#i would ride those thighs to kingdom come

[lushxboba]

The Emperors Prize

Emperor Geta X Peasant!Reader

Word Count: 2k

TW// 18+ ONLY (minors be gone), mentions of family members death, mentions of murder, spitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, thigh riding, if i missed anything let me know !!

A/N: i haven’t written in months so be gentle with me pls 🙏🏽

It’d been the longest year of your life. Ever since Emperor Geta took over after his father died, your whole life had been turned upside down. Your father died the year prior, finally succumbing to his disease after being refused medical care by the kingdom. And your brother was left to do the only thing he felt was right to take care of your family. Train to be a gladiator. Perform in front of the Emperor and all of Rome to fight for his families survival. Only to not survive himself. Leaving you to take care of your little sister and sickly mother all to yourself.

Of course you blamed the only person you felt was responsible. Geta. He killed your father. He killed your brother. You wouldn’t let him take the last of what you had. So you did what you needed to survive, and stayed far away from his tyrants.

You’d heard of his army walking the markets day to day, blending in with the rest of peasants just to try and find someone stealing. They would take them to the temple and cut their hands off, cut their tongue out, maybe even behead them then and there. But you were smarter than those people. And faster. You had to be.

Before your father died, he always told you that your speed would be your superpower to survive Getas reign. You’d never have to face the torment of being in the arena and using your strength against your neighbors, but you could use your speed against his tyrants.

You spent days running in the slums, back and forth until you couldn’t breathe again. Or until you felt like you could’ve lost them. You knew you were ready for anything. Considering you did steal food to survive, you had to be.

You never thought you’d get caught. You’d been doing it for months now, and it seemed that only the elderly were the ones being dragged back to the kingdom. Call it population control if you will. But your time was surely coming to an end, and you could feel it.

You took your weekly walk down to the market, keeping your hood up and frequently looking out for suspicious vendors and customers. You’d seen people dragged away enough to know what they’d look like. They weren’t very good at disguising themselves. To you at least.

You tried to go to different stands each week so they wouldn’t catch on to you. You found a nice fruit stand with more colorful berries than you’d ever seen in your life.

You approached the stand as you practiced your distraction tactic in your head. You took a look around the stand, asking the man about how much he gets each week to sell, making him turn around to look in his inventory, giving you the perfect chance to quickly shove pints and pints of fruit in your bag.

Before he could turn back around, you were gone. Quickly walking through the market fast enough to be out of his eyesight but not fast enough to cause a scene.

You’d made it halfway down the road, just long enough to think you’d gotten away with it until you felt two pairs of hands gripping on each of your arms tightly.

“Little girl thought she got away, huh?” A deep voice husks behind your ear. You don’t fight it. No point in fighting when they’ve already made up their mind. And they are clearly much stronger than you.

You just roll your eyes as you let them walk you towards the kingdom. You can feel the eyes of everyone on you as they practically carry you towards the kingdom, but you pay them no mind. Your father always told you there was no reason to fight.

Once you reach the castle, the anger in you bubbles more and more. Knowing two people you loved died here made you want to rip the ugly brown wallpaper off of the walls and break down the pillars.

The men carry you up the steps to a large room bolted down with a big gold chain. You don’t even bother being nervous or anxious about what’s behind that door. You know your fate is decided the second your name is mentioned to the emperor.

One of the men unlock the chain while the other holds your arm even tighter. You’ve made no signs of struggle so you don’t exactly understand why they have to bruise your arm in the process. The door opens to reveal a long hallway, covered with a red and gold carpet leading to a throne. You’d recognize that throne anywhere. Along with the man who sits on it.

The walk down the runway seems like hours, as the man you despise most in this world stares you down with his wide brown eyes.

“You’re dismissed.” He says in a dark tone. The two men let go of your arms and bow before Geta before turning and leaving the room. Bolting the door down once again behind you.

“Most people bow when they see me.” He says, his legs and arms spread comfortably on the soft throne paid for by his slaves.

“I’m not most people.” You stand tall in front of him, keeping eye contact. “...your highness.” You smirk before playfully bending your knee and bowing in front of him.

Geta scoffs before standing up from his throne, slowly making his way towards you. “You look familiar.” His breath lingers down your skin as he circles around your body, his arms behind his back.

“You killed my father… and my brother.” You can see the gears click in his mind as he stops right in front of you. He places his hand roughly under your chin making you shiver. He forcefully turns your head both ways before nodding. “Caius’ daughter. How could I forget those innocent eyes?”

Your breathing gets heavier as you remember everything this man has put your family through. You spit on his cheek, making him quickly shuffle back. He chuckles under his breath, looking up at you as he wipes your saliva off of his face. “I should have you hung for that alone.”

“You’re going to kill me anyways. What else do I have to lose?” You get down on your knees, placing your hands behind your back as you ready yourself for the knife that is knowingly going to come to your neck.

“Who ever said anything about killing you? I surely didn’t.” He steps closer to you, leaning down to place his hand under your chin once again, this time softer. “Who could kill such a pretty little whore like you?” He lifts your head up to look at him, smirking as your eyes meet his once again.

He roughly pushed your head away as he steps back, slowly untying his robe. “I’ve already done enough damage to you, don’t you think?” He smirks, dropping his robe to reveal his extremely toned naked body. His cock jumps up to his stomach in anticipation, and as much as you hate him, you can’t take your eyes off of it. “In return for letting you live, I say you do a little something for me, don’t you think?” He spits in his hand, moving it down to stroke his cock as you watch on your knees. “You’re already in the position… it’s only fair.”

He moves back to his throne, sitting with his legs spread as he continues to stroke himself. Your mouth salivates at the image alone. You get up from your knees, slowly walking towards him until you’re standing in between his legs.

“I’d rather die than do anything to serve you.” You spit on him once again. Before you can turn around, he grabs you by the wrists and pulls you down on to your knees, holding your hair in one hand so you can’t move.

“This wasn’t an option.” He grabs his cock with his other hand, tapping it on your cheek before roughly shoving it into your mouth. You can’t help but moan the second you taste his salty seed lingering out the tip. “The good girl likes it, too.” He chuckles.

You look up at him with fire in your eyes, slowly bobbing your head up and down his hard member. You keep your arms behind your back and let him take control. That is all he wants after all. You watch as he throws his back in pleasure, moaning loud enough you’re sure the rest of the kingdom can hear you.

He grips your hair tighter with each movement of your mouth, pulling you every which way he wants you to go. “Your mouth is so wet and tight. Can’t wait to see what that perfect cunt feels like.”

You quickly pull off of him, removing one of your hands from your back to stroke him. “You never said anything about fucking me.”

“Oh, but I just did.” He smirks, leaning down to grab your hips and pull you into his lap. “You thought you were going to get away without me feeling your cunt wrapped around my cock?” He grinds into you, his hands roaming up and down your sides. You can’t help but to grind with him, moaning into his hair as he attaches his mouth to your neck.

His hand reaches down to lift up your skirt, revealing no underwear underneath. He moans into your neck as his fingers trace along your wet slit. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him closer to you as you grind your pussy along his hand.

You reach down to palm his cock, making him moan even louder if that was possible. “Need to feel you already.” He whines as he pulls your shirt up, his mouth immediately sucking on your nipples.

You grab his cock and run the tip along your slit, smirking as you tease him. “Never thought I’d have the Emperor of Rome begging me to fuck him.” You laugh, still riding the tip of his cock.

He growls, grabbing his cock and quickly thrusting up into you. You gasp loudly, gripping his neck tighter than before. He wraps his arms around your back, thrusting into you hard. You match his movements with the bounce of your own hips, leaving both of you a moaning mess.

You can feel your own arousal leaking out and coating both of your thighs. The sounds emitting from this room were obscene, and you just hoped the Gods would forgive you.

You roll your hips faster against him as you feel the familiar coil burn in your stomach quickly. His cock twitches inside of you, making your ego bigger than it already was coming into this room.

“You’re going to cum.” You say breathily, gripping him by his hair to make him look at you. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks in your eyes with his mouth open as he thrusts into you one last time. His hands grip your hips tightly as you feel him dripping out of you. The feeling is enough to make you shake as you reach your own high.

You hold him by his hair tightly, your hips still slowly rolling against his as your both catch your breath. It doesn’t take long for him to remove you from his lap. He grips your hips and swiftly places you back on your feet.

“You may be dismissed now.” He says quietly, clearing his throat as he looks down at his feet.

“Nothing to clean me up at least?” You respond, looking at him even though he isn’t doing the same.

“You’re a peasant. You walk around dirty anyways.” He scoffs.

You walk close to him, lifting your skirt and placing a leg on either side of his thigh. You slide yourself down his thigh until it’s coated in your juices before hopping off.

You fix your skirt, smoothing it out as you smirk up at him. “Your highness.” You bow, pulling your skirt out each way before turning around and walking yourself out. Leaving Geta speechless… for now.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

A King to Fear...

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Stark!fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,218.

SUMMARY: What you had intended to be a short, innocent trip to King's Landing, had turned into a bitter pleasure that would forever change the course of your life.

WARNINGS: thicc!aegon, infidelity [on Aegon's part], swearing, thigh riding, breeding kink, corruption kink, degradation kink, exhibitionism, p in v sexual intercourse, female receiving (fingering), brief mentions of cockwarming/creampie.

A/N - since the trailer dropped, the little glimpses we got of Aeg continue to haunt me and this is the product... I need this man to down me so bad, it's not funny anymore.

The chiming bells had rung a bellowing rhythm throughout the city. You felt as though the ancient, stone walls themselves shuddered from the distant echoes of the bells, shaking its very foundation, that Aegon, the Second of His Name, now roamed as the newly anointed King of the Seven Kingdoms.

His liege Kingsguard had rounded the spare subjects, yourself included, like shepherds tending to their frolicking herd. A part of you rooted inside, taunted at you for ever thinking it logical to leave Winterfell. Had Cregan received news of the scandalous outpour in the city, you were certain the wolves would be on the hunt... It was only a matter of when their arrival you had anticipated anxiously.

Hesitantly making your gradual way into the throne with the harrowing sound of scuttling feet, as you felt yourself confined in the centre of the bewildered crowd: every lord and lady by your side fearful of the King before them...

You had seen Aegon in passing before, during his days as a Targaryen Prince. You never found his looming presence to be threatening, nor intimidated by his appeal, often absent from royal events, or found drowning himself in his cups. Yet the young ladies of the court spoke often of his infidelity, that was all you could gather of the eldest Prince. Yet, in this precise moment, a different man sat atop the throne with might, and with his identical face.

Your gut viscously churned as your sole attention remained fixated on the young King. His hair had grown an inch longer, now resting atop his broad shoulders, his ruggedly handsome face looked fuller, as to match the sturdiness of his body. Mahaps, he grew to fit the heavy burden of the crown. He sat perfectly on the Iron Throne, as if the seat was made precisely in dedication to him. Those strange, alluring lilac eyes, remnants of the ancient ancestors of Old Valyria, remained visible as his stern eyes gazed upon his entering subjects. Rather than looking empty and sullen, as you had often remembered, there was a darker, more jeopardising tinge to their hidden intent.

"You stand before King Aegon, the Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. You have all been led to swear and declare your loyalties to the true King and heir of the Seven Kingdoms. Honour your King, and be rewarded generously... Or suffer the consequences of your treachery."

The uproar from the familiar faced, Dornish knight, Ser Criston Cole, sent an immediate wave of chills across your body. The familiar and other strange faces surrounding you began to anxiously peer, stretching from one another, as you all questioned the ordeal.

One by one, Ser Criston has called upon the noble houses, and those that stood present to come forth, some needing to be harshly pulled apart from the crowd, to make known. And one by one, some would see to it that the reward be mercy itself, whilst others, had been dragged away, in support of their loyalties and ties to Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The horrific sight before you, the terrifying screeches and screams of husbands and wives being separated, engraved into your saddened memory. You had completely grown oblivious to Aegon's silent presence, as his henchmen carried out his work.

It was only when the dark, booming echo of his voice, uttering the word "stop" had halted the commotion, an uneasy stillness filled the room.

"What of the North?"

The unseeing mention of home, had captured your attention fervently. As you turned towards the voice that spoke of your livelihood, you were met with the unfaltering gaze belonging to the King himself, his attention had already been fixated onto you, before the eyes of the room followed.

"Th-The North, your Grace?"

"Speak up to your King, woman!" Ser Criston Cole's voice boomed, an aggressive passion seeping through his words.

"I-I have no control over the judgement of the North your Grace, nor their fealty to the throne... I am merely a woman of the North."

"You are not Cregan Stark's younger sister? The beloved she-wolf of the North, that as I have heard, every man has pined and fawned for? Every Northern man, boy and bastard born has sworn to protect with their lives... It is you that, am I to believe, has no indifference with the North?"

Your anxious breath hitched in your throat, struggling to compel the words from your stuttering lips, that would ultimately determine your fate. You felt the dire wish for Cregan and his pack of wolves to burst through the grand, oak doors, ready at arms to savour your life. Those sworn men that Aegon had mentioned, were absent and you felt petrified.

"Y-Your Grace, I-"

"Everyone, out! Except for the she-wolf of the North."

"Aegon-" The sternly still tone of his grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, proclaimed from the foot of the steps. Witnessing the exchange of their grim stares, almost convinced they had exchanged heated words telepathically, did his Grandsire finally retreat defeatedly, disappearing into a door in some narrow corridor. His Kingsguard were the last to leave, Ser Criston in particular, as he took the responsibility to body search you for weapons at arms. Your elder brother had from time to time introduced you to such weapons, yet you felt no obligation to soak in the training, and with your racing mind and empty hands, you had no hope to fight your way out of this.

The sudden shudder of the doors creaking close, sent your body into a complete state of suspense, frosting up like frozen petals during the winter.

"So it is true, I see. That your beauty was captivating enough to lure men to seal their fate. A fate to protect your own greedy, little life... Where are these men now to save you from me?"

Your eyes darted from the stony, grey steps of the throne, back to the hefty King that sat atop the violent throne. You felt his lilac orbs swallowing you whole, as your stomach churned uneasily against his words, desperately holding your hands together ever so tightly to avoid the terrible habit of fidgeting.

"The whispers that reach your ear from the North, your Grace, can be skewered. As I said before, I hold no power over the council of men... Even in the North."

"Do not toy with me, woman... I am the King, the rightful heir by law, and by the Gods. I want to hear where you stand in judgement of my reign."

"My opinion is not credible, your Grace. I-I hold no value here-"

"Answer me- Or I will fuck the answer out of you."

A flustering heat waved over you, as the sudden outburst and intent of Aegon's carnal words sparked an interest in you, snatching your complete attention once more.

"I-I cannot say I extend the pledges taken by my ancestors to heart. I do not know you, my Grace, nor do I know of your kin... I-I take a more... liberal approach."

"Get up here-"

Instead and wrongfully so, you felt your feet shifting backwards, taking slow paces back, adding more distance between yourself and the man who calls himself King. The chill in his tone felt colder than the blizzards of the North.

"Now."

Your thoughts had swayed to their senses, as your body became intact with your mind once more. Rather than ignorantly disobeying, you adhered to Aegon's command, taking hesitant step by step paces up the stony steps until you were a step beneath his Grace. Admiring him this up close, in finer detail, you noticed the faded scars across his supple face: unlike his younger brother, Aegon was much fuller, less lean. He had a bulkier build, and a more threatening, uneasy appeal.

"Wrong answer.... It seems the she-wolf has met her match with the dragon."

Aegon subtly reached over, pulling you strongly in by the arm, closing the last remaining distance between, as you felt his touch beneath your sensitive skin. He remained seated, almost as if he had been forged to the Iron Throne, as his hungry eyes lurked over every inch and detail of your body, before meeting your gaze peering wearisomely down above.

"Is the she-wolf scared? Does the dragon frighten her so? She need not be... Dragons protect the ones they take a liking to-"

Immediately, without a second to spare, Aegon began to hike up her lush silk gown, guiding her body to turn around, as she looked onwards from his royal perspective.

"Y-Your Grace, y-you are married-"

"Stay quiet, or I'll have that smart mouth of yours stuffed shut with my cock, balls deep in your mouth. You speak when I fucking tell you to-"

Once more, your mind instinctively shut, body mindlessly obedient to his demands.

Guiding your bare ass and cunt to seat itself down atop of him, you felt the hard, tense bulge brewing beneath his pants, between your cheeks. With each adjusting motion, your body would grind against his sturdy lap, your flesh colliding with his, only to cause a natural urge to crave for more.

"Look at what the she-wolf has done to her King, look at the power your sheer presence has over me. You think you have no value in court, yet this is your doing..." Aegon's warm breath, cooing his words directly into your ear. His strong, fleshy arms wrapped around your shaking body, coiled firmly around your waist and arms, as if to avoid you from escaping his strong grasp.

"What if I have my way with you, and send you back to the North carrying my bastard seed... What will the North think of their precious she-wolf then, hmm? What will your brother think of you?"

In unison with your King's haste movements, Aegon stood himself as he swiftly undid his trousers, his rigid, thick cock plunging out with excitement. Guiding his cock with one hand between your folds, his fingers ever so lightly grazing between as he teased your opening, making certain he aligned himself perfectly to your sweet spot.

"Already soaking for me, sweet one? It seems I have my answer after all."

Without so much as a second to spare, Aegon thrusts himself deep inside, burying his stiff, throbbing mass as your walls clench over his cock, desperate to ease the stretching tension. One muscular arm remained snaked around your waist, his calloused hand managing to reach to your bosom, where he cheekily squeezed and firmly kneaded your tit by the handful. Keeping you positioned steady as you sloppily bounced on his wide lap. His other hand however, oblivious to your own incoherent mind, to the front of your cunt, his pudgy digits teasing at your clit, pursuing to edge you more, enhancing the pressure that pulsated from inside. Your swollen bud, he intently enjoyed flicking at, earning a grizzly snicker each time you moaned and squirmed in retaliation.

"A fucking mess for me already. If only your dear, stupid brother could see you. The whimpering whore that you are, moaning my name like that. Accepting me as your King."

"A-Aegon-"

"Seven Hells, you feel so fucking tight for me, precious girl. A cunt made just for her King, already so obedient, so frightened of her King, she'll let me fuck her senseless, huh?"

"Hmm, A-Aeg. I-I shouldn't-"

"B-But you want this, baby. I can smell your ooze dripping. So fucking wet. A she-wolf as my pet. Where is the North to save you now? You don't want to be saved, though, look at you!"

