#too many possibilities with them I might cry

[creamecafe]

Can you write the headcannons where the squid games s2 men react to you flinching during a fight please

How Season 2 Squid Game Men Would React To You Flinching During an Argument

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Pairing: Season 2 Squid Game Men x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, angst

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting! To anyone who's going through something like this, please know that you're not alone.

National Domestic Violence Hotline is 800-799-7233. They are open 24/7. Youcan also text too. Please talk to someone and get the help you deserve or possibly help someone. No one, doesn't matter big or small, man or woman deserves to be mistreated or feel like they're in danger in a relationship

National Domestic Violence

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Seong Gi-Hun (Player 456)

Stops arguing with you immediately and realizes what you might think of what he was going to do to you

He knew he changed a lot, but he never thought he would change in ways that would make you scared of him

Reassures you and tells you that he would never even think of hitting you even when he's so upset.

Young-il (Player 001)

Is used to people being intimidated by him, but by you is a different story

Never would want you ever to be afraid of him

Talks to you in a now calmer tone and apologies to you

He holds you close and kisses you, saying that he'll never put his hands on you, or even the thought of doing so would go on his mind

If he only knew of who was responsible for that in the past, he'll kill them

Thanos (Player 230) (I love this GIF of him, ok?)

Is confused at first why you flinch

Then it clicks in his head of why you did so

Were you really thinking that he would hurt you? He thought to himself

Has been hit by his mom before so he understands it all so well

Drops his smart ass, wanting to be right all the time persona and tries to make things with you

Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388)

His heart felt like it broke when he sees you flinching

He thinks you must see him as a monster, just like his dad

Steps back away from you and goes to lock himself away in his room

It seems emotionally immature to do so, but he doesn't want to take a chance to hurt you even if it's a accident

When he calms down, he hugs and cries saying he'll never raise his voice again and he's sorry for ever making you feel afraid of him

Lee Myung-Gi (Player 333)

He knows he has made big mistakes before and tries to fix them

But the action he did towards you, will never leave his mind

He never thought he could be seen as an abuser in a relationship or make you afraid of him

Making you angry or a little sad, he could live with that. But afraid?

It takes all he can to apologize to you without crying, because he doesn't want to lose you or even make you feel like he would put his hands on you

Nam Gyu

Dissociates when he realizes

Takes a few steps back to calm you down

Looks down at his and shakes of the many times you probably had in your mind if he really was going to hurt you

He shakily apologizes to you and his voice trembles that he'll never hurt you and if he does, he doesn't deserve you

Hwang Jun-ho

He's been a police officer long enough to know why you would flinch

He has had calls of domestic abuse/violence especially for women

He drops the argument like nothing and apologizes.

Before hugging you, he would ask you permission

Now he is thinking of whoever made you afraid or flinch, that he'll make them pay

Salesman/Recruiter

His expression is like in the GIF above, shocked for a moment and realizes

He reassures and says to just forget about the argument

Tells you that he would never even think of hitting you. And if he ever does or makes you afraid in any way to leave him right away

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[babybearnation]

think i like you best when you're just with me

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader - you're trying to quit smoking (reactions) ⎇contains: alex albon, arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, george russell, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, lance stroll, lando norris, liam lawson, logan sargeant, max verstappen, mick schumacher, ollie bearman, oscar piastri, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: this is something i struggle with so i appreciate 🔒 anon for requesting this! if you're trying to quit an addiction, i love you, i believe in you, stay strong! (kofi for long fics) ⎇content warnings: smoking/addiction/relapses (all), crying (alex, charles, logan, max), arguing (kimi, max), suggestive (lando, ollie, yuki) ⎇word count: 2.1k

alex albon:

alex is not going to judge you for struggling. he understands that sometimes people turn to shitty things to cope with life. when you confess that you want to quit smoking, alex is immediately looking up all the strategies he can. he'll find your cigarettes and keep them on his person that way he can try and stop you when you go for one, he'll convince you to put out your cigarette if he catches you with one, he'll even let you play with his hands or his hair if it means you won't think about the feeling of a cigarette between your fingers. and if you break down in tears because life sucks and you just want to smoke, he'll hold you and cheer you up until you feel better.

arthur leclerc:

monaco has one of the highest rates of smoking in all of europe so arthur is probably pretty desensitized to seeing people smoke. he'll still be pretty upset if he finds out that you smoke, though. upon discovering that you want to quit, arthur is immediately on board, helping you slowly but surely remove the desire to smoke from your life. if you ever relapse, he might be angry at first, but he soon learns that you really cannot help it. after that he becomes much better at helping you leave the cigarettes behind. any milestones you hit in your smoking cessation journey will be celebrated however you so desire because he truly believes that's what you deserve.

charles leclerc:

he might be a bit baffled as to why you smoke but when you explain to him that it helps you deal with stress, he's gonna be stressed himself. he doesn't want you smoking - he wants you as healthy as possible, thank you - but he gets it. when you tearfully suggest that you want to quit, he's helping you as soon as he can. he'll get you those patches or mints for the first couple months, and he nab and destroy any cigarette he catches you with (with permission, he does not want to upset you further), but eventually, he switches paths and tries to get rid of your stress. he'll do whatever is takes to help you quit, tbh.

dino beganovic:

he's not really happy about the fact that you smoke but he knows he can't control you, so he will just request that you don't smoke in his presence. when you decide that, actually, killing your lungs really isn't worth it, you'll ask him to help you quit. he'll be patient with you as you attempt to quit, always careful not to push you too far, but also knowing exactly when to be more commanding. he doesn't want you to experience any relapses, but he's prepared mentally and physically for when/if you do. he's really sweet about helping you quit, even if his initial reaction to finding out you smoke was one of pure disgust.

