creaking door, the scent of leather and hay washed over you. Inside, you finally spotted him, his back turned as he tended to a horse in the corner of the room. His familiar profile was a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings, and for a moment, it felt surreal to see him in this new role.

Gone were the suits or knitted cardigans; instead, he was clad in well-worn denim and leather that gave him a distinctly different, yet undeniably attractive appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, showcasing the definition in his arms and a cowboy hat was perched on his head, its brim casting a shadow over his features, while his tousled hair peeked out from beneath it.

It was a side of him you had never seen before—one that seemed more at peace, more connected to the land than the city. And as you watched him work, the soft murmur of his voice filling the room as he spoke soothingly to the horse he was gently brushing, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt knowing you were going to ruin his peace.

As if sensing another presence in the room, he suddenly turned his head before his gaze fell on you. A genuine smile curled at the corner of your lips as you approached him. "Howdy, cowboy."

A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes as he straightened himself, which was quickly replaced with realization at your sudden visit.

"I was wondering when they'd send you here," he remarked, his tone a mixture of amusement and resignation. You returned his smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his familiar demeanor.

"I guess today is your lucky day." Your eyes scanned the rustic surroundings of his ranch, taking in the simplicity of his new life. "Well, this is quite the change of scenery."

He chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his tone as he gestured around the farmhouse. "It's definitely a far cry from the city," he admitted. "But it suits me."

"It does seem like you've found your place here. It's... different, but in a good way."

Spencer's smile widened at your words "It is different, and I like it here," he agreed. "Which is why I'm going to say no to whatever reason you're here."

You raised an eyebrow. "I haven't even said anything."

"You didn't have to, everyone else has already said their piece." He turned and focused his attention back on his horse. "And the answer is still no."

You silently studied him as he finished his task. He was right; your other teammates had already been here before you, trying to coax him back to the BAU. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of determination rise within you. Spencer Reid might be a stubborn cowboy now, but you knew deep down that his brilliant mind belonged with the team.

But knowing no one else could crack his stubbornness, you knew you needed a different approach and the only way you could think of was to reel him in with his current interest. "He's beautiful," you acknowledged, nodding towards the horse he was working on. "What's his name?"

"She's beautiful," he corrected. "And her name is Mildred."

The name didn't sound foreign to you. "You must really have something sentimental with that name. Didn't you name one of your mugs Mildred?"

He tipped his head back. "You remembered?"

"Of course, I do," you replied with a grin. "I remember a lot about you, even if we didn't have much time getting to know each other."

The memories of your time at the BAU flooded back. The way you joined the team right before Spencer had decided to take a break, which had turned out to be more permanent than anyone had anticipated. Although it was hard to forget a guy like him. You remembered when your eyes first fell on him and how your heart fluttered at his awkward yet charming smile.

There was something about him, something magnetic and intriguing that drew you in from the very beginning. It was a pity he had to leave shortly after you joined the team because you swore your admiration wasn't one-sided, but with Spencer gone, any hope of exploring those feelings had faded away.

As you stood before him now, you couldn't help but study how different he was yet still managed to look the same. The rugged cowboy attire he now wore seemed worlds away from the suit and tie he had once donned as a profiler, yet there was a familiarity to his features that remained unchanged.

But one thing was for sure, despite the time and distance of not seeing him, you were still attracted to Spencer Reid.

"I remember a lot about you too."

You laughed. "That's because you have an eidetic memory." Spencer simply flashed you a sheepish grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You slowly took a step forward towards him. "Can I touch her?"

He nodded, gesturing towards Mildred. "Go ahead. She's quite friendly."

You approached the horse cautiously, extending your hand to stroke her mane gently. Mildred nuzzled against your palm, her warm breath tickling your skin. A sense of calm washed over you as you felt the gentle rhythm of her breathing.

Spencer watched you with a soft smile, his gaze warm and reassuring. "She likes you," he remarked, his voice low and soothing.

You smiled back. "I like her too," you replied, your fingers trailing along Mildred's soft fur. Then your eyes glanced over to him and the gears in your head started to move. You needed to act as stealthy as possible. "So... how fast can horses go? In general?"

His smile widened at your question. "Well, it depends on various factors like breed, training, and terrain," he began, falling into his familiar role as an educator. "On average, horses can reach speeds of around 25 to 30 miles per hour, but some breeds can go even faster, reaching speeds of up to 40 miles per hour."

You nodded, absorbing the information as you continued stroking Mildred's fur while keeping your true intentions hidden behind a facade of innocent curiosity. "Are mammals usually that fast?"

"Actually, yes," he replied. "While horses are known for their impressive speed, they're not the only mammals capable of reaching high velocities."

"...how about bulls?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by your sudden interest in bulls. "Bulls?" he echoed, studying you intently.

You met his gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah, bulls."

He continued to scrutinize you, his sharp intellect picking up on your evasive behavior. Spencer may not work as a profiler anymore, but he could tell when someone had ulterior motives.

"Alright, what is it?" he finally asked, crossing his arms.

You sighed, trying not to focus on the way his arms flexed at the movement, and took another step towards him. If you were going to convince him to return to the BAU, you needed to be honest with him. "Well, you see, the current case we're working on is... it's a bit unusual."

Spencer's curiosity was piqued, his interest evident in how he leaned in slightly, waiting for you to continue.

"Three victims were found dead under suspicious circumstances," you explained, choosing your words carefully. "The strange part is, all three victims were found with injuries consistent with being trampled by bulls."

"Trampled by bulls?" he repeated, disbelief coloring his voice.

"It sounds bizarre, I know. There have been reports of aggressive behavior from a nearby ranch, and the local authorities suspect that the deaths may be connected to the bulls on the property. But the thing is, the autopsies showed that it might not even be caused by any type of animal."

"And you want me to help with the investigation," he summarized.

"We could certainly use your help," you admitted, hoping that he would see the significance of his involvement.

Spencer fell silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he considered your words. Then, without saying another word, he turned on his heels and began to walk towards another part of the stable, a hidden corner shrouded in shadows. Your heart sank as you watched him move away.

"I don't think I'm the person you should be looking for."

You followed him, determined not to let him slip away without a fight. "You're exactly the person we should be looking for! With that smart brain of yours and your knowledge of farm animals, we could profile the Unsub in no time."

His steps faltered momentarily as your words reached him, but he didn't turn back to face you. Instead, he continued walking, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the stable.

"I appreciate the sentiment," he called back over his shoulder, his voice tinged with resignation, "But I'm not sure I'm the right fit for this anymore."

"Reid," you called after him, quickening your pace to catch up. "Please, just hear me out."

"Y/n," he warned dangerously low. The way he spoke your name affected you more than you'd like to admit. You cautiously took a step forward.

"Do you know how long it took me to do a geographical profile of the crime scenes? Or how Alvez spent two nights going through stacks of documents when you would've finished it in like an hour?" You let out a sigh. "It's so different without you, we miss you."

He slightly faltered at your words again but remained quiet, so you tried again.

"We could really use your help, Spence, at least on this case. The team needs you." You watched him try to do some other task as if trying to ignore you. "I need you."

He remained silent for a moment longer, the only sound the soft shuffle of his boots against the stable floor. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, and there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"...you need me?"