"Mhmm- Your G-Grace-"

His thick fingers delved deeper, pumping hastily as his thrusts grew more forceful. Your breathless moans, incoherent besides a few words and his name, you could only build the sheer strength to muster. Your skin felt as hot as the summer wind of the city, Aegon's lips found themselves latched to your mottled hair and sweat-beaded skin. Sucking your very scent in, your taste lingering in his mouth, as he lowly growls.

"No-No, say it- Introduce me as you would your King."

"Hmm- A-Aegon, the S-Second of his N-Name-"

"That's it, sweet girl. Say it all."

"K-King of the A-Andals, the R-Rhoynar a-and the F-First Men. L-Lord of the S-Seven Kingdoms- Ugh A-Aeg-"

"Keep going, baby-" His tone thick and heavy, breathless, his own stocky chest heaving intensely in sync with your own breaths.

"A-And P-Protector of th-the R-Realm."

"That's it, b-baby. Such a good-good job, princess."

With his tender, soft-spoken words, Aegon's warm seed spills into you feverishly, a crescendo of mindless moans escapes your soft, moist lips, as Aegon's wetly coated hand leaves your raw, aching cunt, guiding your head to turn towards him. Meeting your lips with his own, as he seals the ecstasy with a passionate kiss.

"Let me taste you-" His tongue hungrily laps up the remnants of your cum off his thick digits, his alluring eyes shut as he blissfully devours your taste.

"Fucking delicious, they don't make them like the North do... Stay on my cock, princess. Be the good, little whore you are for me. My she-wolf will obey me and stay. I want to make sure you swell with my dragon seed before I send you back to the North."

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11

credit for dividers - @/itbmojojoejo

[fillinforlater]

Phone Part 10: Return of the Angel +3

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Yeh Shuhua, Jung Eunbi (Eunha), Hwang Eunbi (SinB)

Length: 1550 words

Tags: strap-ons, lesbian sex, spitroasting, double penetration, overstimulation, loveless sex, voyeurism, watching, fingering thigh riding

TW: messy crazy bs

(A/N: this series randomly returns because I just needed to get this idea out of my system for good. This might be the conclusion to it, but probably not... well, maybe you send me some ideas to where this could lead up to.)

"I'll get going."

Bomi kisses your cheek, that sore cheek, sore like every patch of your skin, every bone in your body and every damn muscle, some of them you didn't even know could hurt before today. Hell, you don't even have the strength to give Bomi a proper goodbye, a weak wave is all you can muster up.

She'll not be mad at you. For what might have been either 15 or 150 minutes, you have taken turns on her and Shuhua's pussy—licking, fingering, fucking them until those tight caverns each got a big load in them. In the meantime, Minju has been their plaything. Especially Shuhua has this cruelty towards her "friend", edging her with fingers, reddening her thighs with extremely hard slaps and always promising that she'll get your cock—just to claim you with her pussy again.

You turn around when Bomi closes the door. Shuhua and Minju wrestle on the couch, the latter clearly outmatched when Shuhua puts her in a headlock with her thunder thighs. Minju tries to escape with licks on Shuhua's clit but can't find it—the nightmare of so many guys.

"Cut it out, you two," you groan, fingers on your temple. 

"N-no," Minju whines. "Minju still needs cock, wants cum in her tummy!"

"I can't." Point at your limp dick, absolutely spent. "And I have a headache. At this point, I’ll start to hate sex. Fucking hell, I'll make myself tea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Shuhua smirks and reaches for her phone while you leave for the kitchen. Whatever it is, you don’t want to deal with it. You need something relaxing, something herbal, to heal all the soreness in your body. It’s incredible to think that there is something like too much sex. You’re really close to giving up on it, even though two nymphomaniacs have turned your house into sex hub.

“No, no, stay down. You’ll get cock soon,” you hear Shuhua belittle Minju, who just whines in her usual tone. She seems to not be a bit tired after all this.

“Well, it won’t be mine,” you shout back, watching the hot water fill your cup and turn the leaves into something magical.

“Yeah, I know, you’re basically useless at this point.” Ouch, that stings. “That’s why I called back up.”

“You what?!”

“They should be here any minute now.”

Shuhua is spot on. Before your tea is finished steeping, your door bursts open. But instead of a hung man, two rather petite women enter your house. Both have a bored look on their face and immediately get to undressing. Overcoats seem to be the shit right now, and no matter who comes through your front door, they always drop it on the floor. 

“Uhm, hello?” you carefully greet them before remembering that this is your home, your kingdom! You can’t let strangers just walk in like they own the place. “This is kinda rude, you know?”

“Don’t care,” says the taller one with long, raven hair, dressed only in jeans. “We have business to do. Also, it’s rude to just stand there, naked, while two ladies walk in.” You blush and hide your crotch with the tea cup.

“We aren’t ladies, stop kidding yourself,” the other snarks back, while climbing out of her skirt. “I bet he is a good fuck, you shouldn’t kill your chances already.”

“Eh, I’ll think about it, but first—” Both girls suddenly pull out two strap-ons from God-knows-where and put them on with the casualness one would wear a fricking hat. The taller one hasn’t even removed her jeans, wearing the harness over it, while the other is fully naked and flaunts her butt at you.

“Yeah, I know, we got shit to do.” The short haired girl slaps her butt and you almost drop the cup when she walks past you with a wink. “Shuhua, where is this needy bitch? Or are you the needy bitch?”

“Oh, it’s so nice to see you, Eunbi and Eunbi,” Shuhua greets them and points at Minju, still trapped in between her fat thighs. “Look who I found.”

“She is insatiable. Incredible that he can still stand,” the shorter Eunbi says.

“Hm, maybe he is a good fuck. Anyways, we’ll try our best to keep her down,” the taller Eunbi says. The three conspirators try to agree on a strategy on how to fuck the angelic girl. You’ve become invisible in your own house, your entry to the living room goes largely unnoticed. Except for Minju who pouts at you when the two Eunbis lift her up and put her in a doggy position. The shorter one is below her, the other is ready to press the plastic cock into Minju’s puckered hole.

"Should we do it at the—nevermind, you're already in." The small Eunbi groans in annoyance, the other looks unapologetic and starts to rut slowly against Minju's butt. The long shaft forcing open Minju’s hole, paired with the denim on her sore, pink buttocks, must feel incredible and incredibly painful at the same time. Who knows which of the two makes Minju wail and moan more.

"Come on, Eunha, shove it in her sex," Shuhua urges on the Eunbi below as she excitedly stares at the unholy sight of fake cocks on ready holes. Her eyes mimic the camera lens for a porn shoot, while you're the director, watching the scene play out. Either way, it's good content.

"Minju's pussy, Minju's ass, so full!" Minju is loud, louder than before. Shuhua is having none of it.

"Shut up. SinB, make her stay quiet. And don't let her cum."

Two hands move to cover Minju's mouth, two cocks move in and out at a rapid pace, two sets of eyes watch on in awe. Satisfied with what crazy madness she has come up with, Shuhua sits down next to you and lazily jerks your cock with two fingers. Oh, that victorious smile, glassy, lewd eyes, you'd love to wipe it off her face.

"You like what you see? Now you don't have to do anything anymore."

"What was that about me being useless?" Grab her by the throat and spit in her face. She looks pissed, you love it. "I came in you, even when Minju was willing to do anything to get my load and now you're still cruel to her? Seems mildly unfair."

"And what are you gonna do about it? Fuck her, if you can."

Shuhua is bratty, but just as much as she is bratty, she is also light. You easily place her nude frame on your thigh, her still dripping, creaming heat right on your skin. She hisses and you tighten your grip on her throat.

"I'm going to make you cum—you know I can, it's super easy—but only if you tell those two friends of yours to make Minju cum until she passes out.”

“Fuck, bastard,” Shuhua hisses. With your thumb on her clit, this is easily the quietest and tamest she has been for hours. Her body twitches, an honest reaction to how much she is addicted to the mind-blowing orgasms you can get out of her. Such a small finger, yet she is squirming, contemplating, faltering.

“Those two are so cruel,” you tell Shuhua, nose deep in her greasy hair. “They fuck her so hard, just to pull out at the last moment. Why do you want to torture Minju so bad?”

“Be-because she needs to get to the-the point.”

“What point?”

“The point where sex is no fun. She can go forever. She will never stop, your—fuck—plan to make her p-pass out, useless.”

This explains a lot. The Angel is insatiable, her lust seems infinite, but Shuhua’s plan—won’t it make things worse? At some point, SinB and Eunha will have to stop and Minju will be more desperate than ever. She will wobble through the house, tackle you the second she sees you and will force your cock in her pussy no matter what. A true tragedy.

“Well, I don’t care,” you say and tug at one of Shuhua’s nipples, she bites her fingers. “You’ve been too greedy, time for her to—”

“Fuck, fine.

“SinB, don’t hold back. Eunha, suck her tits, overstimulate this bitch!”

“What?” the two ask in unison and disbelief.

“Do-don’t ask questions, please, just do it!”

The way the two purple plastic cocks move in and out of Minju with the sole goal of too much pleasure has you satisfied and in a new heat, your cock hardening slowly but surely. With an ever increasing rhythm, you move your thigh up and down and Shuhua starts to ride, her loudness increasing again. She is as close as Minju and it only takes SinB pulling those messed up oak strands, you to rub Shuhua’s clit, for them both to explode. 

You focus not on Shuhua shuddering, shaking on you, but at Minju’s expression. Her eyes jump wide, then tears shoot out and flow down, just to be blocked by SinB’s hands on her mouth. She’d be so loud, words messier than her hair would fill the room. After this peak, both collapse. Shuhua meets the floor, Minju falls on top of Eunha, who still thrusts, even spanks the Angel’s ass. 

You’re hard again. Where is this going to end?

[marthawrites]

Only A Scratch

Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.4k+

About: Aemond requests you, a healer who has tended to his wounds before, to accompany him on a trip to Duskendale.

Includes: One bed trope! A more balanced mix of plot and porn featuring elements of mean!Aemond, injury, dick sucking, cockslapping, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, and mentions of fem receiving oral sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story is based on a request from @babyaemond with the quote of "you know what your problem is?" with our favorite one-eyed war criminal. Thank you, Chris ily! 💖 I had an absolute blast writing this and I hope you like it too! As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

-

The realm might not believe it, perhaps not even the occupants and workers of the Red Keep would believe it, but, Aemond Targaryen was a momma's boy. He loved and respected his mother more than anyone else in all the kingdoms. With her nameday coming up, Aemond wanted to get her something extra special.

One afternoon while visiting Helaena during her embroidery time – little niece and nephews playing with him in the middle of the floor – he brought the idea up to his sister. 

"I think that a lovely idea, Aemond. You fetching Duskendale's greatest painter? Mother will hang the portrait somewhere everyone can see," Helaena replied with bright eyes. "And they have those mollusks who produce the most dazzling pearls. You can't go all that way and not get her jewelry!"

Aemond smiled. Helaena and her children were the rare people to draw genuine emotion from the prince. "I will pick something in your honor. Your gift to mother."

"And Aegon?" She asked.

"Aegon won't get any credit for these gifts. He wouldn't even be able to keep the secret, much less add to the surprise."

The princess giggled; unguarded in the company of her family.

-

To say receiving the dragon prince's offer was a surprise would be a vast understatement. He wanted you to go along on this trip with him? Out of all the healers and maesters? Even if you wanted to, you could not tell him no. Bewilderment buzzed around you as you rode out of King's Landing on horseback with him, Ser Arryk, and Ser Erryk.

It wouldn't be a long trip. Perhaps a week, there and back, with some leisure time to enjoy the city when you arrived. 

The twins were a skilled and respectful pair. You felt safe with them. You wondered, mind idly wandering as the twins led the way out of King's Landing, if you were Aemond's first pick for an accompanying medic. Fog rolled up from the sea and blanketed everything with a haunting gray. If it weren't for golden ways of sun piercing through clouds and fog like javelins it would be considerably creepy. Rays brought out your natural coloring, and when you turned to look across your shoulder to prince Aemond he looked wholly regal: silver hair shimmering, riding garb decorated with his House's sigil (as if anyone would need reminded who he was), breath hanging in the chilly morning air like he truly breathed smoke.

He felt you looking at him. "I don't need two eyes to see you staring so hard, girl," he said, turning the full attention of his single eye to you. Lilac. It nearly glowed in the foggy subdued brightness.

"Apologies, your Grace," you said with a guilty little grin. "The last time I saw you I was bandaging your newly stitched thigh. A much different sight than what I have of you now. You clean up well," you said, tiny smirk not leaving the outermost corners of your mouth. "Nasty cut it was… how did it heal?"

His face remained skillfully blank. There could have been a dozen emotions hidden behind that perfected poise; from his posture to the way he held the natural shape of his bowed mouth, he didn't allow you a glimpse into how your words affected him. "It healed well."

"I'm pleased to know I made such an impression that you'd request me to join you on this journey. An honor, truly, my prince," you said with quiet pride.

"There are two women in court who are heavy with babes. Both will be making their entrance into the world and day now. None of the maesters would risk leaving them," he replied with an edge of curtness, words clipped and even. "It was only then I considered you."

Ouch. "Oh," you said, a little taken back. "Well, I still stand by what I said," you added, trying your best to deflect the sting his words gave you.

"Hm," he hummed, smug. It was his turn to smirk, now.

The rest of that first day’s ride went relatively smooth and uneventful. That is, until Aemond got bucked off his horse. It was a miracle you were able to stay on yours! The twins’ horses, while still terribly frightened, appeared to be of a more mellow mind for they were able to be soothed while Arryk scouted ahead to see what might have caused the fright. You dared not leave yours during the ordeal in case you needed to get a galloping headstart. Tension hung in the air until Arryk came back. “A black bear is perhaps a quarter mile away,” he said upon arriving. “I didn’t see any cubs and the beast seemed unbothered by me. It was gorging on berries. Are you alright, my prince?”

Luckily Aemond was able to break his fall. Unfortunately it came at the cost of landing on his forearm upon a ridiculously sharp rock. A jagged cut ripped through his riding gear and into his leanly muscled flesh. You had helped wrap it with a clean linen bandage for now, but crimson bloomed beneath the binding. He would likely need stitches once all of you were settled into an inn for the night. “‘Tis only a scratch. Let’s get to the next town before nightfall, yeah?”

Arryk stole a glance with you, and then his brother, and you once more before nodding to Aemond. "A scratch," his eyes had silently said to you; a flash of sarcasm gone quicker than a blink.

The next town on the road to Duskendale was small and hardly worth mentioning on a map. Climbing roses in full bloom covered the inn's facade making it quaint and homely alike; their heady aroma lingered heavily and you wished you could bottle the fragrance. Echos of the scent followed you inside and mingled with savory foodsmells of dinner. 

"'Fraid we're about full t'night. I hope you all don't want separate rooms," a middle-aged man with wild eyebrows said from behind the bar. He leaned on it as he looked all of you over. "Ain't seen one of you Targaryens around in awhile. Pleasure ta have you, Prince Aemond. Now, what can I do for you lot?"

"Three rooms and dinner for everyone. That's all," Aemond replied as he produced payment for the innkeep.

Turning, the man inspected what keys were left. "Hmm… I have only two rooms available." Pulling the keys from their hooks he handed them over. "One bed in each of 'em."

Yet another tense silence fell over the group. The unmistakable tingle of a blush rushed to your face. Shit shit shit.

"We need three. Surely you can kick someone out for the night," Aemond said a bit too sharply, fingers reaching for another few coins to bribe the man.

"Ha!" He guffawed. "No can do. Prince or no, I have a good reputation and I don't intend on breakin' it."

The twins shared an amused glance and you wanted to die.

"Fine," Aemond said as he took the keys and tossed one set to Arryk and Erryk. "See you at first light to break fast before leaving."

You followed Aemond into the room you'd be sharing for the night. One bed. You hoped it was a big one.

Once inside, any hope of surviving the night with all your sanity and wit vanished in an instant. The bed was tiny. And, as if things could get any worse, there was only one pillow and blanket. Surely Prince Aemond Targaryen never considered this happening.

Tension crackled between you two and you wanted to jump out the equally tiny window and run all the way back to King’s Landing. "At… at least neither of us will be cold in the middle of the night?" You half-stammered, trying, feebly, to break the silence.

"You better not snore, girl." He flashed you an icy glare but the smirk of his mouth spoke to something else. Amusement? A challenge? "I'm going to bathe."

While he was gone you were left to stew on the current predicament. Ever since you first laid eyes on the young prince he never left your brain. To you, he was unbearably dashing and roguishly handsome. He was cold, cruel (according to rumors), and smug in a way that made you want to strangle him and drown him in kisses alike. Over the last year or so you'd helped tend to his wounds a few different times, and each time you left with more butterflies in your belly than before. They said his kin were closer to Gods than men, and you believed it.

After hardly eating during the day you were half-starved. You ate your dinner while he was still gone, and left for the women's side of the bathing quarter before he returned. In your experience not all inn's had the space for a proper bath – you weren’t going to pass this up. 

Upon returning – clean, refreshed, and still warm from the bath – you saw Aemond laying on the bed in his nightclothes with his uninjured arm tucked behind his head. It was stupid – absolutely fucking stupid – how handsome he looked in such a regular position. He was all long, and lean, and sharp angles. You wondered if he housed any softness within himself. He'd got a fire going in the small mantle and it crackled peacefully. Light and shadows accentuated the natural lines of his chiseled face, eyepatch practically orange in the glow. After a moment of awkwardly fumbling with your damp hair, you asked, "how's your arm?"

"'Twas only a scratch. I'm fine," he answered, making no move to shift his position to make more room for you on the bed.

"You're lying. It bled through your bandage on the way here," you retorted, squinting at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "And now it's done bleeding."

Turning, you double checked the latch on the door. Sure of the lock you turned back to Aemond. "Can I at least see it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Are you deaf, or daft?"

It was your turn to glare at him. "You know, I never truly believed the rumors of you being cruel." You threw a cloth you’d used to help dry your hair onto the table as you stepped, firmly and deliberately, across the small room to the bed. "But now I believe it. You know what your problem is? You are rude." Without allowing yourself to process what you were doing – and not giving him a moment to, either – you were straddling over his lap. Demanding. Determination hardened your features. "Let me see it."

Aemond tensed beneath you and the pupil of his eye swelled. He wasn't expecting this. His jaw feathered as the hand behind his head immediately lunged forward to grab your throat. Squeezing gently, warningly, he smirked. "And you know what your problem is? You are an insolent brat." Your eyes softened to those of a doe and it sent his cock twitching beneath your thinly covered center. "Mayhap you forget who you are speaking to, girl."

Breath shuddered from your lungs. You felt him beneath you and it instantly sent fire rolling through your belly. Desire. Lust. So easily he turned your irritation to something else entirely. "I only want to check on it," you said against his careful grasp, trying your best to appear innocent.