george russell:

there's actually a pretty big smoking culture in the uk so i wouldn't be surprised if george has encountered many smokers in his time as a brit, but he's a bit shocked when he discovers you're one as well. he won't be completely disgusted - people cope in a myriad of ways, after all - but he will push you towards trying to quit. when you eventually agree, he's laying out all the options towards cessation that exist, giving you the pros and cons of each one. he's done his research, which means he's really good at helping you fight your cravings and preventing any relapses. if you ever do relapse though? it's okay, he won't judge. he gets it and he will help you get back on your feet so you can try again.

zhou guanyu:

he thinks its a dirty habit and will say as much to you, but in a much nicer way than that seems. when you ask him to help you with fighting your addiction, he's there instantly. you want his help? you'll get it! he's not going to let you suffer alone. he's very patient in the early stages, understanding that relapses are bound to happen. if you get really distraught over these relapses, he will do everything in his power to cheer you up, even if that means he has to ruin his cool guy persona and embarrass himself to make you laugh. he will do literally anything to make sure you go through cessation without too much trouble.

kimi antonelli:

he's young and been embroiled in the world of motorsport for a very long time, under heavy watch from mercedes, so he's probably never even considered smoking before. when you confess to him that you smoke (probably since before you were legally able to), he's gonna be upset and this might trigger an argument between you two but it comes from a place of love and concern for him. the second you suggest quitting and finding other coping mechanisms, he's there. he'll think of every single way he can to prevent you from smoking. if that means you have to travel all around the world with him so he can keep an eye on you, then so be it!

lance stroll:

i would not be surprised if this man has smoked before and hated it. he gets it though - he deals with perpetual stress in his line of work and he has plenty of coping mechanisms. he's gonna be a bit upset that you chose smoking of all things, but he'll happily let you do whatever you want because he gets it. when you say you want to quit, however, he's there. he's paying for all the expensive alternatives and treatments, getting you all the therapies. hell, if he can, he'll even pay away your stress. your job is your stress? okay, well, your new job is as his full time SAP so. enjoy it. anything he can do to make your life easier and to reduce your stress so you'll stop smoking, he'll have it done by the end of the day.

lando norris:

whilst he might find it hot that you smoke, he's also gonna be a little bit concerned because he's fully watched you chain smoke three cigarettes before and that surely cannot be good for your lungs. when you tell him you've started the process of quitting, he'll be so proud of you and he'll offer to help every single step of the way. it's really hard to relapse around him because he'll shoot you with a water gun every time he catches you smoking. despite being a chaotic gremlin most of the time, lando really does understand stress very well and so he'll understand your cravings and relapses. he'll never make you feel upset. if its the feeling of something in your mouth you crave, well... lando's got that covered ;).

liam lawson:

he's not happy about it, but he understands that you smoke because you're stressed. he may accidentally push you too far when insisting that you try and quit, but when you come to him and say that you wanna quit because you yourself has decided to, he feels a little victorious knowing he played some role in that. he can be a bit too aggressive with you at first - demanding to know why you thought relapsing was okay - but he quickly researches more into nicotine addictions and realises you really can't help it. after that, he becomes much more helpful and your path to cessation becomes much easier.

logan sargeant:

if anyone understands stress, it's this man, so when he catches you ripping into a new pack of cigarettes as tears stream down your face, he gets it. he might try and stop you that first time but ultimately, he wants you to make the decision to stop. so when you ask him if he'd help you fight the addiction, he's obviously saying yes. he's there to hold you when you cry and try and stop you when you relapse, but every month you pass without smoking, he'll buy you something nice. a little material motivation/incentive never hurt anyone, right?

max verstappen:

he loves you, he really does, but he isn't entirely sure if he can handle your smoking. it might cause a rift or an argument, but eventually he realises how deep your addiction is and offers to help you get out of it when you end up crying during another argument. he helps you with alternative products (patches/mints/e-cigs), or he'll pay for group therapy or he'll snatch any and every cigarette he sees you smoking out of your hand. whatever it takes for you to quit, he'll do it, because he wants you to be happy and healthy and he doesn't believe any amount of cigarettes is good for either of those things.

mick schumacher:

it breaks his heart to know that you turned to smoking because you were too stressed about life. his heart is well and truly broken. he's very kind and patient with you though, and if you're really struggling, he'll go out and buy you cigarettes, but he hates seeing you smoke. when you tell him you're quitting and that he has to hold you responsible, he does. he takes his job very seriously and will help prevent, or at least soften the blow of, any relapses that may happen. when you get to one year cigarette free, he celebrates in a way that suits you because that's an incredible achievement that deserves to be celebrated!

ollie bearman:

i think ollie would be so torn on this. on the one hand, he hates that you're smoking because you're stressed. he hates that you're hurting. on the other hand? you smoking is fucking hot. when you tell him you want to quit, he might playfully protest but when he realises how serious you actually are, he'll put the jokes away and asks how he can help and support you. every step of the way, every stumble and every success, ollie is there to help you. some people might think its weird how overprotective of you he appears to be, but he refuses to let you get hurt and sink back into that place of smoking ever again.

oscar piastri:

he's soft yet blunt on his thoughts regarding you smoking - he hates it, but it's your life. when you tell him you want to quit because you refuse to let stress and smoking control your life anymore, oscar's on board basically instantly. he's researching the best strategies to fight a nicotine addiction and he's slowly helping you implement them into your life and test the waters to see if they help. he knows there will be bad days and he's always willing to hold you through all of them, but he can't help but be so proud when you hit milestones, no matter how many times you've hit them before.