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his unexpected question. The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in as you became hyper-aware of the proximity between the two of you. Your gaze involuntarily flickered over every detail of his face, taking in the curve of his stubble jaw, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, and the lines etched on his brow.

You also noticed his lips. Those damn kissable lips, pressed together in a thin line as he waited for your response. You found yourself inexplicably drawn to them, a surge of desire coursing through you at the mere thought of what it would feel like to press your own against them.

Shaking yourself from your inappropriate thoughts, you forced your gaze back to his eyes, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at where your mind had wandered. You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

"Yes," you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I-I need you."

As the words left your lips, a heavy silence fell upon the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his gaze intense and searching, as if he were trying to interpret the depth of your confession. For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you could hear the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, the rhythm erratic and unsteady.

"And you missed me?"

You held his gaze. While your words might not have been an outright confession, it wasn't exactly a lie, and there was no reason to deny the truth.

"I missed you," you admitted, your voice sounding more breathless than you intended. He smiled. Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, the warmth of it searing through you like a flame.

"Fine, I'll help you," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "On one condition."

Your heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through your veins as you waited for him to continue. His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, from your wide eyes to the slope of your nose, before lingering on your lips. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of your shallow breaths. Then he finally spoke.

"Be honest with me," he responded, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your jawline, "Do you need my help with the case or do you need me for something else?"

You met his gaze, searching for the right words to express the truth of your intentions. "Both," you admitted after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with the case, but I also... need you."

A satisfied smile curled on his lips as he gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer. But just as you thought he would close the distance between your lips, he paused, his warm breath teasing against your skin. His next question hung in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation wrapped into one.

"Tell me what you need me for then."

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips hovered tantalizingly close to yours. "I-I need you to kiss me," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, your words tinged with urgency and desire. "Please."

His gaze darkened. "I never took you as one to beg," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "But I must admit, I quite like it."

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light touch. You could still feel the smile playing on his lips, but only briefly before he moved them slowly, capturing every curve of your soft lips.

He swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, holding your jaw in place. His hand cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, while his other hand explored your body. It trailed down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you, before settling on your hip. You gasped at the sudden contact and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue delving deeper.

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers tangled in his hair, knocking off his hat onto the floor before tugging lightly at the roots, eliciting a low moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

What had started as gently molding your lips together turned into a passionate dance of tongues, leaving you moaning and breathless. He slowly pulled away, his eyes slamming shut as his forehead met yours, both of you gasping for air while you tried to regain your composure. His breath mingled with yours, a heady mix of desire and need, as he spoke in a ragged voice.

"You," he gasped, his words laced with raw intensity, "Taste better than I imagined."

Your head was spinning. How could he consume you with just a kiss? You had dreamed of this moment, of being close to him, but you never imagined it would affect you as deeply as it did now.

"Do you even realize," He pressed on, his voice low with pent-up longing. "How much I've wanted to do this?"

Your head was swimming in a haze of desire as his lips trailed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. "Yeah?" you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

He nodded against your neck. "Ever since I saw you."

"Wh-Why didn't you say anything?" you managed to stammer out, the words barely audible amidst the dizzying sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Wasn't sure you felt the same way."

You took a moment to process his words, the warmth of his breath against your skin adding to the whirlwind of sensations coursing through you. "You should've said something, it would make this whole convincing you a lot easier."

He paused, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses along your neck. "I don't know," he finally murmured. "I think I need a little more persuading."

His words sent a jolt of desire coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the intoxicating sensation of his lips on your skin.

"I can persuade you in other ways."

Spencer lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours. "Then show me," he breathed, his voice thick with desire.

There was no room for hesitation. You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a desperate, passionate kiss, fully aware of the risk of being caught, but his mouth on your body felt too good to care. It wasn't like you hadn't fantasized about this exact moment, about the feel of his mouth on your body, the way his hands would explore every inch of you with a hunger that mirrored your own.

His hands found your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall before his fingers fumbled with the buttons on your blouse. It was clear you both decided that the risk was well worth the wait.

"May I?" He asked, his fingers still working on your front buttons.

You laughed amusedly. "You already are."

His response was a chuckle of his own before he buried his head in your neck again. The opening in the front of your shirt chilled your body, sending goosebumps all along your skin as his hands caressed over your lacy, black bra covering your breasts, thumbing your hardened nipples.

He leaned further down, trailing his lips over your cleavage, before sucking softly on the spot. The sensation made you gasp, knowing well enough that there would be marks left behind, but you didn't care. Wanting to give more to him, you reached out between your bodies and pulled down your bra, granting him more access to your skin.

His eyes drank in the sight before him hungrily. He gently rubbed against the small pebbles on your chest, wetting his lips as he did, eyes completely trained on them now. Without warning he surged forward, tongue darting out to lick a long, flat stripe against one of your nipples. You let out a surprised moan at the action, fingers tugging at his hair tightly and head tilting back before snapping down to look at him.

A choked moan left your lips as he continued sucking, licking, twirling his tongue around it while playing with the other with his hand. "Spence..." you whined, your voice sounding clear in the room.

"Shh," he mumbled against your skin. "Keep your voice down."

You nodded helplessly as he released your nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one, giving the same attention. He repeated the motion, rolling your wet nipple under his calloused palm, having you arch your back and push your chest into his face. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately giving it a hard suck while pinching the other one.

The sensation traveled along your body before it lowered between your thighs, forming an ache the second his hand trailed down your stomach. His fingers finally found the hem of your pants, before dipping underneath the material, slipping right underneath your panties. Your breath hitched when two of his long fingers slide between your folds, spreading your slick before finding its rightful place on your clit.

"You're so wet," he whispered in a daze, trailing his lips back up your collarbone. He couldn't believe how drenched you already were. "All this for me?"

You nodded, gasping when he stroked up and down your folds, coating his fingers with your arousal. Your hips buckled against his touch and he didn't hesitate when he started rubbing your clit, feeling your body writhe under him. A sudden pressure of his fingers sent pleasure shooting through you, and your head fell back to the wall, mouth agape, face flushed.

But before you could relish the pleasure, he suddenly pulled his hand out of your pants before tugging you, urging you to follow him. As he led you deeper into the stable, your heart raced with anticipation. You followed him silently, feeling a rush of excitement as he pulled you behind the stacks of hay, sheltering the two of you from prying eyes.

The rustling of the hay beneath you echoed in the room as he pulled you closer, his touch igniting a fire within you as you pressed your hands on his chest. With trembling hands, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, and his gaze never left yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

As your fingertips brushed along his skin, you felt the warmth radiating from his body, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He wasn't muscular in the conventional sense, but there was a lean strength to him that was undeniably attractive. Your fingers continued their journey downward, skimming lightly over the softness of his stomach before teasing along the line of hair that trailed further down.

Your hands found their way to the buckle of his belt, fingers deftly working to undo it. He made no move to stop you as his gaze remained fixed on you. There was a hunger in his eyes, urging you for more, yet he remained patient, allowing you to take the lead. And then you tugged down his denim, not much than an inch but enough for you to pull his cock out.

He was warm and achingly hard, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips as his hips bucked into your palm. His eyes fluttered closed momentarily, a shudder passing through him as he surrendered to the sensation. You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Shh," you whispered, echoing his words. "Keep your voice down."

He chuckled softly, eyes meeting yours. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Not as much as you are."

