#ac rogue smut

[gococogo]

Day Twenty One: Gentle Sex

Kinktober Masterlist will be posted after October

Synopsis: Two decades without seeing those red sails one would think that Haytham would forget them after awhile. But no one could forget the Morrigan and her Captain. Of course he couldn't forget Shay. It would be blasphemy.

And oh, how has he missed him.

Word Count: 6.3K

Genre: Assassin's Creed

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Gentle sex/Feelings/Anal/Fingering/Blowjob

He had messed up with his own son. Yet at the same time it could also be blamed on him for not seeing the bigger picture. His son’s temper is something that really gets under Haytham’s skin and yet he knows where he inherited it from. It’s like looking into a mirror, but he mostly sees his mother in that reflection. It should sadden him, it truly does but at the same time it angers him so. Angers him that he didn’t spend more time with her or even go back. That he didn’t know he had a son until he was full grown.

Yet, he could argue with himself that his mind needed to be truly focused on the Templars. Even thinking the thought only brings Haytham more guilt to his already heavy heart. The only person he can be rightfully angry at though is himself. It’s only his own actions that lead to all of this. He is a Grandmaster after all. He has duties elsewhere. How could he have known anyways.

Maybe in another life time. But not now. What done is done, that river has already been crossed. Maybe he can try and fix what he has with his son. But Connor is very much in his own ways, strong minded to what he believes in. Like himself.

Haytham releases a small sigh at the stressful thought. He rubs his rubs with his thumb and fore finger as a headache can be felt coming along. He truly has gotten himself into a hard place.

The trip back to Boston was a long one, but the familiar streets finally come into view and Haytham makes his way to the Green Dragon along the docks. The sea breeze is familiar, but the city stink is something that is not welcoming. A frown is so deep cut into his features that any passer-by would think that’s his usual resting face. That it’s permanently stuck like that.

That the saying for children, the wind will change, was true.

The locals see him so often around here now that they know not to bother him. They know that he is another grouchy British man that has moved here against his will. And he had, so they’re not wrong there. From past events of sourness to them they know not to make conversation with him. Always on a mission he hears. Always got somewhere to go. Which isn’t wrong. It feels like ever since he stepped foot in America every day has been filled with something.

His frown doesn’t stay for long though. For it’s not the children laughing and playing around a fish stall that gets rid of it. For it’s not the old woman smiling at him with frail eyes that gets him to smile back. Nor is it the two dogs running down the street with two teenage boys.

It’s the tattered red sails with black wolves on them that has his face as wide as a saucepan. His feet are planted to the brick street and he feels his heart squeeze. He hasn’t seen those sails in what feels like a lifetime but he’d know them anywhere.  

He’s back.

The Morrigan sits in the harbour of Boston with all her crew. Scurrying around on deck and unloading cargo with shouts and yelps. From where he stands he can see someone ordering them around. But it’s definitely not him.

Still in awe, Haytham makes his way over to the side of the Morrigan. Zig zagging around her crew and other Boston civilians taking in the old ship. She is an old girl, not one like the newer ships these days with all their fancy looks and what nots. She has seen her days, but her captain has made sure she still shines. He gets to the plank that connects the ship to the harbour and watches the man that is ordering everyone around.

It takes him a moment to realize who he’s staring at. Mister Christopher Gist. All grey and cut clean now. He is sporting a full beard and his hair is much shorter than it once was. That hat he always wore is long forgotten but he wears a pair of specks instead on his nose. When Gist finally sees the Grandmaster down below, he has to do a double take.

“Master Kenway!” He bellows out.

His voice is still the same and despite how long it’s been, Haytham can already tell it’s going to get on his nerves again.

“Mr. Gist!” Haytham calls back. “It is good to see you!”

Gist makes his way down the plank and on dock. He shakes Haytham’s hand, patting his upper arm.

“It been what!? Twenty-one years!?” Gist exclaims loudly.

“What are you doing in Boston?” Haytham asks a little too eagerly.

The first mate gives a short chuckle. “We found the box, sir.”

 Haytham suddenly feels light headed. As if he’s going to float off. They found it. He found it. Haytham doesn’t let it show but he’s more than thrilled. After so many years they’re back. Shay found it.

“Where is the box?” Haytham asks, a little too enthusiastic for his own ears.

“Actually, Shay went to the Green Dragon to find you,” Gist says with another chuckle. “He wanted it to be the first thing as soon as we docked.”

With another shake of their hands and a goodbye, Haytham is off to the Green Dragon leaving Gist on the dock. He had told Shay of the tavern when he had joined. He had asked about other Templar hideouts in case his search took him away from New York. And to think Haytham was just on his way there. If he hadn’t stopped at the Morrigan he could have bumped into Shay sooner.

He would have most likely had a heart attack at the sight of him. The thought of walking casually into the tavern for only to bump into a man he hasn’t seen in two decades.

Haytham’s pace is quick, moving down the street with a skip in his step as soon as the Green Dragon comes into view. He swings the door open a little too aggressively but keeps his composure as his eyes dart around the place.

It takes him a moment to recognise the man, the mental image of young Shay still in his mind. But there he is.

Shay doesn’t wear the red and black Templar colours and has instead swapped out for blue fabrics and a brown leather coat. His temples are beginning to go grey but he still has his hair tide back out of his face. His face has even changed. Into something harder, wiser and calmer.

At the sound of the door swinging open, Shay stares at Haytham with wide eyes. It’s as if time stands still for a moment. The two stare at each other for what feels like ages and everyone in the tavern either thinks too things. These two are two idiots, or they’re going to start throwing fists.

Shay excuses himself from talking to Catherine and meets Haytham halfway. The two stare at each other before Shay engulfs Haytham in a tight hug. Catherine behind him lets out a startled gasp, waiting for Haytham to push this newcomer off. But Haytham smiles as he pats Shay lightly on the back. Shay steps back and looks at the Grandmaster up and down with a wide grin on his own face.

“Master Kenway,” Shay breathes out. “By God, is it good to see you.”

He hadn’t forgotten Shay’s voice. Forgotten the finer details to his face. And Haytham can’t seem to look away.

Haytham has so many things to ask. So many things we wants to tell Shay. He wants to know everything that went on for Shay in these twenty years. He wants to hold onto him and not let go this time. But not here, not when he has an appearance to keep up. Not when a stranger just man handled Haytham Kenway and wasn’t stabbed for it.

“I wish for us to speak more privately, Shay,” Haytham says firmly, reminding the other of where they are.

Shay seems to collect himself and gives a short nod. “Lead the way, sir,” he says with a little bow and his hand gestured outwards.

Wherever he learned that, Haytham is going to kill him for it.

“I have my own place in Boston, we’ll talk further there if you’d like,” Haytham quirks an eyebrow.

Shay nods with a slight bow, his hand gestured outwards towards the door.

“After you,” he smiles warmly.

Haytham has to turn quickly and cover his face with his hat to hide the redness he can feel coming over his cheeks. He will have to admit that Shay has achieved some charm in his time away. He is a completely different man to the cocky, revenge filled one he knew so long ago. Shay follows him out of the tavern and walks by his side.

“How is your wellbeing?” Haytham asks to break the silence.

He’s tense on the inside. Wanting to ask Shay all these questions. But for professional reasons on the street and out in a public eye he needs to keep his stoic appearance.

“I’ve been good, Haytham. My travel has taken me to many places but I’ll wait to tell you the details that shouldn’t be heard to prying ears,” Shay responds with a warm smile.

A gesture that has one coming to Haytham’s own. The rest of the walk to the Grandmaster’s is peaceful and calm. They speak about mundane things. Like the weather or Shay’s sailing. How the Morrigan has kept up with him all these years and how she’s best to retire soon. But Shay doesn’t want to let her go. Doesn’t think he could until he’s in the ground or she’s at the bottom of the sea.

At some point, he had mentioned, he would have loved to passed it down to his children. But children in the future is something far away. The thought of Shay being a father brings something to his chest. Something warm.  

Maybe Shay could be a better father than he has been to Connor.

When they arrive at Haytham’s, the host unlocks his front door and lets Shay in with an outstretched hand. He follows in, watching Shay look around the place with a small sense of awe. He leads the Captain to the living room that sits on the far left corner of his house.

Haytham hangs his own coat and hat on the hook in the hallway, letting Shay look around. They’ve almost fallen into a familiar, comfortable attitude around each other. Even after so many years, this feels, normal.  

Haytham comes to the doorway of the living room, spotting Shay looking closely at his décor.

“Would you like a drink?” He asks.

Shay quickly jerks up, looking away from a model ship on his bookshelf. Almost like a kid being caught red handed with their hand in the biscuit tin.

“Something strong,” Shay answers with a smile. “I’ve realized that drink over seas is somewhat watered down compared to here.”

Haytham nods. “I reckon it’s only because American’s need the harsher stuff to get through the absolute trouble they get themselves in to.”

“I can agree on that.”

Haytham leaves the room to fetch two crystal glasses and his best whiskey. Something he’s been saving for a special occasion like this. It’s still three quarters full and he can’t remember the last time he opened it. Or why he opened it.

He comes back to Shay having discarded his heavy coat, making himself comfortable. But Haytham is able to see that even after all these years, the man has kept himself in check. He almost seems broader in the shoulders and the waist. But nothing on the side of letting oneself go. No, it’s muscle. Something someone could only achieve by being at sea their entire life. Even his once pale face has become sun kissed and reddened at the cheeks.

He sets the two glasses down on the coffee table, focusing on the task at hand and not on Shay. He pours the whiskey before sitting down on the couch opposite of Shay. He picks up his own glass and takes a generous sip out of it.

“Alright, Shay. Report back to me,” Haytham gestures his glass towards the other with amusement in his voice.

Shay begins at the start. From the moment he set sailed a month after he dropped Haytham at New York, to the moment he heard of Haytham Kenway still operating in Boston. The topic of Connor came up. Shay had heard of him from the French Assassins. The small welt of pride that bloomed in Haytham should have been something hideous. But to know that his son’s reputation had reached all that way was truly something to ponder about.

But one thing the is clear. Shay does not know of Connor’s relations to Haytham.

And he doesn’t tell Shay of who Connor is. Keeps that to himself. Why? Why does he feel this need to withhold the information? Maybe, maybe because at the corner of Haytham’s mind it will always be there that Shay came from the Assassins. Was raised in their ways, learned their ways, spoke their ways.

Yet Shay is a Templar. Has done many things for them, for him. But Shay isn’t like himself or like the others. With how much Shay would deny it, the man still walks like one. Still thinks like them in a way. Still uses their weapons even though that thought alone is hypocritical.

Who is Haytham to judge though. His own father, flesh and blood was an assassin. For as much as Haytham knows, he was going to raise him as one as well. All those sword lessons and literature teachers weren’t for nothing. And his own son walks the way his father wanted Haytham to. Could say it’s ironic it skipped a generation.

But all in all, Haytham hasn’t seen Shay in over twenty years. Who is he to know what goes inside Shay’s mind these days. He came back with the box. After twenty years. An entire lifetime spent away searching for one thing because of his own moral code. Because he wanted a safer world. Now, who is Haytham to judge for that.

Despite all of this though, he can’t help the fondness he holds for Shay. The yearning ache that grips his cold heart. And why judge, when the man before him has probably seen more in his life than Haytham. Been places that Haytham has never stepped foot in. Been searching for this blasted box for half his life. For him. All because Haytham asked. All because of duty for the Order.

And here they are. Going grey as wrinkles crack at their once young faces. Crow’s feet now dancing on their cheeks that don’t go away when their faces are placid. A slowness to their motions that come with the ache in the joints that were once so easy to move in youth. No thought of how their daily activities would now venture into their years to form into grunts of pain when they wake up in the morning.

When Shay reveals the box from within his coat, Haytham can’t help the shaky exhale that withers his body. The man holds it out to him and with a gentle touch, Haytham takes it.

It’s lighter than expected. It almost feels fragile. Like it’s going to fall to dust in his hands and blow away at a small breath. But it doesn’t. It stays solid in his hands. It’s almost buzzes against his skin, but Haytham can’t quite put the sensation that’s emitting from the box.

All those years. For this. Shay searched too long for this. But his determination is a strong one Haytham will admit. A sort of, bitterness comes across him suddenly. He squeezes the box a little too tightly that he has to put it down on the table in front of him before he does anything stupid.

Haytham clears his throat. “Well done, Shay,” he says professionally. “I knew I sent the right man.”

“The only man you could.”

Haytham’s dark blue eyes dart up from the box to the hunter with a frown. There’s a cockiness to Shay’s voice that brings an itch to Haytham’s tongue. One that wants to snap, but he finds himself he can’t. There’s too much on his mind he wants to say.

He looks out the window instead and only now realizes just how long they’ve been conversating. The street lamps are on and the night is dark.

“Are you staying on the Morrigan tonight?” Haytham changes the topic. “Or have you booked a room nearby?”

Shay gives a light chuckle that it almost isn’t audible. “To be honest, I truly didn’t get that far, Haytham.”

Before Haytham realizes what he’s saying, he declares out something his heart wants, “I have a spare room here already set up. I think you’ve already spent too much time on your ship. I can only guess you’re sick of it a little.”

This brings a smile to the other man’s face. “I do suppose here would be better than that old ship. I won’t ever get tired of her, but maybe a change of scenery is a must. Thank you, Haytham.”

The Grandmaster stands up from his place and grabs onto the Precursor Box as he does. He looks it over one last time, before holding it out to Shay.

“Keep it with you. Hide it somewhere only you and your cold grave know. I do not care,” Haytham instructs. “Don’t let it in Assassin hands again.”

Shay takes it from him and places it back within his coat. “I’ll take it to my grave then, sir,” he speaks firmly.

That answer alone has a cold edge to it. A promise to death. Like a soft kiss that grows to something more. Something that Haytham knows Shay will keep to.

-

They have dinner out that night. At a small high-class place that only Haytham knows about amongst the others in the Order. He likes to get away here and keep to himself. Away from everything in life.

The fact that he’s sharing it with Shay, no second thought to do so, should mean a lot to the Irishman if he knew it’s significance. But yet again, Haytham doesn’t tell him the minor details. He keeps it to himself, knowing how much it means to him.

They dine but don’t drink. Both of them wanting to remember tonight. They talk about nothing but everything all at once. Of the little stories that Shay didn’t mention in his long report before. Of the minor things he did when the lead for the box was cold. He learns a many of things, how Gist almost died in a storm from here to Europe early in their voyage. How he had lost half of his original crew to a run in with the navy that mistook him for pirates out at sea. But the Morrigan had never fought so furiously that day. Shay thought she would have joined the sea but somehow, through the canon smoke, they survived.

Death has shaken hands with Shay many a times, but yet not taken him. He still breathes and laughs. Still has the privilege to have his hair go grey unlike many others he’s left behind. Same could be said for Haytham.

In this line of work, in the line of the Templars, not many get to see their head of hair go fully grey. Not many can say they lived a good life. Haytham couldn’t lie about that. Neither could Shay. The scar on his face tells the truth.

-

Once home, the hour late, Shay bids Haytham a good night. Haytham stands outside of his own room and watches the other pass him. A tug comes to his chest, knowing that after so long, he’ll have to sleep alone once again. Without even thinking, he reaches out and grabs onto Shay’s hand. He stops dead in his tracks, and he looks straight at Haytham. He waits for him to say something.

“I-“

Before Shay had left, Haytham had known with confidence where they stood with each other. Their private relationship being something of comfort for one another. But now a whole lifetime has passed before them without each other. Would Shay even still want him? All grey and old. A man that’s grown even sterner and crueller over time. Someone that still lies to him even after all these years. Someone that has forgotten the touch of the other, has missed it. Has yearned to hear the other’s voice again, having forgotten that Irish accent but will know who it is when he hears it.

And holding Shay’s hand, he realizes how calloused his palms are. A sailor’s hand. A hand that squeezes his own as Shay comes forward. He looks to the ground, not being able to make eye contact with the other at the moment. Oh, only if the other Templars were here to see their Grandmaster right now. A loss of words and falling apart because of a man.  

“It has been a long time is all,” is all Haytham manages to get out.  

A hand cups his face and raises it so that Haytham can look into the same dark brown eyes he grew so comfortable with. Even after all these years, he’s glad those that his eyes haven’t changed.

“It’s been a lifetime,” Shay almost recites Haytham’s thoughts from before. As if reading the man’s worries.

It’s Haytham that moves forward slowly, hesitating over Shay’s lips before kissing him softly. And the bliss that comes over Haytham, the pure content he feels right now as Shay returns the notion is something similar to floating. He deepens the kiss, needing more. Holding onto the front of Shay’s shirt so that he doesn’t fall forward with how light he becomes in the head.

The kiss is as if picking up a hobby you haven’t done in months. The first few tries you don’t get it, but after the rest it’s like one’s body takes over. Muscle memory kicks in. And kissing Shay now is different yet so similar to all those years ago.  

But he breaks the kiss before he does fall over, inhaling deeply through his nose. He stays close to Shay, breathing in the saltiness the man always seems to hold. That now seems to be part of him with how long he’s been at sea.

“Will you join me in bed?” Haytham asks, his voice all but a whisper.

“I’d love to.”

With their hands still interlocked, Haytham opens the door and leads them inside. The room is large, bigger than the spare room. The bed is big enough for a whole family, but it’s the only thing that Haytham finds himself being able to sleep on. Everything else either too small or he finds himself thrashing too much in his sleep with how vivid his dreams can be some nights. But tonight. Tonight, it is to be shared with another.

