#i've seen this film before. etc etc

[poelya]

i rewatched episode five of moon knight again yesterday, and one thing that finally struck me for the first time is that in the flashback to when marc becomes moon knight, he only begins to genuinely mull over khonshu's offer when he says "do you promise to protect the travelers of the night, and would you bring vengeance to those who would do them harm"

and it's here that you can see something shift on marc's face, and he looks down at his hands covered in blood and sand, and it's like you can see the idea forming. he just failed to protect those who khonshu would consider to be travelers of the night, he was willing to die for them - almost did, and the man who did it got away.

so now either marc can die, or he can accept this offer, and maybe bring vengeance for all the people he just failed to save.

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Pretty sure I was in the bathroom when everyone was experiencing the feminine experience. Maybe I took a sick day idk. I'm sorry for being The Only Woman In The World who wasn't there. I got lost on the way in.

[brionbroadway]

every npc that's introduced: i don't trust them

[unproduciblesmackdown]

bonus thing i cherish in this shot is that it's the one time it's immediately noticeable that her hair length is uneven....let's go Cutting One's Own Hair (With Or Without A Mirror) look havers irl (b/c of cutting one's own hair with or without a mirror, maybe) & even when it's recreated on purpose like so

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images of things

[irulancorrino]

thinking about the riptide cover hours

[nitratekisses]

kendall is smiling too much in the trailer it's gonna get bad for him

[juliens-bakery]

god forgive me i have a cr*sh.

[byers-bowlcut]

I've seen people say El likes the IDEA of having a boyfriend more than she actually likes her own boyfriend, and jfc it's so true 😭 Like it's all over the show:

Season 1

She's initially attached to Mike because he's the first person to give her shelter, food, genuine human care and just,, not calling CPS immediately. Her feelings for him was born from trauma and dependency in season 1. And throughout the rest of the 3 seasons, we don't see it grow past that.

Also I think it's noticeable in S1 that:

She was uninterested when Mike tried to share his hobbies with her

She also did not seem to mind AT ALL when she questioned if Mike could be her brother. He voice is neutral and curious here, not the least bit repulsed by the thought of being siblings with Mike, like girl does not care 😭

Season 2

This season has zero onscreen moments of Mike and El actually getting to know each other further. They were separated nearly the whole season.

What we DO see:

El's attachment and dependency on Mike that was developed from S1

We also find out how El spent a year of her life watching melodramatic romance films. Many other middle schoolers might identify that relationships in real life don't work like those films. But El is fresh out of lab life, she's literally learning the world through this TV, and has now become obsessed with the IDEA of having a boyfriend/relationship just like that.

Season 3

Again, no onscreen moments of El showing interest in who Mike is as a person.

The very first scene we see of them, she's trying to get him to stop singing along to the song they're listening to. She seems to like kissing Mike. But isn't shown enjoying anything actually characteristic about him, like sharing interests with him such as music.

Hopper indicates that they don't do anything meaningful together either. We see here that before hanging out with Max, El had little sense of her own style, her hobbies, her interests- meaning spending time with Mike for months probably didn't involve many talking points did it?

Also in season 3, El dumps Mike with ZERO hesitation. Then she has the time of her life with Max. The most acknowledgment we get that she's oh so heartbroken is a small frown to Max that her and Mike aren't on best terms. And even that doesn't seem so paramount cause 1 episode later she totally dismisses Mike after he explains how Hopper threatened him. She just tells him maybe Hopper was right 😭😭

It's literally ONLY once she starts becoming in danger that she starts clinging onto him again. I feel like we've seen this film before hm.

Like where are any signs that she likes Mike as an individual, and is falling for who he really is, rather than simply being attached due to trauma, and liking the concept of doing romantic things (ie: kissing, dancing at the ball, etc.)

Season 4

This is the season it becomes the MOST OBVIOUS: El loves the concept of a happy relationship and being loved, but not really loving Mike for who he is. And bringing in Will's feelings just emphasizes this point.

To start, El continues doing all these relationship-y things that she did in the start of S3. She has Mike's name and pictures plastered all over her room. She makes a "Mike box" with his pictures decorated all over it. But the thing is: this is all sort of a façade at this point. We know she's BEEN unhappy with him for months ("From Mike! From Mike! From Mike!"). But with all these items, she's basically trying to convince herself that she's in this happy, fantasy, movie-like relationship, like she probably watched in hopper's cabin in season 2.

And then, there's the sheer difference between her and WILL in their feelings for Mike. We see it right off the bat when Mike comes to the airport: Will and El both have plans to give Mike something.

Will plans to give him a painting he worked extremely hard on. The painting is a connection of what they BOTH love: DnD, and it includes their friends who also play the game. It's very personal and immediately touches Mike. What's more is, the painting illustrates the exact qualities about Mike that Will loves: his leadership, his bravery, his guidance. This painting literally spells out to us that Will truly loves Mike for WHO HE IS.

Meanwhile, El plans on giving Mike a fun reunion date. She has the whole day planned out. And immediately: we see that what she wants to do doesn't actually takes Mike's interests and personality into consideration. You can see and hear the strain in his voice when he talks about "burritos for breakfast" 😬

You can see how he's not that relaxed at rinkomania, and nervous about skating, saying he's clumsy. He probably would've much preferred movies and playing a board game, over skating. But El has her own ideas. When she brings Mike to rinkomania, she tries to act really cool about it. She wants to impress him, wants to seem like she fits in and belongs.

Her present was never actually ABOUT Mike, and about loving Mike that she would plan this huge date for him. Her present was about her desperately wanting to have this cool date like every other normal teen girl might, with a normal boyfriend, and make it seem like they have a happy perfect relationship.

And then finally we reach their S4 fight. I find it extremely interesting how Hopper's cabin is framed in the background during their whole fight. It's almost like an indication that her desperate need to be loved by Mike stems from her trying to cope with losing Hopper and the hole left by him, that clearly did not exist when she happily dumped Mike in S3.

In their fight, when the topic of bullying comes up, Mike says he understands her, but El is quick to say he doesn't. She thinks Mike doesn't understand her, but this is just as much her not understanding HIM as well.

She doesn't get the extent of Mike's insecurities (definitely partially a result of bullying), something that Mike later divulges to WILL and not her. If the writers wanted to show us how much El understands Mike and loves him for who he is, her and Mike would work through his insecurities in their rs together, NOT through a middle man.

Overall it's pretty striking that we've never once heard El actually compliment Mike, or articulate, or even show what exactly she loves about him through four whole seasons. I mean...

Attachment to him due to trauma or grief =/= loving him for who he is.

Wanting to BE loved =/= loving him for who he is.

So really in terms of a relationship, what El ACTUALLY wants is the concept/idea of a regular boyfriend, and a happy easy relationship, all in an attempt to feel normal. And that's why we see them fall apart the way they do in season 4, and why Will is currently so involved. Because Will DOES see and love Mike for exactly who he is.

[cosmicanakin]

hazy bliss.

adult content | minors do NOT interact

pairing. vinnie hacker x female reader.

outline. after a long week apart, vinnie's weed stash and his kisses melts away any stress.

contains. smoking, marijuana, smut, fingering, heavy use of pet names ( princess baby pretty girl etc ), overstimulation, aftercare.

authors note. have yall seen the videos of vinnie in milan for the prada show???? lord have merthyyyyy. he looked so fucking YUMMY with his slutty itty bitty waist. anywayyyy! here's another vinnie + smoking sesh fic as promised ;)

you've been busy with work all week and haven't gotten to see your boyfriend vinnie for almost a full seven days. and it's definitely been taking its toll on both of you. so late last night you sent him a text asking if he had any weed left and wanted to come over after his long day of filming for a smoke sesh, knowing it would help relax you both.

waking up this morning to a text from him saying he was on his way over lifted your spirits instantly. you tidied up your place as quickly as possible, putting on some lowkey music in the background to get in a chill mood. just as you finished fluffing the blankets and pillows on your couch, you heard the doorbell ring.

bounding over excitedly, you swung it open to reveal your handsome boyfriend standing there holding a backpack and wearing his signature beanie pulled low over his messy curls. "hey baby," he greets with a grin, eyes lighting up upon seeing you. you throw your arms around his neck in a tight squeeze, inhaling his familiar woodsy cologne you've missed so much.

"i'm so glad you're here," you mumble into his hoodie, feeling vinnie's arms come around your waist to hold you close. after a long moment he pulls back to press a lingering kiss to your lips with a contented hum. "me too, pretty girl. i've been craving your company all week." taking his hand, you lead vinnie inside to the living room.

sitting him down on the plush couch, you rummage through the bag for the goods as vinnie kicks off his shoes to get comfortable. you grab his grinder and roll up a fresh joint, handing it to him along with the lighter. leaning back against your boyfriend's broad chest with a pleased sigh, you let vinnie spark the flame and take the first hit before passing it to you.

inhaling deeply, you hold it in as usual before blowing billowing smoke up toward the ceiling with a happy sigh. your body starts melting into vinnie automatically, feeling his arms come around your middle to hold you close as you pass the blunt between you. you chat lazily about everything and nothing, catching up on the mundane details of your days apart.

time slips away as the weed helps dull your mind and heavy lids start drooping, relaxation seeping into stressed muscles. a comfortable silence settles over you both as vinnie thumbs gently at your waist under your shirt, lips pressing lazy kisses into your hair. you set the blunt aside on the coffee table, content for the moment to simply exist here wrapped in his embrace.

a light shiver runs through your body from the pleasant tingles washing over you from vinnie's tender caresses. you can feel his growing interest pressing into your lower back, eliciting a low hum of approval. tilting your head back against his broad shoulder, you meet vinnie's lidded gaze before leaning up to capture his parted lips slowly.

his hands slide up under your top to glide appreciatively over sensitized skin, igniting sparks wherever he explores. vinnie's mouth moves to leave open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and neck, evoking breathy sighs of pleasure. "i've missed you so much, y/n," he rumbles against your flushed skin. you eagerly help him tug your top off before attacking his hoodie zipper.

with eager hands you undress each other down to bare skin, exploring familiar planes with renewed fervor after your long absence. vinnie's tongue swipes expertly at taut nipples, taking his time lavishing them until you're panting and squirming in his lap. his thick length prods teasingly at your slick entrance, making you whimper and rock down desperately to take more of him.

vinnie stills your hips with strong hands and kisses along your chest tattoos adoringly. "slow down, baby. we've got all night," he purrs, eyes dark with longing. you nod shakily, threading your fingers through his dark curls and urging his mouth back to yours hungrily. vinnie shifts to lift you easily, legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom.

gently laying you out among the rumpled sheets, vinnie settles between your thighs, palms caressing worshipfully up your curves. you seize handfuls of blanket on either side anxiously waiting for his next touch to drive you mad. his fingers tease your dripping cunt for torturous moments before two long digits slide smoothly inside. you keen helplessly at the fullness, walls fluttering needily around him.

vinnie pumps his fingers leisurely, stretching your entrance as his thumb toys with your swollen clit. "fuck baby, you feel so good around me," he praises earnestly, eyes trained intently on your writhing form coming undone below him. every flick and curl sends waves of ecstasy crashing through your body until you feel yourself tumbling over the edge with a cry, walls clamping down in a pulsing rhythm.

your boyfriend leans up to kiss you sweetly through your quaking orgasm, savoring your blissed expression of euphoria. vinnie speeds up his ministrations to keep you hovering on the edge. then stops to position his thick length at your oozing entrance, eyes locking onto yours sincerely.