paul aron:

he seems very strict about taking care of his health and being at peak performance so realising he's dating someone who smokes might jolt him but he's never once gonna be mean to you about it. people have different ways of coping and he won't shame you for yours. is he gonna pounce on the idea of you quitting the second you hint at it? of course he is, but he's not pushy. he's only ever pushing you to stop when you tell him to because you know he can help prevent a relapse or help you deal with something stressful. if you ever slip up, he won't hold it over your head. it happens. he'll pick you up and help you carry on or start again.

pierre gasly:

another one who might be a bit upset at first but quickly learns that you are deep into addiction and aren't able to just up and quit like other people can. he'll be there to guide you through every step of your smoking cessation, always cheering you on when you do well or comforting you when you slip up and relapse. he'll never make you feel like you're wrong or dirty for smoking. he's just so supportive!

yuki tsunoda:

yuki might find it hot at first but those feelings are very quickly washed away by panic and concern. why were you smoking? did you want to quit or was this something you planned to do for the rest of your life? when you tell him you want to quit, yuki will try his best to cheer you on. he offers to cook for you as motivation but like.. he always cooks for you. luckily, he's cute enough that it's fine, but you do have to find a proper source of motivation to keep you going. and seeing the way yuki's eyes get brighter with each milestone you hit, you quickly realise what that source is.

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Gentle On My Mind - Chapter 10

Initially set in 1967 when Elvis is filming Clambake. Feeling miserable and trapped after the Colonel banishes Larry and the spiritual texts, Elvis invites Gloria to keep him company through the last five days of filming. Gloria is an aspiring movie editor and more importantly she's a lot of fun. Will she be what Elvis needs to get him out of the depressive funk he's in?

Catch up with the other parts here.

Many thanks to @sissylittlefeather being my beta reader on this one.

A/N: My regular warning that there are still some dark themes here, please do check the triggers.

Pairing: Elvis x OC - Gloria, a budding film editor.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Reference to sexual assault (not Elvis-related), trauma, crying, smut, size kink.

Gloria spends a dizzying couple of days in Elvis’ suite and downstairs watching him perform. That Sunday night he tells her that he hates the fact he hasn’t been able to send her birthday gifts, but he has been buying them anyway and he presents her with an armful of dresses and shoes and jewellery. When she tells him she can’t possibly take that home and have Roger see any of it he promises to keep it in Graceland for her, stroking her cheek and telling her that it’ll be waiting for when she’s ready to live with him. She doesn’t know how to tell him she doesn’t think that will ever happen, so she stays quiet. 

He asks if she wants to come to the midnight show, after one show in the afternoon and the usual dinner one. She shakes her head wearily. 

“I’m so tired, baby. I really want to see you again, I just need to rest for a bit. I can’t get on your schedule…”

He nods a little sadly but he lets her go to bed. If she sleeps now she might stay awake after the show for the afterparty. He follows her into the bedroom and watches as she gets changed awkwardly, trying not to show him her body. 

She flops onto the bed and looks up at him, stretching like a cat. “Have a good show baby.”

“Thanks Glory, I will, I hope.” He sits down on the side of the bed and she curls herself around him, making him smile. 

“You know how usually you have people in here, afterwards…” she starts, slightly unsure. 

He nods silently. 

“You think… maybe tonight it could be just us?” 

He feels himself about to say that he likes to have plenty of people around him for company and to help him wind down after the shows… and then he realises this might be the first time she’s ever asked him for anything. 

“Sure, princess. Anything for you.”

***

Gloria manages about an hour’s sleep and then starts drinking espresso martinis that she orders from room service in an attempt to keep herself awake and simultaneously get herself a little drunk. She checks her finger and toenails for chips and then curls her hair, applying makeup carefully afterwards. Spraying a little perfume, she steps out of her nightclothes. She’s set the jacuzzi going and it’s warm and bubbly. Checking the time, she takes a deep breath and then gets in. He should be back from the concert in the next few minutes, if the other nights are anything to go by. She’s hoping and praying he hasn’t suddenly decided to bring one of the guys back with him. 

***

Elvis and Jerry are on their way back to the suite together when Elvis remembers what Gloria said and thinks maybe her request included the guys too. His bitches, she always used to call them. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey, Jer, I think ya should probably make yourself scarce for a few hours.”

Jerry shrugs. “Sure. You got plans?”

Elvis smirks. “Glory does.”

Jerry finds himself blushing a little, thinking of Gloria getting herself all dolled up for Elvis after his show. He tries to pull himself together. 

“Have a good time!” He slaps the other man on the back and then turns and walks back down the corridor as quickly as he can. 

Elvis looks after him, feeling mildly confused. Shaking his head a little to clear it, he carries on towards the suite. They still hadn’t had sex this weekend, the combination of her shyness about her body and their inability to be awake at the same time didn’t help. But maybe tonight… 

He pushes the door open and calls her name. 

“In here, big boy,” she calls back.

Frowning a little, he wanders through the suite, listening to the sound of her voice as she keeps calling out to him. Finally working out that she’s in the huge bathroom, and then looking in to see her stretched out in the bubbly jacuzzi, a glass of wine in hand. 

He blinks. “Oh my…” His eyes drink her in, her hair piled up on the top of her head in a mountain of curls, red lipstick and smokey eyes, and obviously nothing on. Thank God he’d told Jerry to get lost. 

Gloria grins. “C’mon. Get in.”

Elvis doesn’t need telling twice, shedding his clothes quickly and getting in at the other side of the bath. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting this,” he breathes, accepting the glass of wine she’s offering him. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I’m sorry we’ve not… it’s not like me.”