Shay brings Haytham in for another kiss with hands on either side of his face, this one much deeper than the last. He backs Haytham up until the backs of his knees hit the bed, their lips and tongues not leaving one another for a moment.

But they have to part for air. And Shay takes this second to begin undressing him. His intention is nothing out of desperation though. He takes his time, dark eyes watching his own finger movement intently so that he doesn’t make a mistake with the buttons or the lacing on Haytham’s clothes.

When Haytham’s top half is thrown behind Shay, he is pushed back to sit on the bed. All so that Shay can undo his boots. It’s like Shay has just fallen back into something long forgotten. How many moments has he thought of Haytham just like Haytham has thought of him? Has he yearned the same? Felt the same ache in his heart?

“You still care too much, Shay,” Haytham murmurs out.

It’s not an insult. No, it’s said with almost a hint of melancholy from a time before. From a conversation they had decades ago in a situation similar to now. And it has Shay smiling.

“I always have,” he replies back as he pulls the last shoe off.

Shay stands straight once more and shuffles off his coat where it thumps on the floor next to Haytham’s. Dark eyes look over Haytham’s frame with a soft smile. Despite being in his fifties now, the man’s body is still one of strength. It may be a bit softer in some areas than Shay remembers, it may be a bit spotter with freckles and age spots but none of those matters. It’s still Haytham.

Shay strips the rest of his clothing, his vest, his shirt and his pants and boots. He is younger than Haytham, so his body hasn’t been touched by age as much as Haytham’s. But there are still a lot of changes. And Haytham can’t help but look over the new scars that litter his body. Some stark white against his already sun kissed skin to some that are pink and ugly.

Not to Haytham though. Haytham reaches out, bringing Shay forward and lets his hands feel over the scars that weren’t there before. He shuffles up the bed so that Shay can lean over him, chasing his lips. The bedding is soft and Haytham almost sinks into it all, loosing himself in it. But Shay finds him.

“After so long, how would you have it tonight, Haytham?” Shay asks softly, his face inches away from Haytham’s.

A million things go through Haytham’s head. So much he would like to do. But one thing does stand clear as day. He would just like to take this slow. He just needs to feel Shay close to him. Wants Shay to take him with something akin to a feeling of bittersweetness.

“I just need you tonight,” Haytham breathes out.

At that, Shay gently kisses him. Softly, like a brush of air before he kisses his cheek, then his chin. He makes his way down Haytham’s neck to his collarbone. Slowly, as if making sure that he gets everything. And each kiss feels like a spark of a fire. Something that feels so foreign yet so wanted at the same time. He hasn’t been worshipped like this since Shay left. He hasn’t had a gentle touch since Shay left. He hasn’t felt pure, unconditional love since the only one that sees him left.

Shay hooks his fingers in Haytham’s pants and pulls them off, throwing them on top of the pile of others. Haytham’s dick is almost fully hard already, all this touching and kissing going straight to him. Shay seems to have always had the effect on him and hasn’t lost it.

Haytham props himself up on his elbows as Shay’s pink lips ghost over his crotch. Shay slithers a hand around his dick, giving Haytham a few slow strokes to bring him to full hardness. And when Shay wraps his mouth around the head of his cock is when Haytham can’t help the shaky exhale that escapes his lips.

Shay only sucks and works at the head of Haytham’s dick all while he softly strokes the rest of him. It may not be enough for some, but in Haytham’s age it’s doing a lot. And he may be grateful that Shay knows this with his own age. He doesn’t think they could do the things they once did from their youth.

In their youth, Shay could easily thrown him onto a table and taken him. One time they had hidden away below deck on the Morrigan and taken each other. Their touch filled with something young and desperate then. As if the moment would slip away from them easily. As if someone would catch them and tell them to bugger off. But now, tonight feels so much different.

Tonight feels like returning to something long lost. Something that has changed yet, it hasn’t at the same time. It’s only grown into something more. Something more mellow but the same amount of love and adoration is there for one another. Nothing has slipped away. Nothing has blown away in the years.

And with that, Shay has Haytham withering and shaking from a simple blowjob. His soft pants is almost music to Shay’s ears, something he’s long missed. He comes off of Haytham’s dick with a string of saliva connecting them. He licks his lips, tasting Haytham on them and wishing the other could as well. He moves up Haytham’s body slowly again, hands running up his side until they stop at his chest.

Then Shay kisses Haytham with his tongue having the full intension of the other tasting himself. It only has Haytham wanting more. Threading his fingers in Shay’s hair and undoing the little band in it, letting his locks fall onto his shoulders. It’s grown long but it’s apparent Shay likes to keep a certain length.

Shay pulls away slowly, letting Haytham come forward in need for more. Haytham finally opens his eyes and looks to Shay with a dazed stare, lost in the heat that coils and buzzes at every fibre of his being.

“Do you keep oil here?” Shay asks the important question quietly.

Haytham exhales a short chuckle. “Over in the draw. Across the room.”

Shay gets up off the bed, leaving Haytham cold where he lays. But the view that Haytham can admire makes up for it. Shay struts across the room to the drawer and opens the top one, peering inside and ruffling around. And Haytham can’t take his eyes off of the other.

The searching man finally finds what he’s after and plucks it out with a small noise a triumph. When Shay turns, he meets the gaze that hasn’t left him since his absence. He walks back with the bottle in hand and shuffles himself back onto the bed between Haytham’s legs.

“Miss me?” Shay jokes.

“Dearly.”

With a pop of the cork in the bottle, Shay pours a small amount into his hand. He doesn’t want to spill a drop onto Haytham’s bedding even though it might get ruined later on. He lathers himself up, then pours a bit more onto his hand again and comes to Haytham’s ass.

Haytham, will be honest with himself, hasn’t done this in a while. He opens his legs a bit more so that Shay can work him easier. He doesn’t realize he’s tensing until a warm hand splays itself on his stomach.

“Breathe, Haytham,” Shay assures. “It’s just me.”

It’s just Shay.

He inhales and relaxes. It may be years, but it’s Shay. Tonight, it’s just them. No one else. No one else knows where Haytham is tonight, nor do they know that Shay is with him. Only the moon can whisper their secrets to the stars but even they won’t tell their stories to the mortals down below.

The first finger slips in easy, but it’s a foreign feeling. Shay works Haytham slowly, waiting for his stomach to relax once again before slipping in a second finger. This has Haytham grunting deep in his throat. His dick twitches slightly as Shay eases him.

“You’re doing great, Haytham,” Shay reassures again.

With such a coy, Haytham would snap. But the small praise goes straight to his gut, almost making him feeling light. In all his years, he never would have thought that such simple words could make him feel such a way. Especially from a particular Irishman.  

When the third finger slips in, a dull painful stretch has him hissing. But Shay takes his time, making sure that he’s able to work Haytham open so that the next step he wants to achieve isn’t as painful. When Haytham is relaxed from the stretch and that the only noises that come from him are soft huffs and deep moans, is when Shay takes out his fingers.

The loss of touch has Haytham almost asking for more. But he holds his tongue, not wanting to be perceived as some needy old man that is severely touch starved. He may of already come off as that, but he doesn’t need it to be said out loud.

Shay pours another lot of oil into his hand and this time, lathers up his own untouched dick. He puts on bit of a display as he doesn’t let his hooded eyes leave Haytham. The hunger inside of him only grows for this man. The want is something dangerous on the verge of desperation. Over two decades without Shay. God, Haytham hasn’t truly realises how long it has been. He’s been dived into his work, focusing on many other things for the Order. Forgetting what day it is at some points or what month.

When Shay deems himself slicked up enough, he lines himself up to Haytham. He doesn’t go right in, not just yet. He waits. He waits for Haytham to become impatient, and he waits for the dark glare to be sent his way. The one that anyone that doesn’t know Haytham like Shay to cower away. But to Shay, he smirks in the face of danger.

“Shay, don’t keep me waiting any longer,” Haytham inquires.

A small pang of guilt suddenly strikes Shay’s gut. One that makes him regret being cocky in this type of situation. He leans down to Haytham and kisses him softly, caressing his lips with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against rosy lips.

Slowly now, slowly he pushes into Haytham and watches as the man’s face scrunches up under him. Haytham’s mouth falling open and brows furrowing. It’s truly a wonder, and Shay takes every moment in.

The pure aching want fills Haytham that isn’t quite satisfied right now. He needs more of Shay. He tries to wrap is legs around Shay’s waist to push more of him, wriggling his hips. But all he is met with is another kiss that distracts him. Haytham holds onto Shay as if he’s going to slip away.

Shay moves his hips slowly, grinding down and pushing more of his dick in slowly. The oil does wonders, letting Shay move with ease. Haytham pulls away from the kiss, having to catch his breath. The feeling of having Shay so close, of having Shay in him, of having the man’s breath on his lips is all too surreal.

He holds onto the Shay, getting lost in everything. The Captain still smells of the ocean despite them being out all night. As if the ocean has attached itself it him, wedged itself into his skin. It will be a sad day to see that ship retired. But Haytham doesn’t think Shay would truly be able to let her up. He’s sailed too long with the Morrigan it would be like saying goodbye to a friend for the last time.

Without even realizing, the simple thought strikes a hard cord in Haytham. A cord that he has spent years not touching nor not even wanting to bring up in conversation.

Haytham exhales shakily and quickly brings a hand to cover his face, feeling the wetness on his palm. It almost shocks him. That these are his own tears. But the tightness in his throat and chest only come forth tenfold. Shay looks to him with wide eyes as a small noise escapes Haytham’s throat, his movements stopping instantly.

He keeps his eyes covered, not wanting Shay to see him like this. But Shay pries his hand off all so that they can look at each other. All watery and teary, Haytham can’t even stand the thought of seeing him like this.

“Oh, Haytham,” Shay breathes the words as if he’s speaking to someone he loves.

And maybe it’s true. And maybe Haytham has just never had anyone speak to him like this. Look at him with such adoration that it has Haytham second guessing everything. All because, only now realizing, he doesn’t know what true love is supposed to look like.

And yet here Shay is. After all these years, he’s here. Still wanting Haytham. He still came back for him. He could have very easily gone off after finding the box. Gone off to never be seen or heard of again. But not Shay. And maybe tonight has restored something long broken inside of Haytham without even realizing it.

Haytham huffs his last and looks to Shay, a stray tear slipping form his eye. Shay wipes it up and then cups his face gently.

“I’m not sending you away again,” Haytham manages to whisper out without his voice shaking.

At this, Shay smiles warmly. Something that makes his brown eyes sparkle. Something that Haytham always liked, even though his eyes are so dark, they seem to shine brighter than anyone else’s. Even after everything he’s seen. After all the fighting and all the death. He still smiles and laughs.  

Shay plants a soft kiss over Haytham’s teary eye. A gesture that hasn’t ever been lent to Haytham before but it’s welcome all the same. The gentleness that Haytham receives from Shay is something he hasn’t received in his entire life. It’s as if tonight is on stand still, this room a moment that will never be forgotten all while the world goes on around them. Never knowing what has gone on under this roof.  

Finally, Shay answers softly. Soft enough that only Haytham can hear and no one else. Not even the moon, not even her stars. Just for Haytham and the moment that holds this room.

[sweetestpopcorn]

What do you think Daemon's path to the throne would have been if Laena had survived and he was still married to her? Would he have allied with Corlys and went to war as a third faction? Joined Rhaenyra anyway and "got rid of" Laena? I would love your view point!

Hi there!

I am very flattered about you wanting my opinion on that but that is not an AU or scenario I have the least bit of interest about. Like this is on my bio:

I wrote more than 1million words about Daemon and Rhaenyra, actually I wrote more about these two both in my fic and here than anyone else - and btw happy anniversary to "The Blacks & the Greens" Happy 4 years baby!

I know I answered something similar before (though I can't find it in my blog at the moment) and I am not doing it again, sorry. I just... I don't care I want Daemon and Rhaenyra together. That's it.

Dear Anon, the moment Laena and Laenor were gone and Daemon and Rhaenyra finally married was my fav since their affair in 112 AC mk? XD

It's like... Daemon and Rhaenyra together are just crystal yet many of you insist on drinking rain water 🙄

No problem if it's not your thing but why come to me then? Could my blog be any clearer?

Let me know!

[shiggyscumrag]

To fuck or not to fuck?

Synopsis- After joining the x men you train with them one on one till you are inevitably forced to train with Logan. During a rough training session a heated argument arises and there’s only one way to break the tension.

Warnings- open wound mentioned, blood mentioned, cussing, penetrative sex (pnv), cum play if you squint, light slapping, oral (male and female receiving), choking, gagging, a bit of crying, over stimulation, nicknames babe and princess used frequently, no pronouns are used for (y/n), I’m sorry if I missed any!

AN- look I’ll be honest I just wanted to write a situation where you hate fuck Logan 🙌🏻 also this is probably not gonna be lore accurate but does it really matter when it’s smut with no plot? NO!! so enjoy fuckers ;) I did channel Deadpool energy for this character bc why not? Also the characters power involves using their voice to manipulate the people around them into doing what they want. ily pookies 💋

Look you didn’t want to be a stupid X Men. You made it very clear since day one you just wanted to continue living your “civilian” life and to keep blending in. Of course it didn’t work out that way. Professor X was the one who pulled you out of this almost normal day to day life and threw you into his rich ass mansion full of freaks. Ok you’re a freak too but you’re not trained like them. You should be out working your five to nine barely making ends meet in your shitty one bedroom apartment, but no. Now, you’re tasked to help “save the world” from worse mutants than you.

Reluctantly, you decide since you have no choice being here, why not make something interesting out of this new arrangement? After the tour of your fancy new “home” (really a school/headquarters), it’s time to meet your new coworkers. Friends? Eh too soon.

It was a little intimidating with them all lined up staring you down when you walked into the final room of Xavier’s tour. Storm standing to your far left, Cyclops beside her, Rogue, Beast and finally the Wolverine. One by one they gave a greeting, some more friendly than others. Until Logan (you later learned) just muttered a “whatever” and left. Pushing past you while staring you down. Jesus, what’s up with that guy?

You decided it wasn’t worth it to fight on your first day so you let it go. Then weeks passed, with week after week going slowly from one mutant to another teaching you new techniques. When eventually the mutant you dreaded training with the most was up. The one and only Wolverine, Mister Logan Howlett. Bit of an ironic name you couldn’t help but chuckle at when Xavier introduced him officially. Since Logan was avoiding you at all cost the whole time you’ve been here you weren’t exactly familiar with his anger issues.

“What’s so funny bub?” You could see his claws starting to peak from his knuckles and didn’t stop another chuckle.

“Knives for hands here doesn’t even know me and he wants to shred me already. You sure I’m safe here?” You say as sarcastically as you can, really emphasizing the safe part. Xavier gave a curt nod and turned to Logan.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Leaving the room right after, you and Logan were dumbfounded. You finally let out the cackle you were holding back hunching over when the door finally closed.

“Ha!! You got in trouble!!” You stood up straight clapping your hands together “You should really start playing nice.”

“You’re real fucking immature, you know that?” He said his claws slowly peaking out more after each comment you make. You start to smirk.

“Yeah? Well I am 100 years younger than you sweet heart, so who’s really the immature one?” You could be less cruel and not want to irk him on, but that wouldn’t be interesting. Plus we’re here to train. so might as well get it started.

“I’m going to kill you.” Logan stops holding back and releases claws in one swift motion.

“What happened to this being a safe space?” Before you could continue being a smart ass he lunges at you.

Dodging you stop talking and actually try to use the training you’ve gotten to kick this guys ass. I mean what’s his fucking problem? You haven’t said a fucking word to him and he thinks he can just treat you this way with no consequences? Well fine douchbag you can get exactly what you want.

“You’re really fast! I can’t believe you’re like a thousand years old!” You say giggling as you move right in time to avoid a punch to the nose. “Now that would’ve hurt!” You spin around him kicking him straight in the back knocking him down. A quick groan and he’s back up in a flash.

Dodging and weaving his swift lunges and jabs, with a yelp you fall to the floor after he kicks your feet from under you. After being quickly tackled and claws threatening to break the skin right above one of your major artery’s you let out a small whimper.

“Are you finally going to shut the fuck up?” Logan growled a top of you teeth beared chest heaving and forehead sweaty. That was kind of fucking hot actually.

“Let’s just stop and talk this out, yeah?” You say holding your hands up next to your head giving him a big toothy smile.

Logan was more than a bit confused when his body started to move and his claws retracted. In his mind he’s screaming at his body for stopping. Pissed off at the fact he’s isn’t in control. Standing you dust yourself off and start again before he could get his control back.

“Now before you try to attack me again, let’s just take a breath and calm down. You’re fine by the way. I just have control over your body temporarily.” Anger flashes across his face and it hits you that it probably wasn’t the best idea to start with that.

“Since you’ve been a major fuck face these past few weeks you know shit about me. So let me have the pleasure of introducing myself again. My names (y/n) and I can control people with my mouth.” You smile pointing to your lips. He just stares back with slight confusion and disgust. “I tell them an action and they do it. I could hypothetically kill you at anytime too, so let’s be chill.” You say winking at him.

“Well it’s good thing I can’t die.” He says smirking back at you. Funny enough you released him a while ago yet he hasn’t attacked you again.

“You seem to be calm now?” You question. “Is that lesson one?” You poke at him.

“Don’t push it.” He huffs rolling his eyes and walking away. Doors closing behind him you crumble to the ground adrenaline rushing out of you.