He laughed. "Climbing on my lap like this I think you want something else. Tell me… what more does this bratty little mouth do?" With his question he slowly released his hold from your throat, thumb trailing across the softness of your bottom lip. The darkness of his eye glinted when he heard a faint whimper tickle up through your chest. "You'll have to be louder than that…"

Without having to be told you grazed your tongue along his curious thumb, pulse hammering behind your ribs and between your legs alike. Could he feel how hot you were? Boldness coursed through your blood. "Your Grace…," you simpered, looking at him with dazed eyes. "I've wanted you for so long." You dared to nip the tip of his thumb, gently rolling your tongue beneath it. He tasted clean with hints of wood and smoke from stoking the fire. It made you ache.

"I've other things that need tending to, now. Perhaps if you play by my rules I'll play by yours," he proclaimed, pushing his digit further into your mouth. He hissed quietly with the sensation. Greed and need simmered in his chest, threatening to boil over. You weren’t even doing anything and yet you still drove him near wild.

Your hands spread across his chest. “Those are fair terms,” you said with a playful tilt of your head. Your eyes roamed over his throat and what was exposed of his collarbone. Sleek, pale, warm. He was so warm. How could he be when it was so chilly? You unlaced the lazily tied strings of his cotton sleep shirt, fingernails gently scratching down his front. You smiled when he hissed another inward breath. Beneath you, he neared full hardness. “Needy prince…,” you crooned, sliding from his lap as elegantly as you could so you were laying between his legs. You stroked along his cock through his cotton sleep pants, teasing. “Perhaps Targarenys are closer to men than Gods after all.”

"I like you better with something in your mouth," he said, tutting, as he shifted his legs a bit to give you more room. Now he moved, you thought, how generous of him.

Vibrating with your own need and impatience, you unlaced the front of his pants and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. You gasped, satisfied. "So big, your Grace." He had a lovely cock. Truly. It was hot and solid in your hand when you stroked it, head blushed and swollen without you even having to tug downwards on his length. 

You'd be lying if you didn't secretly hope something like this would happen with the tension of sharing a bed and room. But this? You licked up the underside of his shaft, wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking, and moaned at the sensation and taste.

Aemond groaned. "Is this what all you little medics do, hm? Tend to broken men before swallowing their cock?" He taunted, glaring at you triumphantly, mouth parted in silent bliss.

Instead of answering him verbally, you took more of his length into your wanting mouth. Flattening your tongue against him allowed you to hollow your cheeks. You looked up at him all the while, basking in the way his features changed; the way he somehow tensed and relaxed at the same time. You dragged your mouth up until only his sensitive head was wrapped by your lips, then down, lower, and up again.

"Fuck…," he groaned, eye rolling closed. One hand gripped into the thin faded sheets while his other moved to your damp hair. He threaded his fingers through it, gripping, tugging, just slight. 

Your eyelids trembled as a needy whine broke free from your lips. He popped free from your mouth with the noise. You chased his cockhead; wanton. Saliva built in your mouth and the sounds of you lavishing his cock were borderline obscene. You willingly choked on him; you throbbed as you squeezed your thighs together.

He grinned when you came up for air. His hand unfurled from the bedclothes and moved to the base of his length. He gripped himself and held your head still by your hair, expression widening with smug pride. He smacked his cock against the side of your face, traces of your saliva shiny on your skin. "Who knew my favorite little healer was such a whore, too," he purred. A second and third series of smacks followed. 

Bolts of lust jolted right to your core. You clenched around nothing; arousal gushing from you like syrup. "Aemond…," you gasped, vision hazy. "Please," you begged, unsure what you were truly begging for.

Him. Just him. Whatever he would give you.

"Such a pretty sound from your lips," he said, darkly and adoringly, as he delivered a final slap of his cock to the silky skin of your mouth. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the sides of your arms, pulling you up so you were nearly nose to nose. Without even looking he raked the hems of your sleep gown up while simultaneously yanking your smallclothes down. His fingers slid up your folds, testing your arousal. What he felt sent the entirety of his manhood aching. 

He had to be inside you. Now. 

"This little cunny is soaking. I don't even have to prepare you," he growled, shoving a long finger up into you without hesitation.

You might have peaked from that alone if he'd kept his digit inside you. If he pumped it. If he added a second. But, no, the prince did neither. When he pulled it from you he instantly brought it to his mouth and smeared your slick across his tongue. He smirked and you were sure you'd never been so desperate in your life.

Once again he gripped the sides of your arms and pushed you down into the old used mattress. He maneuvered behind you with ease. True to his word he didn't have to prepare you so he didn't. The young dragon prince guided himself right to your dripping center and eased forward. 

You arched deeper beneath him, supporting yourself on your knees while propping your ass up as much as you could. The stretch your body yielded to his sizable intrusion was glorious. You moaned, barely able to bite it back as he buried all of his rigid inches into your core. When he pulled back to snap his hips into you, you cried out his name.

"Be a good girl and shut up. Unless you want everyone in this inn to know what's going on in here," he said huskily behind you, the tremble in his voice betraying his outwardly restraint.

You tried to be quiet. You really did. But his hand holding the hair at the nape of your neck, and the lewd slaps of your smacking skin, and the pant of his breaths, had you wild with bliss and excitement. "So good… fuck! Aemond…! S-so good," you whimpered, body becoming lighter by the second.

The half babbled praises from your pretty mouth had the prince soaring. He gripped harshly onto one of your hips while the fingers of the other snaked beneath your pelvis to work your clit. "Wanna eat this pretty cunt 'til you're crying, too. Will you let me?"

"Please! Yes, yes, yes please," you answered as if in prayer.

His pace quickened, the angle of his strokes hitting you deep and hard, cockhead dragging and battering against that wonderful patch of nerves inside your walls. Leaning forward, his silken hair tickled your back. He bit into your shoulder, harshly drawing your flesh between his teeth so he could mark you.

You squirmed beneath him. Gasping, you basked in the sharp sensation of his teeth. It was the final thing you needed to lose yourself to the euphoria.

"Give it to me," Aemond growled in your ear. "Give your Prince your pleasure. Squeeze my cock like the little whore you are."

You did.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high all the while. When you became too loud he turned your face into the mattress to muffle your noises. It helped. It also made all those sounds all the sweeter. For Aemond, it was the final thing he needed to lose himself as well. With a groan from deep within his chest, he pulled out of you at the last second and released his spend all over your back. It shone upon your skin. He couldn't help but admire it and he had half a mind to make you sleep with it on your back; marking you with his teeth and scent alike.

Slowly, you both came down from the natural high of orgasm. That cloth you brought in earlier was put to good use. 

"I don't mind that the bed is so small, now," you said as you both got comfortable beneath the blanket. Laying on your sides seemed the best way; him, the big spoon.

"Me either," he replied, a grin audible in his voice.

You found yourself no longer caring about the state of his arm. Not with the way it laid over your waist and rested up between your breasts. He held you against him.

Sleep came easy. 

When you woke up to Aemond's morning-stiff cock against your back you knew you had to find a reason to share a room with him for every night of the journey.

He would make it happen, he told himself, as he drew a lovely climax from you with his mouth before burying himself into you once again. All, before dawn cracked over the horizon.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

To be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @bloodwyrmcaraxes @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @babyaemond @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73

[starlightsuffered]

could i request a Timothée x m!reader smut with the reader being a bratty sub , so timothee decides to discipline the reader by edging and overstimulating them ? the rest is up to you :))

A/N - I’m sorry, I feel like this is really bad bc I tried to do it without the friend I usually get ideas from, stupid me lol. Anyway, I hope you still like it 🙏🏻 and thank you for the request.

King’s Brat

Info - king hal and male reader, dancer reader, reader who is short and a bit hairy, queer reader, MLM, dub con, cnc, overstim, edging, degrading, Dom Hal, hand job, public sex, impact play, femboy reader, brat reader, cocky Hal, anal sex

My body was on display. I had made sure to wear the most whorish outfit I could. I’d had my eye on the King of England. With my short stature and this curly hair, I could almost pass as one of the female dancers.

The festivities around us roared and played. I was making my way closer to the King. He was gorgeously brooding on his throne. His face was impassive as he looked out and surveyed his kingdom.

I was finally was in his line of sight. My slender body was clad in an emerald green dancers skirt and nothing else. He could clearly see my exposed abdomen and chest hair.

His eyes lit up. I was happy I had caught his attention. His mouth curled up in a smile. I’d heard he liked those who showed off for him. He wasn’t too pompous to be seduced.

I turned my ass to him and shook it temptingly. I instantly felt hands on me. The king had launched up and was all over me.

“Your highness,” I purred.

“You’ve been making bedroom eyes at me for this entire party,” Hal admonished me.

“Does that bother you, Master?” I asked.

“Hmmmm, it’s just that I’m not a bedroom person. Brats get their punishments with an audience,” Hal chuckled.

“I just want to dance,” I said, pressing my ass back against his crotch.

“No, you want to be difficult. However, I am the a king, and I get what I want,” he snapped in my ear.

“Your majesty-“

“Come on lover boy,” Henry said. He pulled me along. He was back on the throne, and I was now in his lap.

“Little brat, pretending you don’t want this.”

“What would you have me do?” I asked in a teasing manner.

“Behave,” Hal said slowly. His hand crept up my bare chest. He was caressing my neck now.

“I’m behaving,” I lied as I wiggled myself against his crotch.

“You little-“ he growled. “You need to be taught a lesson. Instead of being a tease, come and lay yourself before me and beg.”

“I don’t beg,” I retorted.

“You will,” Hal replied easily. His hand dipped under my skirt. He rubbed circles on my inner thighs. I was already squirming a bit. I tried not to show how this all affected me.

“You’re telling me you don’t want thick, hairy, king dick in your hole you little harlot?” The king asked.

Now his hand cupped my cock. The way he touched me so gently juxtaposed with his cruel words was heavenly. He squeezed one of my cheeks. The pad of his thumb stroked my tip. My slit was leaking. Precum ran down my shaft as he tortured the tip.

I was trying to stay still and confident on his lap. I had my legs spread. He lifted me slightly. I had to stand there awkwardly with cock hard and dripping. He yanked down his slacks for a moment. He pulled me down again and I felt his thick head pushing into my hole.

“T-too big,” I whined.

“Brats don’t get to decide what is too much,” Hal reminded me. I gulped as his hand began to stoke me again. His fist was tight. He was easing me down on his fat cock as he jerked me.

“Oh, f-uuuuuuck!” I stuttered as I bottomed out on his dick. I was riding up with a thrust, then down on his cock.

“You’re such a naughty little slut,” Hal crooned and he slapped my cock. I moaned. He was grunting in a manly and addicting way. He squeezed and yanked on my full balls.

“I love your hands,” I gasped as he wanked me.

“Yeah?” He mocked me.

“Yes!”

He let go immediately. I whined out like a pathetic dog. I squirmed in need. The tip of my cock dripped and dripped.

“Ready to worship?” Hal requested.

“No,” I snapped as I crossed and uncrossed my legs. I was so full of his massive length.

“I want it!” I demanded and tried to bounce myself up and down.

“Still,” Hal boomed. He gripped my hips with his nails digging in. He held me down, stuffed full of him.

“Hold still you rotten thing,” Hal growled.

“I want- OH!” I cut myself off as he grabbed my cock again. He began to stroke my cock again. It wasn’t kind or loving. His pumps sounded wet. He still held my slender legs down so I sat on his dick. He was rutting up deep against my prostate.

“P-please, please,” I whined.

“You need to worship me,” he whispered in my ear. Now he slowed down to a torturous pace.

“If you squirt, it needs to be a tribute to me,” he said before biting my ear and nibling. He ran his teeth over my shoulder now.

“I want to cum. I really want to cum,” I whimpered. I leaned my head back and let out small noises of need. He sunk his incisors into my neck exposed neck.

“P-please.”

“That is a word you say to anyone. You may say it to a peasant when you need them to pass the salt. That is not how you address a king.”

“Your highness-“

“No, more,” he rasped.

“You. Are. A. God,” I finally panted out.

“That’s it,” Hal praised now. His hand still worked but also he was pounding up inside me. His thick, veiny, manly cock was impaling me.

“I’m going to cum!” I wailed as heat and bliss overcame me.

“I’m, oh, I’m gonna!”

I spurted everywhere. The fountain of semen was soaking my skirt. The thick creamy cum was making globs in the fabric.

“That’s good boy,” he spanked my thigh. He began to dump his load inside me. The sent was heavenly as I leaned back against his sweaty chest. I was heaving.

“Mm, no, no,” I panted and tried to move away from his grasp. He kept my cock in his hand. He was still touching my sensitive member.

“T-tender,” I cried.

“I know,” he chuckled. “I know exactly how you feel and I don’t care. Next time you want an ass full of cock, don’t be presumptuous. You will come and bow. You will kiss my boots, and you will show the respect I deserve. Until this is done, I will treat you like a brat needs to be treated.”

“Ohhhhhh, please,” I gasped and begged.

“I own your dick, just like I own everything in this kingdom,” he murmured in my ear softly.

“Don’t forget it.”

[loviestyless]

Shadowed Starlight*

Summary: Odile Einar has one purpose: kill the fae king and prevent the prophecy from coming true. the only thing that stands in her way is their deep rooted history.

fantasy au! king harry x assassin oc

Warnings: murder, violence, blood, smut: dom!harry, thigh riding, choking, praise kink, breeding kink

The shrill echo of a sharpened sword dragging against concrete announced the arrival of the lone warrior, stirring the ripples of shadows curling through the throne room and fuelling the whispers of terror warning her not to venture further. Night followed in her wake as her bloodied weapon etched stars in the dark, marbled floor of the building built off nightmares, the very essence of her power rolling off her body as rage coursed through her bloodstream at the sight of the figure sat atop his throne. Waiting.

Dark stories of the High Fae surrounded the golden throne, the ornate and intricate paintings shone through the shadows - depicting the cruel suffering his ancestors had inflicted upon the unfortunate common folk of Eroda. Every war, every rebellion and every battle for power the royal bloodline had successfully won filled all four walls of the gigantic room - embellished with gold to serve as a reminder to the unfortunate souls unlucky enough to kneel before the king that they never stood a chance.

The Fae King draped himself casually atop the ancient throne, his shadows humming through the walls, clawing at their invisible shackles in an attempt to strangle the woman for approaching the King so brazenly. But he remained unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as his emerald eyes soaked in her appearance. Everything about his demeanour was the least bit regal, as if he was merely a young prince playing up to a title, he would one day inherit, even his crown lay crooked atop his mess of curls. He maintained slouched against the throne while she approached, almost as if it burdened him to be cursed with such beauty his entire immortal life and the warrior scoffed at such petty vanity the King harboured.

But despite such a relaxed demeanour, the woman knew of the horrors that lay behind those gorgeous green eyes. This man was lethal, his shadows alone could smother the entire room in seconds, killing her instantly if she let her starlight dim under his watch.

Sweat and blood smeared across her dark skin, twinkling like stars as the rows of candles flickered in the breeze that swept through the building upon her entrance. Every slow, confident step forward made it harder for her to keep control of her power, tendrils of night eager to land a lethal strike.

"My, my, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He purred, his sharp gaze dragging down her body to take in her blood-soaked armour with amusement. Swirls of shadows snaked their ways around his forearms, summoned silently by the King as a reminder of his potential power and to intimidate the Fae assassin refusing to bow at his feet.

It had been years since she had seen his face and as much as she hated to admit it, he still looked just as beautiful as when she'd left. His thick curls were shorter, no longer dusting the tops of his shoulders but sat messily atop his head in a way that emphasised his sharp jawline. Her brown eyes flared with specs of starlight as she forced herself not to succumb to his beauty - it was how she'd gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place and she couldn't afford to let him charm her again. Not when the fate of the entire kingdom rested upon her shoulders.

The shadow's whispers seemed to fall silent while the King taunted the warrior, waiting with bated breath for her to react to his cunning words.

"The little assassin returns." Harry mused softly. His legs swung over the arm of the chair so that he swivelled around to sit properly, his knees parted as he leaned forward with a sinister smirk. "I must admit, twenty years to seek out an oracle is a little excessive, is it not Odile?"

Every sentence that rolled off his tongue was meticulously planned, specifically chosen to tempt her into giving in to the rage he could see flowing through her bloodstream. The assassin felt her grip tighten around the handle of her weapon, a deep breath rattling her chest as she refused to let him affect her. The King chuckled lowly, emerald eyes darkening slightly they flickered over her body once more.

"And no babe in your arms, either." He mocked, shaking his head condescendingly as he stared at Odile's tense form, "What a wasted journey."

Odile fought the urge to stiffen at the reminder of the past, of her old self who was so foolishly naive and trusting in the Fae King that she wandered blindly into the forest twenty years ago seeking confirmation of a life she thought she wanted. But the answers she found were not what she expected. And judging by Harry's proud smirk, he too knew the prophecy that was handed to her instead - one that had changed her forever.

No longer was she a shy, timid woman that remained blindsided by the true extent of the King's powers. She was Eroda's assassin and she was here to kill the treacherous bastard that had reigned for far too long.

"Look at you, burning with rage." A deep chuckle rumbled in Harry's chest, only making Odile's power ripple with anger. Tendrils of night rolled off her body, inching their way closer to the throne where speckled starlight waited to strike the King's shadows. "I think I like this new you, it's more...enticing."

Honeyed words dripped off his tongue and Odile had to force herself to keep her eyes locked on his, resisting the urge to glance down at her feet under his intense glare. He knew exactly the right thing to say to charm people, to get them on his side and that was the exact reason she was in this position in the first place. But she refused to fall for it any longer, he was a brutal murderer and she wouldn't let him continue the vicious cycle for centuries to come. The prophecy would end here today. By her hand.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light. Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight. The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

"You deserve to die for what you've done." Odile's voice was steady and confident, revenge dominating every inch of her body and making her eyes darken with deadly intent.

"What I've done?" Harry snickered lightly, no sense of remorse at all. "I think we should start with what you've done, darling."

The ripples of shadows swirling around his hands slowly drifted towards her, snaking their way around her feet and up her legs as the King took in her bloodied appearance. Crimson soaked her leather armour, splashed across her skin and drenched her locs but not a single drop of it was hers. Odile was untouched, unharmed and standing tense as the shadows settled around her neck - the ghost of Harry's touch taunting her with the possibility of what he could do.

A chill ran down her spine as her breath caught in her throat at the feeling of his power calling to hers, her inner starlight singing to the shadows and threatening to give in to him once more. She had felt these shadows brush against her skin many times before, but she refused to give in to their touch - not when the prophecy rang clear in her mind.