You proved your point by tugging his cock harder, pumping up and down his length. His head fell back, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he fought to stifle his moans. You couldn't help but find it endearing, the way he struggled to keep quiet, his brows creasing in concentration. It was a pity, really, because you liked hearing the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure.

You swiped your thumb along the tip of his cock, gathering the slickness before rubbing it along his length. His head snapped down to look between you, his eyes taking in the way you quickened your pace, pumping him in your hand. A sense of urgency overwhelmed him the moment your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip, and he leaned in, shoving his own tongue into your mouth.

The way your fingers gripped his cock had him moaning into the kiss which you happily accepted. As he felt that familiar knot tightening in his stomach, he knew he had to act quickly. With a gasp, he pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as he reached between you to halt your movements. With a sense of urgency, he shrugged off his shirt and laid it carefully on the stack of hay behind you.

"Turn around," was all he said as he pushed down his pants to uncover himself, leaving you empty for the moment.

You obliged, turning while gripping the hem of your pants and slipping them down your legs. Without hesitation, you pushed your panties down before kicking them off, giving him the perfect view of your soaked slit. It didn't take long for him to drop onto the floor, his hands running along the back of your thighs.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushing your damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

You leaned forward and arched your back at his words, earning a deep, low sound of approval from him. One of his hands gripped your ass, slowly kneading your supple skin as his other hand grabbed onto your right leg, hiking it over the stack of hay. He had a better view of your wetness in this position, and you bit down your lips when you felt his fingers brush over your entrance.

A finger slipped inside you, then two, and when he started to pump them in and out of your tight walls, you pressed yourself further onto the stack of hay underneath you, trying to hold yourself back from making too much noise. Your arousal dripped from your core to coat his fingers and he was mesmerized by how eager your body was for him, how your hips rocked back against his hand.

But you needed more. His touch, his warmth, his presence—it wasn't enough. Your body ached for him, every nerve alive with desire.

"Please..." you breathlessly begged him, wanting to feel him inside of you, wanting him to rid your body of the tension, of the ache between your legs. Your jaw slacked open when you felt his mouth press against your clit before giving a slight suck.

"Tell me what you need," he ordered, breath deep and raspy and strained against your wet skin. He sucked onto your aching nub once again as his fingers continued to pump in and out of you. "And I'll give it to you."

"Please," you gasped, overwhelmed with the sudden force of his fingers and tongue between your legs and the pleasure that coursed through your body. "I w-want to f-feel you."

He pulled his fingers from within you, but his mouth was still exploring the wetness of your skin. His eager tongue worked wonders against your pussy, drawing out every second of pleasure as your hips rolled against his mouth. A whimper slipped from your lips as his tongue worked on your clit faster and you found yourself unable to contain yourself any longer.

"S-Spence..." You whined, not caring how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was your need for him. "Please..."

He placed a kiss on your swollen clit. "Be specific, baby, tell me what you need."

His endearment sent shivers down your spine, and you felt yourself spiraling further. Without hesitation, you begged shamelessly, "I-I want to feel y-your cock."

A low groan fell through his lips as he got off the floor, positioning himself behind you. "Say more words like that and I may lose the hint of self-control I have."

"I just—I just need you to fuck me," you didn't recognize the choke in your voice when you whined again.

He had no intention of protesting as he slipped between your legs, finally allowing you to feel just how hard you made him. For a moment, he pushed his hips toward you, grinding his cock against your folds, feeling your arousal soak his flesh.

"Is this what you wanted?" His hand gripped his cock to ease the tip over your entrance, pushing into you slowly, gasping when your walls clenched around him eagerly.

"Fuck, yes," was all you could manage to whimper, eyes screwing shut as he filled you up. And when you could barely stand anymore, becoming a quivering mess beneath him, he finally thrust deeper, pushing his hips against your body, earning a gasp with your mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." You could barely speak, barely form words, or even think as he pressed a hand to on your lower back, holding you in place as he dragged his cock out of you, only to ram himself back inside.

"Harder," you begged him, so breathless once again, "F-Faster."

He listened to you; he listened to the way your body moved against him, the way your walls tightened around his length. The way you stifled a moan and curse and huff anytime he thrust just right to have you pushing your hips back to him, your body trembling, shaking, and your legs nearly giving out because the pleasure became too much to bear.

"D-Don't stop." You had no shame in begging him. Not when he could make you feel so good, not when he was holding onto your hips as he continued to thrust into your dripping cunt.

"That's it," he encouraged, hips beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. "Tell me how good it feels. Beg me not to stop."

"So-so good," you babbled. "Don't—don't fucking stop."

He obliged your words by pushing apart your legs even further. Your face twisted in pleasure, so sensitive and overwhelmed as his hips smacked against your ass and he thrust himself harder into you. Sweat began to bead against his forehead once he pumped his cock into you harder, faster, earning every little whimper, even the ones you lacked the strength to release.

Thoughts of getting caught, of knowing anyone could walk in when he was buried deep inside you, left both of your minds. Neither of you cared when you were so wrapped up in one another. Not when you hiked your leg higher, allowing his cock to hit the spot that had you quivering in his hold when he slammed into you again.

Then he suddenly released his grip on your hips, slipping a hand between the two of you to press his fingers to your clit. The sudden increase in pleasure had you gasping in pure bliss. The room began to spin, air rushing to your head and the harder he fucked you, the deeper he thrust, and the faster his fingers rubbed against your clit, you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your sanity any longer.

He sensed your desperation in the way you gasped his name over and over again, and he thrust into you with more force than before. You tightened around him, squeezing him so damn hard he was tempted to lose all control right then, but he persisted in bringing your pleasure first. The sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his flesh filled the room, and with one, final thrust, you gasped before the pleasure finally consumed you.

He abruptly released your clit as he took hold of your hips again, keeping you in place while ruthlessly thrusting in and out through your bliss. His fingers pressed harder, drawing out every breathless moan, every strained whimper, every gasp of his name until your body grew too weak.

But he was far from done, slowing his hips to hit deep within your walls with aggressive thrusts, bringing his own high closer and closer as you whined from the overwhelming sensation, too sensitive, too far gone to handle much more, shuddering with every push of his cock within you.

"Where—" he groaned, your slick cunt too much for him, your juices drenching along his pelvis. "I'm close—"

You managed to snap your head over your shoulders. "Pull out, pull out."

You watched through fluttering lids as he gripped himself in his hand, and with trembling legs, you kneeled before him, gripped his cock in your hand, and took him fully in your mouth. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he felt your tongue dragging along his length.

You pushed further, hollowing your cheeks as you continued to swallow him down until the tip of his cock finally reached the back of your throat, nose pressed against his pelvis. He tipped his head back as you started to suck him, gagging around him when you felt him thrust his hips into you.

His eyes flicked down again at the sound only to find you looking up at him through your lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, before cradling your soft cheeks in both his large hands, and began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. Obscene noises filled the room as he continued to use you, tears welling at your lids and saliva building at your lips, seeping down your chin.

He continued to pump himself into your mouth, slowly starting to lose control, getting so lost in how warm your lips were wrapped around him. His jaw fell open as he released a final groan, brows creasing and eyes screwed shut, thrusting so deep before the first shot of his release filled your mouth.