A week or so of training later you and Logan still dislike each other as much as the first day you met, but you could feel a tension beneath the hate. A deep seated craving consisting of mostly hate but also a little curiosity. Maybe, even a bit of sexual frustration?

After a particularly long day of training you were quite irritated at Logan. He was being even harsher than he usually is, it was pissing you off. He lunged at you when you weren’t expecting it leaving a deep cut running down the center of your back and you couldn’t hold back a growl.

“What’s your fucking problem today?” Turning to him you stop making him hesitate. “Was I too nice for your liking, Wolvie?” You mock starting to walk towards him, frustration evident on your face.

“It is explanation enough to say that I just don’t like you?” Logan spit as venom coated every word, all while that stupid smirk wore his face. That’s it.

“Down.” Without a second to waste his knees hit the rough floor hard causing a groan to break his smugness. He couldn’t move, only being able to look at you and the anger that filled your eyes. Rage would be a better description. Joining him down on the floor you kneel as you find his chin making him lean closer to your face.

“You don’t have to be cruel Logan.” You pause looking right into his hazel eyes finding that look again. This time there was something different. You couldn’t help but soften slightly as your anger slowly started to fade. Then a sting of pain from sweat seeping into the cut he just gave you reignited the fire. Grabbing his chin harder he winces as you pull him against your forehead, noses practically touching and lips inches apart.

“Don’t let this happen again.” You push his face back hard making him tip over as you release him. Staring him down you finally turn once he stays put and leave.

Half way down the hall you hear the doors burst open with a loud bang and angry footsteps starting to rush after you. Turning you’re suddenly face to face again with Logan. This time your chins being grabbed and pulled towards his face.

“Look I don’t have a problem with you.” He whispers softly while he stares you right in the eye. It’s really hard to stay mad at him when his kitty hair is all disheveled and he’s flushed like a school girl who just got kissed for the first time.

“I didn’t mean to go as hard as I did.” He muttered out. You chuckled.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to be gentle. Unfortunately for you, I haven’t had the pleasure to figure that out.” With a smirk still on your face Logan swiftly throws you over his shoulder and starts walking down the hall. You wince as your fresh wound gets tugged distracting you from the fact that you’re going opposite of the med bay. Once you pass your room you finally noticed this not so fun fact.

“Hey, the med bay is the other way big guy. I kinda need to be stitched up here.” You say as a nervous chuckle escapes.

“I’ll stitch you up myself. I don’t need the professor all up my ass about it.” He doesn’t even look at you, just keeps walking. You hold in the laugh you so desperately want to let out because you don’t want to fuck this up. This is the nicest he has ever been. That’s right, that’s the end of that sentence with no buts! Except his actual ass being right in your view and if you could add you’d love to be all up in it.

Finally making it to his room he gently sits you on his bed. Turning around without saying a word he digs in his desk pulling out a fairly impressive med kit. Not one of those small ones no, no, like an actual emergency med bag. Your jaw dropped a little and he chuckled. Dropping it on the bed beside you he lifts your chin making you look up at him.

“You gotta take your suit off and lay down so I can stitch you up.” He said pointing to the clean plaid sheets. Looking where he pointed you chuckled.

“Well that’s a bit forward.” He rolled his eyes but this time he had a smile? “Wow I finally made you almost laugh!”

“Shut up and lay down already. I’m getting impatient.” Logan said it as harshly as he could but it came out more light than originally intended.

“Fine but turn around. You’re not getting a free show.” You wink as you give your finger a twirl. Sighing and softly shaking his head he turns around. Taking a moment to scan over his juicy toned muscular ass you then move on to actually do what you had him turn around for. Taking your top off you cup your chest and lay down.

“Alright bubble butt, I’m all yours.” Looking over your shoulder you see him turning around with an eyebrow raised until he finally sees you. His silent judgement turned into something darker. He collects himself and walks over to the bag once again shaking his head.

“Don’t stare at my ass, and definitely don’t make comments about it.” He says firmly, but you can tell he’s not being stern.

“Oh come on, it was right in front of my face! Plus, your hips sway slightly when you walk so it looked extra good-“ a loud whine stopped your sentence short when a sharp needle entered your back.

“A warning next time would be delightful!” You say sarcastically jaw clenched.

“I warned you not to talk about my ass.” That’s all he has to say?

“And once again, your ass was in my face! What else am I supposed to talk about? That’s a hypothetical by the way, it will always be about your ass.” At this point the adrenaline makes the pain in your back go numb. Fortunately, feeling his warm hand on your back kneading the needle through your skin has your panties wet. Luckily he’s fast with his needle work because two minutes later he’s done.

“Alright you’re all fixed up now.” He stands from the bed returning the supplies to his bag.

“Really?” You could have sworn that cut was huge. “Well I guess I’ll get dressed then.”

“Did you need me to turn around or are you going to finally act like I’ve seen tits before? That’s a hypothetical of course.” Mocking you with a cheeky smirk and one brow raised he tosses the med bag off the bed and onto the floor. Arms crossed he stares down at you still lying on the bed.

“Is that your way of asking to see my tits? I’d love to test and see if you’re as harsh in bed as you are during training.” Turning around still holding your chest you give your shoulders a slight shrug. “What’s it gonna be Logan? Hate sex or awkward eye contact in the hallway?”

As quick as he is in training, he’s now right in front of you, your jaw gripped by his hand. He leans down getting right in your face. You can feel his warmth radiating from his skin, it made you shiver.

“Don’t get all shy now,” He mocked. “I don’t hate you.” He looks you up and down scanning every inch of your body, unclothed and clothed. “I will fuck you though.”

“I didn’t think that’d actually work but show me what you got baby!” You say hands falling from your chest and pulling his jaw into a kiss. He kisses you back grabbing your side slowly moving to kneel on the bed. Lowering into the bed you’re now lying down. The pressure not the best feeling on your back you let out a quiet hiss.

“What’s the matter? Is it your back?” He asked gently leaning your back off the bed relieving the pain shooting though out you.

“Yeah, usually I wouldn’t mind missionary but I think your love swipe is begging for us to do something kinkier.” You say winking. Before he can say a word you hook your legs around his waist using your momentum to flip him under you on to the bed. Kissing the shock off his face he pulls back suddenly.

“Who taught you that?” He questioned, jealousy slightly peaking through.

“That’s a personal trick. Consider it a mini lesson of my own to you.” You leave a little boop to his nose finding his lips again before he could ask any more questions. Starting to grind down on him, he grabs your hips rolling them at a slower pace. It was deeper though, way harder. Slow hard and precise. You didn’t stop the moan that fell into his mouth. Groaning in response he squeezed your hips even tighter causing you to pull back. Arching your back while dry humping him you let out a breathy moan. Reaching up you grab your tits rolling your nipples in between your fingers. Still guiding your hips a low rumble growls from Logan’s throat as his head rolled back. A pretty erotic site.

“You’re killing me here bub.” He groaned out as he sat up meeting face to face. He starts kissing your jaw moving down to your pressure point playfully nibbling. You moan embarrassingly loud, you could feel his grin against your neck. That made you want to stroke your ego a bit. Pulling his head back by the roots of his hair you grind down extra hard feeling his hip buck to meet yours. You quietly laugh and push him back down. Crawling up an inch or two to give him one more sloppy kiss before sitting back up.

“Don’t worry baby you don’t have to wait for this pretty pussy any longer.” You’re unbuckling his belt and pulling his boxers down to remove his- holy shit huge cock.

“Damn Logan! They weren’t lying when they said you were huge down unda!” You turn to wink to the fourth wall.

“Usually that would kill the mood but you’re really fucking hot.” He pants out “Now back to what you were doing.” He pulls his pants further down his hips and you begin to stroke him.

Eventually getting to impatient you say fuck it and decide to take him all in one go. Loudly he groans, his eyes meet yours, his pupils fully blown out. At the sight you couldn’t help but start bouncing on his cock. Letting go of your hips he lets you set the pace. Grinding down you curve your hips so he could run against your walls deliciously rough. Getting slightly cock drunk after just a few strides your pace begins to increase wanting more of that feeling. Growing desperate you let out a whimpering moan. Hands falling from your chest to Logan’s chest.

“Logan, please.” You beg desperately. Still riding him you plead with him. You looked so pitiful, he couldn’t help the way his twitched hard deep in you. You’re so fucking beautiful.

“What do you want baby? Use your words.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You whine out, you want him to take control and fuck the shit out of you. “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!” You moan out loudly as he bucks his hips up suddenly. Grabbing your hand he intertwines with your fingers squeezing hard and steadying you. Bucking up into you fast he doesn’t feel he is deep enough.

Moving to grab you by your waist he flips you onto your knees face being pushed into his pillows. Drool starts to pool in your mouth form being engulfed by the scent of his sheets. He pushes himself back in quickly making you moan out his name.

“This better princess?” He said with a big smirk “I only want to hear my name come out your mouth. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy!” You were half joking about that nickname. Good thing you felt his cock twitch before you let out that nervous laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Fuck me.” He moans out.

“No fuck me-“ cut off once again by his cock pounding into you. Grabbing at the sheets you could feel his hands move from your hips to rest on either side of your head. Hitting even deeper inside you he then grabs your throat with one hand making you sit up on your hands and knees. Still fucking into you he pulls you all the way up to his chest, grabbing his arm for support you feel him tighten his grip on your neck. This euphoria wasn’t going to last much longer because you were gonna cum hard.

“Logan- I’m gonna cum!” You could barely speak between your pants and erotic moans.

“Cum on my cock princess.” His other hand finds your clit rubbing it at the same pace his cock is pounding inside of you. Letting out a loud moan you could feel the warmth building fast.

“Want me to cum inside you? I want to cum with you.” Panting to the pace of his hips he continues “Fill you up like the slut you are.” He growls into your ear. His voice full of lust and desperation.

“Fill me up baby!” You laugh out in between moans. He groans as he feels your walls spasm around him. You feel bliss and see black speckles fill your vision as your cum dribbles down his cock. Reaching back your hands find his hair and dig hard into his scalp. The pain causes Logan to fall over the edge and cum hard deep inside you.

“Oh fuck, can’t stop!” He practically whined out still fucking into you chasing his high. Still rubbing your clit you start to whine out from over stimulation. Before he can stop himself from rutting into you anymore you come again. Almost screaming out a moan you dig your nails into his shoulders. You feel so fucking warm, soaking wet and tight. Logan can’t pull himself away from you. You feel to good.

“Logan, you horny bitch!” Smirking while grinding back into him you slow his pace down. Moving his hand away from your clit his hands find the inner parts of your thigh. Picking you up slightly to meet his hips even closer than before he groans into the side of your neck. You start to feel the familiar cold metal of his claws poking into your thighs.

“Feel good pretty boy?” You turn towards his face and move one of your hands to his jaw. Before he could answer you start to make out with him while still grinding into him harder. Logan moans into your mouth before pulling away. Finally stopping with his cock still hard inside you he sighs into your shoulder kissing you.

“Feel real fucking good.” Starting to leave a hickey right behind your ear you begin to pull away.

“You trying to go another round or do you need more time to recover hot stuff? I don’t want to hurt that metal hip you know how to move just right.” Squeezing his sides you can feel his abs move under your hands. You moan quietly moving your hands down to his v line. Eventually making your way to his ass giving it a firm squeeze. Turning your head at the same time you find the side of his neck biting down a little rough on the lobe of his ear.

He growls out and you can feel his claws start to push against the flesh of your thighs. Retracting them he pulls out and flips you around sitting you up on your knees facing him on the edge of the bed.

“Bend down and suck my dick loud mouth.” Grabbing you by the base of your hair you slowly started crawling down onto your hands and knees. Ass arched in the air you find the tip of his cock in your face. Pre cum falling from his pinkish tip. You lick your lips looking up at him.

“It’d be my pleasure.” Not getting a chance to say anything else he starts fucking into your mouth. Breathing through your nose you start to lick against his length going opposite of his thrusts. Loud squelching filled the room. It was absolutely filthy, but so fucking HOT! You moaned into his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver through him. Moaning loud he starts going faster. Tears start to roll down your cheeks and you feel nothing but pure pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum soon. Keep sucking baby.” His eyes are shut tightly and you decide then you want to see him totally fucked out. Sucking extra hard and messy you lock eyes with him when he looks down at you. Moaning loudly he starts to pant.

“Good girl! Fuck you’re really good! Don’t stop!” Using both hands he starts pushing your head down faster and way deeper. His dick was starting to go down your throat. Deep throating him you hold yourself down on his cock moaning out his name. Barely audible for obvious reasons, he pulled you off his cock.

“What’s my name princess?” He smirks holding the base of his cock in his other hand.

“Logan!” Sounding hoarse considering this is the first time you could breathe in the last 5 minutes.

“But I prefer wolf daddy!” Always gotta keep the mood light! Gently slapping you on your cheek he pushes your head all the way down his cock. Gagging from the sudden intrusion you quickly begin to suck on him again.

Logan’s hips bucked into your mouth over and over while his balls slapped against your chin. Slobber running down your chin reaching your throat dribbling all over his balls and down his pelvis. His pubes leading to a happy trail is all you can focus on for the moment. Some of your juice still glistening on his mound. You moan against his dick again finally pushing him over causing him to grip your hair tight. Swallowing every last drop he has to give you. A low hum comes from you as the veins on his chest pop out from the pleasure. God this man was fucking hot. Rock hard abs, a sweat glistened chest with the sexiest chest hair, his perfectly cut arms and beautifully sculpted legs. The full package. And god knows you LOVE his package.

Popping off his cock once he was down you swallow the rest of his cum in your mouth. Licking your lips you sit up meeting his lips so he could taste himself on your tongue. One passionate steamy kiss later you pull back running a hand through his hair down to his cheek.

“I’m surprised you can use that mouth for more than just shit talk.” He chuckles kissing you quickly on the cheek.

“You always have to be able to ride the cock if you’re gonna talk the talk. Is that how that saying goes?” Tilting your head he puts his hand over your mouth.

“Enough of that.” Shaking his head he leaves you on the bed going to his closet. He pulls out a new pair of boxers pulling them on and then grabbing a pair for you. Moving over he grabs a wife beater for himself and an over sized flannel for you. Walking back over he sets your clothes on the bed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pointing to your cunt that’s still dripping his cum. “It’s not very gentlemanly to leave a mess.”

Kneeling down he sits between your legs. Without saying a word he starts licking between your folds lapping up all the cum in its wake. Rolling your head back you fall back on to your elbows. Moaning out his name his tongue dives into your hole making your flinch. Hand instinctively finding his hair pulling a little. Finding your eyes he starts to suck on your clit. Flicking his tongue fast up and down, then swirling around you he moans. The noise mixed with being over stimulated already had you cumming again but this time into his mouth.

“God Logan don’t stop!” Riding against his face you stop a minute later once your high has passed. With a groan you fall limp against his sheets. Not even caring about the slight ache that goes through your back.

“I finally got you to shut up.” And without saying a word you’re already out cold. Getting a cloth he washes you up and dresses you in his clothes. I guess he didn’t mind spending the night with you in his bed. You were surprisingly cute when you slept snoring softly and cuddled all into his side. You were warm and soft too. Logan can learn to like this quiet side of you.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one, I haven’t posted for a while so it’s hard not to second guess myself. Let me know if you want anymore Wolverine and possibly even Deadpool content?

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Aug 26th

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1. hi, this is for itmf! pls rec me trans wangxian fics :3c no modern au tho pls, thank you!!

In Reflection, Truth by Shadaras (T, 55k, WangXian, WWX is summoned into a woman’s body, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Gore, this is a story about being transgender, Dysphoria, Misogynistic Slurs, Ableist Language, it’s not slow burn if it’s going to be faster than canon, Trans Male Character, Trans wish fulfillment, Canon Divergence - Yunmeng Brothers Have A Real Conversation) has wwx reincarnated as a women and trans!lwj if i remember correctly

You might be able to find a few in our Trans Wangxian Compilation

The waters and the wild by SecretStorm (T, 62k, WIP, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Fairy Tale Elements, Pied Piper WWX, Trans LWJ, Many juniors, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Sexual Tension) It's a wip that hasn't been updated in a few years, but really good! Trans LWJ in a canon-adjacent setting.

try author 🔒withbroombefore; they write a bunch of canon-era trans lan zhan and it's all *really good*

🔒 Water Sweeter by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 8k, WangXian, Historical, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Some kind of fairy or spirit or something LWJ, Intersex LWJ, Intersex Character, Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Thirst Trap WWX, Topping from the Bottom, WWX’s Canonical Cottage-core Fantasy, First Time, Domestic Fluff, Vaginal Sex)

hold her where you want her by damnslippyplanet (E, 6k, WangXian, Gender Changes, Trans Female LWJ, Female WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

scarcely trust my candid heart by Deastar (E, 6k, WangXian, A/B/O, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Beta/Beta, Demisexual LWJ, Trans WWX, Fluff and Smut, Female WangXian, Partial Cisswap, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, poor LQR is just trying to be a supportive ace elder and doing a great job actually, too bad it goes right over his niece's head)

you can always find me here by ScarlettStorm (E, 15k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Genderswap, Cisswap, yes it's BOTH, trans woman LWJ, cis woman WWX, they're lesbians harold, the excuciating beauty of night hunting with your bestie, who you're very much in love with, and hoping they love you back, (spoiler: they do), First Time, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, gratuitous descriptions of summer weather)

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2. Hi! This is for ITMF. I want a semi-serious (?) And slice-of-life fic. I dont know how to explain it. Just an example like WWX in his yiling laozu ers tells people in yiling that that person who sells talisman from yiling laozu is a fraud. And then it snowballed to people ask his service to banish monster or something and WWX reputation gets better. But the story focus on WWX everyday life like he make new inventation or trying to describe his cultivation. An example maybe something like Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli or if a modern fic it is something like I Don't Want to Debut! By countingcr0ws or Anything For Wei Ying by panda_desu. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts) is one that focuses on basically the life in burial mounds

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 93k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character)

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3. Hii!! for the next itmf can I please request some dark lwj?? sugar daddy vibes or just possessive lwj? i read a few mafia fics and I'm craving this trope a bit more now .thank you!!!