"i love you so much, princess," vinnie whispers before gradually sliding into your welcoming heat. you gasp in unison, his girth stretching you deliciously full once more. a few heartbeats pass adjusting to the intimate joining as vinnie showers your face in tender kisses, worshipping your beauty. when you nod, he pulls back slowly only to sink deeper with agonizing precision.

building a powerful rhythm, vinnie gives you every inch as his hips roll expertly, angling to hit that sweet spot with each pass. you moan wantonly into the slick skin of his shoulder, nails raking down broad shoulders and back sure to leave marks. the drag of your walls milking his length expertly pushes vinnie closer to the edge much too soon in his lust-filled state.

his fingers find your pearl swollen and straining once more, rapidly working it towards another euphoric fall. vinnie's breath hitches and stutters out in coarse grunts as he feels your orgasm crashing in, dragging his own release by the hair. "come for me sweet girl," he growls in your ear, hips snapping sharply a few more times before stilling buried deep as his release hits hard.

vinnie trembles and shakes through his high, fingers still methodically working your cunt until you're mindlessly keening and thrashing from overstimulation. he lets you ride out what seems your third or fourth high of the night against his heaving chest, worshipping your sweat-slick form with gentle caresses and sweet nothings murmured into your hair.

once you both come down from cloud nine, vinnie lifts you easily in his arms to carry you over to your en-suite bathroom for a shower. he washes you tenderly from head to toe, rinsing sweat from your sated muscles now jelly-like and replete. after drying off, he bundles you in fresh fluffy towels, kissing along your damp shoulder lazily before you head to bed for well-earned rest.

sliding under cool sheets, you curl into vinnie's waiting arms, forehead pressed to his as you smile contentedly. "i love you so much, vinnie. thank you for coming over to relax with me," you murmur tenderly. vinnie beams, cupping your cheek to plant his signature kiss to your lips softly. "no where else i'd rather be, princess. you're the best medicine to all my stress."

drifting off peacefully wrapped in your boyfriend's tender embrace, you know he'll be by your side through anything as long as you have each other. nothing washes worries away quite like vinnie's unconditional love and care shown through gentle intimacy. you've missed him terribly all week but now drifting off sated in his arms, you know nothing could tear you apart.

[sl4sh3rsub]

patrick bateman hcs (nsfw: mdni)

patrick bateman x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warnings: overall pretty toxic, homophobic and misogynistic, there's a lot of infidelity/cheating and drug usage/alcohol too. there is also shaming of sex work - this is purely fictional and i do not condone this behavior in real life. i wrote in these elements because they appear in the original source material, not because i hold these opinions/views. mentions of extreme kink/fetish (knife play, blood play), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), oral sex (giving + receiving), handjobs, cockwarming, implied dom/sub dynamics (patrick is a top + sugar daddy/dom/slight sadist + is entitled, reader is more submissive + sweet), lots of cum + precum/arousal, reader sometimes treated as sex object, marking (bruises, bite marks, hickeys etc.), dubious consent? (overstimulation, he can be manipulative, reader flashes someone in afab section), reference to past rough sexual encounters, lots of sexual tension, patrick is sociopathic(?) + gets hard a lot + is possessive/slightly domestic but still rough, canon colleagues (schrödinger's judgement + they're horny), nipple play, voice kink/voicemail sex, threats/mentions of canon (?) violence (not towards reader), exhibitionism + public settings, consensual filming of sexual acts, gun play/fear play, cigar gets extinguished on reader (research risks properly before trying irl, please stay safe), hired sex worker, mentions of surgery in ftm + mtf sections, rip jean + evelyn's emotions

a/n: i'm a massive fan of the broadway musical (bootleg available on youtube) and i've seen the film twice, but i still need to read the book!! i've listened to this youtube audiobook (ai voice patrick reading it - part one) and it kinda goes hard. anyway, peeb ateman is soft with reader in this one, so it could potentially be a little ooc.

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

patrick is already engaged to evelyn when he meets you. he's very well aware that she's seeing timothy price, so he might as well have his own fun - divorce isn't in fashion this year, so being prepared for that potential outcome might turn some heads and patrick hates judgmental attention

if you're already in a relationship with someone, he'll whisk you away immediately. you deserve so much better than some chump who can't afford to spoil you, he'll prove his superiority with his shiny silver card

show him genuine affection and take interest in his music taste!! if you listen to him and take time out of your day to participate in conversation, he'll abruptly stop mid-sentence to process that you're invested in his recap of his day :( you'll have no issues with him from then out - you respect him and he'll respect you. he's quietly thankful for how kind you are to him

if patrick has a yearning to dabble in a certain kink or fetish - such as knife play or extreme blood play - that you're not willing to participate in, he'll just find someone who can satiate his needs temporarily. no harm done, patrick just wants to make sure he's not taking complete advantage of you - he'll pay for you to have a delicious dinner and fancy hotel for the night, don't worry. he still wants to take care of you and reassure you that no one is taking your place, and that you'll still have him in the morning... he just needs to let out his extreme urges throughout the night

his way of showing affection is brushing his nose against you, whether it be your temple, ear or cheek as he whispers sweet nothings to you. he longs for subtle contact and the gentle warmth of your skin. he's also addicted to burying his face in your neck or pressing his lips against your crown when he fucks you from behind or squirming in his lap, the small puffs of hot air tickling your flushed skin and his lidded eyes rolling at your scent

he digs his fingers into your lower tummy while he fucks you, feeling his cock ram deep inside you - he's shamelessly using you as his own fucktoy, massaging his length to get himself off. the extra pressure against his tip has him shuddering at the delicious sensation

yeah sure, patrick might be a weirdo and a loser but he can fuck you like he loves you (maybe he does) and spare cash to dry-clean your cum off his expensive suits... fair trade, no?

he practically becomes your sugar daddy - you're his personal doll to dress, provide for and parade around proudly. he wouldn't trade the satisfied glint in your eyes, or the rhythm of your glistening arousal dripping on his wood paneled floors for anything. after a long day of spoiling you, he becomes a little selfish in the bedroom and chases his high with no regard for how overstimulated you might get :(

he is obsessed with dressing you to match his personal perception of you - that is to say, have you dressed in a manner that would make atheists reconsider and have the faithful herald you as their new deity. he wants to ensure that everyone know why he worships you the way he does. even if you don't feel confident in your skin, he quietly reassures you that your bashfulness only adds to your charm

you're his personal model and his precious doll - plaything, if you will. after you return to his place from perusing the designer shops, he lounges back with a whiskey in hand and patiently watches you show off your latest purchases on his card. he'll ask you to spin or swap shoes to match the outfit every so often, even asking you to bend down towards him just so he can adjust your collar or hairstyle. if he gets taken aback by how stunning you look in a certain outfit, expect him to get carried away and start panic rambling - he'll explain the specifics of the material, cut or brand as his fingers roam your body with devotion and his eyes greedily drink you in. his voice gets progressively huskier throughout the show until he gets to the expensive undergarments hidden in matte bags and tissue paper - he fucks you in front of the mirror, reveling in the way the material hugs your skin and how your skin shifts as your muscles clench with every thrust

after he warmed up to you, patrick slowly realized how emotionally taxing your early encounters were on you and that you were left feeling used and roughed up afterwards. if he still makes you feel that way after he first admits his affection, definitely let him know - he might want to leave physical marks on you that linger for a week or so after, but emotional damage is the last thing he wants marring your relationship

something that resembles quiet devotion lingers in his gaze, the glint of chandeliers flashing as he quickly shakes his head and denies he was ever staring :( sure, you might not be the stereotypical 'hardbody', but you're more worth his time than all of the other whores that his cock stirs for - you're leagues better than the sluts turning tricks and actually deserve a place in his home, his bed, unlike the simple chicks he picks up from clubs. he actually respects you (though, not enough to acknowledge your independence away from him) and his silent approval - pride, even - of your actions sometimes slips through his mask

whenever you're in the room with him, there is an invisible yet tangible tension that tugs you together. the warm, compressing feeling always hones your vision onto patrick - it drowns out all of the noises and movement around you, grounding you in the all-consuming gaze of your lover. his eyes snap to yours whenever you enter the room and he instinctively feels a bulge growing in his slacks, his pupils dilating as his tongue darts out to dampen his lips. no polite conversation or mundane styling drivel is worth his time when you are in his field of view

patrick genuinely feels his blood thunder in his ears whenever the men at the table make snide remarks about your appearance or belittle you. he is absolutely disgusted at their attitudes and lack of understanding - you are his darling and you deserve to be treated as his equal, at a minimum. however, if the table murmurs about how sexy you look, he's more than willing to show you off a bit - he's proud of what's his, obviously! just don't let the boys get too bold with their 'polite' touches or they won't have fingers in the morning :<

he'll buy you a ring. not to propose, oh god no - he doesn't want to do the whole evelyn debacle again. patrick wants to simply state his territory and claim so that others would be less inclined to approach you (plus, it helps that he doesn't have to vividly daydream about it anymore - it saves brain power)

if he rushes home with dirty, damp gloves and a missing button on his overcoat, he'll forever be indebted to you if you pour him a stiff drink and prepare to call jean to postpone all events the next day

your head gets all fuzzy when his tongue drags along the line of your collarbone and his soft lips ghost down your chest - circling your nipple and threatening you with the edge of his teeth makes the edge of his mouth twist into a smirk. if you meet his gaze, his lidded eyes give away how content he is in this position, with you on top of his lap. his lips sheened with spit and your buttoned shirt yanked open make for an arousing sight

patrick is a big fan of smoking his cigars while you sloppily take his cock down your throat - he gets some sadistic pleasure from putting them out on your spit-soaked thighs, the drool hissing under the scorching heat. it's coincidentally also one of his favourite things to reminisce, running his fingers over your thighs while replaying those memories during boring social events. the scent of his expensive smoke, wafting around him in a saloon, has him drifting back to the sight of his hefty cock resting on your face - the length throbbing with every heartbeat, pearls of salty precum seeping into your soft skin and trailing in thin rivulets down the contours of cheekbone

he is a fan of sneaking a dab of his yves saint lauren perfume onto all of your formal wear, a little mark of him and something to keep you company whenever you're out at functions he's not attending

he drags you out to clubs just to dress you up and show you off under the bright, colourful flashing lights. you have his eye the entire time you're feeling yourself on the dance floor, tempting him your sensual movements from across the room - don't expect him to act on it immediately though, he's more than content to hold your gaze and sip his glass from the bar. if some sleaze dares to get handsy with you, he'll step in and guide you towards the bathroom as his fingers glide down to your lower back - he needs a bump to loosen up and not hurt every single chump eyeing you up. you're his plaything, after all.