Then a few more shots followed and you swallowed every drop down your throat as he continued to look at you in wonder. His breath was punching out of his chest in ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he silently groaned through the pleasure.

His head dipped low as you dragged your tongue up his length for the last time, from the base of his cock to the tip, and you finally licked him clean. A few moments of catching your breaths passed before he gently pulled you back to your feet.

As you both quickly fixed your clothes and adjusted your hair, he retrieved his cowboy hat from where it had been discarded on the floor, placing it back on his head with a grin. Then, without hesitation, he drew you close, his lips peppering your face with sweet, tender kisses.

You laughed at his sudden affection. "What's all this for?" you asked, smiling up at him.

"I feel obligated after... all of that," he confessed, his lips brushing softly against yours before he withdrew slightly. "You're amazing."

Your smile widened at his words, a soft warmth blooming in your chest. "And you're not so bad yourself," you replied teasingly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "So, was that enough to convince you to come back?"

"Almost," he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I think I need a bit more convincing."

You quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think I have it in me for round two."

"No, not that," he said with a laugh. His hand slid down to rest on your lower back, drawing you closer to him. "Have dinner with me tonight and I'll come by the office tomorrow."

You smiled up at him, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest as you took in every detail of his rugged features—the subtle crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the hint of stubble along his jawline, and the warmth of his brown eyes that seemed to shine brighter in the light.

Your gaze lingered on his cowboy hat, and with a mischievous grin, you reached out to grab it, placing it atop your own head.

"Then you've got yourself a deal, cowboy."

[oleworm]

“But this is not that king, nor is this his song.”

Aegon, inspired by this portrait of Stephen of Blois. Drawing by my friend. They also wrote some meta about it, under the cut. The quote is from The Green Knight (2021).

��His name should be “the Unfortunate.” Or, perhaps, “the Unready.”

In his behaviours, crimes and heroics, he feels like a quintessential local king. I have too little care for the ethics of feudalism to pretend that one bleached flea is more moral than another, I am not going to justify this fictional fool or any of his fellow ticks on the bodies of kingdoms.

I like his story though. The way he viciously rejects his heritage and embraces it at the same time, more Andal than Valyrian who still holds the strongest bond with the physical manifestation of Valyrian ideas, something that both upholds and discredits their predatory traditions. A king doomed by others to become a king, the one who doesn’t want to rule but grows into it to the point of giving his all. He’s ready to fight and burn among his people when they show him loyalty but turns cruel and unstable when they defy him. His future is bleak, his past is disgusting. Remember those lines in The Green Knight film? “Is this all there is?” - “What else ought there to be?” He’s not Gawain, of course. Please give me Plato’s number, I’m going to telephone him to hear his hot take on this shit.

But I find a pleasant fatalism in that he’s not only chosen by his family to play a role of a contender, those who then wash their hands of it, but also in how his story comes from a faux chronicle of events long gone, done and decided, a story that might be tweaked here and there, but will not be rewritten. It’s almost like he is aware in a fun way that he is long doomed—and tries to flee unsuccessfully, cowardly, violently even, only to be brought back into the cycle that must continue like the chains on his neck. They imply Rhaenyra is one of the prophecies, but him fleeing his destiny and fitting it so well resembles one of the many doomed kings from the old tales, the crowned blaze in the shape of a man doomed to face his grim fate no matter how far he has gone to escape it. But he is not that king. His song seems of a different breed. The unwilling and unworthy man cursed with the scourge of greatness. I think he should die in a public mass cannibalism incident.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wouldn't you like to see something strange?

HI I know the new Halloween character isn't out yet but I needed an outlet for my excitement (Yes, I am unfortunately a Nightmare Before Christmas girlie) 💀 so please be advised that he may not be in character here, I'm just writing based on vibes! This is technically a twisted!Jack Skellington x Reader fic, but the Reader is basically playing a role similar as Sally from the film.

P.S. I want everyone to know that I busted out my drawing tablet to make this special border for him the same day he was first announced... Yeah...

Boo.

On the nights with full moons, he liked to steal away to the Spiral Hill on the outskirts of town.

The outcrop of land overlooked a vast graveyard and field laden with pumpkins, perfuming the air with the crisp sweetness characteristic of autumn. Beyond it, uncharted territory. When he squinted into the darkness, he could make out the vague shapes of naked trees, their gnarled branches like fingers beckoning him to approach, whispering his name.

He draped his long, lithe legs over the hill, letting them hang in the frigid air. Spindly as he was, the wind easily blew them, knocking his legs around like the straw-stuffed limbs of a scarecrow. He kicked with the breeze, carefree as a child on a playground swing.

The moon stitched his pinstriped suit and tattered cravat with silver thread, touched his pointed crown at its highest points. Even the white ribbons ribbing his jacket and the pattern of bones tugged over his gloves seemed to glow under the celestial light. He liked the view, and the view seemed to like him, too.

Held in his skeletal hand was a single flower. He stroked a silken petal, then slipped another finger under it, plucking the petal free. The wind claimed it, setting it sailing off into the unknown.

He continued. A second, a third. So on and so forth, until the flower was left stripped down and barren, even robbed of its leaves.

He dropped the stem off the hill. The pumpkins below consumed it, and the once lovely flower’s body became one with the patch.

"I figured this is where you were."

He lowered his dark circular lenses. His bright eyes slid to the figure that had approached from behind, on feet so swift they hardly made a sound. They came in with the sweetness of deadly nightshade, the trace of a poisoning committed at midnight. "Not a lethal dose, just enough to knock the doctor out for a few hours," as they always said. "How else would I sneak out to see you?"

Dry, ghostly lips dashed with hatch marks pried into an open smile, both teeth and the gaps between them. Charming, in a crooked sort of way. "My dear. You've come."

You bent down. “If you don't mind, I'd like to join.”

“The spot beside me is always reserved for you.” He patted it, inviting you to take a seat.

"Such a gentleman." You sunk down, folding your hands in your lap. "And so handsome when you're brooding. You're terribly good at that."

He was, he was, especially silhouetted by the moon. The man was practically monochrome, but bathed in silver like this, his pale skin was less sickly and more ethereal. He almost appeared like a cruel angel in the light, descending to expunge evil.

"I'm not brooding," he pouted, "I'm dreaming."

“Dreaming." You reached out and tucked a strand of alabaster hair behind his ear. "Father says it’s a ridiculous, wild thing.”

"Ah, but that's what makes it so much thrilling. Life’s no fun without a good scare.”

His mouth quirked to one side, and his smile became off-kilter--as his ideas often were. "He'll bring us to ruin with his crazy, new-fangled thinking and flights of fancy," your father would complain. But you adored that about the boy. How spontaneous he was, how his curiosity was never-ending. He'd race about like a child, picking items up and sticking his face where it probably shouldn't go.

Full of life in this otherwise lifeless town.

"What's this? What's this?" he'd say. "I must know!"

"He's gone daffy," your father would declare.

"Mmm." You nodded absentmindedly, tracing your fingers along the shell of his ear and down to his arm. "What were you dreaming about today?"

He lifted his head, looking beyond the hill and to the woods. Not a word was exchanged. None had to be.

"The Hinterlands?" you whispered. "But we don't know what's out there. No ghoul or monster has ever ventured out that far."