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Revea, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ)

🔒 As good as by apathyinreverie (T, 6k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, not a good uncle LQR story, but also not not?, Golden Core Reveal, Kind Of, Golden Core Fix-It, Also kind of, Addiction, Manipulation, not between wangxian, just...War politics, Sunshot Campaign, Not As Dark As The Tags Make It Sound, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Tired WWX, Genius WWX, Dual Cultivation, LQR is too old for teenage drama, Developing Relationship)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

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4. Hi! For any future I'm In The Mood For, i'm looking for Wangxian fics that are cozy, like being wrapped up in a warm hug. @emrinalex

crystalized by gusuvibes (M, 25k, WangXian, Modern, Bakery, Pining, Getting Together, Baker LWJ, Nurse WWX, OYZZ in a STARRING ROLE, Bunnies With Bad Names, Elaborate Descriptions of Delicious Baked Goods, Frottage, Eventual Smut, Sexy, Baking, Time) is all cafe, cakes and kisses

🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels, get JC therapy 2020, Kissing)

i’ll have you and you’ll have me by sundiscus (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, fluff with a sprinkling of angst (for flavor), Podfic Available)

Love Cats by so_shhy series (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Fluff, WWX is wet and adorable in a tree, With a Cat, LWJ had no chance, Don't Try This At Home, First Dates, LWJ likes ducks, WWX does not like dogs, They just have a nice date, picnic dates, Falling In Love, LWJ is briefly less than graceful, there is a spider, but like barely there and totally harmless, LWJ Loves Rabbits, Office Party, LXC is a Good Big Brother, WWX is an excellent boyfriend, POV Outsider, they are in love the world is full of joy, Everything is Beautiful except for baby coots)

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX & JYL, modern, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, LWJ is a confused rabbit owner, nielan are married, nhs is: xoxo gossip girl, Custody Arrangements, engagement, Confused WWX, WWX voice: if i’m the one with the kid why are you suing ME for child support?, LWJ kills his own love life in the worst way, Happy Ending)

Pigtail Pulling by protos_metazu_ison (G, 3k, WangXian, Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

🔒 yearned for by spookykingdomstarlight (G, 3k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Future Fic, Pining, Rabbits, Fluff, Kissing, Family)

If your heart is in your dream (No request is too extreme) by Spodumene (G, 1k, WangXIan, LWJ's Birthday, Fluff, Modern Setting)

Oh, your love is sunlight by feyburner (M, 9k, WangXian, Drabble Collection, Tags specified in each chapter, But it's all pretty soft and goofy)

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5. I love your blog so much! It helps me find fics i sometimes unknowingly overlook, so...thank you so much! Itmf fics in Lan Wangji's POV, any AU works but if its canonverse, may I request it be novel or donghua canon please? Also have another request for wangxian recs...jealous Lan Wangji because Lan Xichen flirted with/dated/fucked Wei Wuxian in the past (could be a rumour but I'd prefer him to have heard/seen it happen and decide he wants Wei Wuxian for himself)...any AU!

🔒 The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) Retelling of the novel from LWJ's pov

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6. hii this is for itmf!! modern au or not but just anything where wwx gets pregnant with lwj's child and runs away for whatever reason without lwj knowing that they have a child together and then years after they will have a reunion and the big reveal. I just love tropes like this and idk what tags i have to place to get these results (so if anyone can kindly guide me on what tags are the best to look for these fics, i will be so grateful!!) Thank you!!!

The Winner Takes It All by YilingSani (M, 46k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, Old Friends, One Night Stands, No Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Forgiveness, Second Chances, Inspired by Mamma Mia! (Movies) Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg, mention of miscarriage, Birth Trauma, amniotic fluid embolism) Both feature Wei Ying leaving because he's led to believe that Lan Zhan wants nothing to do with him.

All The Years Lost by UseMyMuse (T, 26k, WangXian, Teen Pregnancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Single Parent AU, Forced misunderstandings, Forced miscommunication, Mpreg) Both feature Wei Ying leaving because he's led to believe that Lan Zhan wants nothing to do with him.

Family Pictures (Or: “Mark Rothko is very, very dead, Wei Ying.”) by belleweather (M, 37k, WangXian, Kid Fic, Post Mpreg, Modern AU, Cindarella Story, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, art conservator lwj, idiot WWX, (he gets better slowly), shockingly little actual sex omg what happened to me, fake/mistaken cheating, no actual infidelity)

Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, First Time, Getting Together, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Whump, Breeding Kink)

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7. Hello, for itmf id like ask for work in modern premises where lxc and others accidentally or semi intentionally killed wwx and conspired to never talk about it. Lwj is relentless in searching for wwx. Canon period is ok if there is no canon conflict as the reason @best-before-end

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8. Hi! For the ITMF, I wanted to ask if there are any fics where WWX died at the end of the war? I don't know if it's hc or canon but I keep having the thought that he didn't expect to survive the war without a core. I was wondering how it would have been if WWX over did it or something and died. I'm looking specifically for him dying at the end when the sun shot campaign isn't hindered by it, I suppose. Thanks to everyone in advance! @hikato-chan

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9. heyo! can you rec me a canon compliant/canon divergence wangxian fic that

A) has one of them explore his sexuality, identity, all that good stuff

B) has both of them explore the above together

basically i just want fics where wangxian explores and accepts their own queerness and sexualities and it's a verh lovely time, hehe

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10. Itmf fics that highlight how sweet wen ning is, and his friendship with wwx. (Also any sweet-yet-badass wen ning stories, esp if wen ning gets the recognition he deserves, with a good title/respect etc.)

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11. For the next imtf, can you recommend me some of your favorite non English FFs on Ao3

I’m sorry, Good bye by NHaraki (M, 35k, WWX/WRH, WIP, Jiang Family Bashing, Time Travel Fix-It, YZY Bashing) I translated it via Google Chrome and it was fine. It's an WWX/WRH fic where WWX returns to his childhood after the Siege. Stuff happens, YZY throws him into the burial mounts and WRH finds him. It's a lot of healing and hiding WWX. Found family. WC is raised better. It's adorable

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12. I recently finished reading a wangxian fic told from Jingyi's POV and in that post-canon fic, everyone loves and lusts for wei wuxian to the point many believe its not even possible for his original body to have been better in terms of attractiveness. So itmf of wangxian fics with like...sorta similar premise in the way everyone loves/lusts for/is awed by wei wuxian to the point of hero-worshipping/using him as a standard for future spouse, etc. Lots of wei wuxian swooning and sighing about not finding someone better than him and so on please!

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13. any truth spell/potion fics for itmf? as long as it’s not a sad ending i’m game for anything involving the truth being revealed in some manner like this!

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric) is not quite the ask but its about lwj who can tell lie apart from truth because of a spell his mother gave him

the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending) Not sure if these fit for 13, but Wei Wing develops a talisman to trace curses back to their caster

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts) Not sure if these fit for 13, but Wei Wing develops a talisman to trace curses back to their caster

when you’re doing all the leaving (then it’s never your love lost) by tardigradeschool (T, 26k, wangxian, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, sharing clothes, sharing a bed, fix-it, golden core transfer) Not sure if these fit for 13, but Wei Wing develops a talisman to trace curses back to their caster

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 65k, WRH & WWX, wangxian, WN & WWX, Wen WWX, abuse, whipping, manipulations, smart WWX, possessive behavior, implied/Referenced rape/non-con, past rape/non-con, WIP) Wei Ying develops a way to show blood relations/family members

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) Wei Ying develops a way to show blood relations/family members

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.) Wei Ying develops a way to show blood relations/family members

🔒 this body yet survives by RoseThorne (T, 57k, WangXian, WIP, No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Near Death Experiences, Attempted Murder, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Siblings, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective LWJ, Protective LQR, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, Bad Parent YZY, POV Third Person, POV LWJ, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Depression, Minor Injuries, Painting, Gift Giving, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Good Sibling JC, Good Sibling JYL, BAMF WWX,, Jealous SS, WWX Protection Squad) Wei Ying develops a way to show blood relations/family members

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14. Looking for a fic where it’s like “we just did something super duper gay what happened”

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15. I always see fics about people falling for lan wangji’s cold beauty but for the next itmf, do you have any fics for people are crushing on wei wuxian for his looks or charms? it can be existing characters or ocs, idm!

Endgame wangxian though, please!

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16. Hello! ITMF Jin Guangshan surviving until Wei Wuxian comes back to life, so that Wei Wuxian can take revenge/get justice from Jin Guangshan himself. Thank you!

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17. Based on one of Kay's commentaries on a fic rec, I was wondering if anyone had any fics that put Wei Wuxian through an "emotional blender" lmao.

Silenced by Tasharene (M, 63k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Temporary Blindness, Aversion to touch, Fear of crowds, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, WWX Whump, Hurt WWX, Whump, Angst with a Happy Ending, world-class troll LXC, see the archive Warnings BEFORE you accuse me of not tagging things!!!) warning- ALOT of angst like alot lot but its a happy ending

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)-Chapter 4

Word Count: ~5,431 words

Rating: 18+

Warning ⚠️: Uncle/niece incest (mild smut)

Description: “She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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116 AC-Kings Landing

“That was then Rhaenyra,” Daemon's quiet voice could be heard from their solar, awakening Naerys from her restless nap. She had tried to sleep but had not been able to find an agreeable position in which she could take her mid-day slumber. Instead, she lies in the realm between reality and dreams. Constantly drifting in and out of consciousness.

In the fortnight they had spent at the capital it seemed as if Naerys could not get enough rest. She woke up tired and went to bed in the same state. Her days had become a monotonous string of court proceedings that she struggled to find her footing.

The sun set and the sun rose and a new day of court would begin. An endless parade of pageantry and tittering empty-headed smiles. The young princess longed for the quiet solitude of Dragonstone. Some nights she would lie awake going through every interaction she had that day.

Laena, her husband, and the rest of house Velaryon were stuck on Driftmark. A coming storm had made their journey to Kings Landing impossible. Alicent and Rhaenyra had taken it upon themselves to entertain her in her cousin's absence. If it was not Alicent with her constant teas, sewing circles, and worrying looks it was Rhaenyra and her jibs. Searching her face to see which one would hit its target.

Naerys' husband's general absence had not helped matters. She knew that her uncle had not meant to neglect her. Perhaps neglect wasn’t even the right word for it. The simple fact of the matter was that duty had called. One could hardly say no to the king. Least of all when he is your elder brother.

Daemon was back in the Viserys good graces. All was forgiven since the debacle of their wedding had put further strain on the brother's relationship. Daemon had been invited to attend small council meetings. Lord Strong surprisingly did not object to her husband’s presence on the small council. The lord undoubtedly wanted to keep the peace and was willing to make sacrifices to do so. The rest of the council had followed the hand’s lead.

The rogue prince's seat at the meetings was in an unofficial capacity of course, but some position on the council would no doubt be offered to him once more. He would take it. Daemon was never one for the shadows. Dragonstone was less than stimulating to the mind. At court he was in his element once more.

Naerys herself had been offered to attend a council meeting, but Rhaenyra had put her off from taking up the offer. “Naerys will be bored out of her mind uncle. Wouldn’t you aunt?” It was said with the same condescending tone that she always spoke with. The remark stung, but not as much as her other taunts.

“Children are a joy.” Rhaenyra had found her bullseyes. As Rhaenyra cooed over her black-haired sons, Naerys had to hold back from snapping at the woman. The realm's delight had gotten with child without having to bat so much as an eye. She had given birth to two healthy sons. Two healthy heirs. Not all women were so lucky.

Naerys apparent lack of children had been a source of gossip throughout the Red Keep. Rhaenyra had seen to it. Among the ladies at court, the detail of her empty womb was a favorite topic of conversation. She’s barren. She can not give him children. Poor thing. Perhaps the prince will take a lover again. The young princess would have faltered under the growing weight of the chatter had she not suspected that their efforts to have an heir might yet be fulfilled.

“It wasn’t very long ago.” Rhaenyra’s high-pitched whisperings interrupted the younger girl from her memories. Bringing her back to her present reality, Naerys reached for the robe hanging off her changing room's screen to cover her nakedness. The capital was much warmer than Dragonstone. Even when Daemon did not join her in sleep, she remained comfortable throughout the nights.

“She has yet to give you a child.” Naerys hand flew to her stomach. Peering through the crack in the door that Daemon had left to take a look to see the scene that was playing out in their chamber. Her husband stood by a freshly lit fire with a drink in his hand. Rhaenyra’s back was turned towards her as she faced their uncle.

“So has Laenor.” Naerys could see Rhaenyra visibly wincing from where she stood. Her body jumped slightly at their uncle's words. Daemon looked unbothered, almost bored with the flow of conversation as he swirled the amber liquid in his goblet before taking another slow sip. He had not taken his eyes off the firelight in their chambers.

“She may never give you heirs.” A sneer was evident in her voice. Her spine stilling, holding her head high once more. “What good is my cousin, a Valyrian bride, good for if she has not done her duty to you?” It was a bluff. Naerys could not be put aside so easily. The king would not allow it. Both Ser Vaemond and Lord Corlys would raise hell if an accident were to occur. She was the blood of old Valyria, not a common Andal lady.

“She’s my wife Rhaenyra.” He had lowered his voice. Daemon had finally turned around to glare down at the realm's delight. The dying light of the day coupled with the glow from the fire cast his eyes in a tenebrous haze. “You will do well to remember that.”

“Lady Rhea Royce was your wife as well.” Rhaenyra let out a bitter laugh as she continued on. Unconcerned with the shadows that crossed their uncle's face. “What did you call her? Your bronze bitch. Have you forgotten her already?”

It was easy enough to forget that Daemon had ever been married to another. Her husband never brought up his ill-fated union with the vale woman. Naerys had never even met the woman. She only existed in the outer reaches of her mind as a faceless memory.

“You promised me and yet you married her.” Her cousin's anger and desperation had grown into something else. Rhaenyra grabbed Daemon. Pulling the tall man into her space. “You promised me.” Her husband did not move from her cousin's grasp. Daemon began to stroke her forearm. The touch was intimate. As if they had done it a million times before. Rhaenyra’s words echoed in Naerys' mind.

Naerys did not know what the two got up to during her visits or what happened between the two before their respective marriages. She would not ask now. The past lay in the past. It was best kept that way. Daemon was ever the attentive husband these days. She would not bring up old misdeeds, but it seemed that these wounds appeared whether she wanted them to or not.

“Rhaenyra.” It was said with a sigh. The venom was gone from his gaze. Her husband closed his eyes briefly as if to gather his bearings. His fingers continued their descent across Rhaenyra’s arm. Naerys could feel her blood begin to boil. She was grateful that no objects lay within her reach or else she would have hurled them at her uncle's head.

“Kosti sagon biare kesīr.” Daemon did not reply. His fingers had finally ceased their movement. He cast his violet eyes towards the door where his wife hid behind. Naerys froze hoping he had not seen her.

“Would you abandon Ser Harwin so easily?” Naerys could see her husband leaning down as if to whisper a poorly kept secret in her cousin's ear. Rhaenyra had taken a lover herself. She was not left without companionship. She found her own distractions.

“I had no choice.” Rhaenyra sputtered at her uncle's question. Her desperation returned as she reached out to bring him near her.” I was alone. We both were.” Excuses fell from her lips, but came upon deaf ears. Daemon spurred his niece’s advances this time. Moving further away from her grasp back towards the fire.

“I am not alone Rhaenyra.” Daemon turned his back fully towards the fire to face Rhaenyra, but he did not look at his niece as he had said the words. Naerys felt her husband's gaze lock onto her. A grin spread across his face which seemed to grow when he saw the fury within his wife.

Rhaenyra had yet to see her, but the woman was burning up with her own barely contained-rage. She almost fluttered past her as she made her way to exit their chambers, but her lilac eyes finally landed on her cousin. The princess yanked open the iron-framed oak door, bringing in a draft, to face her cousin. Naerys pulled her robe tighter around her body to ward off the chill.

“He never stays in one bed for long.” Rhaenyra’s eyes cast down at Naerys stomach with a mirthless sneer. The older girl bent down slightly to spit her next words in her cousin's ear. “If he ever puts a babe in you he’ll just move on to the next one.” The older girl cast one last look at their uncle, before storming from the room.

A wave of dizziness came over Naerys. Daemon was by her side with surprising speed. His smirk had fallen as he helped her into his chair, seating her on his lap before handing her a goblet of water fussing over her as if he were a mother hen. “I’ve sent for Maester Orlys.” He urged her to drink the cooling liquid. Her anger at her husband faded with each sip. “We are not going.”

Naerys had nearly forgotten Jacaerys name-day feast. Rhaenyra had pushed it back as far as she could, but now that Ser Harwin and the Velaryon party had finally arrived the feast was to take place that night.