None of it had been like the girl he first met, he reflects. But that was five years ago now, and he’s certainly changed too. He smiles. 

“Well it’s a wonderful surprise,” he tells her, his hand reaching to stroke her thigh. “Don’t get much use out of this thing usually.”

“No?” She teases. “I’d have thought you’d have it full of glamorous women all the time.”

He stares at her for a moment, and then remembers that she did used to be like this. Unbothered by whoever else he might have in his bed when she wasn’t there. 

“Only one at a time, usually. I’m not as young as I used to be…” he jokes. 

She grins. “Okay, so you know what you're doing then. What's your usual next move?”

“If I've already got to the naked in a hot tub stage?” He asks. “Well, I guess I'd probably take this glass from you and kiss you properly.”

He moves across the tub, taking the wine glass from her hand and setting it on the side. His hand cups her cheek as he starts to kiss her, his body half-floating and half-pressed against hers. Her hands move to the back of his neck, fingers pushing into his hair as the kiss deepens and she thinks about how much she’s missed this. Being touched by someone who wants her. She slides a hand between them and wraps it around his dick, stroking it slowly up and down as they continue to kiss. She can feel herself getting excited but at the same time her stomach is doing flips thinking about what might come next. The last time her and Roger had sex it was quick and unpleasant. She’d just closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and waited for it to be over. The last time she’d actually had a good time with someone else had been Elvis, after the show in Frisco last year. Somehow she’d managed to be carefree then, once she’d got the fainting and the crying over and done with. But now in the hot tub she can feel herself getting tense as his hand slips between her legs and starts to play with her, and her mind is going at a million miles an hour thinking of what she’ll do next and what he might do next and what could go wrong. She’s never over-thought in her life. What the fuck is happening? 

“C-can we stop?” She finds herself asking, pulling away from him and the kiss. 

Elvis is a little shocked, and Elvis is also more than a little turned on. So he says something he shouldn’t. 

“Oh baby, come on. It’s been such a long time.”

Gloria feels herself freeze as the words echo around her head. The same words Roger used, that night when he… well. She feels Elvis’ hands on her, the hands of another man she’s frustrating, another man who wants something she’s not willing to give. And suddenly she’s gone from fright to flight and she’s scrambling out of the hot tub, knocking over the wine glass and hearing it smash on the side as she runs from the room, desperately trying to get to the bedroom where her clothes are. She can hear footsteps behind her and his voice calling out her name and it just makes her run faster, desperate to escape. She barrels into the door and almost knocks herself out when she finds it closed. Standing there, swaying, she feels arms around her waist and hears a gentle voice in her ear. 

“Glory… Glory, it’s me… shh… it’s okay.”

Her body relaxes when she hears his voice, his tone, his pet name for her. She flops against him and he wraps her in a towel and then picks her up in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom and onto the bed. He pulls on a robe himself and then sits down next to her, concern etched onto his face. 

“Baby I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” he scratches his head. He’s not sure what he didn’t mean to do, exactly. “Are ya okay?”

She stares back at him. She is not okay. “No… I… I don’t know.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Sorry. This was meant to be a fun time in the hot tub and I freaked out.”

He reaches over and strokes her cheek gently. “Can I get ya anything? Anything that would make ya feel better?”

She sighs. “I knocked over the wine glass.” Looking forlornly across the room. 

“I’ll get ya some more. Hold on.”

She watches him walk away and feels her stomach knot. She wants him so much but he’d reminded her of Roger in that one moment and it had really, really scared her. He comes back with the wine and doesn’t ask any more questions, just sits with his arm around her, kissing her temple and telling her how pretty she is. Eventually they talk a little about his show and what he plans to do tomorrow, and then she gathers her courage and puts her glass down on the bedside table. 

“Can we go back to what we were doing?” She asks, her hand on his arm. “But… take it slow?”

He nods. “Of course.” His hand gently pushes her towel open and his thumb caresses one of her nipples. “Is this okay?”

She nods and presses her lips against his, her hand reaching to undo his robe. She starts to gently stroke him again, and he moans into her mouth, pulling back to look at her. 

“I’ve missed the way you do this.”

She can feel herself welling up when he says that, and she has to take a couple of deep breaths to stop herself from crying. 

“Can I touch you too?” He asks, softly, his hand slowly moving over her belly. 

“Yes please.”

She lets out a shaky breath as he runs his finger up her pussy and then around her clit. 

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

He’s being so gentle and careful with her she finds herself starting to relax, just feeling the sensations in her body rather than wondering what will come next. His fingers slip around and inside her with ease as she gets wetter, and he starts to want more. He slides his leg between hers and takes hold of his dick, gently displacing her hand. Running the tip against her pussy, he hears her gasp, and then rearranges slightly so that he can rub against her without his hand being involved. 

“Is this okay?” 

His eyes search hers for any sign of fear but she just stares back at him with full-blown lust. 

“Yeah… fuck… it’s better than okay…”

She moans as he kisses her neck, one hand holding her leg to give him access to rub his dick against her pussy again and again. 

“Can I…?” He asks, a few minutes later when he’s not sure how much more of this delicious torture he can take. 

She nods. 

He presses his forehead against hers, stopping his movements for a moment. “Tell me if you want me to stop and I’ll stop.”

She nods again, then manages a whispered “I’ll tell you.”

He shifts again and starts to push inside her, pulling her leg up and over his hip as he very slowly fucks her with the tip. She whimpers. She’d forgotten just how big he was, and even this is stretching her uncomfortably. Her mind keeps slipping back to that night with Roger, when she told him no and he forced himself on her anyway. 

“Elvis I… I can’t…”

He pulls back and takes a deep breath. Fuck. 