if you spend a night at patrick's place, he'll secretly love taking showers with you - only because you help him rub in his cleansers and soaps into his skin, no other reason. certainly not that your devoted, admiring gaze make him flush and whisper his timid thanks under the steady stream of water, the noise lost in the pounding around your ears. ignore his building arousal, it'll stay there and grow even harder when he pleasures you with his tongue on the counter of his stainless-steel kitchen. you're the only one he'll kneel for, and you bet that there's a steamed-up outline of your ass on the countertop when he's done :3

despite his incessant need to fit in, he's never going to blend in while you remain by his side. you bring out that rare smile of his and that soft chuckle in public settings. you far outshine all the other, dull plus-ones at the dinner parties

you are patrick's trump card - everyone he knows either wants to be you or fuck you, they'll do anything to impress (especially if there's false hope of ending the night in bed with one or both of you)

if you're confident enough, you could be his personal little pornstar!! it makes you so giddy, the knowledge that he could show the snippets of the videos to his coworkers (who dream about getting you naked) and make them jealous of the fact that you've cum numerous times with patrick's name on your lips. the video is recorded on the best equipment of course - he can't have you on video while looking anything less than godlike on camera

he orders your favourite dishes at every restaurant, combs and brushes out your hair when you arrive at his apartment, then fucks you roughly while whispering how thankful he is for you. his babbling pleas for you to stay and praise of your existence echo in your mind for hours after, especially as he rests next to you with steady breathing

patrick leaves hickeys and bite marks all over you and while he might apologise while handing you anti-bruise supplements, know that his mind's eye is stuck on the sigh of your skin blossoming under his lips - specifically, the feeling of his teething nipping your skin and the small hum of satisfaction as he pulls away to inspect his work. if you've been good lately, he'll let you leave a hickey or mark on his chest - it's only fair after he leaves you bruised and aching in his arms the next morning :( if you've behaved to his liking, he'll share some of his japanese pear and kiwi for breakfast. you need some sugar to recoup anyway

if he's been snappy or pent up all day, he'll guilt you into taking him with minimal prep - he will snap and go feral if he's had to rein it in at work, plus the stretch feels heavenly around his thick cock

patrick had once ordered a prostitute for the two of you to experiment with - making sure they were a fair balance between your ideal types, bodywise. this plan went a little off script after the foreplay when you and patrick ended up exploring your exhibitionist sides, passionately kissing and languidly exploring each other's bodies while the hire slowly touched themselves at the sight. that precious hour or so was the easiest pay that person had ever made (you and patrick were far from unattractive), plus that champagne that you poured out was heavenly

patrick has you suck him off during skincare routines in the morning and evening, making sure to cum all down your throat. he insists it's good protein for you!! kneeling in front of the bathroom countertop has become second nature to you, the divine sight of your rugged lover above you routinely making you feel at ease

you had better be friends with his secretary jean because you'll see her a lot. if she gets jealous and her failed attempts at sleeping with him affect her capabilities, patrick will simply hire a different secretary. sure, he'll love to flaunt you and taunt them about how they aren't fucking either of you, but that's just part of his fun. he might use the empty threat of fucking you in front of the secretary as a way to keep you from acting out, but he's too possessive to have someone in a different tax bracket see you laid bare

get him spa day gift cards!! you can both spend time in private saunas or pools simply enjoying each other's presence and use the time to caress each other's bodies. use the opportunity to get a full body massage - when patrick has had a rough week, you're more than likely going to end up with a couple bruises and a few sore muscles

while he's never been the most domestic man, the image of you flitting back and forth in his pristine kitchen flicks a switch in patrick's brain. your earnest efforts of making him his breakfast bran muffins and churning his apple butter has him daydreaming of keeping you in his apartment like a pet - at his beck and call constantly, dusting his expensive furniture and preparing his meals whenever he comes home... not to mention how you'd willingly bend over or drop to your knees in a heartbeat if he so desired

if patrick is riding an adrenaline (or cocaine) high when he returns to you, be very careful and tread lightly. he may have an itch to clean his axe or handguns, polishing them until the late hours of the night. when he's in a jittery and frantic state, he isn't above having you spread out on his polished floor as something nice to look at while assembling the firearms, and he's certainly not against fucking you roughly while holding the gun to your head or body. he's even aroused by the though of you sucking off his uzi, spit-slicked metal knocking your teeth as your glistening eyes widen in fear

when you sleep next to him, he might jolt awake at night before realizing your shifting movements pose no threat to him, especially when you're locked into his arms with your soft breath brushing against his skin. when he gazes at you in these dimly lit moments, his mask slips until he feels a semblance of happiness - there's no discomfort, jealousy or boredom, he's content with you against him like this. after a long while of his breathing filling the dark room, his mind forces his walls back up and reverts him back to his usual self just as he drifts to sleep. no one can ever see him like that, see what your presence does to him... not even you

he has a penchant for fucking you infront of his toshiba 30-inch television, a porno tape or horror movie often playing. he loves the way screams - either of ecstasy or pain - fill his ears as you moan beneath him, the colours of the screen dancing on your skin. his cock always pulses just that little bit more whenever you bite his thumb and take his dick deep inside you as the film plays in the background. red is suck a sexual and raw colour after all, why not have the bright screen fill your vision as you cum on his cock? the vibrance drowns out all other stimuli, forcing you to focus on his presence in and around you

imagine the shock on evelyn's face when she shows up unannounced at patrick's place one late afternoon- he's swaying to heuy louis and the news, hands on your hips as you giggle and pour him a glass. his silk shirt loosely buttoned just covers your modesty as he soothingly rubs circles on your thigh, soft grin fading as his gaze frosts over at the sight of his betrothed. she sniffs, scandalized at the sight infront of her, and tells patrick to not bother contacting her - tim price's phone will be unplugged the moment she arrives at his place. to be honest, patrick could not care less. you're in his arms and he knows for a fact that evelyn will be over it soon - if not, there's a more suitable marriage candidate right in front of him. if you feel bad or guilty after evelyn leaves, patrick will do his best with his hands, thick cock, tongue and credit card to soothe your worries

expect patrick to leave desperate and vaguely threatening voice mail messages - his heavy, stuttered breaths echoing in your ears as the slick sounds in the background get you more and more worked up. the depraved ramblings deepen and get hoarser with each passing minute, so you'd better pray jean doesn't walk in - she isn't worthy of seeing him in such a disheveled and flushed state

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

luis is the most understanding of patrick's work bunch - he isn't shy to defend you and be seen in public as your friend, once you are comfortable telling him your secret of course. just make sure everyone knows you're not a part of that yale thing and you'll be fine

although he isn't keen on being open about his relationship with you - for fear of his colleagues and fellow acquaintances of wall street making derogatory comments towards him, or worse, you - majority of the men already have some closeted urge to spend the night with you, yearning to take bateman's place in your bed. let's face it, the cocaine, competition and firm handshakes can only do so much to hide the growing homoerotic tensions between the coworkers. your appeal is wider than you realise, as the compliments and lingering gazes at events would have most outsiders questioning if carruthers was the only gay man present in the social circle

in large social gatherings - such as big dinner parties or company events - patrick is able to hide his hand under the table and keep a poker face while unbuttoning your fly, untucking your shirt and slowly palming you for his own amusement. his bragging of designer clothing, company roles and mentions of a nice house he procured - for you to move into, of course - easily distract the other people on the table from what's happening in their vicinity

if his j&b on the rocks isn't hitting the spot or the cigars his colleagues are smoking feel heavy in his lungs, he'll drag you into the men's room - assuming there's no one in the other stalls, of course. his fly is halfway undone by the time your knees and expensive slacks hit the tiles, his hands mussing your slicked back hair. you'd better take his cock down your throat to the best of your abilities - you don't want an audience to witness you choking and spluttering on bateman's length, do you? of course not, they'll ostracize you in a heartbeat (or so patrick says), so you had better not complain or splutter when he pinches your nose shut and shoots hot ropes down your throat

whenever patrick fucks your ass, he ensures that his mark is left on your supple skin for days later - whether it be a handprint-shaped bruise, crescent nail marks or scratches along your thighs, he needs to have you remembering how well he fucks you. as you sit down, adjust your pants or even just accidentally back into something, patrick is suddenly at the forefront of your mind

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

patrick buys you the finest jewelry and nicest accessories that money can buy - the deal is that you give him handjobs with the sparkling rings on and kisses with the expensive lipstick, luxurious material framing your figure like a dream. he is especially a fan of you wearing jewels that match your eye colour or makeup - when he lifts your hand to press a polite kiss on your fingers, the glittering in your eyes matching his gifts makes his heart skip a beat

when you cockwarm him, his length is so hefty and makes you feel so stretched - the weight grounds you as you struggle to gain friction against your poor neglected clit. you always feel so full when you're perched on his lap, the girth enough to turn off your brain and make you drool. sometimes when patrick is feeling bold, he prepares your outfit for the day and ensures that you're wearing a cute little skirt for easy access :( he can be selfish sometimes, on the occasion that he solely thinks with his dick

patrick loves pushing your knees up to your chest as he fucks you deeply in missionary - the feeling of your swollen pussy lips brushing against his veiny base and your clit grinding against his pubic bone gets him more worked up than he'll ever admit

it's fairly normal to have patrick's hand drift towards your chest in the back of a taxi, his face buried in the crook of your neck. keep your noises quiet or the driver might be curious about what's happening in the backseat. his cold fingers harshly pinching and tugging at your nipples make you abruptly moan into the brisk air in the back of the car, patrick subtly palming himself to the tortured whines leaving your lips. if you make eye contact with the driver, mouth that you're sorry for patrick's behaviour and try to save your dignity by biting your lip to avoid any loud noises. if they make direct eye contact with patrick first, however, expect him to pull a smug grin and flash your breasts to the angled rear-view mirror. he might even hike up your skirts to show off your soaked, borderline see-through panties. sneak the poor driver a tip on your way out because he nearly caused an accident, losing all brain function as his blood immediately drained from his head and rushed to his cock :<

patrick buys you two little platinum charms with a necklace chain, his initials engraved on the back of the heart shaped pendant. the other little shape is an axe, the edge of the blade set with tiny red garnets!! he is main motivation for having you wear it constantly is the fact that it makes a small clinking noise as you bounce on his cock, breasts swaying and your glimmering skin making the necklace a truly beautiful sight to patrick