“We must.” They hadn’t much of a choice. Their absence at the festivities would be noted. Daemon may not care what the “sheep” gossiped about, but Naerys would not add fuel to the growing pyre. They still had to do their duty.

Naerys made ready to climb off her husband’s lap though her Daemon would not release her. He merely shushed her as he brought the back of his hand up to stroke his niece's sable cheek. He gave her a dark look before he leaned in, catching her open mouth by surprise. Their pink tongues danced tangling with one another briefly before her uncle pulled away.

“Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre.” Daemon buried his silver head in her neck. He was breathing her in as he softly petted the silver coils at her nape. Naerys let herself be fawned over. Her husband's words and gentle ministrations soothed the last remnants of the dull ache she had felt moments ago. “You mean more to me than you could possibly know.”

It occurred to her that for all of his bolstering and saccharine remarks Daemon had never spoken those three little words. They had been married for a year now and yet in some ways Naerys still felt like she did not know her husband at all of his true opinion of her.

Was a man like her husband even capable of such feelings? Was he even capable of feeling that way toward her? Love was not a requirement of marriage, but Naerys was certain that she carried half of him inside of her. Surely that meant something. Was she to share a child with a man who ran hot one minute and cold?

“Get dressed sweetling.” Daemon snapped Naerys from her thoughts with a start. Releasing her from his lap with a final kiss on her temple before turning quickly to head to his own antechamber to do the same.

The rogue prince did not stop to check back on her, but his wife did not miss the glance he gave her before he had left to change. Nor did she miss when he hesitated to leave her in the first place. Naerys knew that she was burning under his fire, but perhaps he burned in hers as well. Or perhaps she was too hopeful. Believing in fairytales, words made of wind, and gallant knights where there were none to be found.

If it was something Naerys mother's family were known for it was how to make an entrance. In Velaryon fashion, they arrived late. They were the last ones to arrive at the Red Keep for the little prince's festivities and what an entrance they had made. Particularly Laena’s girls.

The little darlings had stolen the show. Baela and Rhaena were not yet half a year old and yet their presence dazzled the court. They were small little things that had inherited their mother's silver waves and the lilac eyes of house Velaryon. Sans their coloring, which was all Ser Harwin, they looked like the spitting image of their mother.

Naerys held onto the belief that babies could change until she saw Luke and Jace near their sire. Laenor’s “sons” had not a stitch of their “father” in them, nor their mother for that matter. One had only to look at Ser Harwin to see who fathered them.

Naerys had not meant to ambush her cousin, but Laena had arrived too late for a private chat over tea as she had wanted. She and Daemon were officially due to depart for Dragonstone in the coming days. Regardless of whether they made that journey together or not, the feast was likely Naerys' only chance to learn the truth of the situation.

Her cousins had not denied the affair. “My daughter will be queen,” Laena smiled at the passing ladies of the court as they took a turn about the room. “My youngest will likely be the lady of Driftmark.” She was a daughter of house Velaryon and a dragonrider. She held her head high as they passed by her husband. Ser Harwin smiled at his wife, bouncing one of their daughters in his hold. “I am happy with what I have dear cousin.”

Naerys could not understand how her cousin could be so calm in the face of everything. Laena had the patience of a septa. The young princess did not believe she could endure being around her husband’s mistress day in and out, much less embrace the situation with open arms. She would have grown mad by now, but her oldest cousin possessed a quiet acceptance that was lacking in even those twice her age.

Princess Rhaenys bristled whenever Rhaenyra or her sons came near. She seemed to avoid her good son altogether. Leaving for the opposite side of the room when the captain of the city watch ventured too close to her. Her behavior was a stark contrast to how her husband approached the subject of their grandsons and their sire

Lord Corlys for all intents and purposes appeared unconcerned. Baela, Laena’s oldest, was already betrothed to the future king of the seven kingdoms. From Laena’s own mouth Rhaena would be betrothed to the heir of her father's seat. As long as her uncle's blood sat upon the Driftwood throne he would not deny the strong boys the privilege of the Velaryon name.

Naerys' other uncle was a different matter. If there was any question of Ser Vaemond’s views on the future king and the Lord of Driftmark one need only to see the sneers the dark man gave his good niece and her sons to decipher his true opinion.

Laena was called away to deal with a teething Rhaena. Naerys was left alone. Daemon stood on the opposite side of the hall with Lord Boremund and her aunt Rhaenys. Her husband met her eyes, giving her a smirk. She might have gone over to join them, but though he was good-natured she always found the storm lord too brutish for her tastes.

“You glow my princess.” A foreign voice emerged from the shadows. Naerys turned to its source to come face to face with a ghost. Lords and Ladies gilded around the great hall with practiced ease. Not paying any attention to them. Naerys wondered if the woman was a figment of her imagination, but she knew that her eyes did not deceive her when Rhaenyra stared at her from where she sat at the high table with a mocking leer.

Lady Mysaria stood as an unnaturally pale thin creature cloaked in a hooded robe. Naerys had only seen her husband's former mistress from a distance. She had been a child then, but The woman had not changed much from her memory.

“Thank you.” Naerys did not know how else to respond. It was best to take her words at face value than see them as something more. The woman reached out a milky hand to brush her stomach. Her hands were cold. Cold enough to feel through the layers of dark gown she wore. Naerys tried not to flinch at her touch. Something told her not to falter under the pale woman’s stare.

“You have not told him have you?” The white worm continued to caress her stomach. Naerys dared not to breathe. She feared that if she did her body would give into the cold. “Children are fickle creatures. A blessing from the Gods that can be so easily taken away before they are even born.” She smiled and the chill spread. “Fear not princess, your husband shall have his heir.” Mysaria turned her violet gaze on the other side of the room towards where the princess had last seen her husband.

Naerys did not want to follow it, but she could not resist. Lord Boremund and Rhaenys had left from Daemon's side. Their presence had been replaced by a visiting Lysenni lady. Her white hair gleamed and reflected off of the hall’s ember glow. The lady had her hand resting on Daemon’s arm.

The rogue prince leaned into her hold bending his silver head so that she may whisper in his ear. Whatever she had said made the two descend into laughter. Naerys felt her face heat up. She tried to contain her fire, but she felt herself spiraling at the next words the white worm's breathed into her ear. “His heir and more to spare.” Mysaria was not known for her gift of prophecy, but she had known Daemon.

He will get bored of you. Rhaenyra’s unspoken words rang around in her head. She could no longer hear the noise of the festivities around her. Daemon had his fill. Naerys was just a plaything to him. A useful necessity that he was bound to, but the bonds of marriage meant little to her husband. He was back to where he wanted to be. He can not survive in one bed alone. It did not matter what pretty words he muttered to her in the dark of their chambers. Daemon was not built for it.

“Are you well princess?” Ser Gwayne had removed himself from his post and was by her side before she could blink. Holding her forearm up with practiced ease. Concern was written plainly across his face. Lady Mysaria had slinked back to whatever hole she had crawled out from, but the princess could still feel the chill she had left behind. Naerys felt eyes watching her every move. She could barely breathe under their stares.

“Would you escort me to my seat Ser?” Naerys did not have to explain she would not make it there herself. The Hightower knight was not the only one who had noticed her distress. Daemon was thundering across the Red Keeps great hall. The fury of the dragon blazing in his eyes.

Naerys met Ser Gwayne’s dark eyes before nodding her head in the direction of the oncoming storm. I do not want him whisking me off somewhere to simper out more empty words. The knight gave her a small smile in understanding. Taking her arm to escort her into the crowd, but Daemon had made their way towards them before they could.

“Thank you Ser Gwanye, but your assistance is no longer required.” Daemon sneered at the younger man. His empty sword hand twitches at his side. Viserys had not allowed her husband to bring Dark Sister to the feast. Only the guards had a need for weapons. Naerys thanked the Gods for her uncle’s foresight.

“I will go when the princess dismisses me.” The Hightower knight stood his ground this time. His dark eyes stared her husband down. The two were at a crossroad. Naerys wondered if the two would cause a scene.

“She is my wife Ser. You will release her this instant or you will not see to the end of this feast your dear sister has so dutifully planned.” Daemon's grip tightened on her. Only relaxing it when she let out a wince. Naerys would not meet his eyes. Her husband had no right to his foul temper. He had embarrassed her enough for one night. She would no longer placate him.

“Aunt,” a small voice called from the edge of the crowd. Aemond stood beckoning Naerys over to where he and his siblings sat on the far end of the high table. Naerys had never been more grateful for the distraction. Ser Gwayne let her go upon hearing his nephew, but Daemon would not fold.

“Our nephew calls for me my lord.” Naerys felt herself burning up as she finally lifted her head to gaze up at her husband. “May I go to him or are you mistrustful of little boys as well as the knights of your brother’s City Watch?” She expected her husband, but instead, he began to drag her to the king's youngest children.

They passed by the Lysenni lady Daemon had been enchanted with moments before. “Princess.” It was said with a curtesy and a polite smile. One which Naerys did not return. How could she expect her to when she had so blatantly made a pass at her husband with her in the very same room?

“She’d sooner take you into her bed than see me in it, you spoiled thing.” Daemon went to caress her arm, but the princess jerked from his touch. Her husband’s boldness would never cease to astound her. Naerys dug her heels into the floor. A move that she would regret as he threw her over his shoulder. Some of her uncle’s visiting guests looked their way, but the lords and ladies of the court were far used to the rogue prince's antics.

“Are you ill aunt?” Aemond asked with a frown as Naerys' uncle deposited her in an empty seat to Helaena’s left. Daemon moved to sit in the chair to her right, next to his brother's second son.

“Your aunt is fine.” Daemon placed a kiss on the back of her hand before setting their joint hands on the oak table. “She’s just tired.” Naerys sunk her nails into the back of her uncle's hand. It was not enough to draw blood, but it did cause the prince to grunt in discomfort.

She challenged her husband with a raised eyebrow. The man relented with a smirk breathing a threat into his niece’s ear. “Behave or you will not be able to walk tomorrow.” Naerys released her claws with a glare.

The children seemed to pay no mind to the older prince and princesses' heated exchanges. Aemond began to prattle on about some Valyrian text he had come across to his “nuncle.” Aemond and Damon's relationship had improved greatly. It was in no small part to Naerys.

With Naerys' increasing dizzy spells Daemon had forbidden her from flying alone. The royal couple would take turns riding Caraxes and Silverwing together. Carving out some time in the day to visit their dragons. By the second week of their stay in the capital, Aemond would often wait for them at the Dragon Pit entrance. Trying to catch a glimpse of their dragons with wonder in his eyes.

The young prince had no dragon of his own. His egg had long since turned to stone. Aegon had already begun to tease his brother about his dragonless state. His siblings' dragons were too small to ride, but they would soon even little Daeron would become Dragonriders while their brother remained without so much as a dragon to call his own.

The queen was not overly fond of her children’s dragons, but she understood the importance of the bond between a Targaryen and their dragon. She knew how her second son longed for an end to his dragonless state. It took little to convince Alicent to allow him the privilege of a dragon ride. Daemon had not been able to say no either after she had ambushed him while he was still coming down from his high one night.

“I would be grateful kepus if you— if you were to take Aemond with you and Caraxes on your next ride.” The two lay panting in each other’s embrace. Naerys combed her fingers through silver locks as he lay on top of her. The princess winced as her husband replaced his spent cock with his fingers. “Kostilus kepus.”

Daemon's eyes remained glazed over as he watched his digits move in and out of her spasming cunt. Fucking his cum back into his niece while his thumb drew small circles on her clit. “Ao issi s��r gevie byka mēre.” The rogue prince suddenly removed his fingers from within her as the princess was on the crest of another release. Naerys whined at her ruined climax, but her husband only shushed her. “Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa”

Some of his seed leaked out wetting the silk sheets below, but the lovers paid it no mind as Daemon brought his fingers to his niece's waiting mouth. Naerys eagerly lapped at their combined spends while her husband gave into her demands.

The boy had been ecstatic when Daemon had helped him climb upon Caraxes back. Naerys watched them from the dragon pit entrance with a less than enthused Ser Criston who acted more like the boy's father than his mother's guard as they made their descent into the horizon. Aemond took to the sky’s with a fever she had not seen apart from Daemon and Laena.

Naerys reached for the goblet of water that was placed in front of her. Most of the nausea she had felt in the past had dissipated, but the dizziness remained. Helaena looked up at her with a smile. She was a sweet quiet girl, if not a bit spacey. Alicent’s daughter placed a small hand on her belly with a wistful smile.

“Do not fret aunt. My sister shall be healthy and beautiful.” Dragon dreams. Naerys did not know what to say. Daemon narrowed his eyes at their niece's words, but he made no comment. Only Aegon would grace the table with his thoughts on his sister's riddles.

“Mother isn’t pregnant you nitwit.” Aemond looked as if he wanted to throttle his own brother. Even Helaena had turned her nose up at the unruly boy. Aegon’s ill-mannered behavior remained unchecked by both the king and his mother. His sire seemed to barely acknowledge his existence while Alicent remained at a loss for how to best deal with it.

The king made his way to retire for the evening. He had stayed far longer than he usually did at the feasts of late. Those seated at the high table rose with him as was customary before Viserys would depart. Naerys tried to rise with the rest of the table, but Daemon rested his hand on her shoulder to stop her. As she looked at the pale hand Naerys felt what little was left of her restraint vanish.

She no longer cared if she made a scene. Let the court see how the rogue prince viewed her. The princess managed to shake free of her husband's hold. In her haste, she rose too quickly. Tripping over the leg of her chair she had pushed too far back, Naerys felt herself lose her balance. Her husband caught her before she could hit the Great Hall’s stone floors.

Daemon's voice was the first Naerys heard when she returned to consciousness. She felt sluggish and drowsy. The princess spied from the corner of her eyes one of Maester Orlys’ tinctures on her vanity. Whatever the kindly man had given her had a foul aftertaste.

“How long have you known sweetling?” Daemon did not look angry as he sat in a chair that had been placed by their bed dragging the back of his hand softly across her cheek. He in fact reminded her of a kicked puppy. His gaze was as tender as his touch. The rogue prince looked more like a boy of ten than a man grown. Naerys supposed that was really what he was underneath his bravado.

“When Alicent first invited me to tea.” She felt a weight lift off her shoulder at the revelation. Naerys had her suspicions before, but she had not been sure until Alicent had made it plain to her.

“Ser Gwayne was only trying to help.” Daemon winced. He should have been there for her, not the Hightower knight, but he would apologize for jumping to conclusions. It was not in his nature to express regret for his actions. Naerys understood why. Their fires burned too hot to allow them to. “How far along did Maester Orlys say I was?”

“Three moons.” The baby would arrive in time before the new year. Enough time to get her affairs in order. Enough time to travel to Dragonstone and then Driftmark if she so wished. Naerys wondered if she could fly there now. Daemon answered that question for her.

“We can journey back home.” He gave her a small smile. Petting her silver twists as if she were a child. Her handmaids must have come in at some point to braid up her hair. Something that she would be thankful for in the morning.

“You may stay.” Daemon began to tense up at her words. She reached out in search of the scars on her husband's neck. Stroking the rough skin with a soft hand. It was funny enough, but Naerys felt much calmer now. Looking back on the day the princess had realized that she had let others draw conclusions for her now. Conclusions that only one man could provide.

“I will go to Driftmark.” She tried to sound absent-minded as she said it. Continuing to trace over her husband's scars, threading her fingers into his hair. A storm cloud came over her husband. Naerys could not contain her smile at seeing her uncle's reaction.

Daemon noticed it, but he made no comment as he fell to his knees to kiss the top of her crown before burrowing his silver head into her neck. “I am yours you stubborn girl. I am no one, but yours as you are mine.” The man was exhausted. A day of pointless fighting had worn them both out. “We will go to Dragonstone. I’ve had enough of this city and it’s gossip.”

“I could lose it.” Daemon tensed up once more underneath her fingers. He removed himself from her neck. Violet eyes met a pair of amethyst orbs. It was bad luck to speak of such things. Especially in the early days, but the thought gnawed at her. So many things could go wrong. Naerys never considered herself a very lucky person.

“Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus.” Daemon was a man. He behaved as if he were a dragon, but he was still a man and Naerys was a mere woman. They were flesh, blood, and bone. They could not bend fate to suit them. Mortals had their limitations. The king talked of prophecies, but Daemon was little better with his blood obsession.

“Your mother doubts you byka zaldrīzes.” Her husband bent down to place a kiss on her still flat belly. “She worries too much.” Lifting up to face her once more Daemon grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. Lending her the strength that had left from her body. “Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton.”

Naerys was too tired to argue with her husband. There was still plenty to sort out, but the day had been long. The princess let herself be petted as she drifted off into a dreamless wonder. She would worry about their future in the morning when her head was clear.

Translations:

Kosti sagon biare kesīr: We can be happy here

kepus: uncle

Ao issi issa vys issa byka mēre: You are my world my little one

Kostilus kepus: Please uncle

Ao issi sīr gevie byka mēre: You are so beautiful little one

Ao drējī issi vēttan syt issa: You truly are made for me

Ao issi daor nykeā jaes kepus: You are not a god uncle

byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

Iksā ñuha ābrazȳrys. Iksā emare ñuha riña. Īlva riña. Iksi jāre lenton: You are my wife. You are having my child. Our child. We are going home.

Ao3 Link:

Tags:

@misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade

[two-white-butterflies]

white sword | d. targaryen

Description: Daemon fights you in the field. He struggles to do so because of the feelings in his heart.