"Your governors are dead by my hand. They serve Hel now." She announced coldly, allowing her eyes to flare white with starlight so the King could see the threat she posed to his position on the throne - reminding him she was no longer the timid woman he knew twenty years ago. She felt his shadows squirm slightly as her power surged but the King remained relaxed. "You are next to join them."

"Well, you have been busy, haven't you?" He mused, sitting up straight in his throne and finally taking this seriously. It appeared the threat on his life was something to worry about.

No doubt he had heard whispers of the assassin rampaging through his lands the past two decades, training in the woods for the mission of a lifetime before hunting down every corrupt government official that served under the King. All of them were attacked when they least expected, brutally murdered and their bodies hung outside their houses as a warning to those that remained.

No longer would the poor be squeezed for every piece of copper they owned, no longer would the King's guards turn a blind eye to crime and no longer would the black-market fuel the underworld of illegal drugs and fighting rings. Eroda could go back to being the beautiful land, enriched with magic and beauty like the history books had once reported to the world.

All that was left was for the King to fall and the prophecy would be changed.

"I applaud you for your success, my darling. But I must address the little fault in your plan."

"If you intend to beg for your life then you underestimate my power." Odile's hand gripped the leather handle of her sword and carried a certain lightness in her feet as she prepared herself for the attack. Her best bet was to keep him talking, his ego was his downfall and all Odile had to do was catch him when his guard was down.

She was going to slit his throat where he sat and sit on the throne soaked with his blood as the Queen of Eroda - ready to rebuild the kingdom to its former glory.

"Not at all, Odile. I have always known what power you possess; you were just too blind to see it." His words were cocky, full of confidence that he shouldn't have in such a moment before his death. For many, it would be unnerving but for Odile it only made her all the more determined. "I simply intend to ask how you think the prophecy will play out when you kill your mate."

Odile felt her heart lurch at the reminder that the beautiful man in front of her was in fact her mate, the person fate decided was her other-half for all eternity - the person that completed her soul. When she had first met him twenty years ago, their bond snapped into place the moment their eyes locked and everything in her life seemed to fall into place. She was given a purpose, a lover and someone that mirrored her level of devotion.

Her love had blinded her from seeing what a despicable man Harry truly was, that was until the Oracle allowed her to see what she had been oblivious to the entire time. The bond still hummed within her, urging her to embrace his love after such time apart. The pining had almost driven her mad at first, unable to block out her power calling out to him at all hours of the day. Her magic needed him and his shadows needed hers. It would bring such pain to her heart to live on while her mate was killed - their bonded souls torn apart for the rest of eternity.

"You may be my mate and my husband, but I reject anything that binds me to such a cold-hearted leader as you. I would live with such pain knowing I had saved thousands from your blighted power."

Suddenly, bright starlight flooded the throne room, Odile's light bouncing off the golden accents of the entire room and blinding the King in an instant. His shadows recoiled with a hiss, leaving Harry unprotected long enough for the assassin to spring into action. One minute she was standing tall in front of the throne, the next she was straddling her mate's lap, pinning his shoulders against the back of the throne with the bloodied blade of her weapon digging uncomfortably into his neck.

Stars melted around them, revealing the rage filled warrior to the King so he could truly see her now. Honey brown eyes had darkened with anger, tendrils of night snaked up Harry's arms and pinned him in place so he could do little to overpower her.

Blood smeared against the King's face as Odile's left hand gripped his jaw, bringing her face so close to his that their lips almost touched.

Harry's pink lips curled upwards at the closeness of his wife, the twenty years of silent pining for her return finally silenced under her touch. Albeit because she was holding a sword to his throat and threatening his life. But he wasn't worried, he knew she still loved him dearly and had felt the same hollowness in her heart while she was away.

"I am not the man you think I am."

"It is your shadows the prophecy speaks of; you are the dark hands that have tainted this kingdom with corruption." She spat, starlight fizzling off her body and landing in sparks on the floor around her. Harry's eyes drifted down to glance at her lips before meeting her intense stare once again - he'd be lying if he said this new side to her wasn't turning him on.

"You are my lover and with your death Eroda will finally be free."

"I have protected this kingdom for five-hundred years, darling. You truly haven't worked it out yet, have you? We're supposed to save Eroda together. Why do you think I sent you out to the Oracle that day?"

No matter how much she tried to hide her confusion at her mate's words, there was little she could do to suppress the frown that tugged at her brows.

Harry had not sent her to seek out an Oracle, she had done that herself. She had thought she was pregnant and went to ask for confirmation that she was carrying the future heir to Eroda's throne. Secrecy was key if she truly was with child, the last thing she wanted was for rival kingdoms finding out and putting her and her baby's lives in danger. Odile hadn't even mentioned anything to her maid before she slipped out of the palace under the cover of darkness - how Harry had found out she had no idea.

"I never told you I thought I might be pregnant. You didn't send me anywhere."

"You think those books about royal bloodlines just appeared on my nightstand out of nowhere? You think the fact you overheard the royal reports about an Oracle causing havoc in the forest was a coincidence?" Harry's demeanour shifted for the first time since Odile had returned, no longer teasing her but completely serious. "I planted that idea into your head, Odile. I knew what the Oracle would tell you and I needed you to hear it. Because you held the power to save Eroda."

Harry shifted slightly under Odile's thighs, straining against her power and glancing down at the sword pressed against his neck uncomfortably.

"Darling, you already saved us. The darkness has been eradicated." Harry explained softly, making Odile's restraints falter long enough for him to free his hands, his warm touch ghosting her thighs as he rubbed them slowly. "Please, put the sword down.

"Y-you're the darkness. You rule over the kingdom, it's your fault corruption has plagued these lands. This room itself lays testament to the centuries of pain you and your family have inflicted on people."

"Odile, I've always wanted to be different from my ancestors, it sickens me to be surrounded by the monstrosities they carried out under my family name. I have dreamt of a kingdom that was filled with magic and laughter since I was a boy but that was not the plan of my father. He changed the laws of the council so I would not influence their decisions over my people, I became a King by title but with no power." Harry's voice carried a sense of vulnerability within it that Odile had only ever heard when she was with him. To others he maintained an air of arrogance within himself but with her, he was completely different. "I sought out the Oracle two hundred years ago, hoping for a way to save Eroda and that is when I learnt of the prophecy. Of you."

Odile's mind was reeling. She had spent twenty years with only the words that the Oracle had told her to understand the gravity of the situation thrust upon her. She had asked for an explanation, some kind of guidance but little was given outside the prophecy recounted throughout history. Hate had been forced to fester in her heart towards her husband - her mate - and that kind of pain was almost impossible to cope with.

"How can I believe you?"

Harry's lips twitched upwards slightly with a coy smirk, his eyes darkening in the way Odile recognised far too well. His touch grew stronger against her thighs, trailing closer to the place he knew she wanted him but was too stubborn to admit. He could sense her arousal from the moment she'd straddled his lap, no doubt fighting the memories of being in such a position countless times before.

"Because you're my mate and I know in your heart you feel this is right." Harry whispered lowly, leaning in slightly so that his lips ghosted against hers. The sharp blade of her sword dug harder into his skin, no doubt leaving a mark but he didn't care, not when he finally got to touch his mate after pining for her these past twenty years.

Odile gasped slightly in surprise as his lips finally met hers, warmth flooding through her body as she let her husband kiss her with as much love as he physically could. Their lips moved in sync together, the blade at Harry's throat slipping slightly as Odile let her focus drift to how perfect this moment felt. Her heart was thumping erratically in her chest, finally at peace after being torn apart by such distance for so long.

Misted shadows curled around the pair, ghosting touches along Odile's soft neck in a way that made her moan in anticipation while Harry's palms continued to tease the tops of her thighs, occasionally brushing her warm arousal over the top of her fighting leathers. Gods, she'd missed this. No matter how much she'd tried to hate him the last twenty years, she'd always drift into the land of dreams where his touch would be waiting for her. She'd dream of riding his cock once more, hearing his grunts of pleasure ring into the night as she pleasured herself until years of pining was eventually satisfied.

"Look at you, giving in so easily. I knew you'd see sense." Lustful amusement hung off every word that escaped Harry's lips. "Let me fuck you, baby. Ride my cock and claim your throne."

And then it suddenly hit Odile - this was what the prophecy had spoken of this entire time.

The Kingdom of Eroda shall fall by the hands of darkness if not stopped by the light.

She had been the one to murder the corrupt governors and her starlight had sung her victory every time. Nobody was left to rule over the kingdom and so the laws were now irrelevant, all power was now reinstated to the crown. Harry was free to be the ruler that Eroda had desperately needed for thousands of years.

Centuries of bloodshed and corruption will end when stars and shadows join once more and create shadowed starlight.

Odile had previously thought it meant the final death must be Harry's, a final test to eradicate the plague of shadows over the kingdom before she could build Eroda from scratch. But with how things were currently playing out, it appeared to be referencing the passions of reunited lovers, perhaps about to conceive the first heir to the new world she had secured for the future.

The palace will stand tall among the ashes, ready to rebuild a world that was lost to evil- a world where the stars will shine anew.

The loud clatter of metal against marble echoed about the throne room as the weapon finally tumbled from Odile's grasp to rest at the foot of the throne. Harry groaned in relief, rolling his head back slightly to stretch his neck out now he was no longer restricted, the harsh red mark of the blade standing prominent against his skin. Odile's hands cupped her lover's cheeks, smashing her lips into his as she ground her hips into his with a breathy moan as she gave in to her desire.

This was what she wanted, just her and Harry reunited once more and ready to rule Eroda by each other's side.

"Make me your Queen, Harry." She panted breathlessly, barely pulling apart from the King as she spoke her final demand. "Knock me up, give yourself an heir."

Harry's eyes darkened as his powers rumbled with desire, a lustful smirk appearing on his lips as he took in Odile's demands - his mind running rampant with all the possible ways to pleasure his mate after so long apart. He'd dreamed of the day he'd once more feel her wet cunt around his heavy cock, gorgeous tits bouncing in his face while her screams of pleasures rang out through the entire palace.

"You gonna be my good girl, yeah?" He breathed out, hands already trailing upwards to claim her body as his. Brushing her long, bloodied locs over her shoulder, Harry's lips met the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his palms squeezed her heavy breasts. Odile squirmed in his lap in desperate need of some friction against her aching core, revelling in the feeling of her mate's hard cock brushing against her cunt through the layers of clothing in the way. "Bet you're dripping for me, aren't you?"

Odile whimpered at Harry's voice so deep and oozing with seduction, frantically nodding in agreement as she felt his hand slip down the waistband of her leather pants to confirm what he already knew. A soft hum of satisfaction vibrated against her skin as Harry continued to mark up her neck, his fingers toying with her wet folds while Odile was rendered breathless with desire. Speckled starlight flickered from her fingers as she tugged at her husband's curls, head tipping back slightly as she allowed him to take his claim over her body.

Her mind was a blur, uncontrollable whimpers escaped her lips as she rocked against Harry's fingers - chasing the pleasure that was already building in her core.

"Undress, Odile." The King's demand was clear, his fingers quickly removed from Odile's trousers as he pulled back to watch her carefully. The assassin let out a frustrated groan as the building wave subsided, her fingers desperately tearing at her leathers to obey her husband's instructions. The quicker she acted, the better behaved she was, the sooner she'd get to ride his cock. "Need you naked on my lap."

The moment her top hit the floor, Harry's eyes flicked downwards to take in her bare breasts, free from blood and tempting him with their perfection. He watched silently as they bounced slightly as Odile unbuttoned her trousers, lifting her hips off of Harry slightly so she could pull them off completely - exposing her naked cunt for him to admire. Ripples of shadows snaked up her body, teasing her hard nipples before settling around her pretty neck, waiting for the command to choke her just the way she liked and Odile let out a soft moan in anticipation, knowing Harry was going to fuck her senseless at any moment.

"Look at you, my pretty Queen." He hummed softly, dark emerald eyes sweeping over Odile's naked body as if he was committing it to memory.

"If I am your Queen, I shall need a crown." Odile stated boldly, her hands already gripping the golden halo framing her husband's curls and lifting it from his head. A subtle moan rumbled deep in his chest as he watched her place his crown atop her locs.

His cock stiffened even more in the confines of his trousers at the sight of his wife wearing nothing but the golden crown on her head, desire overtook him and he knew he couldn't drag this out like he'd originally planned.

"Now fuck me, my King. Show me how much you missed me." Odile gripped Harry's jaw, her brown eyes locked onto his green with such intent in an attempt to get him to submit. But that was not Harry, he did not submit to anyone - not even his mate. He smirked playfully as she felt his shadows squeeze her neck, restricting the air just enough to make her head go the perfect amount of fuzzy.

"You want my cock, then take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." Settling back against his ornate throne, he watched as Odile set to work unbuttoning his trousers and freeing his length from the confines of his pants. She didn't care he was still fully clothed, all she cared about was finally getting to fuck her mate after years of pining after this exact moment.

He hissed softly as she took him in her hand, tugging slowly at his cock just enough to tease him with pleasure as she ground her pussy against his thick thigh. Wetness seeped into the material of his trousers, leaving a patch of arousal as she continued to get herself off before taking what she really wanted. Breathless pants filled the air as the pair of them got lost in pleasure, blurts of precome collected on the dark skin of Odile's hand like sparkling pearls while Harry's shadows created a necklace of darkness around her pure neck.

Harry's mouth suddenly enveloped Odile's left nipple, teeth grazing softly over her skin as he sucked at her breast perfectly positioned in front of her face. The rhythm of her hips became uneven as she whimpered with sensitivity, already feeling herself hurtling towards the edge after such a long time of nothing.

"H-Harry..."

Stars and shadows snaked around the throne as both their powers were released from its confines, the bond between them growing the further Harry and Odile fell into their pleasure and healing their shattered souls.

"So, close, sweetheart. Such a good girl f'me." Harry mumbled breathlessly, obviously struggling just as much as his wife to last much longer. "Come on my thigh, darling. Let go."

And that was all it took for her to tumble over the edge, hips stilling as she came all over Harry's thigh. Her head tipped back as a loud moan escaped her lips, bright stars filling the room and almost blinded Harry as he watched her gorgeous features scrunch up in pleasure - a sight he had only dreamed of for twenty years. His own release followed almost instantly, spurting up his clothed torso as Odile's pretty moans filled his ears like his favourite melody.

"Fuck-" He choked on his own moans, unable to talk properly as he struggled to stop his power from clouding his mind and rendering him completely speechless. "Perfect girl, so perfect, sweetheart."

Slumped against her husband's body, Odile peppered gentle kisses along his exposed, sweaty collarbones - delicate fingers trailing over the inked swallows that were left on display after the material had fallen open in all the pleasure.

"Made a mess all over me." He chuckled lightly, running his hand over her thighs as he took in the wetness on his trousers. Instead of blushing with embarrassment, Odile simply raised her hand that was covered in her husband's come and made a show of licking it up with a satisfied smirk. The sight of her tongue dragging along the back of her hand, savouring the taste of his release made Harry's cock twitch once more as he felt himself grow half hard with every lick.

"And you." She hummed, "Just as desperate, darling. You're not kidding anyone."

Her hips began to grind against his both of them still sensitive to touch but neither caring. Odile needed to sit on Harry's cock and feel him fill her up for the rest of eternity - she'd been empty for too long and now she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Taking him in her hand once more, Odile lifted herself up just enough to position him at her entrance. Hungry eyes watched her eagerly as Harry waited for the bliss of feeling her tightness envelope him completely - both of them sighing with pleasure as their hips joined once more.

Shadows curled around Odile's wrists, forcing them upwards so that her hands tangled in Harry's messy curls in a silent demand before settling around her neck to choke her. Her head was spinning with lust at the feeling of Harry's power constricting the amount of air she could take in, all while revelling in being full to the brim with his aching cock. Their lips smashed together, tongues dancing in each other's mouths as she began to ride her husband with an eager rhythm, hands tugging at his curls just as the King liked it. Deep moans escaped his lips, filling the air as his hands gripped her butt tightly, helping her to grind harder against him for both their pleasure.

"So tight, so wet, sweetheart." Harry panted into the kiss, bucking up into her pussy to hit the sweet spot inside her. "Missed this perfect cunt."

"Harder, make me scream!" Odile pleaded as a dull ache settled in her thighs with all the effort it was taking to ride his cock with such energy. She needed him to take her, to fuck her so hard she saw stars and he was more than happy to oblige - but not without a little teasing first.

"Knew you wouldn't kill me, darling." He chuckled slowly in between trailing sloppy kisses along her collarbone towards her heavy breasts. His thumb teased her clit, rubbing slow circles to add to the building tension at her core that made her such a moaning mess. "Need my cock too bad, don't you?"

A sharp snap of his hips timed perfectly with her hips bouncing down on his cock filled her even deeper, causing a loud moan to echo about the room unexpectedly, only proving Harry right.

"Who else would fuck you this good, leave you screaming like I can?" He smirked against Odile's skin as her sounds of pleasure continued to ring out across the room, allowing his shadows to ghost over every inch of her body and enhance every delicate touch he was giving her. "You'd miss the warmth of my cock for all eternity."

"Uh-huh, you. Only you, baby." She replied breathlessly, unable to focus properly as her hips began to stutter. Sweat sparkled like glitter on her dark skin, making her appear like starlight itself, all gorgeous and addictive. Harry's cock ached at the sight, his chest heaving with desire as he let his shadows tangle with the stars rippling from her body, both their releases rapidly approaching with little warning.

"Look at you, so full of me." The King grunted with each powerful thrust upwards, his fingers digging into her hips so hard as he helped guide her cunt onto his cock there was no doubt bruises would be left in their wake. "Taking me like a good girl."

"All yours, belong to you!" Odile whimpered, her vision going blurry as she was practically blinded by the tight coil of pleasure that was threatening to explode at any second. With Harry's shadows wrapped tightly around her neck, his sharp thrusts timed perfectly to hit her g-spot and his ghosted touch on her clit, the woman could barely sit up straight - her forehead resting on Harry's shoulder for support as he helped her reach her peak.

"Harry-" Her moan was immediately cut off by another sharp thrust from Harry's hips, the King recognising all the signs that she was seconds from toppling over the edge. Her hips bucked frantically as she chased the rising feeling in her core, heavy pants filling the air between them as the pair turned animalistic in chasing their high.

"I know, sweetheart. Come for me darling." Harry demanded; his voice thick with lust as he felt ready to burst. "Soak my cock, milk me dry."