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his admiring hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

if you're only just getting into wearing masculine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his man and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

you're lucky his designer boxers are easy to clean! every time he catches sight of your muscles tensing, he's undoubtedly leaking into the material. when you're stretching and your shirt rides up, when you grab something from the top shelf or even when you crouch to tie your shoelace - his cock doesn't discriminate so you'd better expect a small, darkening patch. the musk at the end of the day has such a heady rush when you kneel in front of him, his sweaty underwear mere inches from your lips. patrick swears you give his dick a heartbeat whenever you make out with his bulge and especially when you sloppily give him head :3

bateman is a huge fan of quickies with you before meetings with your mutual colleagues - he's booked for lunch after, there's no other time in his schedule to empty his heavy, full balls into you :( his favourite way to spend those precious moments is with you bent over his polished desk, expensive pants crumpled at your ankles and your precum dripping onto the carpet. he is a massive fan of teasing you by pushing his cockhead into your slick boycunt and stroking his cock, edging his length until you're whimpering from the need to be filled. he mocks you for being needy and massages his balls when he finally fills your warm hole with thick, potent ropes of cum. he leaves you unsatisfied and leaking his load for the whole meeting :( splash your face with water and try not to squirm too much in your seat - patrick's classic shit-eating grin might give away the events that transpire mere moments before you both walked into the boardroom

mtf hcs

patrick will pay for any surgery you could every want - with the small caveat that he must be the first person to see and touch you once you're all healed. his lightly concealed wonder at your altered appearance and his hums as he carefully traces the remaining swelling definitely help with your mood, breathlessly marveling at the miracle of modern medicine. he's praying you're happy with the outcome, it really was the best money could buy :(

patrick keeps himself well put together and likes to treat you to manicures on shared days out. he'll ask his friend's girls for the best nail salon in the area and insists taking you. after he comes along to pick you up and pay after the set is finished, sometimes he'll immediately take your hands and hum his approval at the colour or design. other times, he'll give you his overcoat and hide your nails until you get in a private area, bathroom or the back of a car - the reveal of your new nails when you slowly stroke his cock, spit slicked hand glistening, makes his eyes roll back in pleasure. your heated gaze and slightly flushed face makes him grin, happy that you're willing to drool on his cock and flaunt his money proudly. the perfect girl, in his opinion :>

if you're only just getting into wearing feminine clothing, you bet your ass that patrick is guiding you through the more expensive stores. no awkward phase, just the nicest clothing and most put together outfits to go out on the town!! as much as he understands how tough your body image issues can be, he's not having you look sloppy out in public - you're his girl and you'll always be looking like you belong by his side

patrick's favourite evening activity is fucking you in a mating press - his cock filling you and hitting that deep spot inside you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. he loves the sight of your girldick bouncing on your tummy and the shine of your dribbling arousal smearing on your skin. nothing beats a relaxed evening with your tight hole warming his throbbing length

_ _ _ _ _

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[brionbroadway]

dangerously close to becoming a multiple wip girly again 

[meatballlady]

It's time for the fandom to start Looking Where the Furniture Isn't

For a bit of background, one of my irl professional responsibilities is to identify and avoid making undue assumptions. There are a LOT of things that we humans assume. We assume that terminology means the same to other people as it does to us. We assume everyone has the same context of a situation we do. We assume that we aren't missing any information.

We operate on the information we have.

There was an ask before season 2 aired asking whether many of the plot points had been revealed by the clips (which almost all took place during the first half of the first episode). Neil's response was something like "oh you sweet summer children you know nothing yet." And boy was he right.

Neil Gaiman is a master of controlling assumptions. Just look at his Tumblr askbox replies.

Here's a few s2 examples of assumptions we all made (as I'm starting a rewatch):

Why did Crowley do the (very fun and distracting) apology dance? You might say it was because he walked out on Jim, but he never specified, did he? And Aziraphale was surprised that he proposed they would hide him "together"

How did Shax get a rumor about something going down in the Up (presumably) before Gabriel even went downstairs?

Did Jim need to bring Aziraphale something other than the box? He never actually specifies; Aziraphale just assumes it's the box.

Why did Aziraphale assume Maggie could feel [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] arriving?

Why does Aziraphale say Heaven would notice even a small miracle? Crowley is seen doing a miracle before their large miracle (traffic light), and later Aziraphale makes the guy leave the table at the pub

To go deeper:

Are we assuming that characters are telling the truth? Example: "Miracles don't work like that," "[Extreme sanctions] was just something we said to frighten the cherubs" etc.

Are we assuming that nothing of note happened between apocalypse v1 and s2? (ex. the claims that Crowley didn't tell Aziraphale about the trial in heaven despite him referencing it in s2s1) What if we the audience are just jumping in near the end of this story?

Are these assumptions correct? Or are we just working with the information that we have?

Now that I'm looking for it, there's also SO many corrections of assumptions (usually for the sake of a joke, but still) (these are just the ones that happen while I type them out while watching e2):

"Can I be a blue one?" "You haven't annoyed me yet" "But can I be?"

"You recognized [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] those people who were in the shop just now?" "Of course, they were in the shop, just now!"

"oh my god!" "blasphemy, angel, that's not like you", "no, oh, my god"

Many of the themes were about hiding things in plain sight: the kids (and kids), Jim, "aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear." Clue (1985) was heavily referenced in the lead-up. The whole point of that film was looking at what was going on elsewhere. Looking where the furniture isn't, you might say.

The more I watch s2, the less certain I am that any of it makes sense on its own.

I'm currently combing through it to see if there are any discrepancies with where people are (easiest example is when Crowley just disappears from the bookshop while they're reviewing the Job story). It'll be a lot of data and might not lead anywhere, but I'll definitely share once I finish looking into it.

I will also honestly admit that these things are all circumstantial, and I could be going insane. But they just keep cropping up all over the place. I've got a lot of time before S3 comes up and I intend to investigate the furniture. And try to not make assumptions.

[thewordypeach]

Cherry Waves

Cherry Waves

pairing: Paul Atreides x fem!reader word count: 9.2k warnings: fluffy smut. virginity. oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, vague mention of dom/sub, breeding kink?!?!?, etc. chubby reader, no use of y/n (however your name is daisy lol) summary: you consummate the arranged marriage to your new husband, paul atreides. author's note: this is my second story that i am posting! i've been working on this one for awhile now... absolutely adore Paul Atreides and Dune. watched both movies like 5 times and just finished up the book! waiting for the next one from the library :) also Timothée's hair in this film is just ungodly and totally unfair - like i don't know if i want to be his hair or have it?? anyways, it's fluff with smut or smut with fluff??? its cute and dirty. that is all. thank you for reading!!!!! addendum: 05/04/23 - this is picking up reads because of Dune 2 promo and i just wanted to let you know that it's poorly edited, and a sequel will be coming soon.

For the first time since you landed on Caladan, the rain has finally stopped. And for the first time since you arrived, you are completely alone with him. Your husband. You haven’t spoken more than two words to him; you’ve been nothing but frightened for the last week, afraid of your new life on this new planet. You know you are going to have to accept this new life because you have no other choice. The other thing you are going to have to accept is him. 

Paul Atreides. 

You watch as he kneels before a delicate blossom, eyes fixed upon the intricate folds and hues of its magenta petals. His once sharp features have softened, the angles smoothed into an expression of wonder and reverence. You’ve seen this look of his before but can’t seem to place it. His slender fingers reach out and touch the velvety surface of the flower as if he were under its spell. His dark hair, wild and unkept, falls in loose waves around his face. 

While you can’t help but notice how breathtakingly handsome Paul is, it’s not his looks that initially drew you in, but rather it is his quiet intensity that captivated your attention. He turns and his green orbs take a quick scan of you. His eyes have always held a depth of knowledge and experience far beyond his years, and even now as he observes you, he knows something you don’t. 

“The flowers on Caladan are a wonder to behold,” He says tepidly, almost as if he’s afraid of scaring you away. He knows you’ve been on edge the last few days, practically jumping out of your skin every time he speaks to you. He straightens, his lean frame moving gracefully as he strides toward you. “Each one is so unique, with its own fragrance and beauty. Some are delicate and sweet, like the jasmine that grows near the waterfalls, while others are bold and robust, like the wild roses that climb the cliffs.” 

You are frozen in place, knees trembling beneath your skirt. Paul stops when he is in front of you, his body mere inches away. Those eyes of his, perfectly green like the forest that surrounds the two of you, sparkle with reverence. He’s been in disbelief at how strikingly beautiful you are and how you don’t even realize it. The thought of you not knowing your strength or beauty brings a sadness to him that he can’t shake; it brings forth a determination to help you see and understand your true worth.

Gently, he raises his hand and touches a finger to your temple, sweeping away a piece of black hair. Underneath the light, the strands of hair shimmer with a blue hue.  He moves his attention back to your face, “Caladan didn’t have daisies until you,” 

When it comes to you, Paul can’t help but be tender. He knows you’ve been through so much. He sees the turmoil etched upon your face; Paul is afraid your sadness and fright will be permanent, and he does not want to go forward if you are intimidated by him. The corners of his lips pull down, shaking as he confronts you, “I… I know that you are scared of me, Daisy,”

Your throat tightens. You aren’t scared of Paul but rather, you are scared of what lies ahead in your future with him. He’s the son of Duke Leto Atreides; Paul has responsibilities that you never dreamed of. Folding your arms around your body, you swallow dryly and think of what to say with careful consideration because you can tell that Paul is growing frustrated with your lack of reciprocity.

“My lord,” The way you regard him by his formal title makes his chest constrict. He does not want such formalities when it’s just the two of you but he bites back the urge to correct you. He impatiently awaits the rest of your words. Your eyes cast downward, afraid to look him in the eye as you confess, “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of the responsibilities that come with being your wife. I do not want to burden House Atreides.”

Concern floods Paul’s face and he is quick to shake his head. His brow knits together and he rushes to speak, the words tumbling out before he can think about what he’s saying, “Daisy, you need to understand that I didn’t choose this life either -”

He stops and inhales deeply to calm himself. Paul takes a step closer and the gap between your bodies narrows. Immediately, you can’t help but notice how his scent is a tantalizing combination of rain and a woody floral. It makes you think of safety. Paul drops his voice to a whisper, “I have responsibilities to House Atreides that I can’t simply ignore. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or that I won’t do everything in my power to protect you.” 