Rating: Mature [angst, age appropriate reader, dornish coded reader, very short smut like 200 words]

Author's Note: GIF again because Canva won't load.

He takes a step forward - boots crunching over the bloody battlefield. There were bodies of green and black armor laid on the floor - their life was already taken away. He holds the Dark Sister firmly on his hands, twirling it around while he catches a glimpse of your green armor in his periphery.

The world seems to stop spinning for a second. All he could think about was you - the woman that he left to pursue a greater path.

How long has it been since he's last seen you? It has been at least a decade since his war in the Stepstones - and nothing has changed. Your face still held youth and beauty - eyes shining brightly and with purpose. You were wearing a golden armor - like the sun.

Fire could destroy, but all knelt to the sun.

You turned slowly to face him - blood dripping down your armor. "Is it really?" you raised an eyebrow, removing your helmet before remembering that he was an enemy too. He draws his sword - pointing at you. He didn't want you to take another step further. He couldn't bare to see you another step further.

Because to gaze upon those eyes means accepting the fact that you're real - accepting the fact that you're all he needs, and he couldn't do that. Not to Rhaenyra - not to his sons. "You have not changed," you breathed, circling his body with reluctance.

"You too." he replied, inhaling the scent of blood and ashes. How many times has the Rogue Prince fallen in love? Once, only with you. "- the sun still favors your beauty" he could not resist to say.

A bitter chuckle escapes your mouth - he was an enemy, the very reason that the kingdom was in disharmony. "How will it end, Daemon?" you ask - referring to him with his proper name. His eyes soften - he's never heard you say his name before - you always referred to him with the endearments that he adored.

He drops his sword on the ground.

And you do the same.

(STEPSTONES 115 AC)

It was unusual to see a warrior lady in the battlefield - but bedding one? It was something for legends.

"My prince," you moaned feeling his cock tighten around your abused hole. He kept his hands firm around your waist while you bucked up and down, feeling your abdomen tighten with every thrust. "Gevie," he whispered with a clenched jaw.

If you were a common whore - he'd be ashamed at the rate of his submission - but you were ... amazing, for the lack of a better word. He pulls your face closer to his body - pressing another kiss to your lips. There were maidens that he fucked, never kissed - but you were different. You were more than them.

He feels his cock spasm inside your womb, emptying his seed. A loud exhale escapes your mouth, hands wrapped around his body. You attempt to stand up - but he pulls you back down. "Keep it in," he pleaded - and you relented.

@nyctophilic0vitnir @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors @immyowndefender @ammo23 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ammo23 @immyowndefender @bitchyunknownuser @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[kiatheinsomniac]

✨Hello✨ I really love the AC fics you do along with the other writers who also do AC. Arno Connor and Jacob are my favorites when growing up ❤️ and I feel guilty for ignoring them for 3 years (bc 22 is ending) bc I got back into the franchise 2 months ago and starting play rogue and AC3 after years of waiting

Anyways. I would love to see wolf hybrid!Connor who is very gentle kind and calm with his fem human!s/o who is a precious cinnamon roll that Connor loves and cherishes with his heart. but during mating seasons where his sexual personality gets so bad where he loses control of himself and goes feral and is terrified of hurting his s/o. But she doesn’t mind at all.

(This is my first time requesting NSFW…..if you don’t like this then ignore it and I’ll request something short to make it easy for you)

Modern!Connor not knowing the pocky/peperro challenge and his fem Japanese!s/o telling him about it and wanting to do it. 5 sticks of strawberry pocky later turns into a heat make out session (NSFW if you don’t mind)

──── 𝐑𝐔𝐓 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I went for the wolf hybrid one because that seemed fun hehe. Also thank you for putting your age in your bio! I have it in my rules that I won't take NSFW requests from blogs who don't display their age. I think the monsterfuckery from my sideblog might have bled into this a bit kdhfgsajfhg this is gonna make it look like I read werewolf porn but all this knowledge is acc from fox boys-

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: wolf hybrid! Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway x Reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.0k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW content, MDNI, smut, wolf! hybrid Connor, heat cycles, creampies, overstimulation, knotting

The small bedroom was filled with the sounds of Connor’s hips harshly smacking into yours, the squelching of your pussy taking every deep and relentless thrust, your shared sounds of pleasure and Connor’s tail thumping against the mattress beneath you. 

You had lost track of how many times his insatiable fucking had made you come by now, your orgasm a mere tingling feeling in your belly while your abdomen remained taut, walls milking his cock. You could feel the slow trickle of your wetness and his cum down your thighs, spread apart with your ass raised in the air while your face was buried in the pillows, large hands on your hips to bruise your delicate flesh and pull you back onto his dick. 

How did you end up with your sweet boyfriend fucking you within an inch of your life like this? Quite simply put: he was in a rut. He had been avoiding you for days with the most recent change of the season and it worried you. Did you upset him somehow? Did you do something to offend him? 

He had tried to push you away when you approached with quivering hands and teary eyes, unable to bear not knowing what you had done to deserve having him treat you this way and seeing you so upset – yet also teary-eyed and pouty – had been the last test of Connor’s restraint. He had to explain to you that with being a wolf hybrid came… instinctual side effects that he could not hide from. You were such a soft and sweet thing and he had been keeping his distance as he knew the frailty of his restraint in times such as this and the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you, his precious little lover. Yet, you had grasped his large hand in both of yours and knelt on the bed beside him – which had been all rearranged to resemble more of a nest – and told him that you wanted to be there for him always, no matter what you had to do to help him out. 

He didn’t have the strength to turn you away, thinking with his cock more so than his brain that was telling him to send you away. 

And so here you were, one of his hands leaving your hip in favour of pushing down on your back, sliding over your spine until he could wrap his fingers around the back of your neck and push you down, securing you in such a submissive position while fucking his cum deeper inside of you. He couldn’t help but groan in response to the yelp you let out when his fanged teeth nipped into your shoulder, marking you as his alongside the myriad of love bites and bruises he had already littered your body with. 

“Gonna make you take all I’ve got, gonna give it all to you…” There was an edge of a whine to his voice as his breath fanned hotly over your ear, the weight of his body and his hold on you pinning you down between the mattress. You could only dumbly nod, eyes rolling back into your head at all the immense pleasure as you reached back to weave your fingers messily through his dark and damp hair. It had been half-tied back to start off with and yet you could feel no band in it now as you tangled dark locks around your fingers and pushed your palm up even higher to scratch the ears atop his head. You could feel how his body shuddered against you in response to your touch and how his hips faltered. “All of it… please? Please, will you let me?” You put your blind trust into Connor and nodded your head against the pillows, feeling where your hair was sticking to your face with sweat. 

“Yes, yes, Ratonhnhaké:ton, please, yes!” You let out breathlessly and felt one of his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you flush against his body as his cock continued to bully into you, stroking past your sweet spot and ramming into your cervix with each thrust. You let out a whimper when a pinch of pain – nothing too discomforting – underlied his harsh fucking and you suddenly realised how he felt so much bigger inside of you than before. “C-Connor?” You asked in a wavering voice. 

“I know, I know, just need to…” You yelped when he suddenly bottomed out into you, his cock feeling impossibly thick at its base and yet the sensation was soothed by the feeling of his hot cum pouring stickily into your used hole. There was so much more of it than before and you felt more full than you ever could have imagined with his cock stopping anything from escaping where your bodies met. You pushed yourself up on shaky forearms but Connor’s body pushed you back down as he rested enough of his weight on you to keep you down but not enough to crush you. You could feel the fur of his tail as it slowly wagged behind him, tickling your thighs as it did so. “Don’t-” His words were divided by panted breaths, “-try to get up… Need to let it go down first…” 

“Did you… did you knot me?” You asked quietly, voice weak from the previous activities as you allowed yourself to go utterly limp beneath him. 

“‘M sorry…” He nuzzled into the back of your neck, tip of his cock feeling so oversensitive at being buried so deep in your pulsing walls still. 

“No, no, it’s alright…” You murmured, “Just surprising is all, I didn’t think that you meant… I mean I didn’t think that you could even do that…” You let out a small laugh and he pouted as he hid his face in your hair out of embarrassment. Once more you reached back to pet his hair and ears. 

“Feeling better though?” 

“Much.” He replied, relief heavy in his voice, “Thank you, my love.” 

“No need to thank me. I’m always here to help, no matter what it is you need…” 

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[gococogo]

Day Thirty One: Werewolf

Kinktober Masterlist will be posted after October

Synopsis: A blood full moon is it's way and Haytham has had a past experience with a werewolf turning feral on a night like this. He just hopes that Shay isn't the same.

Word Count: 4.7K

Genre: Assassin's Creed Rogue

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Warnings: Werewolf stuff/Tongue stuff/Size Kink/Ass fucking/Man handling or shit like that/that word for monster fucking/rough sex

Haytham doesn’t knock or make himself known as he enters Shay’s manor. The owner of the estate doesn’t even peer up from his papers he’s currently nose deep in. Striding across open foyer, Haytham throws the newspaper in front of Shay on his table. The man doesn’t even look up to Haytham, only frowning at the paper that has ever so rudely interrupted his reading.

It’s folded open on one of the last pages where the times of the tides are, and the moon cycles are for the month. With a little hesitance, Shay picks up the newspaper and gives a quick skim. His brows furrow and he looks closer at what he is seeing in front of him.  

“A blood, full moon?” Shay asks more to himself.

Haytham pulls out a chair for himself on the other side of Shay’s office and takes a seat on the other side of the table. He takes his hat off and places it on top of Shay’s paperwork that seems to be a mess, but it’s organized on the filer’s account. Shay looks up from the newspaper and chucks it on top of the other papers.

“Never heard of such a thing,” Shay points out.

Haytham hums. “Yes, well. I’ve witnessed a blood moon and it doesn’t take fairly to wolves.”

The Irishman only looks to him for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. But when none comes, he asks, “I’m guessing you’ve come across a wolf during a blood moon?”

“Yes.”

“And how did it fair?”

“Dead.”

Shay nods with his lips thinned. “Lovely.”

Why isn’t he surprised by Haytham’s bluntness at this point. There’s some days where he thinks he’s gotten use to it and then there’s others where it takes him solely by surprise.

Haytham picks up the newspaper and gives it another once over even though he’s read it a good couple of times. He’s dealt with werewolves before, Shay isn’t the first cursed man that he’s come across in his lifetime. But only once has he had the luck of being around one during a blood moon.

For his liking, once was enough. Yet with his relationship to Shay, it seems like he’ll have to go through this situation again.

“What happened during the blood moon?” Shay asks.

Even though Shay is a were, one of the cursed, he is only newly turned. Turned by his once called brother, Liam O’Brien. Changed him on the night that Shay was escaping from the Assassins. A reason why he survived the fall and the cold ocean that greeted him below. Haytham would call it a miracle, while Shay would say something else entirely that children should not hear.

Monroe had informed Haytham of who Shay was from the very beginning. Haytham himself, had seen it as a big risk. A risk not worth taking and that he should just kill Shay before the next full moon came around. But that didn’t happen. Monroe had always been known to have a big heart. Even for a Templar.

“The one I encountered had gone feral. Almost like he was in a rut like state,” Haytham explains bluntly.

Shay is a bit wordless and tilts his head slightly as if a dog would. “A rut?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Haytham admits truthfully with a small wave of his hand.

But at this, Shay sits further down in his seat with a huff. His eyes flicker across the reports and the papers on his desk. He suddenly becomes uninterested in finishing any of this today. Haytham thought he dove too much into his work. But with tracking other ships, plus his own and keeping up to date with gang activity, it all does start to pile up after a while. Haytham is just grateful he has the need to keep his work space tidy. On a good day at least.

“I’m meant to be in Albany on that date,” Shay brings up with a soft chuckle.

Haytham thinks on that. The were that he encounters on the blood moon didn’t know him. It was all by sheer coincidence that the two ran into each other that night.

But Shay and Haytham know each other on a level that not many get to see in their lives. In such a short time, they’ve formed a bond that ties them together through their experiences in life. And in doing so, Haytham has helped Shay with his transformations. Controlling the curse when he changes, he is more placid and more so has to wait out the night until he turns back. He has told Haytham that he still feels the hunger, the urge to rip and shred like the curse ensures upon. But Shay’s will is something stronger than most men.

They haven’t had a bad night since last year. But that could all change with this upcoming blood moon. But it’s Shay. There could be something that Haytham might be able to do on that night that can keep him at bay.

“And you won’t be able to delay your trip?” Haytham asks even though he knows what answer he’s going to get.

“Not if you want to lose a lead with the Assassins.”

As Haytham thought. Always onto something. Can’t stick to one place and can’t let the Assassins rest. Especially not after what they’ve done to Shay. The nickname, Templar Dog has seemed to stuck as what the Assassins call him now. Another one Haytham has heard but hasn’t told Shay yet, is the Grandmaster’s Lapdog. He doesn’t think Shay needs to know of it either.

“I’ll join you to Albany then,” Haytham says as he stands from his seat.

Shay opens his mouth to argue but a hand is held up in front of him. His words get caught in his throat and he shuts his mouth just as quickly. Haytham grabs his hat and straightens himself out.

“I’ve already made it final. Make board for one more on your ship.”

-

The trip to Albany goes smoothly, giving Shay and Haytham a week before the blood moon. But the itch that scratches underneath Shay’s skin becomes more eager with each passing day. He hasn’t felt anything like this since the early days.

To distract himself, he keeps himself occupied with the lead. There are meant to be a few Assassin’s or gang members still lurking around the town even though Shay has ratted them all out. But they like to linger about place they aren’t welcome.

To Shay’s dismay though, the week goes by quicker than he expected. Even Haytham lost track of days with helping Shay try and get this done as quick as possible. But the day of the blood moon comes around the corner and neither of them are ready to leave Albany.

-

Somehow, Shay had convinced Gist to get everyone off the Morrigan for the night. Gist knows of Shay’s curse but has never seen it firsthand. And he has told Shay firmly he will never have the desire to do so. Shay doesn’t blame him though, it isn’t a pretty sight. Haytham, not a man to sugar coat things, has said it’s something out of a nightmare.

The both of them keep to Shay’s quarters as soon as the sun begins to set, hoping this room is enough for the oncoming night. Haytham locks the doors behind him even though he knows it won’t do much to stop Shay from breaking out if he wanted to. He has seen this man charge through thick wooden doors and break bones in fully grow man’s hands. And all that was done without his were form.

Without saying a word, Shay begins stripping down to just his pants. It’s like a routine at this point, all so his clothes don’t get destroyed in the transformation. On his first transformation he had destroyed a pair of clothes that weren’t easy to replace. Nor was it fun waking up in the middle of nowhere butt ass naked on the outskirts of New York.

It was truly a morning to remember. He had ran into Monroe along the way back. The Templar had been looking for him and all he found was a naked, dirty man hiding behind a bush. That was the morning that Monroe’s suspicion came true and when his care for Shay became something along the lines of parental. Or maybe colonel and soldier. Shay will never know.

Haytham takes off his cloak and over coat, along with his hat to make himself comfortable. The night is a bit humid, even for the River Valley. Shay watches him with tense shoulders. A sinking like feeling grips at his throat. An image washes over him, of one of him hurting Haytham tonight. He turns away, eyes straining to the floor.  

Yes, this line of work and this line of life isn’t for the faint hearted. Shay knows, has been made very well known, that Haytham knows the supernatural side of life. Has come into contact with more than one werewolf and on the rare occasion, vampires. But feral werewolves can’t help their transformation, going rabid across the area wherever they hole up. While vampires like to keep hidden in plain sight.

Sounds a lot like the Assassins, but as far as Shay is aware, there were no vampires in the fold. Not while he was there at least. But no sane man goes around telling everyone that they’re a vampire.

Shay exhales slowly as he sits on the edge of his bed with his face in his hands. He can feel it. He doesn’t know how to explain it. He’s tried to do so with Haytham. But how do you explain something that only a were can feel. He can feel the coming of the transformation. The calling of the moon that it seems to have. Shay will have to admit, it is the oddest side of being a were.

But there is one thing that does make sense now. The moon has never looked so beautiful. Unfortunately though, he won’t be able to look upon her tonight.

Haytham pulls out the only chair that Shay keeps in his quarters and places it in front of him. The noise is like a hammer hitting metal inside Shay’s head and he flinches away. His senses begin to become heightened; they always do on full moons.

Shay looks up from his hands with a raised brow. The other man sits with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his propped knee. Posh bastard.

“What are you doing?” Shay asks.

“I’m keeping an eye on you,” the other quirks as if it’s obvious.

Shay only stares at Haytham for a moment. Wondering how on Earth he has come to this situation. Where he grew up, he was taught with the Assassins that the Grandmaster of the Templar Order is a ruthless, heartless son of a bitch.

And yes, they were right about the ruthless part… and somewhat on the heartless. But there are times like this that Shay is able to see the little bit of softness that Haytham is willing to lend out to the right person. The parts of him that Haytham has kept to himself for so many years.

“Promise me something, Haytham,” Shay begins.

“Hmm?”

“If I do go feral, put me down,” he says bluntly.

Instantly, he can see a cord is struck in Haytham. He’s good at hiding it but Shay has picked up his tell. His eyes slightly squint and he ever so slightly raised his chin upwards. As if he’s just tasted something sour on his tongue or smelt something off.

Haytham looks down to the bracers he still has on his arm. He flicks his hidden blade out, the both of them looking over the silver metal. One blade that has probably taken more lives than Shay has. Haytham isn’t shy of using it, nor waving it around. The sight of it almost says a million words itself. The way Haytham looks over it with his own thoughts racing through his head. Most likely, having to image sticking the blade into Shay’s neck.