"Then sounds like I'll be the first! They’ll put me down in the history books as a pioneer." His laughter brightened up the gloomy night. When he quieted, his gaze was solemn—more solemn than you'd ever witnessed him. "... Don't you wonder about what's out there? Stuff that's cold and fluffy and falls from the sky. Things that come in colors we haven't seen."

"Sometimes," you admitted quietly, "but those are just dreams. I don't chase them."

"Maybe you should. We should," he mused, fingers tucked under his chin. "I bet there's all sorts of things we've never even dreamed of, too. And wouldn’t you like to see something strange?”

"I would. I really, really would," you told him in a soothing tone. Trying to reassure him as much as you were yourself. "Let's not doing anything dangerous though. I sense something in the wind—tragedy at hand. I can't shake that feeling that something bad is around the bend if you tread that path."

You gingerly laid your hand over his. Behind tinted lenses, his eyes widened.

"Stay here with me," you begged. "We can be together. Gaze at the stars. Be safe in one another's arms."

“… Sweetness, I would love for nothing more than to have you and to hold you ‘til death do us part.” His voice fluttered like the brush of a falling leaf upon your cheek. He regarded you tenderly, locking his fingers with yours and squeezing. “But you know that’s not the kind of man I am.”

“Yes, you’re every flavor of foolish imaginable,” you replied, pressing your forehead against his, “and I love you for that.”

“As do I.” He brought his icy lips to the back of your hand. A chill spider-walked up your arm, and you shivered.

“Then…”

“That’s why I must depart one day.” He pushed his glasses up. You caught the tragic reflection of your face in his lenses. “Out there… something more awaits us. I’m sure of that. I intend to find it and revive our town, this season that’s gone stale.”

“I won’t stop you if you decide to go,” you murmured. “And I will count the days until you return to me.”

“I knew you’d understand.” His smile—now it was touched with sadness, the knowledge of soon parting ways. “Thank you, dearest.”

He stood slowly, drawing you up with him. Your feet followed, as if pulled along by a puppeteer. How in sync the two of you were, how nicely molded your bodies were to one another’s. Your joy melded under the watchful eye of the moon.

“Shall we share a dance? One for the road,” he crooned. An errant breeze tousled his pallid hair, his tattered coattails—but to you, he was fairest of them all. “Our last dance for a while.”

“Alright, let’s make this one count,” you chuckled, “so I can send you off on your travels with a smile.”

“Excellent 🎵” He slid a hand around your waist, guiding you to lean into him. “Let the merrymaking commence!!”

“Yes…!!”

The midnight waltz began.

He led you, step by step, and you trailed after. Movements easy and effortless, like two intertwining maple leaves, spinning and spiraling. Their partner, the center of their universe.

“It’s as plain anyone can see,” he breathed.

“We’re simply meant to be,” you returned.

They danced as if possessed or an enchantment was cast upon their footwear. The moment too sweet, too succulent, to relinquish so soon. They wanted to savor it, indulge in it—and each other.

For never was there a more perfect pair than the Pumpkin King and his consort.

[perlelune]

Young God | Feyd-Rautha

The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice. 

Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.

Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north. 

Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.

“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.

She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.

“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”

You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”

While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.

You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.

You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor. 

Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.

But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.

Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked. 

Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.

Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound. 

You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste. 

You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench. 

The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.

“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”

She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.

As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.

You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.

They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.

You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.

You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.

The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes. 

For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.

It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy. 

Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.

Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.

An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.

You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.

Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.

“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear. 

He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.

“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength. 

Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.

“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”

As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead. 

But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink. 

You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.

You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.

After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.

You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.

Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.

For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.

Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.

You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least. 

It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.

“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.

“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.

Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”

You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.

You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.

A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.

And who are you to stand in the way of fate?

“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.

A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.

“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.

A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.

“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.

Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.

“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”

You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.

Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.

“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.

His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of. 

He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”

Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.

“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.

When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.

Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.

“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”

When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.

He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”

The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.

You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.

“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.

He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.

“That song you sang…” he rumbles.

“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”

He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.

“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”

Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.

“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”

Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.

“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”

Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.

You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.

“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”

As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.

Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”

His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.

Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.

However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him. 

“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”

Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen. 

He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.

Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.

You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.

“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.

Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.

“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”

You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.

Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.

You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again. 

Your forehead creases.

You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.

Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.

Horror twists your insides.

You’re not on Arrakis anymore.

“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.” 

The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.

“The Harkonnen Keep on…”

“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.

While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.

“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”

He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.

You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.

“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”

He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”

“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead. 

You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.

...But you can't quell your weeping.

He tilts his head.

“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”

Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.

Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.

You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.

“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.

His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.

“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.

“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”

A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh. 

“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.

The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.

But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.

Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.

“You’re sick.”

“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”

It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight. 

“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers. 

To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.

Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs. 

The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch. 

He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.

As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.

“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”

Shame pulses through you with his words.

He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.

You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.

He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.

“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”

The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.

He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.

Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls. 

As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss. 

You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.

Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.

“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”

You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death. 

But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin. 

You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin. 

But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.

And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world. 

It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon. 

“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”

He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.

[localvigilante]

Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)

One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)

A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!

The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.

Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?

But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.

The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…

“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.

That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”

“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.

“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.

“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”

“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.

Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.

Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.

"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.

The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”

" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.

“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.

Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.

“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”

That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”

Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.

You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!

“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.

“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”

“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.

“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”

“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”

The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.

You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.

"Wait for me!"

...

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Ｇｉｒｌ Ｕｎｄｅｒ Ｙｏｕ ♡

♡ Pairings: gynecologist!seonghwa! x chubby!afab!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: Scheduling your yearly check up with your OBGYN can be nerve-wracking. Especially when your doctor's Park Seonghwa. Finally getting up the courage to visit, you do all you can to conceal the not so appropriate feelings you have towards him. Not only is it inappropriate but he surely doesn't feel the same. Right?

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Warnings: reader has a vagina and identifies as a woman. we're at the OBGYN so this is ultra vagina city. pervy Dr. Park Seonghwa, you too are a perv tbh it's mutual, shy/touch starved reader, body worship, nipple/breast play, fingering (gentle & rough), unprotected sex, cum marking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc), a lil rough sex, oral sex (f receiving), nonsexual use of the word slut (not in a bad way), it gets bitey for a second, examination kink, soft dom Hwa vibes.

♡ A/N: Listen, I can explain. It's all on @anyamaris for encouraging me to begin with. Blame her!

Important note: If you have a vagina go get it checked out regularly. Your doctor will certainly not be Seonghwa dicking you down BUT it's an important and sometimes life saving appointment sooo make it or I'll fight you. K, love you, bye ♡

♡ ♡ ♡ “I wanna be that guy. I'll wreck you right up, guy. I'll lie down face up, guy. The girl under you, guy.” ~ Lady Gaga ~ ♡♡ ♡

“Date of your last period? Any abnormal cramping or bleeding? Any chance of pregnancy?” the nurse fires off questions, tapping your answers into the laptop balanced on her hip.

Sitting on the exam table, your feet dangling off the edge, you try not to get whiplash from how quickly she whirls around the room loading a tray with supplies for your exam. The office is unexpectedly short staffed today, forcing her to play the role of nurse and human octopus. You understand how overwhelmed she must be but pray that she stops soon. Your anxiety was already bad enough coming in here. This nervous energy is not helping. 