“You can’t?” He tries to keep his voice calm and level, but it’s difficult. It’s difficult not being allowed to have what he wants so badly. 

“I want to,” she whispers. “I just… since the baby…”

Elvis tries his level best to think, rather than just act, for a change. Lately with everything that had been going on in his life, he’d struggled to do anything other than react. Which tended to involve a lot of yelling, throwing things, getting angry quickly and then apologising. But he can’t do any of that to his Glory, no matter how frustrated he might be in this moment. She seems delicate right now, for reasons he can’t understand, so he tries to treat her like an expensive china vase. 

“How about I make ya feel good, hm? And then if you want, we could try again? Ya might be a little more… relaxed.”

It’s something he’s done before with her and with other girls. They did sometimes get put off by the sheer size of him and clam up, although he’s not sure why that would happen to Glory now. 

Gloria kisses him gently on the lips and then nods. “Okay. Let’s try that.”

He gently rolls her onto her back and then settles himself between her legs. He doesn’t want to rush this, to make her think he’s just trying to get to his own pleasure. Anyway, this is his own pleasure. He loves going down on girls, sometimes a lot more than he enjoys sex. There’s always an element of danger when it comes to sex with a random girl, and although he’s adept at pulling out at the right moment, he never feels like he can really let go and enjoy himself. He can enjoy himself here though, he thinks, as he buries his face in Gloria’s pussy and listens to her moans. He can get right into the moment, whatever that moment might be. Tease and denial, romance, tongue-fucking. He’s even been known to lick an ass or two, recently, if the fancy takes him. And right now it’s a great excuse to watch her letting go too, losing her inhibitions and grabbing his head as her pussy pulses around his tongue. He kisses and licks and sucks until his name is echoing around the room, her hips are bucking up into his face and he starts to worry about clumps of his hair being pulled out. 

“Fuck. Elvis. Oh God.”

He grabs the towel that’s still on the bed and wipes his face with it before pressing kisses to her neck again, pulling her leg over the top of his and holding her body close. His dick is throbbing with need, but he just keeps kissing and holding her as she comes down from her orgasm. 

“Let me do it,” she says quietly, after a while. 

“Huh?” He feels like she’s saying yes but he wants her so badly at this point he’s starting to wonder if he’s making things up. 

“Here.”

She moves her leg so it’s thrown high over his hip, then reaches between her legs for his dick, slowly easing it into her pussy. It’s definitely not as difficult as earlier, but she’s still tight and he’s still big. She rearranges again, one hand guiding his dick as the other grips his ass, encouraging a slow rhythm, each thrust pushing him inside just a little further. She groans when she feels him finally fill her completely, her hands going to his back and the back of his head. 

He waits, with all the patience he can possibly muster, for her to tell him that it’s okay to move. She’s so tight around him he’s not sure how long he can last, even in this slightly weird position. He doesn’t know why, but he knows this is the only way she’d want to do it, lying facing one another, wrapped up in each other’s limbs. 

She looks at him and nods, only a tiny little movement, but he knows what it means, and starts to slowly thrust in and out of her, watching her and feeling her. 

“Oh Glory,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her ass. His hot breath on her ear. “My girl.”

She whimpers softly at the words. She hasn’t heard him call her that for a long time. 

“You feel so good, big boy.”

He moans. “Fuck. So do you.”

He rolls his hips into her again and again, slow, gentle movements, deliberate lovemaking. It feels so good, but even though he thought she was so tight he might just come immediately, he needs more. 

“Baby, this feels so good but I really need to come…”

She nods and lets him pull her on top of him as he rolls onto his back, his hands moving to her ass to help her move faster on his dick, curses and moans falling from his lips as he gets closer. He puts his feet up on the bed so he has something to push against as he starts to fuck her from underneath, harder and faster until he finally feels himself start to come undone, grunting and moaning and holding her hips whilst he empties himself inside her. 

“Shit. Fuck.”

She falls forwards, her head on his chest, panting as he wraps his arms around her. He’s lying there, completely blissed out, when he suddenly thinks of something. 

“Fuck. Should I have pulled out?”

She shifts to look at him, shaking her head. “No. I’m on the pill.”

He frowns a little. “Thought he didn’t want to sleep with you? What d’you need to be on the pill for?”

Gloria sighs. “He doesn’t want to sleep with me. I don’t want to talk about Roger right now, Elvis. I want to lie here with you.”

Again, Elvis holds back. He thinks there’s something wrong here, she’s lying about something, but he can’t work out what it is. But this is their last night together, and judging by the other two nights, she’ll be asleep soon. He has to make the most of the time they have. 

They talk a little more, him trying to persuade her to divorce Roger and move to Graceland with him, and her explaining again that it’s not all that simple. 

“I have to find a job, my kids won’t just feed themselves.”

“What about your daddy? Surely he’d help you out?”

“My dad thinks he’s handed me off to Roger now. He’s not going to help me. This is all my problem.”

“Well if he won’t then I will.”

“No, Elvis. I can’t take your money. I’ll be fine, it just might take a while.”

“And then you’ll come and live with me?”

She rubs his chest, leaning her head against and not meeting his eyes whilst she lies to him. 

“Yeah. Sure. Then we’ll come and live with you.”

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @argangelbornxoxo @presleyhearted @lvrdollep

[straightcraig]

Nine Sols headcanons and scenarios.

My first post On tumblr. Joy. I suck at wording stuff so if something is misunderstood i'm sorry.

Headcannons(some of them were also written on Reddit almost half a years ago)

1 Eigong didn't understood that there was an actual hatred between Yi and Goumang. She just though it was a friendly bickering like the one she had before becoming head of tiandao council.