He flicks it back in with a satisfying click.  

“Only if it comes down to it,” he answers poorly without looking up at Shay.

At this, Shay only frowns. But he guesses that’s the best he’s going to get. Particularly, out of a man like Haytham Kenway.

-

The two continue to talk about mundane things, about Shay’s hunt for the Assassins and about what they’ve found out in Albany. A couple of hours pass by as they wait for the blood moon to rise above the horizon.

And when it does, both of them don’t need to look outside to know it has.

Shay suddenly stops midsentence and bows his head with a pained groan. His breathing becomes shaky and his whole body tremors. He goes to stand in haste but his knees instantly give way. He falls forward and Haytham is quick to catch him, but Shay pushes him away just as fast. He keeps his back to Haytham, not wanting him to see the full mess of the transformation.

It feels different though. More like rats clawing through something to escape fire. Something burning hot within his core that instantly makes him break out in a sweat. It’s hard not to shout. It’s hard not to give in to the choke sob itching at the back of his throat.

And all Haytham can do is stand back and watch.

On the floor, Shay cowers on his hands and knees. Bones can be heard popping and breaking out of their sockets. The first cry that comes from Shay’s throat is something that Haytham will never get use to. No matter how many times he’s seen Shay’s skin ripple and change as if there’s something alive moving under there. No matter how many times he’s heard bones break to only heal back into stronger, bigger ones. No matter how many times he’s watched Shay’s skull and jaw snap and break to elongate forward into a wolf like snout. No matter how many times he’s watched human teeth get pushed out to make way for long fangs that snap and clash together past the blood that erupts from his mouth.

No matter how many times, Haytham will always feel sick in his stomach at the sight of such an inhuman act of God. He doesn’t even truly know if God has a play at this. This is something else entirely. Something that an average human would not be able to grasp at with their small minds. One where they would be instantly calling this a sin. Something that Satan has bestowed upon them and that needs to be burnt with fire. But something like this would only laugh within the flames. He’s seen a were do it before. A truly terrifying sight to behold.  

Shay grows at least twice his size, his legs twisting into something wolf like and he rips his pants in the process. A thick layer of dark brown fur grows quickly over his body, more shaggy around his neck and face that is so thick that it’s hard to get to the skin underneath. Hard for a blade to get through.

Haytham watches this all unfold in front of him, keeping as still as he possibly can. He won’t lie, knowing the unknown right now terrifies him. Especially as two amber eyes slowly turn his way. A silence falls over the cabin that has Haytham’s heart beating loudly in his ears.  

Shay breathes heavily, panting like a mutt with his tongue lolled out. For a moment, Haytham thinks that Shay is all here. That the blood moon hasn’t done anything to Shay’s will.

But his lip curl up in a snarl to reveal long fangs underneath. Shay tries to stand to his full height, but his head hits the top of the cabin with a loud thud. His ears flick in annoyance but his eyes are locked onto Haytham. Even hunched over, it’s as if Shay takes up half of the cabin. He stands more humanoid than anything but his face is wolf like. It’s short and stubby, his teeth virtually too big for his mouth. It’s something mixed between human and wolf, something that Haytham will only be able to explain as a were and nothing else.

“Shay,” Haytham speaks firmly.

This is only met with a deep, chesty growl that rattles the entire cabin. Haytham is just glad that the crew is gone. Because he wouldn’t even know where to begin explaining this.

Shay jumps forward suddenly and for a moment, all Haytham sees is teeth. But he moves out of the way just in time, feeling claws graze against his shoulder. The loud clack of teeth vibrates against Haytham’s brain as he rushes over to the table. Shay destroys the chair as he lands on it, bits of it going flying. But he doesn’t care for it, he’s already moving Haytham’s way again, claws digging into the wooden floor to gain the space between them.

The amount of force that Shay rushes Haytham as he barges into the table is something that reminds him of a bull. Said table flips over and blocks the only exit, papers and reports flying everywhere that rain down around Shay. Another snarl is spat Haytham’s way and true fear strikes his gut.

Fear that he might have to do something he truly did not want to do tonight.

Shay jumps forward again with every intention of latching himself onto Haytham’s shoulder and tearing off his arm. But Haytham moves before he can think. He ducks and grabs onto Shay’s snout, wrapping his entire arms around and holding tight.

Haytham is thrown about as Shay shakes his head violently, trying to pry this human off of him. This small “victory” is short lived though. Haytham’s grip slips only for a moment, and similar to some raging bull again, Shay throws his head to the side and flings the Grandmaster. Haytham hits the back of the cabin wall with a loud crack. All the wind is crushed out of him and he lands on the floor in a heap.

Shay lands on all fours heavily, shaking the whole ship and prowls over to Haytham. His lips curl up again to show off his fangs, all but dripping saliva as he nears.

Haytham shifts and rolls onto his back so that he’s facing Shay full on. He flicks out his blade, finally bringing up the might to do something. But with how sluggish his mind and body is, he isn’t able to move his arm in time before it’s crushed under one of Shay’s hands. He barks out in pain, not able to retain himself for the moment.

This is how he meets his end then? To his want to not harm someone he loves?

Shay towers over Haytham, his nose becoming mere inches away from his own. Time seems to slow as he looks right into those amber eyes. He stares right back at Haytham and for a moment, he sees Shay. But only for a moment. The effects of the blood moon seem to be something greater than what Shay can break through.

“Shay,” Haytham firmly breathes out finally.

Anyone would find him goddamn crazy right now. They’d be shouting to just kill the thing and be done with it. To fight and lash out or to do anything but be pinned by such a beast. All so this doesn’t happen again. But it’s Shay. He doesn’t think he’d be able to do it. He knows he could, he knows he should, but would he be able to? Now that is a question within itself.

Shay stops his growling and snarling and he just stares at Haytham. The scar over his eye seems more prominent in his were form. One last injury that scarred over before he turned for the first time. Most likely where he was clawed at by Liam, Shay has never truly told him.

Haytham takes a stupid risk and brings his other hand out to Shay’s face. Shay flinches away, but doesn’t move again as Haytham’s hand comes to the side of his large head. The feral look leaves his eyes for a moment again as he lets Haytham touch his cheek. Shay lets go of Haytham’s other arm and quickly, the blade is flicked away.

Shay sniffs him before moving forward ever so slightly. Haytham doesn’t let his guard down, watching this massive form slowly come into his space more so than before. Sniffing him and smelling the fear wafting off him.  

“Shay,” Haytham says again, hoping to get through to the man.

His ribs still hurt and a major headache is coming along. He doesn’t want to be thrown around like that again. Not ever.

But to his name being spoken, Shay huffs. But there’s still a slight crazed look about his eyes. Something that the blood moon is doing to him. Causing him to act out. Some humanity has come back into him, but the blood moon still has its effects.

The next thing he does makes all the sense on his feral behaviour. A clawed hand presses itself onto Haytham’s sore chest and pushes him down onto the floor heavily. Then, his clothes are literally being ripped off him. Ripped apart and thrown away until enough of Haytham is revealed.

A feral rut. That is what the blood moon causes. Something that werewolves can’t control and become insane over.

And all Haytham can do is watch as his heart quickens in his chest. Anticipation prickles at his skin as he watches rows of teeth that were just trying to kill him moments before lower to his crotch. As a hot, thick wet tongue licks a strip over Haytham’s ass, it becomes very, very clear now on what the blood moon does. His suspicions were right.  

But the buzz that washes over Haytham at the odd sensation makes him quickly realise, he’s not all apposed to this. Something so dangerous, so close, yet so arousing. Shay licks another hot strip across Haytham’s ass and up to his balls, leaving behind a thick saliva that feels sticky.

If this will stop Shay from going on a rage in Albany, then so be it. Best keep this act to this room than anywhere else.

Haytham is just lucky that he was able to calm Shay down from harming him to get what he wanted. Any bite from Shay and Haytham would be in the same predicament as him.

Shay licks and laps at Haytham’s ass, using a clawed hand to spread him open for better access. Almost folding the Grandmaster in half and into the floor. The pain in Haytham’s chest melts away at the sensation that overtakes his body at Shay’s tongue. It’s as if Shay can’t get enough of him, tasting his muskiness from today’s work.

This goes on for awhile and Haytham keeps himself in check. All so that he can watch just where Shay’s teeth go. His professionalism is something that does get in the way sometimes.

But all focus is thrown out the window when Shay’s tongue is pushed deeply into his ass all at once. Haytham throws his head back with a deep, grinded groan, his body twitching at the warm, sticky sensation inside of him.

And Shay doesn’t stop. He uses his tongue to lick inside of Haytham, opening his mouth as wide as he can to push as much in. Haytham’s hard cock twitches and bobs with each movement from Shay, precum dripping onto his stomach. Every movement has Haytham panting and moaning noises he never thought he could admit. The bliss that pools over Haytham is something akin to being high.

He can feel Shay’s tongue go as far in as it can get, moving and pressing against the walls of his ass before coming back out. Just to do the same thing over again. Each pass of the tongue hits a bundle of nerve that has Haytham’s breath hitching every time. It’s so warm and Shay breathes heavily, concentrating on his work at hand.

He has never seen Shay’s werewolf form as a means for pleasure or sexual desire. But maybe they should have done this sooner. Just not during a blood moon next time.

Shay removes his tongue, having deemed it being enough. The emptiness Shay leaves behind is something Haytham has never felt such a burning desire to be filled again. But he gets his desire. Shay moves up and over Haytham, revealing the thick cock between the werewolf’s legs.

Haytham swallows thickly as Shay’s big hand hold him down by his shoulders. Painfully pinning him down. All Haytham can do is keep his legs open so that that thing can fit inside of him. Because at this point, he doesn’t think he can stop Shay. Nor does he want to stop.

Shay lines himself up and pushes in a little eagerly. He growls deep in his chest at the warm feeling of Haytham. He dives in deeper, rutting into Haytham bit by bit.

The stretch for Haytham punches the wind out of him instantly. He grips onto Shay’s wrist, not to push him off, but for some kind of support. It hurts. The more of Shay that Haytham takes, the more of the stretch and the fit is painful.

“Sh-ah ah! Shay,” Haytham tries to get through to him.

But it seems the rut of the blood moon has taken a stronger hold than before. Because his rhythm doesn’t stop. He keeps going, panting over the top of Haytham, grunting every now and again. Haytham’s ass is lifted into the air again as Shay gets a better angle to abuse it.

The size of Shay makes Haytham feel like he’s going to split in half. He feels so full. The pain is still there but it begins to feel a little too good, Shay’s saliva helping a lot. With each hard thrust, a moan is pushed out of Haytham as he’s moved up the floor little by little. They keep moving until Haytham’s head hits the base of the bed.

Shay keeps going, his pace quickening to something desperate. Haytham’s entire body feels like it’s on fire, his untouched dick leaking even more than before. Haytham brings a hand to his own cock, hissing at how sensitive he is. He uses his own precum to jerk himself quickly to Shay’s brutal pace. He can feel himself coming close, but he doesn’t know how much longer Shay is going to be at it for. He holds the base of his cock, hoping to hold out until Shay is done with him.

At that thought, Shay goes on for a few more blissful minutes. Haytham gets lost in the pleasure that makes his head a mess. Shay doesn’t let up once. Hitting that spot inside of Haytham that has his head spinning and has him being left breathless every single time. Haytham looses track of time. He gets lost in it all. And he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold out when Shay is finished.

Haytham comes in his stomach, his vision going spotty and black. He doesn’t know if he had his eyes shut or if the orgasm was just that good, but he’ll never know. But his orgasm rips through him like a storm, taking his breath away.

Shay keeps going, fucking him through it and it all becomes a bit too much. Haytham pants and groans as everything becomes sensitive. He can’t even touch his own dick. He holds onto Shay again, just hoping that that were’s stamina dies out soon enough.

Just as Haytham thinks that Shay is never going to stop, the werewolf growls deep in his chest as his movements stutter. He dives his cock deep into Haytham’s ass and fills him up. The hot, sticky sensation that fills Haytham has him catching his breath. It just feels like it keeps going. He can feel Shay’s dick pulsing inside of him, unloading himself until there’s nothing left. Until it’s seeping out of Haytham and onto the floor beneath him.

Haytham has trouble finding air as he falls limp on the floor. Shay slowly takes his softening cock out of him and lest Haytham lay on still. Haytham just hopes that Shay doesn’t need a round two any time soon tonight because this alone, has the more man spent.

[thesimpirediaries]

Do you have any rules when it comes to making requests? Like are there any characters or subjects you will or won't write for? Is there any limit on characters we can ask about at once? Will we get less content if we ask for more characters? What about nsfw stuff? Any rules, limits, or leanings for that, whether that be with topics or characters? Feel free to include any others rules if you want. Sorry about all the questions, just want to be sure. Thanks and have a fantastic day!

Oh, goodness! You’re so correct on this! See, this blog is actually a side blog that I created so that I could indulge in the other fandoms I’m in (my main blog is dedicated solely to the One Piece Live Action) and I have rules posted there for requests, but I realize that I should have made some rules here too! Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention! I’ll use this as an opportunity to list some of those.

REQUEST RULES:

MATURITY: Essentially, anything goes, even things that may toe into ‘dead dove do not eat’ territory — yandere, non-con, dub-con, etc. (I, however, will not write anything pedophilic in nature; and I am aware that some of these fandoms have characters that are underage, and if it’s a fic that consists of both parties being underaged and consenting, then I’m comfortable with it. But for age-gaps or older/younger fics, I will always make the characters 18+ in those. Again, I do not support pedophilia, so anything below 18 I’m not comfortable with.)

GENRES: this does tie in with maturity level, but also a bit different. I will write for any genre, though I do believe my skills heavily lean on smut, fluff, and angst. Whump is a genre I’m still developing. So, really, you can request any genre!

LIMIT: I have no limits! You can send as many requests as you like, with as many characters as you want. Spam me! Fill my inbox! I am a-okay with it. Though, I am a mama to a toddler, and writing is more of a hobby, so depending on length/detail it may take me a while to finish a request. Patience is much appreciated, beautiful ;).

CHARACTERS: I am deeper into and more familiar with certain fandoms that are listed (BNHA, Haikyuu!!, and One Piece) and as such, it is easier for me to write for essentially any characters within those fandoms. Though, for a more comprehensive list, here’s how it looks:

(Names in bold are characters that I am most familiar with/easily able to write.)

BNHA: Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki, Denki Kaminari, Todoroki Shoto, Aizawa Shota, Hawks, Dabi, Shigaraki

HAIKYUU!!: Hinata Shoyo, Kageyama Tobio, Nishinoya Yuu, Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji, Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Atsumu Miya, Osamu Miya, Kiyoomi Sakusa

FAIRY TAIL: Natsu Dragneel, Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar, Freed, Sting, Rogue, Jellal/Mystogan, Gajeel Redfox (I’ve actually never written for Fairy Tail as of yet.)

BLACK CLOVER: Asta, Yuno, Yami Sukehiro, Finral Roulacase, Willaim Vangeance, Fuegoleon Vermillion, Nozelle Silva, Gauche Adlei, Zora Ideale, Luck Voltia (also haven’t written for this fandom yet.)

JUJUTSU KAISEN: Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, Yuji Itadori, Sukuna, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro (I’m not entirely familiar with this fandom, I will have to rewatch the anime.)

ONE PIECE: Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Monkey D. Luffy, Portgas D. Ace, Mihawk, Shanks, Crocodile (more than likely some others, but these are the main characters I enjoy writing for.)

So, yeah! Here’s all the rules. Like I said, I basically go for anything. So whatever your desires are, I’ll do my best to fulfill them! Also, if there are characters other than the ones listed that you’d like to see, I’ll do my best to write for them!

[foxhopfics]

Hey! I'm Nathaniel/Spiral/Fox and i write things sometimes!

You can find me @/spiralsystem on Ao3!

This blog will mainly be posting requests, as my main fics that I'm working on will be posted directly to archive, however I'll still post finished fics here!

For x reader requests I will likely use the pronoun "you" over "they" (I just think it's fun)

HOW TO SEND A REQUEST: please send the pairing you want, any tropes or whatever (not obligatory), and pick from one of 3:

- Headcanons: a quick page of headcanon points

- Drabble: quick blurb between 200-500 words

- Short fic: 1000-3000 words

Please don't be shy with requests!

IMPORTANT NOTE: IF YOU DON'T SPECIFY WHAT TYPE OF FIC U WANT, I CANNOT WRITE IT FOR YOU.

Request types I will take:

X GN!Reader

X Male!reader

X Trans!reader

Character x character

Main fandoms I'll currently write for:

Baldur's Gate 3

911/911 Lone Star

Dishonored

Ace Attorney

Vocaloid/Project Sekai Colourful Stage

Critical role seasons 1 & 2

Dc

Jujutsu Kaisen

Genshin Impact

All For The Game

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Merlin

& Many more!

More about my writing under the cut so this doesn't get super long :)

Views on shit for writing: I reaaallly don't subscribe to the whole concept of proship/antiship. I take requests on what I'm comfortable writing.

I DO accept nsfw requests, but only within appropriate age ranges. I am comfortable writing age gaps but please dm me and i'll write something on a different site, same with any other typically "taboo" requests. I will not release a "will not/will write" list because that's just inviting problems.