“You don’t even know me,” Your voice shakes with emotion. This isn’t how you address nobility but damn Paul’s title. His status brings forth an apprehension that claws inside your already rattled heart. You have known each other for less than ten days and yet here he is, declaring protection with everything he has. However, despite his best effort you still feel like a burden. He’s too young to feel like this - he has his entire life ahead of him and now? He has a wife to take care of. Your eyes snap up and you breathe out, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, any of this…”

Paul studies your face, sensing your doubts and your burdens. Your eyes remain clouded with fear and melancholy. Oh, how Paul yearns to alleviate your concerns and set your mind at ease, but he feels helpless in doing so. His father never taught him how to be a loving husband; Paul is only schooled in politics and the responsibilities of a Duke. Navigating the complexity of matrimony has never been part of his training.

“I understand that this might be difficult for you to understand,” He cups your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. Paul realizes this is the most affectionate he’s ever been with someone and it breaks his heart knowing this is the first time you are on the receiving end. He silently vows to give you all the love he has. As he speaks, warmth radiates off his words, “You are not a burden, and you will never be a burden to me because we are in this together, Daisy. You are my family now. I promise we will figure this out, together.”

Tears swell in your eyes, “I’m sorry, m’lord -”

“Daisy,” He sharply cuts you off, “You don’t have to apologize - none of this is your fault, okay?”

Paul leans his forehead against yours, “We are a team now. You are my wife and I will do everything I can to protect you.”

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. Paul is quick to wipe them away and much to your surprise, he kisses each of your eyelids. Your hands cling to his waist, suddenly desperate to keep him close. Paul notices the change and feels your urgency as if you are afraid of him slipping away. He responds by planting butterfly kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. More tears crash down and Paul sweeps them away. You can’t help but giggle at the valiant effort that your husband is making to make you feel better. 

The sound of your giggle makes Paul giddy and it causes his stomach to flip. He’s never felt like this before. His lips stretch into a smile as he continues to assault your beautiful face with endless amounts of affection. Paul stops for a brief moment, pulling away to see how your face has brightened. You look like sunshine now and it leaves him breathless.

Your eyes flutter open, wanting to see why your husband has stopped. Paul is peering at you with so much love and admiration that it makes your breath hitch inside your chest. You have never felt so safe and so adored. A look flickers across his verdant eyes and before you can say anything, Paul captures your lips with his.

Technically, this is not the first time he has kissed you but this kiss is exceptionally better than the one you were forced to share at the ceremony. This kiss felt natural and it felt right. There is a certain innocence to how he is applying soft pressure against your lips. Almost as if he’s afraid of breaking you. You want more, no, you need more. You can’t get enough and truth be told, neither can Paul. A desire ignites inside him and his stomach coils as something stirs inside his pants -

“Paul!”

The interruption causes you to jump but for Paul, the interruption of Gurney Halleck angers him. You are blushing at being caught in a compromising position, hiding your face against Paul’s chest as the future Duke turns to the weapon teacher. Annoyed, Paul scowls at the smirk on Gurney’s face. Gurney didn’t think Paul had it in him because truthfully, Gurney didn’t support the arranged marriage; he had his own misgivings and predictions about you. But upon seeing this revelation, Gurney’s opinion swiftly changed.

“My apologies for the interruption,” Gurney clears his throat, “My lord, may I remind you that your weapon’s master doesn’t like to be kept waiting…”

Paul glares at Gurney before turning his attention back to you, his face softening into that of a lovesick puppy. Your face is still pressing into his chest. Gently, he lifts your head and sweetly kisses your cheek, murmuring, “I will see you later, okay?”

Unwillingly, Paul tears himself away from you and stalks toward Gurney who is patiently waiting by the edge of the garden. Gurney, having known Paul since he was a wee little one, chuckles at the bulge in the young master’s pants. When Paul is close enough, Gurney leans over and mutters, “May I suggest a cold shower before training?” 

Paul’s face turns bright red upon realizing what Gurney is talking about.

Throughout weapon training, Paul is distracted. His thoughts are consumed by you. Gurney notices and finds himself pushing the young boy harder, and harder. Paul mustn’t give in to thoughts of temptation. Gurney barks order after order, hitting Paul over and over until the boy is on the ground, huffing and puffing, sweat pouring down his face. 

A look of determination etches upon Paul’s face as he lifts himself from the ground, swinging his blade around and glaring at Gurney. Paul is about to lunge at his weapon’s trainer but Gurney makes the quick decision to draw the session to a close because it’s clear, they won’t get much farther than this. 

“Paul,” Gurney orders, raising his hand for the boy to halt, “That’s enough for today,”

“I’m not done yet,” Paul hisses, clutching the handle of his blade. He eyes as Gurney walks over to the table of weapons and begins to clean them, buffing the blade until it shines.

“Your skills are improving Paul,” Gurney says gruffly, “But there’s something else you need to learn if you want to be a good husband,” 

Paul looks at Gurney with a quizzical look, unsure of how being a husband has anything to do with a training session. The young master huffs, “What are you talking about, Gurney?” 

“What I mean, boy, is that being a good husband takes more than just sword skills,” Gurney replies, his tone serious. “You need to have control over your thoughts.”

Paul blushes, had it really been that obvious? He sheepishly admits, “I… I guess I was a bit distracted...”

“A bit?” Gurney guffaws, throwing his head back. Paul’s naivety is something else. He presses, “You spent two hours thinking of your wife - this type of distraction is unacceptable, young master Paul. What are you going to do when an enemy has overpowered you?”

“I have my shield -” Gurney is swift to penetrate the forcefield of an unsuspecting Paul. The defence shield vibrates at the intrusion causing Paul to stumble, his green eyes snap to his waist where the blade is hovering above his sweat-soaked shirt. Paul lets out a sigh of frustration, feeling like he has not only let himself down but Gurney as well.

Gurney scorns, “How many times have I told you? The defence shield is only -”

“As good as the person wielding the sword,” Paul finishes Gurney’s sentence. Gurney ignores Paul and continues with his speech, “Even the most powerful shield can be breached by a skilled warrior and no matter how advanced or sophisticated your shield technology is, if you can’t properly use your sword, you are vulnerable to an attack.”

Gurney sheathed his blade, eyeing Paul who looks defeated. Gurney lets out a exhale, “Paul, marriage is a lot like weapon training. You have to be willing to put in the work, to learn and grow together, and to be there for each other through thick and thin.”

Paul turns off his defence shield and runs his finger along the edge of the blade, fascinated by the vulnerability - one wrong move and he could cut himself, and bleed to death. Suddenly, the weight of being a husband falls on his shoulders and he thinks about the promise he made to protect you. He's liable for another person now and he wonders if he's even ready for the responsibility of having a wife. The young master mutters, “What happens if I can’t keep my promise of protecting her?”

Gurney furrows his brow and gives Paul a stern look, “Then you’ll have failed not only her, but yourself as well,” he says firmly, “A true warrior doesn’t waste time worrying about the what-ifs. Instead, focus on the task at hand and what you can do to prevent it. Train harder, study your enemy, and always be one step ahead. The best way to protect her is to be prepared for anything that comes your way and that means forcing yourself not to think frivolous thoughts about her,”

Paul grimly nods but Gurney sees the young boy hasn’t been convinced yet. Gurney feels for him; this is new territory and Paul has yet to find the best way to navigate it. Gurney continues, “As for your wife, you cannot be with her every moment of the day, but you can teach her to be just as skilled with the sword as you are.” 

Paul hurries down the corridor of his family's castle, trying to get back to you as soon as possible. He is so excited to see your face that his stomach is churning with anticipation. He wants to hold you, touch you, kiss you. You are all he’s been thinking about and he is so close to seeing you again. Paul accelerates around the corner and nearly collides with his father, Duke Leto Atreides. Paul is caught off guard and he stumbles back.

Duke Leto regards his son with a knowing look as if he had been waiting for Paul. Leto watches as Paul straightens himself out, smoothing and adjusting the black tunic with the House of Atreides symbol on his chest. Paul suddenly feels nervous being in the presence of his father, he’s unsure of what to say or do. Paul waits for instruction. 

“Paul,” His father nods. Leto knew that Paul would be in this area of the castle because Gurney had already informed him. In fact, Gurney had also informed the Duke of the kiss that the young master and his lady shared in the garden - Gurney said it wasn’t just any kiss either. It was the kiss; the type of kiss that would’ve certainly led to something more had it not been for Paul’s strict training schedule. 

Leto is amused by his son’s red face which is impatient and restless. The Duke knows that Paul will not disobey his orders and decides his teachings in matrimony couldn't have come at a better time. He offers a smile to Paul, “Relax, son - Gurney told me you’d be here,” 

Paul clears his throat and nods, “Yes, my lord - can I help you with anything?” Paul is dreading the answer and finds himself becoming resentful toward the Duke because now, Paul has been delayed from seeing you. When the Duke gives a curt nod, Paul’s stomach drops - why did he have to be such a fool and ask such a question? 

“Yes, Paul. There is something you could help me with,” the Duke motions for Paul to follow him down the corridor of their castle. As they walk through the dimly lit castle, the glowglobes above them illuminate the towering walls made of rough-hewn gray stone. The Duke’s footsteps reverberate through the long, empty hall, echoing off the walls and filling the silent space. 

Leto thinks about how small Paul used to be and how it seems like it was only yesterday that Paul was running around the castle and playing pretend with all of his imaginary friends. He has grown into a tall, handsome young man but despite all of his training and teachings, Paul still has yet to master his stoicism. Leto notes how Paul's lips are pursed with muted animosity - his son is annoyed with him. The Duke is amused by this; he knows he is yet another barrier keeping Paul from his new wife.

As the Duke regards his son, he realizes that Gurney is right. Paul is completely smitten by you and those verdant eyes of his are pooled with so much love that it spills out. His infatuation with you is written across Paul's face. This is a side of his son that he has never seen before. It pleases him because originally, Leto was resistant to the arranged marriage brought on by the Padishah Emperor who insisted that Paul take one of his daughters from House Corrino.

The Duke knows that this type of look on royalty is frowned upon and that it may be seen as a weakness. But Leto cannot help but feel proud of his son for allowing himself to feel and express intense emotions. In a world where political alliances rule, it is a rare and precious thing to see someone unabashedly show love and affection. Leto thinks of his own reasons for not marrying his concubine, Lady Jessica, and does not wish for Paul to be burdened with the same regrets.

With a sense of determination, the Duke decides to do everything in his power to help Paul build a strong and loving relationship with you. Leto refrains from chastising his son about his open display of affection because he realizes that Paul needs guidance on other matters; matters attaining to the bedroom.