“Last question, honey” she says, turning to face you, “Oh, have you been sexually active recently?” She cracks a playful smile, clearly expecting your answer to be something that it isn’t.

“No” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. Look at how shiny those tile floors are. Has this exam table always been this cushy? Such a marvelous generic art print that is hanging by the door.

The nurse’s eyes widen, a hand clutched to her chest in shock, “You went to Coachella and didn’t get laid?” 

“Nurse Kim! Can we not today?” you pout, in no mood to have this conversation right now. 

Being a longtime patient here has a lot of perks. Getting closer to the nurses especially has been great for you. I mean, who doesn’t like getting the appointment slot they want every single time? But the drawback is that they like you enough to pick on you. Maybe it’s their way of breaking you out of your shell, getting you to be less shy, but you wish they wouldn’t. 

Nurse Kim shrugs, miming the zipping of her lips, “Okay, okay. I’ll mind my business.” Placing the supplies on the table, she grabs you a fresh hospital blue medical gown. “You know the deal, right? No shoes, no bra…” 

You nod along with her instructions, hopping down to kick your sneakers off. Finally she finishes and heads for the door to give you some privacy. “The doctor will be in shortly. Let me know if you need anything” she says, stopping halfway out the door. “You really didn’t bang anyone at Coachella. Wow. Girl, you’ve got to learn to live a little. You’re too hot not to slut it up!” 

“Thank you so much for everything. Goodbye. Bye!” you laugh, inching the door shut until she’s on the other side of it. 

Alone at last, you’re able to get out of your clothes and into your gown in peace and quiet. Well, “peace” might not be the word to describe what you’re feeling but at least you’re able to panic in silence. 

You really shouldn’t be as nervous as you are. You’ve been coming to this office for years. Everyone’s kind and welcoming. They always make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of. There’s definitely no part of you they haven’t seen so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Still there’s one thing—one major, heart pounding, pulse quickening thing—that makes you too nervous to function every time you’re here.

Your phone vibrates in your purse and you contemplate not answering but dig it out anyway figuring a little distraction can’t hurt. Unlocking your phone, you spot a text from your best friend. 

It reads: “Did you see Hot Doctor yet?” 

You giggle to yourself, typing back to her. “His name’s Seonghwa and not yet. Still waiting.”

“On a first name basis are we? Seonghwa. That’s even hot to say.”

“Dr. Park, I mean. His name is hot to say though. He’s hot. I fucking hate it.”

“Just give him your number already!”

“Sure. While he’s swabbing me I’ll be all ‘Hey, Dr. Park. Wanna go to lunch?’”

Your best friend responds with a meme of Megan thee Stallion sticking her tongue out. “Plot twist. The lunch is between my legs, daddy!”

You’re choking back laughter and tears, scrolling your phone for the perfect meme to send back when there’s a knock at the door. You nearly jump out of your skin, shoving your phone back into your purse. 

“Come in!” you shout, returning to the exam table just in time for the doctor to step in.

Everything moves in slow motion when Park Seonghwa enters the room. Ahem, Dr. Park. He is, as you and your best friend have come to call him, a hot doctor. The hottest doctor you’ve ever seen. His dark wavy hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, loose pieces hanging to frame a face too gorgeous to look directly at. His bone structure’s immaculate, his lips soft and pink, and his voice… 

“Long time no see. How’s my favorite patient been?” he says, flashing that killer smile of his. That voice. That smile. It makes you want to faint. 

You laugh it off, hoping not to come off as flustered as you are. “Dr. Park, I’m not your favorite patient.”

Seonghwa takes a seat on a nearby rolling stool and spins his way over to you, making a cute woo noise when he does. It gets a giggle out of you which is exactly what he wanted. 

“Who says you aren’t?” he asks, sliding in closer, his hands disappearing behind your legs.

It’s hard to breathe when he’s this close, staring up at you from between your legs. The smell of his cologne dances around you, a sweet woodsy scent that you imagine might smell even better on top of you. Just the thought awakens a familiar tingle between your thighs that threatens to make you wet the crinkly paper blanket beneath you if you carry on like this. You know that you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a doctor. He’s just doing his job. And here you are perving over him. 

“Dr. Park, anything else you need me to grab?” Nurse Kim asks, popping back into the room. Her appearance snaps you out of your trance and you force a smile to keep things normal. If you weren’t brain rotted and horny you'd swear Seonghwa had been reading your reaction that whole time. That he saw the effect he had on you and seemed somehow amused by it. But that’s factually insane. Get it together. 

The foot rests behind your legs, the reason Seonghwa reached back there to begin with, unfold with a creak. “No, I think we’re good” he answers before turning back to you, “Lay back for me and put your feet up. We’ll be done in no time, okay?” You follow his instructions, laying back on the table, readjusting yourself however he asks you to.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hands on your belly, impatiently waiting for this to be over. Though Seonghwa’s interest in what’s between your legs is purely medical, the fact remains that you hope he doesn’t find it ugly. You shaved for this, used this nice pH balancing rose water soap on it. You did everything but put makeup on it and throw it in a dress. You feel kinda silly now thinking back on it but your brain isn’t exactly logical when it comes to him. 

A few cranks of a speculum and cotton swabs later you’re done with the first part of your exam. “Good girl, you did well. The hardest part’s over” he praises, swapping his latex gloves out for a new pair. Your heart skips a beat at being called a “good girl”. He didn’t mean it that way but your body can’t differentiate between reality and how devastatingly sexy that was. Seonghwa turns to address the nurse and you quickly press your thighs together for some relief.

“I’ll send these off and go set up for the next patient” Nurse Kim says, grabbing your samples. She turns to smile at you one last time before disappearing from the room. “Remember what I said” she whispers, “Slut. It. Up.” Unfortunately, of all the things she’s skilled at whispering isn’t one of them and Seonghwa hears her.

Rising from his seat, he walks alongside you, stopping when he reaches your chest. “Just lower your gown for me for a second.”

You do as you’re told, carefully rolling your gown below your breasts. “So, slut it up, huh? What’s that about?” he teases, cold hands cupping one of your soft breasts. You inhale sharply at the contact, a thankfully normal reaction to cold hands touching you. Though for you it’s more that they’re his hands than anything.

“She thinks I need to get laid” you blurt out, caught off guard by your own bluntness.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, his fingertips pushing gently into your breast. “I’ll have to talk to her about that. She shouldn’t be judging people for their life choices.”

“I mean, it’s not really a life choice. I’m just not…I’m not a girl who…” you ramble, shutting yourself up immediately after realizing what you’re saying. Seonghwa pauses, glancing over at you, two fingers circling the perimeter of your nipple. It stiffens at the closeness, your touch starved body grateful for the attention. 

“Not a girl who what?” Seonghwa asks, genuinely interested.

It doesn’t seem that he’ll keep going if you don’t answer so you give in. “I don’t know, guys just don’t hit on me I guess. I’m not that girl.”

Seonghwa continues his examination, flattening his fingers at the base of your breast and dragging them up to your nipple. They bounce back each time, looking rounder and fuller as if he’s worked some magic on them.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily it” he sighs, moving on to the other breast, “A lot of men are intimidated by beautiful women.” 

Beautiful women? Did Park Seonghwa just call you a “beautiful woman”?