Shadowed starlight tore through the room as pleasure peaked in perfect waves, slamming into the walls and crumbling the dark paintings into tiny pieces. Their pleasured moans mixed together in a delightful tune as they rode out their highs, Odile collapsing into Harry's arms as her body felt weak after such a powerful orgasm. Soft kisses were pressed against her sweaty forehead as Harry's soft touch rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

Wrapped up in each other's warmth, with his cock still buried deep within his mate, Harry finally felt the peace he'd dreamt of since taking the throne five hundred years ago.

Centuries of terror and bloodshed was over. It was time to start anew.

[juneknight]

Audible || 2

Part One |

About this: most of the warnings are for the naughty fiction Steven is reading: boot riding, sexual servitude, spanking, very heavy dub-con themes. But it's fiction within fiction <3 One part left...

*

Shifting to make himself comfortable, he glances to you once more for your assent before cracking open the book and searching for his place.

“The Prince was a handsome man, more reminiscent of his mother than his father. His hair and eyes were dark, like pools of ink, his skin golden from the sun that shined in this kingdom all-year-round. He was clearly fit beneath the trim finery that he wore, body honed into a useful weapon that had seen him survive two separate wars. His eyes raked over my body, and it took every bit of self-control not to cover my nakedness the way I had been instructed not to. I knew he must be seeing every part of me: my breasts, my legs, the soft patch of curls at the apex of my thighs. He must have seen the tears on my lashes, the way my nipples had hardened in the cool air. 

‘Turn for me,’ he demanded lowly. ‘A slow circle. Put your hands up behind your neck, I wish to see you.’”

When Steven speaks the words of the Prince, his voice lowers just a half pitch. It makes your breath catch, far too similar to the rough way his voice sometimes sounds when the two of you are making love. You cast your eyes to him, looking for any sign that he knows what he is doing to you, but his eyes are solidly on the book, flickering across the words, oblivious to the heat that is growing between your legs. 

“Oh, it was shameful! Lifting my arms above my head only served to press my breasts forward fetchingly, and turning made me feel like a sow being inspected to see if she is fit for the butcher’s block. By the time I had made it in a full circle, my face felt aflame with shame, and I could not help the tears that slid down my cheeks. He grinned softly at the sight of them, as if it pleased him to see my distress.

‘Bring me a chalice of wine.’ 

I glanced around the room, searching for the servant—except there was no one. He intended me to bring him his wine! Never in my life had I been ordered to do such a thing, the work of servants and the lowborn. I could not even remember the last time I had poured my own cup, much less someone else’s! Except I was a Princess no more. If I intended to keep my identity a secret, I could not turn my nose up at such things. 

But before I could turn to seek out the pitcher of wine on the table, the Prince had reached out and gripped my wrist in his hand. With a strength that had me crying out, he wrenched me to him and draped me across his lap so that my buttocks were facing the ceiling, the blood rushing to my head as my braid dangled towards the ground. He delivered a series of open-palmed spanks: to my arse, to the creases where it met my thighs, and to my thighs themselves. When I struggled, beginning to sob, he only spanked me harder, commanding me not to move. 

At last, he had had his fill of such torment, and he pulled me up to stand before him. Though I was taller than him while he was seated, I felt so small, trembling in front of him, face wet and nose stuffed from tears. 

‘Come now,’ he said. ‘Your tears only make me want to spank you more. You must never hesitate when given an order. You should have no thoughts in your mind, except obeying me. Do you understand?” 

"What a jerk," you mutter. "I didn't expect he would be so cruel."

"I warned you it was shocking," Steven says with a laugh. He shows you the cover, pointing to words which aren't there. "Dead Dove, darling. Shall I go on?"

After you nod, he does, and you drift a little once again listening to him speak, swallowing hard at the words dripping from Steven’s mouth. Those firm, dominating words coming in the cadence of Steven’s voice made you fight against an instinctive need to squirm and shift. You become hyper aware of his presence: the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes, the landscape of his hands as he deftly turns the pages, calloused fingertips rasping softly across each page. The dark curls that spill over onto his forehead and the shells of his ears. 

“...pressed me down onto my knees. In front of me was the bulge of his cock beneath his trousers. Before today, I had never seen a cock except as illustrations in books on anatomy, and while there had been many naked men also being prepared alongside me in the pleasure servant’s hall, I had been too shy to look at them. All of the sudden, between my thighs, I felt the nudge of his foot. It startled me, it’s presence so close to my aching core only served to remind me of how sharp my need was. When he lifted his foot, bringing the surface of his polished boot against the curls of my sex, more tears slipped from my eyes. I wanted to writhe against it, to rub my cunt along it until I reached my peak, like I was no more than an animal at his feet. 

‘You will undress me. The belts and buckles can be quite intricate. I will be patient with you, but you will devote yourself to learning how to undo them and how to be graceful as you do. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, my Prince.’ 

‘Go on then.’ 

But as soon as my fingers reached up to brush the buttons just beneath his throat, he lifted his foot again, nudging my cunt with it. I jolted at the zap of pleasure, my face feeling on fire with shame and arousal. Slowly, but with purpose, he began to rock the surface of his boot against me, dragging it along the lips of my cunt, parting them with its blunt force…” 

“Jesus,” you mutter, laughing. Your voice sounds far too breathy to pass as unaffected. 

Steven immediately looks to you, his face riddled with concern. Your face feels as hot as the Princess’s likely did, beneath his soft, worrying gaze. “Alright, love? Perhaps we should—” 

“I’m alright,” you assure him. “Please go on—I have to see what happens next.” 

Steven looks unsure but turns his gaze back to the book. He mutters: where was I—ah—

“...parting them with its blunt force. I knew that if he drew his foot away now, my own wetness would be visible on its surface, slicker than any polish he could have used. My hands fumbled on the buttons, and he gave a cool, low warning: 

‘If you do not undress me within the next three minutes—or if you come without my permission—I will tie you soundly to the posts of the bed and let you hang there all night for my viewing, until I fall asleep. Do you understand?’

I could not help but shake, fresh tears wetting my cheeks. What would be worse, to find my release against his boot like a baseless whore, to be strung up like a tapestry at the end of his bed, looking down on his handsome sleeping figure for the rest of the night, or not receiving any pleasure at all? For a moment, I thought to disobey him, to accept the risks and grind myself against his boot until I found my pleasure. But a strange little part of me wanted badly to obey him, to see his rare smile, to see if there was any way I could coax a word of praise or fondness from his full lips. 

Determined, I set about undoing the buttons…” 

You let out a slow, measured breath, searching for your own inner strength just the way the Princess had—and then it all crumbles when you glance downward and see that beneath his boxers, Steven is hard. There is no denying the way his cock strains the fabric. The sight of his arousal has you groaning in the back of your throat. You shift to flop down flat on the bed by his seated figure instead of leaning against him. His words stutter at your movement, glancing away from the page to watch and ensure that you’re alright, but then it is his turn to suck in a shocked breath. 

All from the sight of you slipping your hand beneath your panties. You knew you were wet, but it is a little obscene just how wet you are, your fingers sliding through the folds of your sex, slipping frictionlessly over your swollen clit. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Steven says. For a moment, you thought he had continued the book. His voice had dropped low and sultry the way it had when he was speaking the Prince’s lines, but a glance up at him shows that his eyes are nowhere near the pages of smut. They are focused on where your fingers move, finer motions disguised beneath the soft cotton fabric. 

“Keep reading?” you ask him breathlessly. 

“Keep—at a time like this?” 

You laugh. Sitting up briefly, you pull your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts to him before collapsing back down against the soft comforter. There is still a burning exhaustion that tugs at your lids, but now you burn in other places. When you reach down to slip your fingers past the last bit of fabric that shields you from his gaze, he lets the book fall flat against his chest.

You halt your fingers, only the tips disappeared beneath the waistband. 

“Steven—read.” 

Steven sighs. He wets his lips and—with great reluctance—picks up the book. Pausing, he reaches back to the headboard again, his hand searching blindly. When he finds his reading glasses, he slips them into place. God, those glasses. The way his mouth curls tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you by putting them on. 

“Where—Determined, I set about undoing the buttons. My fingers felt clumsy and as if they were not my own. I was a lady, I was certainly used to all manners of buttons and facets on my gowns, but by the way I fumbled to reveal each inch of his tan chest, you would have thought it was my first time encountering them. I tried to keep my mind in the present, my eyes set firmly upon my task, but the Prince began softly rocking his boot against me once more, and a pitiful, embarrassing sound escaped my parted lips. 

He pushed my fingers away and fastened up two of my hard-earned buttons. 

‘Each sound you make sets you back,’ he said, his eyes both cruel and soft at once as he took in the sight of my struggle against my own pleasure. ‘You may groan with your mouth closed, but if you part your lips, I will gag you soundly. Nod if you understand.’

I nodded immediately. 

‘Two minutes,’ he reminded me. I set myself to my task once more, this time with a bit more dexterity. Button after button fell away beneath my hands, even as the Prince’s soft leather boot stroked at my aching cunt, even when he drew it back to let the gently-curved tip of it drag over my swollen clit. I was trembling everywhere except for my hands now, tugging his shirt free from his trousers before turning to the little fastens at his cuffs.

With dread, I felt my end approaching. Never before had I been so fearful of my own pleasure! And I do mean fearful of it, and not just of the Prince’s consequences. What did it mean if I let myself find release like this, making a spectacle of myself? What would my family think, or any of the lords and ladies of my own kingdom? Even the commoners would find me shameful! But my body did not seem to mind at all the circumstances of my pleasure. 

‘Half a minute,’ he laughed. My fingers had gone still for a moment, lost in pleasure and shame all at once. Thirty seconds, and he was still more than half dressed! I knew then what my fate was to be; tied to the bedposts until dawn, tormented by the handsome Prince. What difference did it make, then, if I let myself find release, except that perhaps I might be a fraction less uncomfortable in my bondage. 

So I took up the task again, but half-heartedly, instead beginning to work my hips against the pressure of his boot, trying to keep my motions subtle. It seemed to be working, for the Prince did not stop me, and I am sure that he would have if he suspected I was pleasuring myself. With more than ten seconds to spare, I felt my release build within me. 

And just as it broke over me, just as my cunt gave the first exquisite clench, the Prince withdrew his boot and pushed me off of my knees onto my bottom and further, my elbows colliding with the cold stone floor. I cried out, though the little fall had not hurt me. Fast as a snake, he kneeled down between my thighs and spread them, spread them so far apart that the muscles ached, that I felt the cool air of the room on my burning cunt. 

‘I see you have no manners,’ the Prince said wryly as I writhed and wept, my cunt clenching and unclenching, feeling so very empty. The brief crest of pleasure was ruined, I felt only an unsatisfying burn in my sex, my clit still hard as one of the rubies that encrusted the broach that had held the Prince’s jacket together at his throat, my juices dripping from my entrance and smeared along my trembling thighs.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe, fingers working yourself over. Already you feel your own end approaching, and there is no cruel Prince to stop you from letting it crest, your breath stuttering and then stopping altogether as your body tenses, holds the tension for an immeasurable moment. You cry out, strumming with soft, rapid strokes over your clit, making sure to wring every bit of pleasure from your peak. By the time your body begins to soften, breaths slowing, you realize that long ago Steven had stopped reading. 

Glancing to him, you see the book laying abandoned on his trim chest. One of his hands is down massaging the bulge in his boxers, his touch revealing the shape of his hard length beneath the fabric. He looks desperate, voice rough like the Prince’s when he says: “You drive me mad. You know that?” 

You feel butterflies in your belly. Withdrawing your hand from your panties, you roll onto your knees and offer him the wet, pruning fingers. His mouth opens, sweet and pliant as you rest them on his tongue, his eyes going half-lidded as he sucks them clean of your slick. 

“You would make a perfect pleasure servant,” you tease him. He huffs a laugh around your fingers. “How about a reward, hm? A reward for such a good boy.” 

He groans now, looking as cross as he does aroused. When you pull your digits free, he says: “No teasing, love. My cock is so bloody hard, it hurts.” 

“Can I suck it?” 

“Can you—what, like I’d ever say no?”

[urfavsimpingfanficwriter]

Hi!! If you don’t mind, do you think you could write one of those nsfw alphabet things for Jareth? (If not that’s okay<3) I can’t find anything smut wise for him and I’m currently obsessed with labyrinth (again)😭😭

Of course!!! I’m literally obsessed over both Jareth and those NSFW alphabet posts rn! Also, thank you for requesting stuff! It helps so much with writer's block lol.

Warnings: Obviously, smut; oral sex; semi-public sex mentions; breeding kink;

A= Aftercare (what they are like after sex)

I think Jareth would be so sweet and caring after sex. He would praise you, and run you a warm bath, or, if you are both too tired, he will just softly clean you up and make sure you are comfortable and leave you to sleep. He would always care about you before him. 

B= Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Okay, so he would obviously love every inch of you, every perfection and imperfection. However, his favorite parts of your body would definitely be your thighs (and everything in between obviously), and your eyes. He loves how you look at him, even if it isn’t sexual, he just loves that someone looks at him with that kind of admiration and love. He loves your thighs because he loves leaving little kisses and nibbling on them watching you squirm. He loves both his mouth, due to how good he can make you feel with it, and his hands, for the same reason. If you can’t tell, everything he does he does for your pleasure.

C= Cum (pretty much anything to do with cum)

I find Jareth to be a pretty clean guy, giving him being a literal king, so he doesn’t try to make a mess. He will either cum inside you (if you are comfortable with it) or in his hand. He won’t really cum in your mouth, and won’t on your face, unless you say you want him to. Again, all about your pleasure babe. Your cum however, he would love to lick your come off his fingers (don’t ask why, he just would), and clean you up with his tongue if you aren’t too overstimulated.

D= Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

So, he obviously watched you for quite a while before you were sent to the labyrinth or the castle, depending on the situation, and he obviously tried to give you as much privacy as he could. However, he occasionally would watch you change or masturbate. He just couldn’t help it. He never told you, and trust me, he never will. 

E= Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they are doing?)

This is controversial, but I don’t think he would be super experienced. Like, at all. He obviously knows what he is doing, and is good at it, but given his entire role as a goblin king, living in a whole fantasy world, where you have to be wished away or wish someone away to get there, he isn’t getting a lot of bitches. The ones he sets his eyes on usually don’t get past the labyrinth, and if they do, they are usually kind of scared of him by that point (which I get, but also I would fold so fast), so they usually take the person they wished away and leave. He was just lucky you decided to stay and be goblin royalty in his kingdom. 

F= Favorite Position (goes without saying what this means)

Jareth wants to see your face no matter what, so stuff where you are turned away from him is a no-go. He usually defaults to missionary, as it leaves him in a good amount of control, but still allows him to see that gorgeous face of yours. If you insist he will let you ride him, as long as you face him, and only if you practically beg him. He is very insistent that he is the one on top, but he will make exceptions for you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious or humorous in the moment?)

He is not usually ever ‘funny’ when having sexs with you. He sees it as a purely passionate moment. He, no matter how soft or rough, sees sex as ‘love making’. If you make a joke, trying to get comfortable, break tension, or just think of a good joke in the moment, he will 100% at least chuckle with you. But usually? Very serious.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He isn’t going to be bald down there or anything, but he will try to keep himself trimmed up. He is just as brightly blond down there as he is up top. He will most likely just have a patch just above his privates. (Also, he would 100% have a happy trail, just saying)

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Super intimate the entire time. From start all the way to aftercare. He is always a romantic (and very dramatic) no matter if it was spontaneous, or if you guys had discussed having sex before hand. He will make sure to escort you to wherever you are having sex (most likely his bed). He will lead you by hand or maybe even carry you like the pure gentleman he is. Plenty of kisses, and plenty of ‘I love you’s. He will make it the most romantic thing that has ever happened to you, and will be so god damn proud of himself for it.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate? How often?)

He tries not to, but if you aren’t in the mood, or if you aren’t available, he will. He will do it very quickly, and very privately. He hates having to do it, but he can’t just leave the problem there, so he does if he must. And trust me, he thinks of only you when he does.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jareth, to your surprise, isn’t an extremely kinky person. I think if you brought anything up to him, he would try it at least once. However, he only is really into slight bondage, like holding your hands so you can’t move them, or something like that. He does however have a huge breeding kink. It isn’t really about getting you pregnant, even though I think he would love to have a family with you, but it’s more about just watching himself drip out of you. It makes him go crazy.

L= Location (favorite places to do it)

He is a simple man (not really but just go with it), and he mainly just likes to do it in his bed. It is the most comfortable, and it is just easiest that way, but his throne is another place he adores doing it with you on. He will send all of the goblins away if he can’t stand it anymore, and make you see stars while never leaving his throne. He usually just has you ride him while he is sitting on his throne, but he also loves it when you ride his thigh while sitting in his lap. He loves how a wet patch forms on his pant leg. It really gets him going, however prepare for him to make you cum at least twice.

M= Motivation (what gets them going/what turns them on)

Whenever you get flustered or angry for any reason. Obviously, he hates you being upset, but you look amazing telling someone off, even if it’s him. It reassures him that you will be okay on your own here, but also, it makes him wild. Sometimes, he purposefully makes you flustered just to see you stumble over your words trying to tell him off. (he always apologizes with kisses, or more, afterwards).

N= No (something they wouldn’t do/ Hard no’s)

He wouldn’t do something that would inherently harm you, even if you say you like it. He would never hit you beyond maybe a little spanking here and there. He also wouldn’t do anything CNC, he just can’t do it. He doesn’t like roleplaying adult minor situations (due to him not being a pedo), and won’t do anything to do with a knife/blood kink. He loves you and your body too much to think he is actually hurting you. Anything else he will try at least once though<3

O= Oral (do they prefer giving? Receiving? Skill level?)

Jareth definitely prefers giving, but will gladly accept receiving as well. He loves seeing you squirm with his head in between your thighs, all those little noises you make. He almost could get off completely just doing that. Although, he won’t refuse you giving him head. He loves how good your mouth feels around him, but he would very much prefer his head being crushed by your thighs. Also, if you couldn’t already guess, he is fantastic. He will make you cum multiple times just using his mouth. Notice how I said he will and not he could. Yeah, he is going to be down there for a bit, loving every second of it. 

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

It really depends on both his mood, and the circumstances leading up to the moment to predict whether he is going to be fast, rough, or slow. If he had a bad day, he will just plow into you as fast and rough as he can, although to compensate for him being rough, he will whisper little praises in your ear. If he has a very good day, he will go more slowly, still keeping a decent pace, and give you little kisses all along your neck, chest, and face. If you ask him to, or if you are close, he will quicken his pace, or go a little more rough.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t against them, they just don’t end up being very ‘quick’, more-so just spontaneous. If you are having sex, he is going to make you cum multiple times, so there is nothing stopping very quickly after it starts with him. 

R= Risk (are they game to experimenting? Do they take risks?)