He knows Paul has received the talk about procreation but Leto is about to give his son advice on proper lovemaking. It's a topic he was unwilling to breach but Lady Jessica was insistent that it happens tonight as it's obvious the newlyweds will be consummating the marriage sooner than later; she gave her own advice to you earlier and now, it is the Duke's turn.

He takes a deep breath, carefully selecting his words. He doesn't want to scare Paul and begins imparting his knowledge with a casual statement, “Gurney informed me of your training session,” He pauses when he realizes that Paul isn't paying attention to him. However, the Duke presses on, “Paul, you’re a husband now. You have a wife - a beautiful wife -” 

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Paul interjects rather dreamily as a dazed look crosses his eyes. There he goes again, letting his love spill out. Leto realizes that he'll have to remind Paul about the importance of keeping his emotions in check but for now, it could wait.

"Yes, she is. And now that you're a husband, there are certain things you must do and certain things you must not do," Leto stops and turns to his son, watching as Paul's expression changes to that of confusion. "You are responsible for her happiness, her sadness - your actions will directly affect her well-being."

Paul slowly nods, taking in his father's words. Leto cocks his head to the side, asking, "Son, do you know how to keep your wife happy?"

The young master shakes his head and casts his gaze downward - no, he doesn't know how to keep you happy. And it's been plaguing him all day. It's what kept him distracted during weapon training. But when his father speaks again, it's not the type of advice he was expecting to hear: "Listen very carefully, Paul. I’m going to tell you the secret to keeping your wife happy -" 

Leto glances around, making sure that they were alone and just for added measure, he lowers his voice, “You’re going to kiss her lips, kiss her until you can’t breathe. And your hands, they’re going to touch her. Everywhere. Slowly at first, but with purpose...” 

Paul's face grows hot with discomfort and simply put, he's dumbfounded by these instructions; it takes him a minute to realize that his father is giving advice on foreplay. His cheeks burn crimson. He's hesitant, feeling like a fool for asking such a silly question, “How do I know if she likes it?”

"Oh, you'll know, son … you'll know," His father's eyes darken and it startles Paul. His father inches closer, his voice dropping to an even lower octave, “Your fingers and tongue are tools, they will aid you in making your wife happy."

This advice is the limit of the boundary Leto is willing to cross. He's unwilling to give any more as it is up to his son to learn that not every woman is the same and that what Lady Jessica likes might not be what Lady Daisy likes. Leto also doesn't want to scar his son with his own prowess because what he and Jessica do in their bedroom is none of Paul's business.

But of course, Paul can't help but wonder how his father knows such things and it quickly dawns on the young master that the Duke does these things with Paul’s mother - is this the reason for their happiness? The thought makes him feel uneasy and strange. He never thought sex could have such a profound effect on a relationship but it makes sense. Paul suddenly understands the gravity of his father's advice and the complexity it will bring to his own marriage; ultimately, Paul is frightened yet intrigued by the idea that his tongue and fingers will help him in the pursuit of your happiness.

Paul's brows knit together and he gazes down at his fingers, watching as he repetitively curls and uncurls them. He clarifies, "I can... I use them... on her?"

"Yes, Paul. Use them on your wife - and remember to listen to her. Nonverbal cues are still cues, her sighs and moans will tell you everything you need to know," His father sees Paul struggling to hold back the utter panic and he feels for the young boy who is about to become a man. Leto remembers feeling the same way when it came to bedding Lady Jessica for the first time. He places a reassuring hand on Paul's shoulder and adds: "The most important part is consent, Paul … remember, you have an entire lifetime to spend with her. Don't feel like you need to rush through it all tonight."

Paul nods, his throat tight and dry. The prospect of seeing you makes him anxious, and despite knowing that he desires you with every fibre of his being, he can’t shake off the uneasiness of being a disappointment. What if he can’t please you? What if he can’t perform? Will this make you love him less?

“Breathe, son. Breathe.” The Duke pats his son's shoulder and gives an encouraging smile, “You’ll do fine, Paul. I’ll see that a change is made for your weapon training session tomorrow and I’ll make sure that Gurney Halleck doesn’t bother the happy couple.” 

“Have a nice evening son, and be safe,” with that, Duke Leto Atreides departs, leaving Paul alone in the corridor to ponder on what lies ahead of him tonight.

The young master leans against the cool stone and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths to steady himself. The weight of responsibility and expectations from both his father and his new wife weighs heavily on his conscience. Paul has to remind himself that he loves you and he is willing to do anything to make you happy. 

The sound of the bedroom door opening startles you. Quickly, you stand. Hands trembling as they smooth out the cream-coloured negligee that adorns your body. It was a gift from Paul’s mother; she gave it to you earlier. It seems that gossip travels around the castle at an alarming rate because not even an hour after you and Paul were seen kissing in the garden, Lady Jessica was pulling you to the side for a little chat because she seems to think that tonight is the night that you finally consummate your marriage.

And she’s right because the moment Paul steps into the room, and closes the door behind him - locking it - you know exactly what is about to happen. Paul stands across from you, eyes blazing at the sight of you, drinking in your body. He’s wearing his usual black tunic. His wavy hair looks even more dishevelled than before. His cheeks are rosy. And once again, his eyes capture you and pull you into those pools of emerald. Every ounce of his love surrounds you and it spreads like wildfire across your body.

You can't believe that Paul Atreides is yours. He's so unbelievably handsome with his aquiline nose, his high-cheek bones, and his slender neck that tapers gracefully into his lean shoulders. He oozes noble lineage and the thought of providing Paul with an heir makes you giddy.

“My lord,” You finally speak. You give a curtsy, bowing your head in the process. Paul cringes; he hates when you call him by his formal title. He despises it. It makes his blood boil. He takes several long strides until he is standing in front of you. Paul places his fingers beneath your chin, lifting your head until your eyes meet his. 

For a moment, you look… frightened. But there’s something else hiding in those russet-coloured eyes of yours. Paul softens, he’s suddenly all too aware that he still has the remnants of distaste written across his face. “Daisy, please… when it’s just the two of us - Just you and me - call me Paul,”

It almost feels like treason disregarding his title but he doesn’t want such formalities with you. Never. Ever. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment and you nod, "Of course, my -"

You swallow his title and shakily breathe out, "Paul," his name sounds foreign as it leaves your lips. You feel … naughty calling him by his name. You don’t think you’ve ever regarded Paul as such, not even during your marriage vows did you call him just Paul. His name leaves your lips once more, “Paul,” 

The way you say his name makes him smile. He smiles so wide that his teeth make an appearance and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He softly replies, "Daisy,"

You return the smile and your eyes glisten with adoration as you and Paul regard each other with a newfound appreciation as if you're meeting him for the first time. It might as well be since the first few days were tumultuous, filled with uncertainty and a longing to be anywhere that wasn't Caladan. But now, all you want to be is with him. 

Paul can't help himself anymore and gives into temptation, his eyes glancing down at the negligee your body is adorned with. It’s a bit tight and it leaves almost nothing to the imagination; he's able to see the colour of your flesh through the transparent silk. His eyes linger on the imprints of your breasts as they poke through the fabric but what really intrigues Paul is the secret that lies between your thighs. Paul notices the strap of your negligee has started to slip down your shoulder and he reaches up to adjust it, his fingers gently brushing against your collarbone as he does so.

Immediately, he notices that the simple touch has caused goosebumps to explode across the surface of your skin followed by a tinge of red. Paul is fascinated by this change and wonders what other reactions you have in store for him. Meanwhile, you're growing impatient with him. You wish he'd just kiss you already because you miss the feeling of his lips against yours. But he doesn't and unbeknownst to you, Paul is planning to take his sweet time. 

Paul steps back, unbuttoning the top of his tunic. He's never gotten used to the tightness of his uniform and he lets out a sigh of relief. His eyes briefly glance at you standing there. You look annoyed by his actions and this amuses him.

You begin to shift on the balls of your heels, teeth biting into your lower lip as you think ‘patience is a virtue’. Paul has had a long day of weapons training and royal responsibilities. Surely, he is tired. But you have also waited all day for him and waiting a few more minutes sounds torturous - maybe if you ask him to kiss you, he'll listen.

"Please, Paul..." Your voice comes out whinier than intended. You feel embarrassed but it's Paul's reaction to your petulance that makes the pink colour in your cheeks deepen into crimson.

He pauses, a single eyebrow of his raising as his lips lift into a playful smirk. "Please, what, Daisy?"

Paul watches you through those thick, dark eyelashes of his. He waits for your answer and what you're unaware of is that he has enough patience to wait forever. After all, he is the son of a duke. Since birth, he's been taught to endure and persevere. 

“I-I…” You stutter, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the look clouding over in Paul’s verdant eyes. It causes an unfamiliar feeling to stir inside you and your thoughts quickly become a jumbled, incoherent mess. But thankfully, what you can recall is Lady Jessica’s advice: if you can’t tell him, show him. 

Slowly, you walk forward with Paul watching your every move. Your fingers tremble as you reach for the button of his tunic, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. As you unbutton his tunic, you quietly inquire, “How was your weapons training?”

Your question brings a sense of closeness that you’ve never experienced before. But truth be told, you don’t care about his weapon training. You just think it’ll help speed things up a bit. But Paul is distracted. His gaze lingers on your face; he’s admiring the smattering of freckles that dance along the bridge of your nose. You glance at him and see that his lips are still curved into an adoring smile. It makes your heart swell. 

Paul finally answers your question but his words fall on deaf ears because your mind is distracted by the sight of his lean waist. You find yourself growing envious of his body and begin to feel insecure because there is no denying the fact that your body is fuller than his, your bits fleshy and pudgy. Of course, Paul sees the change in your face and at first, he’s confused. But as he watches your eyes studying his body, particularly his perfectly flat stomach, he realizes what is bothering you. 

"Oh, Daisy..." He coos. His voice breaks through your thoughts and you look at him, puzzled. Paul tilts his head to the side and traces his finger along your rotund jawline. Truth be told, he adores the ampleness of your body. He’s been admiring your curves for days and now, he finally has the opportunity to touch them. Paul is filled with the utmost delight at the prospect of being smothered by you body that’s bigger than his. 

It is this exact thought that unleashes Paul from his restraints and he leans down, capturing your lips with his. You sigh happily and instantly forget about your jealousy. You relish the feeling of his supple lips pressing against yours - finally. He places a hand on the nape of your neck and the other on your hip, fingers digging into your thick flesh. He eagerly presses his body against yours, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.

This kiss is different than the one in the garden. It's urgent. Needy. Paul is eager for more and he deepens it by swiping his tongue against your bottom lip. Your mouth opens - you've never been kissed like this before and at first, you're timid. Unsure of what to do. But Paul seems to be just as lost as you are. It doesn't stop either of you from trying.