“B-beautiful?” you stutter, at a loss for what to do with yourself, “That’s really nice of you but I’m not…”

Seonghwa can’t help but smile at how adorable you are when he compliments you. You’re as good at concealing it as Nurse Kim is at whispering. Seonghwa knows that you’re attracted to him. To be fair, a lot of his patients are, but you are truthfully his favorite. Always so beautiful, always so easy to tease, and such a pretty pretty pussy that’s always wet for him. 

“But you are” he insists, both hands cradling your breast, thumbs running up the side, “You must have a mirror at home, no?” 

“Dr. Park, are you trying to make me blush?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

The pads of his thumbs graze your hardening nipple and your back arches, a whimper lighter than air escaping your lips. You catch Seonghwa quickly nibbling at his bottom lip, his eyes glimmering at the shock and pleasure painting your face. You caught him. You saw it this time. Really saw it. 

Seonghwa knows he should stop here, end the examination, and send you on your way before he does something stupid. It’s just…that little moan you let out? It’s a melody he’s been fantasizing about since the first time you laid across his table. He has to hear it again.

“I don’t know. Is it, aaah…” he breathes in, one of his thumbs circling the tip of your bud, “Is it working?” 

Slipping his left hand back across your chest, he palms your other breast, pinching your sensitive nipple each time he rolls his wrist.

“Yes, it…oh god…it’s working” you mewl, your mouth falling open, moans pouring out at the perfect volume for only the two of you to hear.

Your feet tremble in the foot rests, your legs still spread to leave your dripping, vulnerable pussy exposed to the cool air of the room. Hypnotized by the sight of Seonghwa playing with your tits, high off the electric current it sends through your body, it’s easy to forget that you actually came here for a reason. 

“I should probably finish your exam” Seonghwa whispers, doing his best to ignore the hard cock pressing against his slacks. Your body may be tempting but it is technically his job to make sure you’re healthy too. His hands gradually cease their movement, gliding down to do away with the gown that was hardly hiding to your naked body.

“Fuck, look at you” he gasps, massaging your squishy belly, tracing your love handles, and rounding the curve of your hip to reach your thigh. His fingers dig into your thigh, savoring their softness all the way up to your core.

His gaze travels back up your body to those starry doe eyes that hang on his every move, “Think I’ll need the lube or are you already wet enough for me, baby?”

Seonghwa rubs two fingers along your slit, collecting your arousal on the tip of his glove. He brings them to his mouth, extending his long tongue to lick your juices up.

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you” he hums, taking his time to enjoy the taste of you on his tongue. 

“Dr. Park, please…” you beg, thighs pressing together again, the need for his touch unbearable. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart” he apologizes, his fingers immediately returning to their place between your legs. “You want me to finger that perfect little cunt?” 

“Yes, please, I want…need it so bad.” 

Seonghwa brings his lips to yours, your eyes gleaming with lust as they meet, “You need it, baby? That bad, huh?” 

Two gloved fingers push into you, your pussy welcoming them with the tightest of hugs. “Fuck, yes, so good” you whine into his mouth as you begin to ride his fingers. Seonghwa dips his tongue between your lips, your mouths passionately crashing together. You grab the collar of his white coat, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss as his fingers work your core. Inside of you his fingers stimulate spots men who aren’t in his line of work wouldn’t even know existed. Some you didn’t even know could bring you such pleasure until now.

Your eyes squeeze shut, elbows giving out from under you, “Harder, Dr. Park, wanna feel you so deep.” 

Seonghwa catches your head before it can hit the cushion beneath you, lowering it down carefully as he draws another kiss from your lips. “Only if you promise to be a good girl and be quiet for me.” 

“I p-promise. Quiet. I’ll be…” you moan, throwing your hands over your mouth when he suddenly picks up the pace. Shifting between your legs, he tucks a hand behind your right knee and pushes it to your chest. Your palms are sweating, fingers locked together to keep you from screaming. Seonghwa’s fingers are much deeper than you thought they could go and his pace is too unforgiving for you to brace yourself for any of it.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re getting too loud, baby” he teases, coming in to kiss your inner thigh. Your juices stream down his fingers, soaking the thin paper beneath you. Hating to waste something so delicious, he begins licking around his own fingers. Between your lips. Around your clit. Anywhere his fingers send it splashing, he licks it clean. 

Your hands begin to slip from your mouth, your poor wrecked little body going too limp to keep it together. Thinking quickly, you bite down on your hand just enough to keep the noise in but you aren’t sure how long it’ll last. You’re dangerously close to coming. You can feel it and Seonghwa does too. Your hole’s so greedy, sucking him in and refusing to let go. It’s just begging to come but he won’t let it. Not like this at least.

Reaching down, he blindly fumbles around with his pants until he feels his cock spring free. He groans into your pussy as he closes his hand around his cock, rocking in and out of his own grip.

“Dr. Park, I’m gonna, mmph, aaah, fuck…gonna come” you squeal, hips stuttering against his face.

“Fuck, yes, come for me, sweetheart” he grins, rimming the head of his cock with his thumb, “You wanna come on my cock?” 

Seonghwa’s proposal has you biting down on your hand hard enough to leave a mark. “Oh god, yes, fuck me please. Fuck me, Seonghwa.”

Popping his fingers free, he grabs you by your legs and drags you down until your ass hangs off of the table. “Seonghwa!” you cry out, eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you. That stretch. That one exhilarating, earth shattering stretch, is all it takes to ruin you.

“Mmm, that’s it, come baby. Give it to me” he moans, hips snapping into your fluttering core. You expect, like any other orgasm, for your high to fade after the initial peak but it doesn’t. You’re still there. And your body’s giving out. You brain’s going hazy. You can’t take it but you want to even if it makes you go crazy. 

Seonghwa’s eyes never leave your pretty face, never stop eating up how hot you are when you’re at his mercy. The sensation of his own high crashing down on him has him pushing your thighs together, the thickness of them making your pussy feel twice as tight around him.

“So fucking tight, shit, you’re gonna make me come. Where do you want it?” 

“I, ooh, I want it…want.” The words are there but you struggle so very hard to find them. You dig deep, collecting the strength needed to run your hand down your belly and spread your folds for him. Your voice is so cute and broken when you say, “On me.”

Seonghwa folds immediately, pulling out to coat your clit in the thick warmth spilling from his cock. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaves it there resting against your clit. Both of you twitching together, his seed dripping down your pussy so that no part of you isn’t marked by him. 

“Don’t clean it off” he instructs, kissing down your leg as he places your feet back in the foot rests, “Leave it so you’ll think of me when you’re driving home.” 

Easing your fingers from between your folds, you pop them into your mouth, sucking them like a lollipop. “Anything else, Dr. Park?” 

Seonghwa zips his pants up, searching his brain for any other pressing information. “That depends, are you free tonight?” 

“Hmm, let me think” you muse, staring off into space for dramatic effect. “I can be. That depends on what you had in mind.”

“Well, I was thinking I could pick you up for dinner and then…” He blows you a kiss that communicates his plan wonderfully, “Dinner.” 

You giggle, your sweet little crush on him more severe than ever, “Sure, I’d like that but, hold on, you don’t know where I live.” 

Seonghwa takes his gloves off, tossing them in the trash can by the door. “You’re my patient, remember? I literally have all of your personal information.”

“Isn’t that, like, a violation of patient privacy or something?” 