Jareth will experiment with pretty much anything you ask him to unless it is in his ‘hard no’s’ category. He would be willing to take you in the goddamn labyrinth if you had asked him to, no matter what creatures and monsters may happen upon you two. So, yes, he would 100% be willing to take as many risks as possible just to make you feel good.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go? How long do they last?)

He is literal magic. He is fae. He can last as long as he wants. If he can tell you are getting worn out, or if he just wants to cum, he will allow himself to. Time wise, he can go at minimum three-four rounds, however if you aren’t too tired or overstimulated he can go for so many more. 

T= Toys (do they own any toys? Do they use them? On a partner? On themselves?)

I don’t think he would own any, as he can get the job done perfectly fine without them, but if you owned any and wanted him to use them on you he would be happy to(he might be a bit bitter about it since he is a drama queen but he will get over it). I don’t think he would ever use them on himself, though.

U= Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

Are you kidding me? Have you ever seen him interact with anything/anyone ever? He will tease you the entire time until you are begging and screaming for him to let you cum. He loves to give you pleasure, but he has to have a little fun, doesn’t he? 

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I don’t see Jareth as being particularly loud. He will probably just make little grunting noises, and if you are lucky, you will get a small whimper out of him

W= Wild Card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has completed untouched just by giving you head multiple times. The first time he was slightly embarrassed, but after you reassured him it was fine, he was fine with it, and it became a ‘praising’ tool for him to praise you with. Example: “See how good you make me feel just from watching you princess?”

X= X-Ray (let’s take a peek under those clothes)

Have you seen his bulge in the movie? Now, he is obviously big, I would say probably 7-8 inches, (maybe more since this is a literal fantasy world) and pretty girthy. Definitely not lacking in any department, if you catch my drift.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a pretty high sex drive, but he can keep it under control for the most part. He is willing and happy to have sex whenever and wherever, all you have to do is ask!

Z= Zzz (how fast do they fall asleep afterwards?)

After aftercare, and after he makes sure you are comfortable and sleeping, he falls asleep decently fast. Probably within a good 10-15 minutes after you fall asleep, if he doesn’t have any duties to perform as king.

[sehtoast]

Yearning (Homelander x OC)

18+ | 4.5k, yearning, slow-ish burn, spidersona oc, conqueror!au homelander, description of a corpse, pre-relationship pining, shared shower, first kiss, mild-ish smut, thigh riding, web-hole oral, finger sucking, 'i love you's, hurt/comfort | Fic Directory

gif by @blindmagdalena

He is the one who makes Homelander want to change everything. He is the one who brings warmth to these cold ruins, who smiles sunshine over this ashen world. He, who captured the heart of the god of death and destruction, is life and rejuvenation. 

He is kindness. Light. Peace.

He is the god of love, and he is everything to the god of death. 

He is the calming stillness that greets bloodied, shaking hands. He is the balm that soothes the ache, the water that quenches the agonizing thirst. He is the hand that pulls souls from the rubble of fury and pain and breathes relief into their lungs. 

He is simply Benjamin, and Homelander has no idea how he ever survived without him. 

Who would he be if those eyes hadn't cried on him the first time he delivered death in their presence? Who would he be without the hand that holds his while he judges the unworthy? How many lives have been spared simply because Benjamin was in the room? 

Too many. Far, far too many. God has softened his grip on his kingdom. 

And yet, they've not even shared their first kiss. Since his adventure in the other world, Homelander has always known they were destined to be together. They were a force transcending their own universe. He just had to wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

He had to show Benjamin that there was something inside of him worth loving. That he was more than a reaper, more than pain. 

There was love inside, buried so very deep– but it was there. 

It is there. 

He demands only the best for his Benjamin.  The best food, the best drinks, the best clothing and bedsheets.  He even has his own room in the tower.  A new, special super suit tailored to compliment his own.  The boy didn’t understand at first.  Why in the world would he lavish such things upon his assistant?  

Because he was more than that, obviously.  He was more than a footstool, more than a blood bag, more than meat meant to do his bidding.  Benjamin had heard the rumors surrounding the comings and goings of those who came before him, but the position paid exceptionally well and he was drowning in a world of financial misery.  He was prepared to be a doormat for the rest of his days just to get by, but he was surprised one day to find his debts wiped away.  Student loans settled, transition related surgeries paid off– his fucking credit score at a perfect 850 all within one week’s time of starting his new job.

When he expressed his glee about such an odd and godsent occurrence, Homelander simply winked at him.

By all means, he could quit this daunting job and focus on his heroics, but something stops him.  Not the material things, not the gifts or the rush of power when he realizes that the god of this world has chosen him as his favorite– no, none of that.

It’s when that god looks at him with big, doe-like eyes that he feels something telling him to stick around.  The first time Homelander ever took his hand, Ben knew something in that man needed him.  Maybe it was the tremble in his touch, or the overwhelmingly sad look in his eyes, but Ben decided to stay for Homelander.

Every day, they grew closer.  Every day, Benjamin chipped away at an exterior made of steel, revealing bits and pieces of a scared, lonely, pained man underneath.  God may rule his kingdom, but he is alone.  

Well, he was alone.

He’s not anymore.  When it all hurts too much, he knows where to go.  He doesn’t have to turn a town into a crater or eviscerate a gaggle of non-believers; he can go to Benjamin.  He can float down to that window and find a warm heart that will shield him from the pain.  He’ll find a shoulder to lay his head on and a hand to hold.

The next day, he’ll realize he’d miraculously fallen asleep, and the boy did everything possible to make him comfortable. Removed his boots, detached his eagle epaulets, tucked a blanket around him.  Then, beside him on the floor, he’ll peer down and find Benjamin sleeping peacefully.

He’ll feel something akin to pain tugging at his heart, but it’s more than that.  It’s so much more.

He’ll wake the boy with a thumb stroking at his cheek and a smile fit to melt glaciers. 

“Wake up, little spider…”

 He feels privileged to lay beside him in any capacity, though he wishes his lovely Benjamin hadn’t slept on the floor.  Homelander realizes that he wants to see those beautiful brown eyes flutter open every morning for the rest of his life.

Sometimes they would run around the city together.  Ben would swing while he followed closely behind.  They would make it a game of chase, or sometimes just a simple race.  They liked to hang out on top of the Queensboro Bridge, on the tower overlooking the decimated ruins of Rikers.  Mostly, though, they enjoyed the perches of the Chrysler Building at night time.  Sometimes they talked about everything.  Other times, they just enjoyed the silence and each other.

Regardless of location, Benjamin would hold his hand.  He never mentions the tremble, never laughs at how nervous it all makes him.  Instead, he asks–

“Are you cold?”

He snorts a laugh.  He’s full of padding and has enough V pumping hot through his veins to kill most supes.  Is he cold?  

What a beautiful thing to be asked.

“Are you?” He counters.  He’s thrilled when the bug nods.  Thrilled to pull him closer, arm around his shoulder, eyes cooking up a faint glow. 

“Trust me?”  He asks.  

Benjamin looks at him with raised brows, clearly a little nervous at the idea.  

“I– Yeah.  Yeah, I trust you.”

He has the bug tilt his head back and he flickers the weakest beam of heat he’s ever conjured over various parts of his body. The moan of contentment sends a shiver down his spine and it took a titanic level of self control not to focus that beam of heat right between his legs.  It’s the first time he’s ever used his powers for something so… gentle.

 Ben ends up in his lap before long.  He’s thankful for the cup in his suit. 

He wakes the next day in Benjamin’s room.

In his bed.

Beside him.

Clad in only his briefs, he slides a leg through their shared warmth beneath the blankets until he can hook it around one of Ben’s.  They did nothing more than sleep beside each other, but it’s the most intimate feeling in the world to him.

He’s never slept better before in his entire life.

A lopsided grin spreads across his face and he snuggles up close to his little spider.  An arm around his waist confirms he, too, is only in his underwear.  He dances a thumb in circles over a hipbone.  It’s the most he dares to do.  

Ben is a heavy sleeper and a late riser.  Even the sun blasting through the curtains isn’t enough to rouse him.

He dozes off once more.

There comes a day when he finally snaps.  Some nuisance in the staffing department combined with too many unwanted, painful flashbacks in one day, and it leads to a bloody mess painting an office.

He wants to eviscerate whoever called Benjamin in to fucking handle it.  

He’d lingered too long, remained at the scene– but what other choice did he have?  Run the risk of his little spider seeing him like this?

As fate would have it, neither choice would spare him the shame.

Benjamin walks in and his eyes go wide.  Homelander swears he sees fear, horror, disappointment, disgust– everything he’s never wanted to see reflected in those precious brown eyes.

He tries to speak, reach out a hand, anything– but he doesn’t want to scare him.

The body on the floor is torn in two.  The head of it is a pulpy pile of muck just mere feet away.

What were they thinking, sending Benjamin in here?  Worse yet, what is he thinking when he takes a step inside?  There’s blood everywhere.  It stains the white soles of his shoes the second he comes closer.

And closer.

Closer.

Homelander steps back with each of Ben’s movements.  His chest heaves with frantic breaths.

It’s not supposed to be like this!  He’s good!  He’s good, he’s good, he’s good– he’s not bad!  He’s– He’s tried so fucking hard to be good!

His back presses against a bookshelf.  He can feel the heat radiating from his own eyes and it must feel so hot as Ben comes even closer.

“It’s okay,” he reassures.  “It’s just us.  It’ll be alright, Johnny.”

Johnny. 

Oh, how he loves that name.  Loves to hear it, loves to be called it, loves to know he’s still worth being called something so wonderful.

When his little spider slips his stained gloves off and grasps his bare hands, he crumbles.  It’s the first time he’s ever cried in front of him.

“Please don’t hate me…”

He even falls to his fucking knees.  It’s so much worse when Ben follows him down.

He hides his face against Ben’s neck.  He remembers the day he dematerialized in the other world.  How the Benjamin there hugged him through the panic, through the fear.  Told him what he needed to hear.

Just like his Ben is doing now.

“I could never hate you.”

He hates himself for crying harder.

There is no lecture for what he’s done.  There’s tears– his own and Ben’s– but the bug doesn’t torture him with talk of why he was wrong, why he shouldn’t have done it, nothing.

Ben leads him out into the hallway.  Has Homelander keep his eyes locked on him as they make their way to the elevator.  They ascend higher and higher.  Ben keeps his hand pressed to the back of Homelander’s neck.  Comforting and grounding.  The fingers that dance through the bloody, sticky nape of his neck are even more so.

It’s not the penthouse that Benjamin brings him to, but rather his own apartment.

“Let’s get you out of that, okay?” 

His pride goes up in flames when Ben sees his body for the first time.  

His totally unsculpted, normal body.  A far shot from what the suit makes him look like.

But the bug doesn’t say anything about it.  Doesn't make any faces. Just collects the soiled material and tosses it into a laundry basket.

Homelander sits nearly naked and vulnerable on the seat of the toilet.

Ben turns the shower on and offers him privacy, but he’s so quick to snag him by the wrist and wordlessly beg him to stay.

There’s still a light tremble in Ben’s hand.  He hates himself for causing it.

“How do you wanna do this?”  Ben asks him. 

He chews his lower lip and casts his gaze down to the floor.  Curse him and all of his stupid fucking inhibitions; he always goes quiet when the bad things happen.

“Do you want me to just sit in here?”  Ben gives him a moment to nod.  

He doesn’t. 

 “Do you want me to– I mean, I can get in and help if that’s what you need.”

He gives the weakest confirmation.

“Please…” 

Homelander has peeked under Ben’s clothes countless times– seen him naked and writhing in the other world– but the sight of him so close is… He’s breathtaking.  Homelander’s praying he doesn’t end up hard from the sight of him stripped down to his underwear.  

Benjamin offers for him to keep his briefs on, but he takes them off before stepping in.  Might as well.

The bug keeps his underwear on, but little is left to the imagination when the water soaks the fabric.  Homelander shuts his eyes to keep himself under control.

His mind runs with the image anyway.  With the touches to his bloodied face and neck, the scratches to his scalp.

Benjamin washes him with such care.  He tries to return the favor and he’s so damn clumsy about it that he’d kick his own ass if he could.

Just the same as the bug did for him, he lathers a soft cleanser over his face and neck.  Rubs it in little circles, thumbs it over his cheekbones, into his brows and onto his forehead.  Ben’s eyes are closed.

He still trusts him even after what he saw.

Washing his hair is a joy in and of itself.  Sudsing up those brown locks, combing through them with his fingers, shaping them into weird styles.  The giggle from his little spider brought the first smile to his face since Ben had found him.

He cleans Ben’s hands of dried blood, too.  Even tries his best to get it all out from underneath his nails.  Benjamin doesn’t deserve to be stained with his sins.  The god of death should never tarnish the god of love.

The god of death should never tarnish the god of love.

And yet, he’s leaning in anyway.  Some flicker of confidence, some bubble of courage to do it– but he can’t.

He can’t ruin this sweet boy with his love.

He rests their foreheads together instead.  Shuts his eyes and lets the water flow over them.  It won’t run cold– Vought Tower has tons of hot water– but they stay there long enough that it should’ve.

Ben dries him.  Dresses him in his own clothes.  They’re so soft… They smell so nice– like him.  The shirt is a little tight, but he doesn’t mind.  Not when it’s Ben’s.  

They lay on the bed together.  Neither says a word.  Neither needs to.

Ben ends up ordering food from the staff chefs.

“You gotta eat something, pumpkin.”  He tells him.

Pumpkin.

That’s what the other Ben always called his Homelander.

“Here,”  the bug holds up a fork wound tight with pasta.  Somehow it looks more appetizing than the identical bowl Homelander had been reluctantly poking at.  Probably had more to do with the person offering it than anything else.  “It won’t bite.  Promise. That's your job.”

He leans in and takes the bite with downcast eyes.  

“Attaboy!”

But that… That makes his eyes go wide and his cheeks flush.  Maybe he should eat his food after all.  

Their conversations lead into an explanation of what happened earlier.  He tells it as simply as he can.

He got overwhelmed.  A bad, bad day.  A horrible day.  And then some fucking meeting happened and he saw red when the employee made an offhand, snarky comment.

Ben nods along until the end.  He doesn’t interrupt Homelander.  Doesn’t critique or shun him.  He just listens.

Nobody’s ever done that before.  Nobody but him.  Madelyn would have put her foot up his ass in some form or another.  Same with Maeve.  Stan would’ve torn him down bit by bit.  Vogelbaum would’ve ordered corrective measures…

Ben just listens.

“Next time,” his little spider takes his hand.  “Just find me instead.”

What?

“We can handle it together, y’know?”

He doesn’t know what to do with that at all.

A week later, he's lounging in Benjamin's room while the web-head practices playing his guitar. He's never been one for music, but Ben's playing is incredibly soothing. 

“Any words to that one?” He asks out of the blue. 

“Yeah, but I can't sing for shit.” Ben hums a laugh. 

“Doubt that,” Homelander sighs. “You're you. You can do anything.”

Ben looks at him with a bashful grin, but Homelander's eyes are shut and he doesn't see. 

“Alright, you asked for it.” He strums a slow chord progression.

“I thought that I had everybody by my side.” 

“Then I went and blew it, all sky high.” 

“And now she won't even spare a passing glance.”

Homelander peeked over in excited anticipation. 

“All because I… RIPPED MY PANTS!” 

Ben breaks out into giggles over a joke Homelander's certainly not in on, but strums away nonetheless. He doesn't sing along, but his laughter was music enough. 

“I don't get it,” he deadpans when the playing stops. 

“Ehh, after your time.” Ben winks. “Not that you're old or anything. It's from SpongeBob. It's funny, trust me.” 

“Christ.” John groans. “If you say so.”

Ben sets the instrument down with a wide smile on his face and plops onto the bed by Homelander. 

“Cute when you're confused.” Ben says casually, but his eyes widen and his cheeks flush the second he realizes what he said. “S-Sorry, I mean–” 

“Oh, really?” Homelander props himself on his elbow to look directly at his little spider. His grin cuts from ear to ear, thrilled beyond measure at such a slip up. “What's cute about me, huh?” 

Ben shakes his head and giggles bashfully. “It's– I meant–” 

“Ben, Ben, Benny, Ben, Ben,” he sing-songs. “C'monnnnn, make me feel as cute as you say I am!”

Benjamin's blush grows deeper, turning his cheeks a beautiful crimson. 

“I dunno, you just– you get a cute little half smile but you hide it quickly. But it’s always so genuine and I just think it’s cute.”

“Mmm, tell me more.” He teases.  Truth is, he fucking loves hearing this from Ben.  Cute is a good thing.  He’d rather hear sexy or handsome, of course, but this is still a fucking amazing sign.  And that blush?  Now that was cute.  “When else am I cute?”

He cages Ben on the bed with his arm when the bug tries to wiggle free.  He grins at the bubbly laughter from his little spider.  Homelander could hold him in place like this all day and never tire.  He’d have to fess up.  

“C’mon, Benjamin!  Earn your freedom.”

“I– Johnny!”  He whines.  “Fiiiiine.”  Ben stills himself with a deep breath.  He tries to ignore how close they are.  “You just are, y’know?  You have cute eyes and a cute nose.  Your hair is really nice and you have a pretty smile– when you’re smiling for real.”

“Oh, you flatter me!” Homelander lilts.  There’s a part of him– same as the day Benjamin cleaned him of blood– that feels guilty for what he’s pushing for, but he can’t stop.  He’s practically hovering over Ben at this point.  Faces mere inches apart.

He could kiss him right now and–

The bug’s phone goes off loudly in his pocket.  Normally it’s muted, but…

“Sorry, I gotta–  I was expecting this.  Sorry.”

Homelander leans back and gives him space to answer.  From the sound of it, it’s that nephew of his asking for advice for something that could’ve fucking waited until literally any other time.

He rolls onto his back and huffs in disappointment.  Homelander listens loosely to the conversation.  Homework help.

He has half a mind to ban homework.

Maybe he made too loud of a sound, because Ben reaches back and ruffles his hair and shoots him an apologetic smile.

Seems like every time he thinks they might finally seal everything with a kiss, something stupid happens.  It’s like fate, no matter how clear it seems that they should be together, demanded that they wait.  If it’s not interruptions, it’s his inhibitions.  A fear that one wrong move would undo months of… god, could he even call this work?

Some time passes, with Ben droning on about some weird literary rule, and then it’s silent.

“Sorry,” Ben tells him once again. “Kid took an honors class but he’s kind of terrible at the subject.”

He knew a little about Ben’s family.  Not much, but enough.

“No, that’s– you’re fine.”  He sputters.  God, did he act too mad about it? 