Time blurs and for several minutes, it's nothing but a kindling mess of trembling hands and soft, wet noises. There is no rhythm and there is no tempo. Paul is sucking your tongue into his mouth and next, you're nipping at his lower lip; he growls when you do so. The growl reverberates through your body and dissolves into a heavy pleasure that presses down into your core. 

Your lungs are desperate for fresh air and reluctantly, you separate. Your chest heaves against Paul’s and you gaze at him, noting how his eyes are still closed, lost in the throes of passion. His lips are swollen, bee-stung. Your lips are swollen too. Paul begins to run his hands up and down your back, his feathery touch tickles and you giggle softly at the sensation. His eyes snap open, verdant eyes flickering with burning desire. 

“Do you want to lie down?” His voice is low-pitched but clear, his intentions are polite and sincere. He'll never stop being a duke even during the most intimate of times. He presses his forehead against yours, patiently waiting for an answer. 

"Yes," Your voice shakes. He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Tension begins to simmer beneath the surface and it causes your throat to dry up, making it difficult to speak. Those pesky nerves have come back and you wish they hadn't because you were having so much fun before -

“Are you okay?” Paul asks lowering your body down first before sliding his body next to yours. Your stomach is violently fluttering and you can only nod in response. You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating.

Paul can just tell by wavering doubt on your face that you’re not okay. He peers at you, his face full of concern. He speaks, “Tell me you’re okay, Daisy,”

You swallow dryly and nod for a second time. Your fingers are gripping his arm because you are afraid that if you let go, he might disappear. It takes you another minute to gather yourself.

“I’m o-okay,” Breathlessly, you repeat, “I’m okay,”

This time it's Paul’s turn to nod. His lips turn into a soft, reassuring smile. He tenderly tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear and addresses your concerns, “We don’t have to do this - we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,”

Your heart tumbles over its own rhythm and you quickly shake your head. You want this - you want him. You want him to penetrate you with the bulge that has been steadily growing in his pants. You whisper, “But… but what if I do want it?”

He bites into his growing smile, trying to hide his excitement. He’s thrilled that you feel the same way and he loves hearing you speak. He wishes that you’d do it more and he knows in time that you will. As his father said, Paul has an entire lifetime to spend with you. 

“Make love to me, Paul…” Your confession is quiet. Barely audible. Paul is unsure if he has even heard you but at the sight of your blushing cheeks, he knows that he wasn’t dreaming. You are silently pleading that he feels the way because if he doesn’t, you might just perish from embarrassment. 

Paul pauses to watch the look of yearning etch itself across your face. You start to shift beneath the intensity of his gaze, your eyes dropping down. That’s when Paul feels your hands moving down his body. Your fingers latch onto his trousers, attempting to unbutton them but you’re having trouble, and it’s making you flustered. 

Paul is loving every second of it. He enjoys how your brows have furrowed in concentration and he particularly likes the frustration growing on your face. You bite your lower lip and impatiently huff as you give up. You realize he’s been watching you this entire time and your eyes snap to his. You glare at the coltish expression on his face. Paul finds your exasperation endearing. 

You bury your face into his arm, mumbling, “Paul, make love to me…”

Blood rushes through his body and goes straight down to the bulge straining against his trousers. He loves your wantonness and he wants to hear you beg for it again. He pulls your face away from his skin, eyes devouring you. As he holds your chin between his hands, Paul demands, “Say it again,”

You can’t help but glare again at him. He knows you won’t disobey. You speak, voice clipped with precise ardency, “Paul Atreides, my lord, will you please fuck me?” 

The mixture of his full name and his title sends his blood into a frenzy. If he was already turned on before, then what’s happening to his body now? One thing for sure is that you don’t have to ask again because, within a minute, Paul has hastily thrown off his trousers and he’s now completely naked. 

Your eyes, well… your eyes are instantly locked onto the appendage between your husband’s thighs. Of course, you have seen what a phallus looks like in art and in scientific videos. But in comparison to Paul’s, those examples were tiny and they definitely did not prepare you for the real thing. 

His cock is so engorged and so pink, the tip of it glistening with some sort of secretion. As he moves his body back down to the bed, his cock twitches and bobs. He sees your fascination and watches how you are practically salivating over his well-endowed gift. Your core squirms with anticipation and your thighs involuntarily flex at the thought of him being inside you.

“Do you want to touch it?” His voice is timid, hesitating to request such a thing from his innocent wife but he’s held back long enough. Paul is so sure that he’s going to burst at any second - he watches as you reach out, hand faltering at second thoughts. Paul inhales sharply, “Touch me, Daisy, please…”

When your fingers brush against the tip of his cock, he shudders and his stomach constricts causing his cock to quiver. You quickly look up at him, wondering if you had hurt him but it’s clear you haven’t. He has an intense but dazed look on his face and he’s biting down on his lower lip, restraining himself. Paul is holding himself back and persevering through the pure torture you’re currently putting him through.

You wonder what’ll happen if you firmly grasp his cock, so your hand wraps around his girthy shaft and a throaty groan escapes from deep inside Paul’s body. His reaction pleases you and slowly, you continue to drag your hand down until it rests against the furry tufts on the base of his cock. 

You notice how Paul’s chest is heaving and he’s pressing his body into the mattress, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles almost turning white. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, pleading for more but you’re taking your time, exploring his body, finding ways to incite reactions from him. You know he’s enjoying your hand gliding up and down his cock but what if… what if you were to taste him? You readjust your body so that you’re sitting with your mouth hovering over his cock.

“Daisy, what’re you…” Paul says, his voice deeper than usual. You lick the tip of his cock, tasting the pearly secretion that has been leaking out. Paul gasps, swearing under his breath. You lick his cock again and once more, Paul reacts with a throaty gasp. You’ve overpowered him with one simple move and now he’s yours. It is at this moment that Paul realizes he is supposed to be listening to your sighs and moans but instead, you’re listening to his. 

He watches as you thoroughly lick the tip of his cock. The sensation is immaculate and he’s struggling to remain cool and composed. You aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing but you’re enjoying the smoothness and warmth of his arousal. You seal your lips around him and slowly, very tentatively, lower your mouth down. Paul groans loudly and his hand finds the back of your head, his fingers gripping your hair so that it’s not in the way of his view. 

The sight of you, mouth full of his throbbing cock, practically sends him over the edge. He has to restrain himself by closing his eyes and silently begging that he doesn’t ejaculate - he can’t. Not yet. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your turn to be pleasured but when his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag and the sound makes him completely forget everything. His eyes snap open, watching as you bring your mouth back up, leaving a trail of spit pooling down his cock. 

“D-Da-Daisy,” Paul sputters out, completely out of breath. You ignore him, dragging both your hands along his quivering cock. He struggles to find his words but when he does, he orders, “Stop,”

He grabs your hands and pulls them off his body. Shocked, you look at him. He looks like a man who has just been to hell and back. His hair is beyond dishevelment, strands of it sticking to his damp forehead. His eyes are wild, his once verdant eyes have been taken over by expanded pupils that have blackened out any colour.  

Before you can ask what you did wrong, Paul is tugging off the negligee and exposing your naked body to him for the first time. His eyes sweep over every nook and cranny, noting every bulge of abundance. He’s taking inventory, marking his favourite areas. He’s particularly drawn to your breasts and how they swell against your chest, gravity pulling down the pillows of dough. They look rather heavy to Paul and he just has to reach up to grasp them. God, they’re so soft and perfect. He’s quick to lower his mouth, latching it onto your perky nipple. The sensation of his tongue swiping over the sensitive bud makes you gasp, “Paul,”

He grins against your skin and can’t help himself, he just has to nibble at the fleshy softness of your chest, which causes you to gasp. Your hand grabs the back of Paul’s head, fingers kneading through his hair, locking him there because your breasts absolutely love the attention. Meanwhile, Paul feels like he is in heaven, sighing happily as little noises continue to escape from your mouth. 

Simply put, he can’t get enough of you. He licks and sucks your breasts as if they were ripe fruits, his tongue sweet and rough against the sensitive flesh. He alternates between too much and not enough, which creates a perplexed feeling between your hips, right in the crest of your crotch. It’s vague, incomplete. You have never felt such a thing before tonight. You flex your thighs, hoping that you can rid yourself of the unnatural feeling. 

With his mouth still attached to your breast, Paul takes his hand and plants it on the inside of your thigh. This movement doesn’t help the unnatural feeling that has been steadily growing and you squirm, hoping Paul doesn’t notice. Of course, he does and he detaches himself to peer at you. He loves how pink and splotchy your cheeks have gotten, and he loves how your eyes have narrowed into a lusty squint. 

Testing you, he drags his fingers upward. His cock throbs at how saturated your thighs have gotten. He doesn’t even think you’re aware of the wetness seeping from your flower and he cups your fuzzy mound, which causes you to squeal in surprise. The sudden intrusion is too much and you’re squirming out of his grasp. Paul is quick and wraps his other arm around your body. He’s strong enough to hold you, keeping you locked against him. 

With his voice barely above a whisper, Paul asks, “Can I?”

You swallow hard. You desperately want him to touch you down there but you’re terrified of what might happen because you heard that unnatural things can occur. Paul senses your worry and feels your hesitation, and immediately takes his hand away - consent is the most important thing. You can’t help but notice how your pussy suddenly feels lonely now…

However, those thoughts are quickly pushed away because Paul pulls your body down with his, your chest colliding with his as he lies underneath you. You feel like you’re crushing him and for a third time, you begin to squirm. 

“Daisy,” His grip tightens. You stop squirming and sheepishly glance up at him. He’s gazing at you, with so much love and adoration, that it makes your breathing hitch inside your throat. Paul whispers, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

The compliment makes you blush, your skin reddening even more. You confess, “I’m not a woman yet -”

“Yet,” Paul interjects and shifts so that your body is lying next to his. He kisses your temple, “Lay back and relax, I’m going to try something…” 

You’re reluctant for Paul to see such an intimate part of you. He pleads, eyes begging for a chance. He murmurs, “Just trust me, okay?”

His words make you reconsider. You decide to trust your husband and you lay down, inhaling to calm yourself. But the moment Paul places his hands on your legs, your heart rate spikes and rattles against your chest. As he spreads you open, he looks at your flower with reverence. It’s so puffy, so pink and so wet that it glistens beneath the glowglobes. 

He positions his body between your thighs, his cock rubs against the inner flesh, and you shudder at the sensation. He looks at you, worried. You shake your head, “Paul, I need you…”

At your request, he is so quick to touch you. His finger slides along your folds. You suck in and bite down on your lower lip, holding back. But Paul yearns to hear you, and he does it again, repeating the movement. A small groan escapes and it’s all the encouragement that he needs. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you see that he is in deep concentration, studying as your hips jerk when he presses his palm against a sensitive little nub that’s hiding between your petals. As he does it again, your mouth goes slack and a moan slips out. He begins to circle it with determination, knowing this must be the spot. 