2 Lady Ethereal was a fan of horror genre. Either became a fan after Xiaohe showed her or even before.(That changed after the accident)

3 Yanlao was very good at all types of video games. His favourite were claw machines.

4 Goumang has issues with being left behind. Possibly abandoned by her parents. Which also translates to trust issues.

5 Ji could outdrink everybody.

6 Yi gets good at everything when he's drunk even things that he sucks at like cooking(Yi's diet consists of cup noodles and whatever his sister sends him).

7 Yi is THE densest guy on Penglai. He just doesn't understand romance except few romance novels he read and scientific explanations of it.

8 Fu Die and Kuafu tried playing cupid and help Yi find somone, there was alot of problems with it as most girls were very wary due to his status as a Sol and felt very inadequete or Yi being Yi said something that made other hate him. Lady Ethereal almost strangled him when he made another girl cry. She still picked him up like a toddler and shaked him while screaming at him.

9 Lady Ethereal found Yi endearing like a child pretending to be adult. He also made her realise she likes short people.

10 Jiequan is suprisingly a good motivational speaker.

Scenario 1 "mind to mind" (platonic/romantic?(I don't know how romance works.))

Goumang:Just my s$&@#8 luck to run into you of all people.

Yi:(just minding his own buisness while trying to ignore Goumang, which is hard taking into account she's sitting next to him. Why did he chose to sit next to her again)?

Goumang:What are you doing here?

Yi:Am I forbidden from drinking?

Goumang:Well you definitely don't look like you can. You don't act like it either.

Yi:(ouch an indult that strikes both of my insecurities. As ruthles as ever).

Yi:Listen I came here just to have a nice drink in possible quiet and outside of everyone's consistent nagging. So we can either make this a very s$&#@8 evening for everyone involved or we shut up, have our drinks and leave like nothing happened.(Yi wasn't joking Kuafu and Lady Ethereal already gave him a great headache when they tried to get him to meet with another "candidate" and no he wasn't interested in men Jiequan stop asking).

Goumang:Fine but if you pass out don't expect me to help you get back to dorms. You're on your own.

Yi:You think you can keep up with me?(Yi may not look like it but he did outdrink everybody. Ok, almost everybody, the amount of wine Ji drank is scientifically impossible and yet it happened. How did he drink 2 times the body weight of Kuafu is beyond him but honestly he's to scared to ask).

Goumang:Is that a chalenge, shorty?

Yi:I don't know, do you accept it?(Yi was honestly too tired to even question why did he agree to this. He already got stuck for several days while trying to fix many Bugs and glitches in the new systems. Overworking himself and when he was done the Kuafu asked him nicely to come help with something that something being Kuafu playing matchmaker with him. Kuafu might be one of the only friends he has in the council but sometimes his nagging reminds him too much of a mother hen.

Goumang:You're dead.

Spongebob narrator voice:3 bottles later

Goumang(absolutely wasted):I never envied somone as much as I envy you right now. That's why I hate you!

Yi(Dazed after Goumang rant about how much she hates him for taking away her teacher and a rolemodel she never had as a child):...I never felt like I deserved it.

Goumang:...Hah?

Yi(tipsy):I mean yeah I kinda understand that Eigong is interested in me but I never really felt as if I deserved to be in a council or rather not as fast as I did. Like everyone there feels like an hyperinteligent monster. Kuafu helped recreate entire rhizomantic tower system, a technology that was lost after Lear turned his back on science. We had next to nothing about them in terms of technicalities and we were left with their ruins and he reverse engineered entire thing. Jiequan is heir of the kingdom that sparked entire science revolution during the warring era and despite its falls from grace is still the country where science is most prominent(made it up but if we take into account that transmutation is legal in Jie Kingdom I wouldn't be surprised). Lady Ethereal helps created technology that can make mental images into computer ones many of the modern system run on her research. Fuxi and Nuwa basically financed the entire thing while supporting Feng clan which is quite a feat. Yanlao for as much as I hate him is very knowledgable about history and his collection has a lot of past technologies so at least he's useful. Eigong is the leader of entire council, my teacher and knows about science more then all of us. And as for you...

Goumang:...WELL?!

Yi:Your research into biotechnology did basically feed half the Penglai. And you were here before me. So lucky, you were already here making people life easier with science. While I was making small experiments surrounded by ignorant folk and my first experiment almost killed me. Taken under Eigong wings only becouse I survived.

Goumang:...Now you're just trying to make me feel bad about myself for bashing heads with you.

Yi:I see no point in lying about it. Also we should stop here before you forget how to walk.

Goumang(reaches for the fourth bottles):Is that a chalenge?

Yi:Well you said you won't carry me but I can't exactly carry you either.

Goumang:Hah weakling.

Yi(while taking bottle from her):Lightweight.

Goumang:Well now look at us, talking as if were friends.

Yi:Are we?

Goumang:I don't know you're still an annoying shortstack but at least I know you a little bit more then "mr. Steal your teacher"

Yi:...What does that mean?!

Goumang:Do you not know what is a meme?

Yi:(slightly embarrassed)...No.

Goumang:...huh...(hysterical laughter)

Yi:...Yeah that's enough wine for you today.

Scenario 2 "friendly rivaly"

Context:Its been two weeks since Goumang and Yi's heart to heart, and they haven't argued with eachother. No bickering, not even a verbal jab.

Yi:Huh...maybe Heng was right sometimes being honest can make miracles happen. I jinxed it didn't I.

Ruyi:Master Yi am I interrupting something?

Yi:You didn't Ruyi, what is it?

Ruyi:Eigong wished to meet you here in your lab.

Yi:Why my lab specifically.