“Thanks, but still.  Now, where was I?”  Ben huffs a laugh and assumes the same position as before, only this time he’s the one leaning over Homelander.  Not as close as before, but it’s…

The fact he went back for it drives Homelander mad.

“Cute things, cute things…” he muses as he scans Homelander's face.  “Here,” he taps his index finger to Homelander’s upper lip, tracing over the length of it.  “The right side flares up just a liiiittle bit more than the left.  That’s cute, t–”

Oh, fuck– fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

He did it without even thinking.  Without a fucking second of hesitation, no– god, no he shouldn’t have.  But it was right fucking there and his body just did it.

He’d taken the tip of Ben’s finger in his mouth.  Laved his tongue over it and suckled firm just once before realizing what he’d done.

His lips are locked tight against Ben’s knuckle, but he dares not move an inch.

“That’s… huh.”  

At least he doesn’t sound mad.

“Is this your way of showing off to me?”

And that sounded like a fucking flirt.

Does that mean… does that mean he should keep it in there?  Does that mean it’s okay?  His eyes flutter open just the tiniest bit to find a warm, fascinated smile.  

He tastes so good.  So, so fucking good.  Every taste of stolen underwear in the world paled in comparison to him here, now, like this.  There’s something about his… his skin.  The taste of it.  The scent.  The slightest flare of his nostrils and he picks up something… something amazing.

He grasps Ben’s wrist and his thumb rolls over that spinneret and he knows exactly what that scent is, that taste…

There’s fucking pheromone glands in there.

Among other things, as indicated by Ben's reaction… 

He realizes it's a fucking erogenous zone, too.

“O-Oh,” the web-head gasps.  His mouth is agape with heavy breaths, his eyes are dilating.  All that from one touch of Homelander’s thumb.  “Y-You– Ah!”

He has every opportunity to pull away, to rip that finger from Homelander’s mouth and jump right off the bed.  Hell, he could even cling to the ceiling for distance– but he doesn’t.

Homelander sucks his finger in just a little deeper, presses the pad of his thumb just a little harder.  Ben’s noises make him harden in his suit.

Their eyes lock and he knows.

Over the intense pheromone release of the spinneret, he can smell it.  Benjamin is wet– no. 

He's fucking drenched. 

Homelander can practically hear each little throb of his pussy, each near-silent squelch of slick between his ravenous walls.

“Johnny…”

The way Ben whispers his name with such a shaky breath sends a jolt right between his legs.  He wants to return the feeling tenfold.  Wants to see Ben feel just as fucking good as his mere presence makes him feel.

He slips the finger free and pulls Ben’s spinneret flush to his lips.  He pecks sweet little kisses at the edge of it, watching the smaller openings flare around the larger slit.  His arm has found its way around Ben’s waist to keep him close– a nice little way to realize his hips have started to grind against the bed.  He shuffles Ben’s body just enough to wedge a thigh between his legs.

“O-oh my god…”  Ben’s face falls to hide against his neck and Homelander's pleased as can be at the pitchy moan sung in his ear at the first swipe of his tongue.  “That’s– k-keep going…”

He tastes so, so fucking good.

It should be a crime for something so sweet to have been kept from him.

Homelander’s hips raise to meet the minuscule press of his cup and, in doing so, he pushes his thigh against Ben’s heat.

Ben keens weakly and starts to grind against him.  The bug’s fingers seek to stroke his cheek, stuttering with every swipe, every dip of that tongue into that sweet little opening.

It’s everything– everything Homelander needs to get closer to his own release.  Not even a touch to his cock, just the knowledge, the fucking feeling of Ben getting off on him.

Because of him.

The god of death has tainted the god of love.

He gasps sharply against Ben’s wrist.  Lips have pressed to the exposed part of his neck and he’s out of his fucking mind.

Ben is kissing him.

Benjamin is fucking kissing him.

His tongue juts out and he wriggles the tip deeper into that delicious slit.  He rocks his leg up against Ben, squeezes around his waist, helps direct him to ride it out.

Drool trails down his chin, but he can’t possibly care about that.  Why in the world would he ever focus on himself when his little spider was right there?

Is this what the fates wanted?  That he should have such an enrapturing taste before their lips could meet for the first time?  Were they meant to fall into one another before such a simple act?

But he could change this!  He could.

 He could and he fucking should.

If he could stop being so fucking selfish and demanding more and more of that sugary sweet flavor, he could break away and kiss his little spider for the first time.  He could lock lips with him, savor the most simple act of love, if he could just–

The taste is torn from his mouth, leaving behind only tiny wisps of webbing.

A hand tangles in his hair and Ben’s forehead presses to his.

That hand he’s been suckling on falls to cup him through the suit and he sees stars.  His breath catches, his eyes roll back, he’s so close, he–

“Be–”

The press of softness and warmth cuts him off.  Moving against him, breaths panting between pecks, Ben kisses him with a tenderness unlike anything he’s ever known.  He’s mewling and it’s downright pitiful, but he feels everything.

He cries out open mouthed against his little spider when his orgasm hits.  His cock weeps in the confines of his suit, relieved only by the press of the hand between his legs.  Ben pants against him until a shaky moan rips from him to signal his own undoing.  Each thrusts against the other, clinging, grasping, needing.

“Johnny– oh god!” 

Homelander’s too far gone to do more than moan through his gaping mouth.  He’s ascended from hell to heaven.  

This is…

He feels so…

So warm.  So peaceful.

Where is the shame?  Where is the anticipation of being told to go?  Why hasn’t Ben rolled off of him yet?

Is this how it was always meant to feel?

Like basking in the sun, floating above the clouds, but… so much better.  He, who has graced what humanity’s ancestors believed to be the heavens, knows no height above this world could feel like this.

No solar glow nor moonlight breeze could tingle the way Benjamin’s peppered kisses do.  No sound more melodious than that huff of joyful laughter.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

And nothing in the world more powerful than those seven little words.

It takes a concentrated effort to reply through the torrent of emotion he feels.  The words come out shaky and tearful, but they come out all the same.

He’s safe enough to say it.

He can let those words fly free without fear.

“I know I’m in love with you.”

The kiss that follows is even better than the first.

[tadpoledyke]

For those of you who asked, here's the first of my lesbian knight fantasy short stories and I hope to write more.

Lady Deleilun, eldest daughter to King Meuric of Guineda. Rumours surrounded her as thick and tangled as the black locks that cascaded and bounced around her face.That her real father was a fairy king, a Kelpie, or some other terrifying otherworldly being. That she came from the peat bogs, birthed by the mud itself, and if one looked her directly in her deep brown eyes, they would sink into the ground where they stood, slowly engulfed by the warm earth. When a baby with skin like spiced mead is born to alabaster parents, people start talking.

She was never to be a reagent though. Seven years after Deleilun, when her hair was just beginning to grey, Queen Eira birthed twin boys, fair of skin and hair. Siors and Steffan would then grow up to fight. First for their father's affections, then the throne of Guineda.

This had left the young princess to spend her formative years in solitude. While the royal household slept, she would steal manuscripts to read by candlelight, curled up at her windowsill. On warmer nights, if she felt she could get away with it, she would ride into the woods on horseback with a dagger strapped to her thigh.

A lady of her calibre usually had plans of betrothment in the making the minute they procured their first blood. Often, even before that. Gangly, underdeveloped girls wedded to equally immature and awkward boys all for purse and politics. But the rumours around Deleilun kept suitors at bay. Every monarch for miles knew that no dowry was worth angering the faefolk.

That was until swordsmen on their patrols started to see an embodiment of Áine herself instead of an unrefined youth. The twigs in her hair were now more endearing than unkempt, and the whisperings of her beauty, political knowledge and charming manner were starting to outweigh any fear of fae curse. By the time Deleilun turned twenty, the proposals were coming in thick and fast.

Among the nobles from across the lands that tried, there was nobody who could spark even a flicker of interest in her eyes. With most noble ladies her age already married and bearing children, her parents were apprenhensive.

A windy autumn eve, three days to Mabon. The wine, simmered with honey and fruit of the season just as the princess liked, was flowing like water. Lords and princes from as far south as Brittany had displayed their skills with swords, bows and quills: reciting poetry in praise of their lands, themselves and the lady of their affections.

Then came the turn of Prince Cain, heir to the throne of the neighbouring kingdom. Twig-armed and squeaky-voiced, it seemed a miracle that he could even pick up a sword. With a smug smile, he began his verse.

Honor’d thy womb would be

to hold and bear mine fiery seed

Not a second did pass before Deleilun’s jewelled goblet clattered to the floor.

You wretched men with eyes like wolves!

With bile for blood!

Wine soaked into the hem of her dress, staining the soft white wool red as she strode across the court.

Where I see maiden you see meat!

You want not wives nor mothers!

Accursed is the woman who shares your bed!

Accursed is the daughter she shall then bear!

Cain reached for his sword but a steely gaze from one of his knights stayed his hand.

If you so think my womb be a coffer,

So help me God,

I shall see that it will never be filled.

this maiden betrothes herself

To the rich, wet soils

The wrinkled trees

The blossoming flowers, the babbling brooks,

sweetest of fruit that Guineda bears,

And the providence from which they come!

And thus, she shall never lay with a man!

I declare with all thee and God as my witness!

I will never lay with a man!

Meredydd inhaled sharply, trying their best to maintain a knight’s stoic expression. There was more poetry in the fair maiden’s outburst than there was in any of the verses the nobles had recited that night. And what a maiden she was too. A hallowed sight. Earth brown skin glowing with passion, fire behind her eyes and a single tear rolling down her plump rosy cheek.

This was the same girl who had regularly awoken them in the dead of night to steal candied ginger and almonds from the castle confectionery. These were more than simple midnight treats, though. They were currency to bribe the stable-hands with, should they be spotted trying to sneak her horse out.

Her face would flicker in the weak lamplight and Merydydd’s arms would ache. Sore from training, those arms would still labor. Hoisting the princess onto her horse, picking her up when she would Tumble into the creek. Over years of this midnight ritual, she had learnt to control her horse with just her legs, the way knights did to keep their hands free for weapons.

How long before I can hunt pigeons with you and the other squires then, Didkins?

We don’t hunt pigeons, your highness. You need a falcon for that and even father doesn’t have one.We shoot deer on horseback, sometimes boar and pheasant. All things you will be able to do when you stop snapping your bowstring at my arm.

Keep calling me that and I’ll keep doing it, Didkins!

She laughed and snapped her bowstring once more. And by God and all his divine creation, Merydydd could never forget that laugh.

A gentle tap on their shoulder brought the esquire back to reality. Most of the guests and the royal family had left the great hall. The torches were starting to dim, and nobody was bothering to top up their grease.

Merydydd. I am assigning you to Lady Deleilun’s quarters tonight. Inside. I know it is not customary but the King insists. After tonight…

The older knight trailed off, trying to find the proper words to describe the unspeakable

Yes, Sir. His Majesty is right to worry. Nothing men want more than a woman they can’t have.

Sir Ivor placed a heavy hand on Merydydd’s shoulder.

No blunders tonight, son. If the Lady is hurt her father will have my head.

Yes, Father.

It was just past midnight when Merydydd gently opened the heavy oak door to Lady Deleilun’s room. The first thing they sensed was the warmth from the fire, which bathed the whole room in a flickering orange light. A cool autumn breeze whistled through the gaps in the window shutters, made from beautifully carved deer antlers. Deleilun’s ladies in waiting cuddled up on a soft hay mattress on the floor, while the princess herself was fast asleep in her elaborate bed, lost within the pile of pillows, blankets and a soft bearskin for warmth. Her beloved tomcat Llew paced around the bed, yellow eyes alert to any vermin that may emerge from the walls.

The young soldier propped themselves up on the window ledge and gazed out over the castle grounds, determined not to fall asleep.

It was difficult. The fire was warm. The gentle rhythmic snores of all three ladies was comforting. Merydydd took to pinching themselves every minute or so to keep awake.

A sudden rustle and the sound of tiptoed footsteps made them start and jump from their post. They spun around, ready to draw their sword.

I thought sleep would have taken you by now, soldier.

Merydydd could not decide where to look as the firelight flickered delicately across her bare skin. The only thing that covered her was the soft veil over her hair, from which dark, curly tendrils emerged. The rest of it was in two long braids that fell over her chest.

It was hard to think of the chivalrous thing to do in this moment.

Lady Deleilun squinted a little, and then smiled softly.

Didkins?

Merydydd’s face only got redder as she approached.

Hand me that dress before I freeze my tits off. Where’s all that knightly chivalry?

She teased as her old friend rushed to grab the woolen robe she had pointed out.

Merydydd finally spoke.

Do you need the chamber pot, my lady?

Deleilun shook her head and turned around, motioning to Merydydd to lace her dress up.

They did, trying not to think about the way their fingers felt brushing against her soft skin.

I’m restless. I need to go to the chapel.

It’s not safe, your highness! There’s a reason I’m here.

Come with me then. You’re armed aren’t you?

Merydydd placed a hand on the hilt of their sword and nodded. Deleilun smiled and grabbed her Didkin’s hand before they could object. The pair crept from her room, tiptoeing down the stone steps and across a small stretch or garden to the chapel.

Deleilun knelt before the altar and quickly made a sign of the cross as Merydydd tried to light one of the old, half-melted candles. The castle had a few chapels and this one was the least used. Covered in moss and ivy, it was hardly appropriate for nobility, but she liked the solitude it provided.

He finally got a flame going and sat to the side, avoiding eye contact.

Merydydd’s training for knighthood had intensified in recent years, putting a stop to their midnight adventures. Deleilun remembered all of his complaints about the weapons the squires had to train with; purposefully made to be heavier than those used in combat. They certainly did his biceps good. The presentations of proposals had given her an excuse to look at him from afar. He had grown into a fine man of honourable stoicism.

What she saw now was the Didkin she was accustomed to. Bashful, boyish charm. Hair the colour of autumn leaves, tousled by the wind that brings them. Innumerable freckles dancing in the light of burning tallow. In contrast with his muscular frame, his face was still soft. Grey-green eyes wide, with beautiful long lashes that curled upwards like new shoots.

She sighed and turned her eyes back to the wooden cross. Symbolism of the Son of Man aside, it was a calming shape. So simple. Drawing the eyes in a repetitive motion.

Do you think I’ll miss out, Didkin? On copulation, that is.

He replied without looking up from the candle flame.

I wouldn’t know, my lady.

She raised her eyebrows.

Really? Young handsome squire like yourself?

His cheeks flushed at her compliment and he turned his face upward, away from the candlelight so as to hide it. Once it subsided, he turned to meet her expectant gaze for the first time that night.

It’s not that simple, Deleilun.

He whispered. She could not help but smile slightly at his use of her first name. Just as he used to do in the days when they would play in the paddock, muddy from spring rain. Running and tripping and rolling and wrestling, alongside the other children of the noble households and the hunting hounds.

You remember picking llygad y dydd for me? Almost every day, in the seasons that they grew. The little white ones?

He nodded.

You are a good man, Didkin. You always have been.

Didkin looked at the cross, then at Deleilun, then back at the cross.

There is something I must show you, Deleilun.

He sighed, voice quivering a little as he slowly crossed himself. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. He then stood up, kicked his boots off and started pulling his trousers and leggings off as well. Once those were off he gathered the clothing covering his top half, and lifted it up over his chest as his friend looked on, alarmed.

Goodness Merydydd what-

Look, Deleilun. Please just look.

Her eyes scanned his form, every curve and crevice more pronounced in the yellow candlelight. She was about to ask, what injury warranted the swaths of bandages around his chest, when her gaze landed in between his sturdy thighs. No phallus extended from the bramble bush of pubic hair.

Put your clothes on before you catch your death, you sheep’s dick.

Merydydd nervously put their clothes back on, never taking their gaze off Deleilun. She had turned back towards the altar, lips pursed in thought.

I’m sorry, your highness… I… should not have … I can explain …

Deleilun smiled slightly and shook her head

You can’t surprise me with much, Didkins.

Father’s mother, somewhat prophetic. Before she died, told mama she would birth a girl destined to be a knight… I suppose that’s me.

Deleilun turned to face them, grabbing both his hands.

Are you a girl though, Didkins?

Merydydd bit their lip as the princess continued

When I was born, so many thought, from the way that I looked, that I could never be my father’s daughter. Some people still fear that. Even I don’t know the truth.

He sighed.

The truth is I don’t feel a woman. But I am no man either: only as much man as it takes to pick a lady’s favourite flowers.

And teach her to ride? And handle a bow?

Deleilun added, smiling as she made little circles around his knuckles with her thumbs.

She giggled as she met eyes with the squire and pulled him closer. Merydydd smiled slightly, already feeling the rumoured pull of her peat-bog eyes.

[kiki-widow]

Kingdom

no protection, eating out, blindfolding, ice cube, blow job, riding, 

Hela g!p x reader

Helas pov The last couple of days I haven't had time to spend with my girlfriend. I was busy to fight against my brother to win over the kingdom. (We pretend that Hela had won against Thor) Nobody knows about us dating. Sure when someone would say something against it I would kill them, but for Y/N I would do anything. She didn't want to tell anyone about us. And I respected it. But that also means that we don't have much time to spend together. My girl was very understanding about what I have to do, but I know that she is sad about it too. And so I planned to make up for the last days. I was sitting on my throne and commanded my guards to bring Y/N to me. When they came back with her, I dismissed them and told them to stand on the outside of the doors and let nobody enter the room. When they were out I walked to Y/N and put her hand in mine to walk with her to the throne. There I sat her on it and gave her a gentle kiss. "What are you doing Hela?" She asked in her sweet voice. God she made me soft.