There’s a liquid heat pooling in your core and the more pressure he adds, the less you can take it. You are back to squirming beneath his touch, gasping and groaning at the pressure building inside. It’s such a foreign feeling - you feel like you’re going to burst open. You feel scared about what might happen. You want Paul to stop, yet you don’t. Everything is so conflicting and your throat is parched, and you want your husband to look at you. But Paul is so engrossed in what he’s doing - he’s absolutely fascinated at the stickiness that seeps through your magnificent folds. 

Unable to take much more, you reach down and grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. At first, he’s baffled. He was so sure that you were enjoying his hard work -  your eyes are hungry, having not been satiated yet. The look sends a chill down his spine and when you whimper, his cock twitches. 

If he wants to make you a woman, it needs to happen now. You whimper again, “Paul, I need you … I need you inside of me,”

“Are … are you sure, Daisy?” He asks, eyes glazing over. You nod and reach up to caress his cheek. Paul is so unbelievably sweet. He begins to trail kisses along your stomach, tongue dipping into your belly button causing you to throw your head back into the pillow. He grins wolfishly and continues marking his territory, relentlessly teasing you until you are nothing but a wet, blubbering mess.

Finally, after a lifetime has passed, Paul sweetly kisses your lips and his cock brushes against your swollen labia. The first meeting. Wetness against wetness. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his shoulders down into your body. Paul steadies himself, his chest puffing out with excitement as he lines the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Fuck,” He hisses. Paul knows it’s going to be a tight fit and he’s worried about hurting you. He plants a tender kiss against your jaw, whispering, “Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” 

You nod, shutting your eyes and moaning out as his cock begins to nudge inside. It’s definitely a little too large for comfort and your body is resisting - you have to order yourself to relax. And when he’s finally pushed past, there’s a popping sensation. It’s quick and it hurts, pain shooting through your pelvis. You wince. 

Paul notices and stops, he attempts to pull out but you’re quick to lock your legs around his. His lips move against your skin, “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” You sniffle, shaking your head. But Paul can see straight through your lie. He asks the question again, shifting because he’s afraid of causing you pain. This time, you answer truthfully, “It hurts but your cock… it feels so good, Paul - don’t stop, please don’t stop -”

He listens and continues to push his hips forward. Your eyes remain closed but your mouth hangs open, little mewling noises coming forth. Paul struggles to remain composed as your tight cunt swallows his girth. At a glacial pace, he pushes into your body and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He’s struggling not to cum because, for him, the suction of your velvety walls is swiftly driving him toward the edge. 

“You’re such a good girl,” He’s barely audible, hands gripping the side of your protruding stomach. He gives one final thrust, grunting, “Cunt so goddamn tight,”

His cock is fully inside, buried to the hilt. You’re gasping, fireworks sparking behind your eyelids. Your hands are trailing along his back, nails digging into fevered flesh. It still hurts but it’s a good type of hurt. He begins rocking his hips, slowly at first, stretching out your virgin cunt. The mixture of pain and pleasure has you splitting open, crying out, “Oh, fuck! Paul!”

For a moment, Paul thinks he’s hurting you again and he pauses. You hiss at him, “My lord, just fuck me already,”

Your lord does not like that. He sits up on his knees, arms placed on either side of you and hovers over your body. It glistens with sweat and you’re eyes have snapped open at the sudden loss. You see that Paul’s eyebrows are knitted together, irritated that you brought up his nobility. He pulls out, noting the smear of crimson around his cock but doesn’t think twice about it and shoves it back inside. 

You cry out, “My lord,”

He seethes, biting down on his lower lip and begins to rapidly thrust in and out. You want to be properly fucked and he’s giving you exactly what you want. The room fills with your cries of pleasure as Paul spitefully fucks your sweet cunt. The same sweet cunt that is making crude, wet noises, making it impossible not to spill his seed right then and there. 

He wants to make sure that you finish too but Paul knows he’s close. He feels the familiar sensation of an orgasm building inside; he knows the feeling all too well because he’s no stranger to masturbation. In fact, he’s spilled his seed onto this very bed many times in the past year. He’s restraining himself, the friction starting to become too much for him - the tight coil wants to snap and he can’t stop thinking about filling your womb with his seed. 

He shudders, willing himself to slow down so that you can catch up to him. His thrusting turns tender and he begins to lovingly guide his cock into your body, burying it against your hilt. Paul notices that you like this more because your moans have become guttural, coming from somewhere deep. He does it again, fully burrowing his cock in your velvety walls. They are contracting, practically convincing Paul to spill his seed. He's barely able to resist the temptation.

You seem to be fighting your own demons and reaching for something that you aren’t even sure exists. Certainly, it must because what else is this feeling that has pooled inside your belly? The liquid is hot, near boiling point. Each time Paul thrusts his cock, it hits a spot and it makes your cunt convulse, and your eyes roll back because the stimulation is too much.

Your hands grip Paul’s strong arms, nails digging into his flesh. Paul reaches down between your bodies, fingers fondling your fuzzy little mound as he remains buried inside. He pushes your puffy lips apart and presses your button. It sends a jolt through your body and you bellow out, “Paul!”

He presses his thumb against the sensitive little nub and glides his cock against that spot, and you’re so close - so close. Paul pushes his cock into the depths of your cunt, practically tearing into your womb. His cock quivers against the friction of your walls and he shudders, eyes closing tight while his hand continues to work your clitoris. He wills himself not to cum but it’s useless because, within seconds, he’s shooting his hot, thick load into your tight, breedable cunt. 

You cry out, feeling as Paul’s arousal fills you. It’s the thought of Paul impregnating you that causes your orgasm to boil over. Your pussy clenches and convulses with gratification at having the opportunity to give Paul an heir. You cling to him, needing him more than ever as you repeatedly call out his name, prolonging the vowels, “Paaaaauuuul, Paaaauuuul, Paaaauuuulll!”

[queerly-autistic]

I've seen a lot of OFMD fans pointing at other fan campaigns recently, especially the failed campaign to save Anne with an E, and getting disheartened by what they see, and I think something that's missing in those discussions (particularly after the weirdly negative slant at the end of that Guardian article) is that not all fan campaigns are the same.

The campaigns to save shows that started out on Netflix (Warrior Nun, Sense8, Anne with an E, Shadow and Bone, etc.) are very different to what we are facing with OFMD, because Netflix is much more protective of its IP - and yes, they even hold the IP of shows that they've cancelled tightly to their chests and very rarely let them go. Some have been able to make the jump to different platforms, but not many, and it's actually pretty hard to do so (“For most shows, shopping away from Netflix is reportedly very difficult when Netflix owns the underlying IP”).

Because of this, fans of shows cancelled by Netflix are often campaigning directly for Netflix to reverse that decision, rather than campaigning to get it picked up elsewhere. Warrior Nun (I saw people panicking at the length of effort and the numbers they had to put in before they got their success) and Sense8 were both granted final films by Netflix to wrap up their stories after long-running successful fan campaigns - they were not saved by a different platform, and likely couldn't have been because of Netflix's strict grip on its IP. So comparing ourselves to fan campaigns for shows cancelled by Netflix isn't accurate or fair to us or to those other campaigns.

It's also worth pointing out that Anne with an E was a joint venture between Netflix and CBC, and that relationship appears to have fallen apart, which may have been a factor in its cancellation (see more at this tweet). This is also likely a contributing factor as to why, despite the campaign to save it being huge, it didn't get the reprieve from Netflix that other shows have received. That is baggage that OFMD simply doesn't have.

OFMD is in a very different position to many of the shows that were cancelled by Netflix and then went on to have fan campaigns around them, in that we have confirmation from HBO Max that they are happy for it to be shopped around. HBO Max is not holding a firm grip on the IP the way that Netflix does. We are able to try to find OFMD a new home. And that's a very different sort of campaign and trajectory than trying to convince the platform that cancelled us to reverse/amend their decision (I'd also argue it's slightly easier - nothing is certain, nothing is easy, but I think we have a better chance being allowed to look for someone else to pick us up rather than relying on the company that cancelled us to show us mercy).

Yes, some fan campaigns have had many more petition signatures than us (don't sniff at 80,000 signatures in two weeks, that's huge and fast), but that is only one part of the story. Petition signatures alone won't be the thing that clinches it. There are fan campaigns with hundreds of thousands of signatures that have failed, but there are also fan campaigns with way less signatures than us that have seen their show saved. There's so many elements at play, and every single one is unique. It's very tempting to play 'like for like' with these sorts of campaigns, but it's simply not a truthful reflection of the situation.

Every show is different. Every fan campaign is different.

We have every reason to be hopeful, and every reason to keep fighting. OFMD's numbers are good, it's already incredibly marketable to other streamers, and then ON TOP of that the fan reaction has been loud enough for a lot of people to take notice.

Yes, we're in a dip right now because that's what happens - every campaign has peaks and troughs because nothing sustains at the same level forever, and, again, it's only been just over two weeks and look at what we've done - but the impact we had, and the noise we made, happened at exactly the right time and kept happening for long enough to make an impression. A lot of things will be happening behind the scenes right now that we don't know about, and there's so many factors at play that we have no control over. It's a long game.

So don't look at other fan campaigns and be disheartened by what you see. Because what you see on the surface is nowhere near close to the full picture.

Even if we don't get our S3, lets celebrate the fact that we have made a huge impression, kicked up a huge stink, and been the thorn in the side of some people who absolutely fucking needed a couple of thorns in their side. And I think that's the best legacy that our rebellious little gay pirate show could possibly have.

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Okay, so I've decided to officially open the requests after all? For the rest of May, you are very welcome to submit suggestions for Nightcrawler x fem!reader/gen!reader oneshots to me. I'm not going to write them directly, I'll collect them first, but I thought it might be nice to write in a different fandom than usual. I'm writing Nightcrawler in general, specifically only for X-Men 97 and Alan's Nightcrawler, simply because I haven't seen the other animated series completely and it's been a while since I've seen the new films. No offence to the actors/voice actors. If you specifically want 3rd/ 2nd POV, please tell me, because otherwise I'll decide

Please no nsft stuff, I usually only write that in the big context of long stories. Slightly suggestive towards the end/beginning is okay, but no more than that please. No incest, yandere etc. Keep it legal people please.

If your request does not meet the requirements or rules I will delete it.

Have fun!

P.S. PLEASE CHECK BEFORE REQUESTING IF I ALREADY RECIEVED A SIMILAR REUEQST!!!! I DON'T WANT TO WRITE THE SAME THING FIVE TIMES!!!!