Ruyi:she didn't mention a reason just that she wanted to speak with you. From her tone I imagine it to be rather important or maybe very personal.

Yi:...Ok, when?

Ruyi:Right now.

Yi:Wait, she's waiting under our door! Why didn't she knock?

Ruyi:She did. Four times infact. However you weren't reacting my Lord, you were just staring into workshop wall.

Yi(in a whisper):Why do I feel existencial dread, its like that one time my mom called me 3 times and I didn't answer.

Ruyi:...should I let her in my lord?

Yi: ah! Yes yes.

Eigong:Hello Yi.

Yi:Good morning, teacher.

Eigong:Its noon Yi.

Yi:Good afternoon then, what is it you wished to talk about.

Eigong:Lets sit Yi.

Yi:Very well. Abacus prepare tea.

Ruyi:Understood-

Eigong:It won't be necessary. I'm just here to ask Yi a question. ... What happened?

Yi:... Teacher may you elaborate?

Eigong:You haven't bickered with eachother and Im a bit worried for relationship of my Students. So what happened? Did you two fight.

Yi:Are you talking about me and Goumang? Nothing happened we just talked with eachother and came to an understanding.

Eigong:Was there a misunderstanding between you I wasn't aware of?

Yi:...Ok, with all due respect teacher. Relationship between me and Goumang was nonexistent up until two weeks ago.

Eigong:???

Yi:Frankly we hated eachother. Well more like she hated me but I was just adding oil to the fire.

Eigong:But you were bickering like an old married couple.

Yi:Yes we... Hold on did you think our screaming matches were just friendly "bickering".

Eigong:...(Nods).

Yi:...And Kuafu calls me the densest guy on all of Penglai.

Eigong:What Kuafu Has to do with anything?

Yi:Absolutely nothing. Going back to your question teacher all you need to know is that we explained stuff between eachother and we won't bicker as much.

Eigong:I'm unsure if that should calm me down or make me more worried.

Yi:...Anything Else?

Eigong:No this will be all thank you for your time Yi.

Yi:No problem teacher.

[maxmoffs]

im at work rn but oh my god? finally writing together and just @unsnare and wanda pairing ? dangerous . but so good

[thermodynamic-comedian]

listen. i do not ever want anything bad to happen to lena kelley. however i do want her to, at some point, be in so much distress that someone has to comfort her. do you understand.

[stellewriites]

just had a fucking banger of a session at work with some teens,, i feel like it’s such a breakthrough like this is so rewarding omg

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[mekatrio]

im both sad and glad tht aaron and jeff never interact with one another in person bc 1.) that would break my heart like nothing else but also 2.) i want that, actually. :(

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?

[inklore]

— the stranger / qimir x f!reader. the jedi have hidden many things from you about the dark side. like how good pleasure can feel and he is more than happy to show you. contents: dubcon, fingering, blood, death, light choking | wc: 881+

Everyone’s dead. 

The other Jedi. 

Your master. 

Your friends.

Everyone’s dead, and you’re….you should be dead. Your blood should be pooling around your lifeless body, painting the green of the grass into something opaque and poetically mixing with the blood of your friends.

The friends you trained with. 

The friends you love. 

You should be lying lifelessly beside them. With honor and pride for fighting till the very end. That should have been your fate. Your ending. How this bloodbath too its close.

Not this. 

Not backed against a tree by the monster who killed those friends you love so much, making you feel….good. 

Good when you’re surrounded by death. 

Good when you can smell burning flesh with each shuddering inhale that inflates your shaking body, 

"It's really simple. So simple. The Jedi like to teach that it’s complex. Light, dark. As if the two can’t mingle, change. Warp. Meld together as one thing entirely. I can show you.” He had said as he stepped closer. Each syllable coming from his mouth matched his foot steps until he was right in front of you, and there was no longer anywhere to go. 

Your saber long gone. Destroyed in the chaos of blood and bodies. The safety of a weapon, of an escape, is gone when there’s no space left between the two of you. 

“It won’t hurt,” you flinched away from his fingers when he brushed them against your cheek. A twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Quite the opposite. There is more to the darkness than your precious Jedi have taught you. It can heal. It can teach.” His eyes swept over your heaving chest, following a trail up the column of your neck to your mouth, making a chill prick the bottom of your spine. “It can please. Give you a type of pleasure not even the flow of light can bring to you. Let me show you.” 

Your jawbone ached when he grabbed it after you had shaken your head. After you all but spat in his face about how much of a monster he was. How he’s going to regret what he’s done. Making a stand for yourself with a voice as weak as you felt. 

“You Jedi, so closed off in your ways. Never open to something more enlightening. Accepting the other possibilities of being. Of feeling. How can you be all knowing?” His fingers moved from your jaw down to your neck, and the race of your heart accelerated when he wrapped his fist around it. The light pressure had been enough to make your body go into fight or flight. Your hands coming up to grip his wrist. “Let me teach you. I can feel it,” his thumb tapped your pulse point, “in your blood. You’re not like the others. You’re smarter. Be smart.” His head tilted further into your space, making his mouth inches from yours, “you might find by the end of it you want me to show you more.” 

That’s how you got to where you are now. 

The Strangers hand between your thighs, while the other still holds its grip on your neck. His jaw twitching with every moan you try to hold back. His grip on your neck tightening when you try to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any noise slip out. Making your mouth pull open, his mouth following the same motion in a pleased smirk. 

You’d realized half way into this, half way through the haze, that you could have slipped loose. He’d given you a proper opening to do so. But you hadn’t. Had let yourself be tempted and consumed, willingly.

The fact only adds to the churning in your lower stomach.