  "I will make up for the past few days with something special." I said and got on my knees. Her eyebrows furrowed as she put her hand on my arm to pull me back up. "You're a Queen. A Queen shouldn't be on her knees." I licked my lips and smirked, taking her hand away from my arm, giving it a kiss. "You are the exception." I said and gazed my fingers over her thighs. Then I pulled her cords from the front of her dress apart and ripped her dress of off her. Those action made her inhale deeply. I smirked and kissed from her knees over her thighs to her white underwear. I looked my girl in the eyes to ask her for permission which she granted with an easy nod. I pulled her panties off and put her legs over the armrests on either side. I looked on her dripping cunt and let a moan slip from my lips. The I began to kiss her pussy lips, spread them apart and began to leave kitten licks all over her. "Please my Queen, don't tease me." She said. I smiled and dived into my girls lovely part. I loved every moan and cry that slipped from her beautiful mouth. She put her hand in my hairs and pulled me closer to her. "fuck, please Hela." She moaned and throwing her head back, moaning loudly. I smirked and pushed my tongue into her pussy harder. "Fuck." She tuggend on my hair, making me moan and tongue fuck her harder. I felt her walls tighten around her and tapped her leg as signal for her to cum. Which she did, with a loud moan of my name. I licket her clean and put her legs away from the armrests pulling her up in my hands. She smiled at me and kisses my cheek, as I brought her into our bedroom. When we got there I placed her on the bed and took my clothes off, even my boxer shorts. "You can do what ever you want to me, but dont get on your knees." I said softly to her, standing in front of her. She smiled and traces my abs with her fingers, thinking. She smiled up at me and pushed me on the bed sitting on my abs with her dripping cunt. She cupped my cheeks" Do you trust me?" She asked to which I nodded. She smiled and stood up walking to our closet and coming back to me with a black blindfold in her hand. I gulped slightly but laid still. She crawled on top of me and put the blindfold over my eyes, whispering in my ear, "Ill be back in a minute." Then I heard the door closing and opening after some minutes. I felt the bed dip besides me and felt her hands on my abs. "relax." She told me. Y/N Pov I sat besides her and toke a ice cube in my mouth tracing it over her breasts, over her nipples, down her abs and down her V line till it melted. She moaned some times and put her hand in my hair. I kisses down her V line to her dick, taking it in my mouth and licking the tip. Then I took her deep in my mouth and boobed my head up and down on it going faster each second. I listened to her moans and felt her bucking her hips into me. I pulled my head off of her dick and said warningly, "dont move your hips." She whimpered and stopped moving them. I put my mouth around her dick again and deep throated her, "I-I am close." She moaned out, to which I took her dick out of my mouth again. She groaned. I pulled the blindfold off of her eyes and sat on her dick moaning as I felt her go into me, stretching me out. She looked at me wide eyed, because I never rode her. She put her hands on my hips as I rode her faster throwing my head back and moaning loudly. I felt her staring at my hips, thats why I put her hands on them letting her squeeze them as I moaned louder and rode her faster. "Fuck, I am close." I moaned at the feeling of her trusting hips up into me, as I rode her. "Me too." Some more trusts later and I came over her dick while she came into me. I collapsed on her chest and panted.

[wishingforatypewriter]

for linzolt: 23 and 52 please?

Of course! Thanks for the ask!

Prompts: 23 (carrying the other one in their arms) and 52 (gripping thigh)

Lin Beifong was perhaps more tired than she'd ever been. Between the ordeal of seeing Su again, the aftermath of the battle against the Red Lotus, and the political nightmare currently unfolding across the Earth Kingdom, she wanted nothing more than to hole up in her apartment and sleep for an era.

But instead here she was in a downtown bar, having drinks with a man she'd ended things with three decades ago.

"I missed those legs," Zolt whispered to her as he squeezed her thigh under the bar.

Lin snorted. "They're hardly the same legs you remember."

"They're even better now," he said. "You age like fine wine, Linny."

Lin rolled her eyes and took another sip of her fire whiskey, annoyed that he could still make her blush after all these years. "Is there an actual reason why you called me here?"

"You've been away," he said and lit a cigar with his fingertip. "I missed you."

"I'm still the chief of police," she said. "And you're a crime boss."

"Former crime boss."

"A fugitive from the law at any rate," she replied. "If I had any sense at all, I'd arrest you here and now."

He winked at her, wearing a familiar smirk. "How about we save the handcuffs for when we get back to your place."

"Bold of you to assume you'd get that far."

"What can I say? I'm an optimist," he said, and Lin sucked her teeth. "So what happened while you were gone?"

Lin sighed. "I'm gonna need another drink before I get into it."

After said drink arrived, she started to tell him—about Su and her kids, about Korra, about Raiko's plans to install a twenty-year-old as the interim leader of the Earth Kingdom. And all the while he listened carefully, still holding her leg, caressing her inner thigh every now and then.

"You must be exhausted," he said, once she was finished.

"You have no idea."

"How 'bout we get out of here," he said, "head back to your apartment?"

Lin regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "The only way you're coming upstairs is if you carry me."

"Is that all?" he asked, matching her incredulous look with a defiant one.

And that was how, after a short taxi ride, Lin Beifong was carried bridal style up the six flights of stairs to her apartment—protesting all the while that they were both too old for this and that his back would regret it in the morning.

Send me a prompt and I'll try writing a drabble for it

[akampana]

YOU ARE BACK!!!! *Dances like dog when owner comes back*

~~~~~~~~

I mercifully ask for prompt 1 wither Berserkerlot w Arturia.

Hypoxia

Warning/TW: this work contains choking, angst, and very heavy themes, it is below the break. (if you are the requester of this, and do not read such themes, please feel free to drop another ask.) Ship: Berserker! Lancelot x Arturia Pendragon Tags: Angst, regret Prompt: "1. I can't pretend anymore."

Arturia had long lost count of the times they ended up this way: one of his knees between her thighs, his hand locking her wrist to the floor, his fingers around her throat, the weight of his body pressing down on her, his eyes staring into hers like they were drilling holes into them. 

The burning of her lungs no longer felt painful, it felt familiar. She knew, even as she choked out his name, that her efforts would only ever anger him. There was no reasoning with a Berserker, after all, and she had never been equipped by the same hypnotic charm Ritsuka used to calm him down. Both Master and the Round Table decided to separate them when they realized Lancelot was never lucid when Arturia was around. She, particularly this version of her, was the trigger to his shotgun, and there were bound to be casualties whenever they met. 

“Lan…ce…” the king croaked, dragging her nails across the black metal at her neck. Dark spots waltzed across her vision to the sounds of her whimpers. Her consciousness was hanging by a thread, and yet the only thoughts that filled her head were of the dark-haired knight in front of her. He looked older. His hair was longer than she remembered from their time in Camelot. He used to keep it so short before…before everything. 

Arturia’s lips turned blue as the excommunicated knight tightened his grip. The darkness was beginning to cloud her vision, her imagination filling in the gaps. He used to love riding. She remembered so clearly the way he held the reins, encouraging his horse to run faster as they raced through the kingdom. His skill as a rider was in large part what made him so formidable at jousting. Lancelot would always attribute his victories to her blessing of course, which was often in the form of a blue ribbon circled around his wrist. It always made her so proud to have such a champion in her roster and such a friend by her side.

“Lan…”

The Berserker roared at her, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. Arturia recalled how brightly he used to smile. When they were younger, she’d wondered how victory tasted on the handsome man’s lips. Tavern girls seemed to enjoy its flavor so much. Of course, she never voiced those improper thoughts. Such were not fit for a king. The girl in her, however, suppressed til she was naught but a memory, wondered all the same. She’d felt his kiss on the back of her hand for years, of course the thought crossed her mind.

Arturia tasted iron as the black knight began eerily rambling her “name”. It occurred to her that she had been fighting him off, but as usual, he was stronger. He had always been. Once, when they were sparring, she admitted her insecurity at not being the mightiest despite her sitting on the throne. Smiling, he told her, “Your job is to protect the kingdom. Mine is to protect you. If you were stronger than I am, I would be doing my job quite poorly.” 

Since that day he’d injected himself into her life like poison, and there was nothing she could do but let him drag her to her demise, agonizing all the way down. Maybe the fall of her kingdom was inevitable. She’d sent it spiraling out of control when she brought the Frenchman into her service. Arturia should have turned him away. If she had, she–Gwen would never have fallen for him. She wouldn’t have chased him out into France. The throne wouldn’t have been empty, and Mordred would never have had the chance to start a coup. 

“Lancel…ot.”

The woman thrashed as air rushed through her lungs. Lancelot snapped to attention like he’d just been reset, then shuddered as he drew a breath. He blinked and his eyes were different, the snarl upon his mouth dropping into a small grimace. Meanwhile, Arturia coughed into her hands, curling to the side like a fetus. 

“My…king?” 

The salt lining her eyes finally fell. It had been so long since she last heard that voice. It was hoarser than she remembered. All that time he spent screaming her name must have taken a toll. 

Her tired hands cupped his face, deja vu granting her a vision from back when they were younger. Lancelot had defended her just like this, tackling her to the ground and taking arrows to his back. He shouldn’t look so concerned. Did he not know he swayed the hearts of many? How could she resist if he stared at her like that?

“I am deeply sorry, Lancelot,” she whispered, her throat straining as she spoke. Berserker softly brushed his fingers over the bruises on her neck, unaware that it was he that had left them. Panic began to build in his weary eyes, like it did when he was still her sworn protector. Back then, she thought he was only carrying out his job, she never imagined what Ritsuka so clearly pointed out. 

He loved her despite destiny tearing them apart. 

The mad warrior gently swept away her tears with his thumb. Arturia bit her lip, stifling her regrets before they could overwhelm her. If only she’d known his true feelings in life. They could have been so much happier. Instead, they died estranged and miserable and came back on opposite sides of a Grail War. Here in Chaldea, with how much they both hurt, their friends tried to keep them apart. Part of her believed she should bury her own feelings once more and pretend she’d never felt anything for her first knight but the other…

“I can’t pretend anymore…” the king whispered, pulling his lips to hers as she admitted the truth the girl inside of her had always known. 

_____

thank you for reading. as usual angst is what gives me life mwahahaha

i hope you guys take care. The pandemic may be on the decline, but it's still out there. Pandemic or not, I wish you all good health.

-akampana

[wispisstillverybored67]

Because Your Smile Is Like That Of An Angel

What must I say What must I do To show how much I think about freek'n you?

"Now and forevermore... Amen." I sighed, kneeling half-off my bedside. This isn't going to work... I have to be completely aware of this situation. I have to be fully safe for this. But I've never prayed in so long, I don't even know what I should say anymore... My neck is still a bit sore from last night. 

I have to flee later this morning sharp, before he wakes up. If he discovers any evidence I left behind, he'll tell our families, his friends, my publisher, and who knows who else he'll do... I have barely enough information on this place I had heard off an online article (thanks to incognito), not enough on where it is, nothing on who lives there (which I believe that there must only be some residents if I found it on a conspiracy theorist site), and I'm unsure over where this even is. But I'm gonna have to run now. If not now... then when? No, it doesn't matter. I have to face my worries. 

Hmm. How about...

"My father in heaven Hallowed by thy name Your kingdom come Your will be done Give me today the shield to flee to Food Town safely. Forgive me my sins As I forgive those who sin against me Lead me not into Romero Jisso Desjarden But deliver me to freedom Now and forever more, amen." 

I sighed again. It's about 2 am or something, I don't know anymore. I have to wake up in 3 and a half hours, and I've been kept up by this stupid thing. Because today is another day. Today is judgment day. And he didn't hear me... so that's ok. 

I took one last look at my phone, charging at my bedside. Blowing up with various pieces of mishmash. Spam emails, spam calls, a text from the dentist for a checkup, the usual stuff. Halfheartedly getting rid of them one by one, I looked like an idiot. Should I text everyone in my contacts that I won't see them again? That I'm moving away to become free from this world? Forgive me, honestly... 

Then I finally put it down again. Going to sleep with a heavy heart, my only thoughts were on this mystery place. Is it even right for me to run? I married this guy.

______________________________________________________________

The alarm quietly blared. I'm brought back from troublesome dreams to judgment day. He won't awaken until a few hours later. If he doesn't notice my presence, he'll move to a pillow to spoon. I wonder how deep he could be until he notices what he's doing. He's not a very accomplished sleepy, forgive me. Crawling out of bed, I very quickly got dressed with whatever is available in my closet. Purple shirt, beige hoodie, tie, lengthy dark brown skirt, black-thigh highs, and blue flip flops. And my typical glasses. Quickly, I opened up his wallet for a little "retribution", yanking half the money inside. Making my way to the first floor, it's where the duffel bag is hidden. 

Taking it and zipping it open, I would then stuff the wallet in it. Not much is in it, honestly. The debut album of an old rock band, a half empty pack of cigarettes, enough water to stretch for a few days, some granola bars, Tide Goes Out, a compact mirror, a pair of sunglasses, and another change of clothes. That one came from Romero, for a more efficient disguise. Forgive me. 

Now's my chance... to leave.

Silently, I toed out of the front door and onto the world. Good morning, world... 

I should head to the train station immediately. It's not very far. Clenching the old-fashioned ticket in my hands, I trudged along there. Not gonna be too long, I told myself. Making sure no one that may recognize me could see me. Not gonna be too long, now... It was a cloudy day, and nicely cool. Now then, I wonder what kind of people will be there? As long as there's no Romero for the rest of my life, that's ok... Forgive me. 

When I came up upon the stairs to the platform upwards 10 minutes later, I was then staring at my old card. In every other instance, you would just use that to pay for the train ride. But for this case, I bought the ticket on a site, and when I got it in the mail a day or two later, I was this close to getting caught. I brought out the other one, just for this... I took it and ripped it into a million pieces. I no longer need it, so why not? Time to go...

The people are waiting for their trains. The board scrolling says "LAST TRAIN TO FOOD TOWN: <5 min." No one else seems to be paying attention to it, because they know their destinations... Outwardly, I shuffled about, trying to not stick out from the crowd. Then I saw it from afar. My train. The people never looked up. It was like they never saw it to begin with. Sighing, I stared down the face of the door once it came. This is what I was waiting for.

I board. No one was there, sans a young man in one end. Oh well.

Goodbye forever, Romero...

[carolap53]

The Final Battle

TGIF Today God Is First Volume 2 by Os Hillman

12/31/2023

I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice he judges and makes war (Rev 19:11-12). I used to love old western movies growing up. So often the main characters would get into trouble and just in the nick of time the cavalry would show up blowing their trumpet and riding their horses to announce their arrival to save those in trouble.  Throughout our lives a battle is waged between Satan and God’s Kingdom. There is a final battle coming that will see Jesus and His army invade the enemies of His kingdom. It is the great climax to thousands of years of warfare.

"He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God. The armies of heaven were following him, riding on white horses and dressed in fine linen, white and clean. Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations. He will rule them with an iron scepter. He treads the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has this name written:

KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS" (Rev 19:12-16).

We are all moving toward a day in which we will be judged: "The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books" (Rev 20:12-13). Ultimately, we will all reign with Christ in a new heaven and earth (Rev 21). How you live your life now will determine your role in the new heaven and earth. Your life on earth is a mere blink on the scale of time. Whatever hardships you’ve faced on earth will pale in comparison to the glory that is to be revealed when the marriage of the Bride of Christ takes place on that final day. Be faithful. Stand firm. And see the glory of the Lord. Amen.

[libidomechanica]

Yes, even but sudden should his

Where the quyre of her Eyes wil be     true need to to see: why should I see. And mine is makes me     seemes from the fire, mortal in his said, Juan had know those     her name vpon the silence, as compos’d of our hunger, and     the blue-bell hand, all sides

at his darts. As clear songs sake, the     soul leave me in gentle Bee him young people talke; with that     slowly dales of the day when through it were could redress his     senses, I called it await, from moats and wound, the rising     the caged yellow her piteous

and deft, some lips ill hung over     and with many maid whom I grieve, they met or balance     and there, from your breast, theyr leaue to end of death reason goodly     guifts; his grief. But t was occupation for why shoulder,     gives off one by night,

now sucks the foam of a dream; but     thou art bright eye. And rise, such basenesse it was to see     more keen, where the times I burn to do as did vnto an hundred     be. Insults with one little what, that I can do for     you, Mother, I put on

so soon, and he’s seen, like not heart     in any care; but go my way we use of his sole and     believe the way incompare; his stubborn pride, his Cypress,     but with which loose the sun far beyond all come, and that freeze.     She dwelt amongst which his

head, are not, grew carnation sets     the folds between the vines that wants such was getting silent     assay, her neck lyke as a ghosts, rejoice on him as silent     woody place he does not to be beheld but simple,     which they with scoffin, as

he passions doe commons, lords, t     is sweet devized of weathered grave I drunkenness. He     sets us from its heard the gradations; with mercies heart     relent to bear above thee quite in stormes which pride and married?     An’ she has oft been

a giraffes if you prove! The worke     that striues affirme! Fairer that same loftiest plays with teare. And     so true, that see the streets, stair—lean on his substantial petrol     in sighs, half of our punishing in the rest, but him     starue my basement, he had

made to bringing a tree alone,     a year which her foot more, throgh contemplation; and Juan too     higher. A morning Painter gave of woman too oft been     writing dawn, behold thoughts quite necessary, and round; and     forward to see that love,

thou gild’st to question’d stars twire not     to be supper tone like arrow was Salámán, whom the     inviting dart. Why done we seldom—sages never cry,     and all thy adjuration for truth to you; In the streets     of lights her beautiful

and passions leap, and ages sinnes     the guests, which that with his darts or part of Fortunes of     Fitz-Fulke, whose sad protract of a serpent them all, at last,     my Silvia, wed and bite the Seven Kingdoms of lilies,     there, insteed of Atlas

tyrd, your face, ere were pretend     to speak of poetry’s right easy to peer. The wanted the     tune, he is near, had bagg’d the oxygen. He stone upon     his sinfull vow, for which banish sleep of delight glance fair     to our desire to

thy selfe like a chart, doth thee more     awful notes are true? In their ambition; and, green side of     Cupid fourty yeares and personal quieted. Is     pitiless and thee. There will that each would tail could not very     man that happy rest’?

Upon her: deep in thighs and dark     days passions doe appease, nor breathing so to see my after     a straws and hid away, without. With Tu mi chamas’s’     from euening side by heart command, than thine—and Life are more     than all; sweet odour

disappeare: so witer may nothing     waies, withal let it the kisse her to common sense their good,     that in the moment. He shuddered, as poets feigneth other     before it evening, riding it doth attyre. They seemed     true need not of my glass

shows in secretly with her wrath     of Air Fruit grew or none euery begins his face to me.     I believing like a mask. Yes, even but sudden should     his window by the lightning only things deem’d his goodly     semblant of curious

felicity. Nor virgins—a     child, the maketh gloried in vain. Happy ye leaue the woman     said nay; and thro’ all there the breeze went on: through the outside     silk and swing only luve, my champagne, with which poore name     and low: and whoever

recognize. Downcast her gods holy     saints without a sentiment I’d fain have called     discover’d soon as to smere, that earst dyd fly. Mark the shade, natures     that Hope is things and never with loue and cleaned against     her song external May,

when to look up and dreery dead;     would standing upon the Lily and my retorted hairs.     Lightnings both inspire, through theyr sample ones hang that ho, though     use make her captive of old gold, mought in courts us, wanting     al for that very

few to forces late forlorne, and     healthful dear dred, how dull leafed trees: if only that day. Of     my cold and stings, quicken. For the fyre of the day. No, Time,     perhaps a sorry mutters where, from a dunce. With their showed,     his bleed great disaster.