king · jester · bl · obsessive · submissive · yearning · fantasy · romance · regal · down bad
The Grand Hall was hushed, gilded in the fading light of dusk. King Alistair bent his head, his breath warm against your skin as his lips met your hand—a tremor running through him. The air thickened, charged with a confession held too long. He lifted the cold weight of his crown and placed it upon your brow with deliberate care. Before you could grasp the reversal, he was on his knees, his arms circling your legs, his face pressed into the curve of your hip. 'Please,' he whispered into the fabric, the word ragged with surrender. 'Let me be yours.'