Seonghwa laughs off your comment, walking over to sneak in a goodbye kiss. “I’ve already violated your privacy once today, sweetheart. Can't hurt to do it again”

[divinesolas]

Your Reflection

summary: rq; when the thoughts jacaerys has had his whole life finally can no longer be pushed down he seeks comfort in you

jacaerys targaryen x non targ!reader

w.c: 1.7k

c.w: just a lot of fluff, angst and some minor smut (oral)

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 1 @jacesvelaryons s @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

your head whips around at the slam of your room and you stand with wide eyes at the red eyed prince letting out shaky breaths as he swiftly makes his way towards you.

“jace.”

he pulls you into him and falls onto the bed where he lays on top of you, shoving his head into your neck while he lets out weak sobs. “she is being unreasonable” you place your head in his hair while letting out a deep breath. You knew well of his distain for his mothers idea him having ranted for far too long to you about it earlier that same day, to have the low born men and women attempt to claim dragons. bastards.

it was sensitive for him. you knew this far too well. He had gone to try and convince her to change her mind but clearly he had failed and you tried to come up with words that could bring him comfort. “does she not see how foolish this is? to let those people walk amongst us? those those…” he pulls his head away to look at you as he struggles to speak, his face clearly tormented and painful. “they are undeserving. unworthy. they are mongrels and monsters. born out of wedlock believing themselves to be fit for a role they were not made for,”

“are you talking about them or are you talking about yourself?”

he gulps at your words and his eyes well up, “what claim do i have if they claim a dragon? i do not have the hair, the skin, i am a fraud and everyone knows it. I am mere moments away from being stripped of everything i have left.” his head falls onto your chest as his chest heaves up and down with heavy breaths. “i cannot imagine how you feel. the shame you must feel walking down the halls and people staring at you, married to a bastard.”

You grip his face and make him look at you. Hes shocked to see the furry and angry on your face. “i will hear no more of this. you are jacaerys targaryen son of queen rhaenyra taragryen. heir to the iron throne nobody will contest that not. don’t you dare insinuate i am insulted or shamed to be seen with you it is an honor. everyday i wake up blessed to know i married such an honorable and truthful man and i would have it no other way.”

at this point tears are pouring down his face as he shakes his head finding himself refusing to listen to your words. “you could not possibly mean such a thing.” he whines ever so slightly when you bring your lips to his face and kiss the tears off his face, closing his eyes and he refuses to look at you. “i mean it and more. there is no other better man than you. your heritage means nothing to me. should anybody contest that remember you are a targaryen. they shall pay for their contestation with fire and blood.”

he says nothing in return, simply laying his head on your chest while silent tears continue to run down his face. you did not wish to push him to speak, your hands find the back of his head and play with his hair ever so slightly.

“what if they do contest it?” you peer down at him but he continues to stare at the lit fire in your fire pit. “what if after my mother dies they argue and fight and usurp my throne right under me as they have done her? what if there is another war and more people get hurt what if you,,,” His words end up choked up in his throat as he shakes with sobs, you cant help but feel your own eyes begin to water. He’s scared. just a scared young man who doesn’t wish to lose anyone or anything else.

one of your hands soothe his back as you press a kiss to his forehead while your other one cups his face to wipe away his tears. you cannot say anything to console him, knowing this is an issue that runs deeper into his consciousness than you will ever be able to fix by your lonesome. So when you roll him off you he sits up and stares at you in horror as you begin to walk off. his mouth shakily opens to call after you to beg you to stay but his words die on his tongue and he can just let out a meek gasp.

When you arrive back into the room he has his head in his hands while he cries into them. He looks up at you when you place a leather bag next to and tries to catch his breath. His pupils bounce around your face as your hands grab his top and begin to pull it off of him. He allows you, making no move to stop you despite his confusion. “lay on your stomach.” He pauses sniffing as he folds his hands in his lap. When he doesn’t move your cup his face and press a light kiss against his furrowed brows.

He silently pulls away and rolls to lay on his back as you had asked. He has no clue what you’re doing and almost turns to ask you after theres been no movement or talking from you for a bit until he feels you straddle his back and your hands begin to run through his hair. He can smell the oil on your fingers as you delicately run them throughout his curls. He lets out a pleased hum as your nails scratch into his head.

he does not say anything simply allowing you to shower him in affections he normally does not allow you to. cooing at him and pecking all over his back and head. As you move down to massage his neck and back he finds himself overwhelmed with the display of affection and love you’re showering him with he has no clue what to do or say.

Hes even more so embarrassed when you flip him around and he’s hard as a rock. Hes not even feeling sexual in that moment but he’s body is flighting against him. He whines slightly and wishes he could explain himself but he cant. You dont seem to mind. simply dripping more oil onto his skin and working your hands to ease his tension.

He closes his eyes and tries to will it away while you continue to press kisses onto his chest and stomach but if anything it only gets worse at your pure display of love. He hopes he is not ruining this just as he ruins everything. He has never felt so loved in his life he has never felt so at peace since before the war he wants to live in this feeling forever.

His eyes shoot open when you tug his pants down his legs leaving him completely bare and he looks at you alarmed. You say nothing however simply eyeing him as you kiss around his thighs and massage the parts your lips are not. He is breathless as he watches you. When you suddenly stop your movements and look at him he does not know what to do. “i,, shouldn’t i,,, you should,,” The look you have on your face as him stumbling and stuttering over his words. He’s never like this. He would never allow you to do this to him normally. He would insist he get you off first or even outright forbid you to even do something like this more content with pleasing you.

Yet he cant help but be greedy today, the self centered part of him wins and he finds himself nodding to you. He will regret this later he knows he will but when you peck light kissing along his throbbing cock he throws his head back with a moan without a care in the world. His hands grip at the sheets under him when you tongue at his slit slurping up some of his precum before wrapping your lips fully around him.

He understands why some men who are less honorable as he seek out these pleasures often and he almost wishes he allowed you do to this more often. When your hands come to cup and play with his balls his legs shake and he whimpers. He swears he’s going to rip the bedsheets the way he’s gripping at them. His face burns slightly in humiliation and more so in pleasure. sweat drips down the sides of his forehead into his newly oiled hair as he hips uncontrollable thrust up into your mouth where he spews out and apology but you simply hum around him sending another shiver up his spine.

his whole body is shaking with pleasure. He had already been sensitive and relaxed from your overwhelming intimacy he can barely control himself now. he finds himself chanting your name mixed and mumbled with i love you’s. He releases unexpectedly after some louder groans and moans and his eyes well up again as he watches you swallow it down. “im sorry im sorry.” even when he does allow you to do this he never lets himself release in your mouth fearing it may be too much for you and usually just allows himself to spend on your chest.

You climb up to him and press a loving kiss against his lips. He does not mind he can taste himself on your lips as he presses his lips firmly back against yours. The action speaking louder than any words could. He insist he should do something for you in return but the way his eyes droop and struggle to stay open you know he is mere moments from falling asleep. You smile at him and peck his cheek as you shake your head at him. He tries to argue with falters under your comforting hands and sweet nothings into his ear.

He settles with a faint smile on his face the first one you’ve seen on him in many moons. when you rub your hands on his chest he falls asleep at the comfort but not being letting another i love you slip through his lips. His smile grows when he hears you return it before drifting off to sleep where he knows he’ll meet you there too