The hand between your thigh making your legs shake, your body contorting against the tree. Rolling against his palm, your swollen clit rubbing along the heel of his hand as the two fingers inside of you curl and make you cry out into the night. 

Your mind is a mess of pleasure and darkness that not even closing your eyes helps you sift through. To bring you back to the light you’ve had inside of you since birth. To ground yourself enough to use the many skills of the force you’ve been taught. 

Each time your eyes close, the pleasure feels worse. More intense. Like the deadliest kind of hallucinogen—his voice, his fingers, his face are there. Images of his mouth on your neck, body, lips, replacing his hand, projected through your head like a fog engulfing your entire being. 

It completely engulfs you, and you almost forget what it is like not to be consumed by the allure of darkness. Making your body ultimately crave more.

You don’t know if it’s real or not when you feel his lips brush against your ear and he says, “things that are this reactive to something so minuscule compared to everything else that can be given to it were meant to feel this good.” You shake your head, the walls of your pussy fluttering, swelling around his fingers. “You’re about to come on my fingers, what’s more proof than that that your body seeks the truth. You were meant for all the things the darkness can give.” 

[sansaorgana]

— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary. 

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight. 

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

[weird-is-life]

pregnant reader and Spencer fic where he makes her cry on accident 😭😭

Hii lovely, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kisses, like one swear word, reader cries (not because of something bad tho, it's cute), use of pet names (0.6k)

Spencer is running late at least later than he'd told you he would be and he can't stress it more. You've been home alone almost the whole day, and Spencer knows you are probably more than lonely.

But even if he's already late Spencer makes one more stop to get some groceries before heading home to you.

When he finally arrives home, he can't stop apologising as you greet him by the door, the baby bump very visible underneath one of his sweaters.

"Hi sweetheart, I'm so sorry I'm late there was a problem we needed to deal with," Spencer apologises and kisses your cheek.

"It's okay, Spence," you say into his shirt, already hugging him tightly, "I missed you a lot though."

Spencer looks at you like he always does with a too loving smile, "I missed you two, too."

Spencer ushers you towards the couch, he doesn't want you to be standing for too long 'cause he knows your feet would hurt, and also because he intends to cuddle you as much as possible there.

He quickly unpacks the groceries, and remembers the snacks he's bought for you. What he doesn't know is that you've been craving exactly the same snack he's bought the entire day.

"Here I got you these sweetheart," Spencer gives the snacks to you and rushes to the bedroom to change into something much more comfortable than the suit.

You stay still, your eyes filling up with tears as you hold the snacks in your hands.

When he comes back to you, he finds you eating the snacks while the tears run down by your cheeks.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" Spencer immediately sits next to you, and starts to wipe the tears away.

"I just....-" you start with small hiccup, "I just love you so much."

A warm chuckle escapes Spencer's mouth, before he's back to comforting you. He's read every single book there's on pregnancy, so he knows how tough it is with the changes of hormones.

"Oh, baby, I love you too is that why you're crying, huh? Or is it something else? Maybe me being late?" He really hope it isn't the latter.

"N-no, I just-... I just really wanted these snacks all day, Spence," you tell him as another set of tears escapes from your eyes, "a-and they are too good."

"Oh sweetheart, if I knew you wanted them so badly i would have bought more," Spencer tells you with a sympathetic smile.

He understands it can be a lot for you from time to time, even if it's something as simple as craving some snack, so he let's you eat your snacks while he wipes away the tears. He does that until the snacks are gone along with the tears.

You look just unhappy about finishing the snacks as you did minutes ago eating them. You give him a puppy eyes, and Spencer is up on his legs before you can even say his name.

"Spencer...?"

"Don't worry, lovely. I got it, I'll buy you more than enough," Spencer quickly gives you a kiss, and goes to put on his shoes, car keys already in his hand.

"Spence?"

"Yes?" he looks back at you so fucking lovingly completely unbothered about the fact that he has to go to the shop again that you think you might start crying again (Spencer loves you so much that it happens a lot, you crying about how much you love him).

"Of course, but only if you really want to. I don't mind going alone."

"I want to," you say enthusiasticly. That is all Spencer needs to take your shoes, and go back to you. He puts the shoes on for you, kisses your bump, and helps you get up.

"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want if you tell me about your day, " Spencer happily listens to you chatter about everything that crossed your mind through the day.

You and Spencer leave the shop with way too many snacks, but it's okay because you're happy as one can be and that's all Spencer needs, okay maybe the cuddles too.

[astriiformes]

Might actually cry a little bit (in a good way) - the new bill that just passed here in Minnesota granting paid medical leave to people caring for sick family members has such an intentionally expansive definition of "family" that biological and/or legal ties are not actually a prerequisite to qualify for the program. In fact, there's a portion of the bill that specifies anyone designated as family by the incapacitated party can receive the benefits.

Apparently this was done in part to make the policy as inclusive as possible of queer family structures and I am absolutely floored; as someone with a seriously chronically ill queerplatonic partner I worry a lot about my options as a primary caretaker, seeing as the fact that we are not legal partners bars us from so many other benefits, but the fact that this particular one would be inclusive of us (and poly partners, and single queer people with no ties to their biological family but close friends willing to help them out, etc) has given me more hope that may change someday than I think anything ever has.

This is how you do policy that benefits the entire queer community, including poly, ace, and aro folks for whom same-sex marriage has never offered the same legal rights (and plenty of other folks besides, like disabled people or people with terrible biological families -- you don't have to be LGBTQA+ for it to be a seriously important option). This is genuinely incredible. I was excited to see this pass even without knowing it would potentially apply to me, too, but now I'm a total grateful, emotional mess.