If you'd like nsfw x a minor!character, please specify in the ask if you are also a minor. If there is no age, I will deny the request. I won't write underage smut for adults. I also probably won't push it past an M rating.

Minors I write for:

ProSeka: Honestly realistically most of these characters are minors, but like we don't all know teenagers aren't celibate. Vocaloids don't canonically have ages but since they're all kinda minor-coded, I'll just stick to M max for proseka.

Genshin - Qiqi and Klee, Sayu, and Yaoyao. Diona is NOT a minor, she runs a bar 🙄. Bennett/razor/fischl/anybody who uses the "teen model" I consider 18 at least.

Ace attorney - pearl, trucy. If you want ema I'll write her as her older self unless specified, sorry.

9-1-1: I'll write any of the kids as a side accessory to their parents, unless you want a Gen piece about the kids. I love writing Chris & Denny :)

Dc: Ages are played with a lot in DC, so any characters that are generally accepted as minors/adults will be treated as such. I.e: Damian Wayne, Jon kent will be treated as kids unless you specify a universe where they're older (like when Older!Jon came to that one Earth)

BALDUR'S GATE 3:

The ONLY characters I won't write for this are LAE'ZEL and MINTHARA:

Minthara: killed her and saved the tieflings. No real interest in having her as a companion so I haven't seen any content with her.

Lae'zel: get back to me when she doesn't excuse slaughtering and colonizing entire towns lol. I'm native and the gith creche slaughtering the entire temple of lathander (as. As a cleric of lathander also) and she was like 🤷‍♂️ we live here now. I was not cool with that. I also really don't know how to write a romance for someone who is constantly combative towards the player.

BSD: I can only write for the ADA characters + aktugawa because. I have only seen season 1 :,) sorry

Muses & character's I'm great at writing for:

Bg3: Tav, Wyll

911: Eddie, TK

Dishonored: Corvo, Outsider (and Garett from Thief 2014)

Ace Attorney: Edgeworth, Klavier, Apollo, Clay, Simon, Diego

Vocaloid/Proseka: Len, VFlower, GUMI, Shiho, Toya, Mafuyu, Mizuki

Critrole: Percy, Vax, Caleb, Jester

DC: batfam, superfam, flashs & rogues gallery, teen titans, young justice

JJK: Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Inumaki, Fushiguro

Genshin: Diluc, Zhongli, Alhaitham & Kaveh (and 4ggravate), Traveler twins, Pantalone, Wriothesley

AFTG: Neil, Aaron, Jean

[cafesascha]

Oh What a Web We Weave

tyler hoechlin, hay, male, he/they, fighter (rogue) «—◦—→ well met, sascha becker! the godling born child of despoina. it’s been 37 years and now they have answered the song in their veins. can he change the course of history with their adaptability, generosity, focus? or will their jealousy, impulsiveness, impatience hinder them? only time will tell before this godling’s name is sung into myth and legend!

name: Sascha Becker

nicknames: Sasch, Beck, Becks

date of birth: October 31st, 1986

age: 37

face claim: Tyler Hoechlin

godly parent: Despoina

height: 6’3”

dominant hand: Lefty

education level: Masters of Business Management

occupation: Runs his family’s coffee shop and has an indie true crime podcast on the side

parents: Tony Becker ( father ), Despoina ( mother ), Susan Becker ( step mother )

siblings: James Becker ( little brother ), Amelia Becker ( little sister ),  too many foster siblings to count.

pets: Puck and Titania ( pet cats)

astrological sign: Scorpio sun / Libra moon / Leo rising. 

positive traits: Adaptability / Generosity / Focus 

negative traits: Jealousy / Impulsiveness / Impatience 

habits: Bouncing his leg / Cracking his knuckles / Playing with pens / Being a cup goblin (always has at least four cups of different liquids at any given point)

quirks: Says goodbye three times / Refuses to wear matching socks / Always carries a pack of cloves even though he has never smoked / Sleeps with the AC on even in the middle of winter

pet peeves: Slow walkers / People who chew with their mouths open / People who play music on their phones in public without headphones / People making fun of anyone’s tastes in coffee

hobbies: Puzzles / Reading / Hiking / Swimming / Podcasting / VIdeo Games

sexual orientation: Homosexual

sexual position: Verse

clothing style: Typically Sascha dresses like a stuffy professor. He loves a chunky knit sweater and just general being cozy. That said, he does have plenty of outfits to scandalise the neighbors reserved for the rare occasion that he actually goes out to a bar which typically consists of a jock strap and one of his many harnesses. 

prominent features: Resting Bitch Face, but also a killer smile, thick hair that is always perfectly mussed, giant dick and perky butt.

what were they doing when they hear the song of their godling blood? He was editing his podcast in an absolute panic because it was nowhere near being ready to publish and was supposed to be released in a couple of hours.

class: fighter 

inspirations: Riz Gukgak, The MC from this delightful series of PI smut books whose name I am totally blanking on, Sherlock Holmes

Biography to come

[wangxianficfinder]

A/B/O Compilation

~*~

Omega WWX / Alpha LWJ

🔒🧡 in flagrante delicto by synonemous (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, Serial killer WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Smut, Wangxian's Canon Kinks, Modern Yi City arc, Angst with a happy ending)

🧡 Don't Wanna Fall by nekojita (M, 111k, WangXian, Mpreg, A/B/O, Fix-it, Lots of pining, Angst with a happy ending, Canon Divergence, Child thief WN)

🧡 Born to Blossom, Bloom to Perish by LadyMithiel (M, 133k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O, Mpreg, Angst, Mostly Canon compliant)

4018 by sweetlolixo (E, 28k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, A/B/O, Older LWJ, Immortal LWJ, Pregnant WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Age Difference, Boypussy, Vaginal Fingering, Dry Humping, Knotting, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talking LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Size Difference, Feminization)

Sizhui's Smiles by RenaFair (T, 11k, WangXian, Possessive Behavior, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Alpha LSZ, Mpreg, Minor Child Character Death, Read the summary between the lines)

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow by izanyas (M, 303k, WangXian, off-screen rape, oppression, violence, sexual assault, grief/mourning, unwanted pregnancy) Mind the warnings!!

Not my Betrothed by Missty0foxx (E, 21k, WangXian, Canon Era, A/B/O Dynamics, Younger WWX, Older LWJ, Teenage WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Possessive LWJ, Jealous LWJ, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Abusive YZY, Sexual Tension, Cockblocking, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Rough Sex, WWX Self-Lubricates, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Knotting, Rimming, Nesting, Pheromones, Implied Mpreg)

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX)

Home is where the heart is by HikariNoHimeWriter (T, 3k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, No Sunshot Campaign, A/B/O, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Omega WWX, Omega JYL, Alpha LWJ, Rogue Cultivator WWX, But only a glimpse of it, JYL is a good big sister, She Deserves Love, She also loves A-Xian, more love for her, Family Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, JC & YZY are only mentioned)

🔒 Disruptions by mondengel (M, 3k, wangxian, A/B/O, Mating Cycles/In Heat)

Tastes Like You by airinshaw (E, 30k, wangxian, modern, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Scenting, Claiming, Bites, Getting Together, Light Dom/sub)

throw me in the deep end by lazulink (E, 12k, wangxian, A/B/O, No War, Canon Era, Mating Run, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Friends to Lovers, Nesting, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Knotting, Bondage, Spanking, Rimming, Breeding Kink, additional warnings in authors note)

🔒A Mother’s Curse (A Mother’s Blessing) by Eudoxia (E, 33k, wangxian, A/B/O, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Huli Jing LWJ, Huli Jing WWX, Everyone Lives, Curses, Case Fic, Animal Transformation, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, No Sunshot Campaign, No Yīn Iron, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, LXC is a good brother!, He tries so hard!!, Mentions of Ace LXC, Mentions of Ace WN, Knotting, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Size Kink, 69 (Sex Position), Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Male Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Squirting, wangxian Have a Non-Con/Rape Kink, but no actual CNC/rape play occurs in this fic. It's only discussed. there is also discussions of monster fucking but no actual monster fucking)

get a little bit, come a little close by verseau (E, 5k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, A/B/O, Mildly Dubious Consent)

Kingfisher Feathers by anonymous (E, 122k, WIP, WangXian, Royalty AU, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, A/B/O, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Angst with a happy ending)

🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

The best kept secrets (taste the sweetest) by h0peless_oblivion (T, 13k, WIP, WangXian, Omega Verse, A/B/O Dynamics, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Child LSZ, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Fluff and Angst, Secret Baby, Past pining while fucking, Happy Ending, WWX doesn’t lose his golden core, Probably ooc, mention of possible SA (not between wangxian), Madam Lán Backstory, Good Uncle LQR)

The Marks on my Skin by Missty0foxx (E, 18k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Teenage LWJ/Teenage WWX, Matchmaker LXC, Red String of Fate, First Kiss, Pining WangXian, Fluff and Smut, Abusive YZY, Weddings, Marriage, Wedding Night, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rutting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Blow Jobs, Self-Lubrication, Marathon Sex, Knotting, LWJ Has a Big Dick, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink)

🔒Pendulum by ShippersList (M, 69k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, A/B/O Dynamics, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good MY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse)

~*~

Omega LWJ / Alpha WWX

ornament by iliacquer (E, 5k, wangxian, A/B/O, Breathplay, Extremely Dubious Consent, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Implied Mpreg, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Public Humiliation, Exhibitionism, absolutely unhinged ooc smut, Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Collars, Inappropriate use of resentful energy)

plant the seed of your love, let it take root by lulu_kitty (E, 37k, wangxian, modern, A/B/O, Omega LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Alpha WWX, Top WWX, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Knotting, Wangxian Have a Breeding Kink, Intersex Anatomy, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Quarantine Baby AU, Domestic Fluff, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, pandemic references, Everyone Lives AU, PWP, Fluff without Plot, Bratji behavior, Unrealistically Good First Time)

shyer by mellowflicker (E, 2k, wangxian, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Bottom LWJ, Mating Cycles/In Heat)

five years gone by quillifer (E, 14k, wangxian, modern, A/B/O, Mpreg, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Breakup/makeup, Miscommunication, Pregnant Sex, consent is king, soft sad and horny, Happy Ending, Bottom LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Unplanned Pregnancy)

🔒❤️ spider lilies to sunflowers by cicer (E, 33k, wangxian, A/B/O, YLLZ WWX, fairy tale elements, mpreg, omega LWJ, alpha WWX, LWJ topping from the bottom, Mojo’s post)

🔒 so full of love i could barely eat by cicer (E, 40k, wangxian, A/B/O, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega LWJ, Alpha WWX, Bottom LWJ, mentions of mpreg, Breastfeeding, Lactation Kink, Male Lactation, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Intersex, Knotting)

🔒 I is for Instinct by beeswaxing (E, 71k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Scenting, Possessive Behavior, Getting Together, First Time, First Kiss, Public Display of Affection, Public Claiming, Omega Verse, Good Parent LQR, Alpha YZY, Good Parent YZY, Family Feels, Fluff, Romance, Aftermath of Violence, Slice of Life, Modern AU, College/University, BAMF WWX, Soft WangXian, Barebacking, Knotting, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg)

penumbra by globose (E, 21k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Mpreg, YLLZ WWX, Demon/Human Relationships, Supernatural Elements, Omega LWJ)

~*~

Omega/Omega

🔒💖 i am the storm by everythingispoetry (M, 3k, wangxian, canon divergence, Sunshot Campaign, A/B/O, non-traditional A/B/O dynamics, Omega LWJ, Omega WWX, BAMF WWX, protective WWX, pre-relationship, mentions of rape/non-con, mentions of miscarriage)

~*~

Alpha/Alpha

Body Language by Scourge Daughter (scourgedaughter) (E, 33k, wangxian, F/F, modern, Office au, Office Romance, Hacking, hacker au kinda even though there's barely any onscreen, cybersecurity, A/B/O, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha WWX, Alpha LWJ, They both have dicks, wlw, Arranged Marriage, arranged marriage is not between wangxian, there is no wangxian/others, WangXian Endgame, Happy Ending, YZY's a+ parenting, Boston, boston as a location and a threat, isabella stewart gardner museum, porn despite the plot, wei ying's penchant to turn bad situations into opportunities, Suicide mention, Canonical Character Death, Sexual Harassment, Drunk LWJ, ruts, Anal Sex, spitting, Biting, Switch wangxian, They both top and bottom that's love baby, Genderbend, Meet kinda ugly, Vibes of enemies to lovers but it's wangxian so)

How to Deal with the Conundrum of Your Past Self: A Case Study by anatheme (E, 16k, wangxian, A/B/O, YLLZ WWX, Established Relationship, Pining, Sexual Tension, alpha YLLZ/alpha LWJ/omega mxy!wwx: the fic, ft. soft married wangxian, Threesome - M/M/M, yes lwj gets the knot after xx years, Bottom LWJ, Switch wangxian, Knotting, time travel of sorts, a thesis on making peace with and loving yourself, Happy Ending, welcome to my lwj has 2 hands for 2 wwx agenda)

🔒Not Your Typical Alpha by Eudoxia (E, 14k, Female WangXian, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Gender Changes, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, Always a Different Sex, Rule 63, lesbian wangxian, Intersex female alphas, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Dildos, Sex Toys, Awkward Sexual Situations, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Cunnilingus, Biting, Spanking, Size Kink, Scent Kink, Spit Kink, Spit As Lube, lube as lube, Blow Jobs, Tit Slapping, Nipple Play, Lactation Kink, Come Inflation, Belly Bulge, pleasure dom lwj, Light Dom/sub, Cervix play, fantasizing about cervical penetration, Multiple Orgasms, WangXian Have a Breeding Kink, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Virginity Kink, Roommates/Housemates)

~*~

Alpha/Beta, Beta/Beta, Omega/Beta

The Dare by Deastar (E, 16k, wangxian, A/B/O, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Beta/Omega, Omega WWX, Beta LWJ, Canon Divergence, two self-sacrificing idiots go on a journey of self-discovery through the medium of marathon sex, unapologetically a fix-it, Post-Sunshot Campaign)

🔒💖 still lifes from a universe with you in it by everythingispoetry (T, 31k, wangxian, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Beta WWX, Omega LWJ, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, let lwj be spoiled agenda, immortal cultivators nonsense, Fluff, Autistic LWJ)

Under Extreme Duress by sssrha (T, 33k, wangxian, JFM/YZY, JYL/NMJ, LXC/NHS, JC/JZX, A/B/O, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Beta/Beta, Beta WWWX, Beta LWJ, Asexual WWX, Asexual LWJ, nearly everyone else is constantly horny, Crack, Accidental Baby Acquisition, WangXian gets together almost immediately, No Miscommunication, Implied Sexual Content, and a whole lot of it, "everyday" is cuddles, and letters when they can't cuddle, No Sunshot Campaign, Sect Leader WQ, Wangxian would like everyone to know, that premarital sex is forbidden, but they know no one's gonna listen to them, WIP)

OTHER

Wangxian A/B/O Bingo by Deastar (E, 99k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Underage, Rape/Non-Con, A/B/O, Qishan Wen Indoctrination, Dubious Consent, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Mpreg, Abortion, Pining while fucking, This universe's version of rape culture, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Hurt/Comfort, Dirty Talk, Omega LWJ, WWX Has Self-Worth Issues, Post-Canon, Alpha WWX, Alpha/Beta, Beta LWJ, Rule 63, Female LWJ/Female WWX, unlearning your bigoted programming, Canon Divergence, Beta/Omega, two self-sacrificing idiots go on a journey of self-discovery through the medium of marathon sex, unapologetically a fix-it, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, I wouldn't say we're quite in dead dove territory but this is a heavy one so proceed with caution, Guilt, Shame, Psychological Trauma, Non-Consensual Humiliation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Beta/Beta, Demisexual LWJ, Trans WWX, Fluff and Smut, Partial Cisswap, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, poor LQr is just trying to be a supportive ace elder and doing a great job actually, too bad it goes right over his niece's head, Beta WWX, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, not between WWX and LWJ, JFM & YZY's A+ parenting, Oblivious WWX, Angst)

[bohemian-nights]

Moonglow

Word Count: ~7,818

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Nettles

Warnings ⚠️: Age gap relationship; minor smut

Description: Chronicling the events of how the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen fell in love with a small unlikely dragonrider named Nettles 🐑🐉

AN: Requested by anon 👤

—————————————🐑-———————————

130 AC-Maidenpool  

She had tired herself out. They had spent most of their day riding upon Sheepstealer and Caraxes, scanning the Riverlands landscape below. Looking for signs of his traitorous nephew. The boy had hidden himself well enough. 

She hadn’t even bothered to make the appearance of leaving his bed chambers tonight. Or rather last night he supposed. His Netty had simply collapsed into his lap once the maids cleared away their dinner. He had to carry her to their bath. Wiping off the grime and stress of the day from their flesh. His sweet girl.  

They lay a pile of limbs in the center of his beds now. As naked as their name day. The late autumn night breeze from the open window he had thrown open cooled their once-heated forms. A thin sheet made from silk from Qarth lay draped across them. Leaving little to the imagination. The pale moon glow reflected off dark coils.  

They’d have to awaken in a few short hours. Take to the skies to renew their hunt. He could wake her now. Take her again as she had him. His insatiable girl. Having done so twice now. It was he now who had a craving for her. A craving to wake her from the land of dreams to slack his desires.  

The old prince reached a hand down to her heat. Resting his hand, one calloused from too many battles to name, upon her thatch of curls. Her sensitive bundle of nerves peaking out among them. She was still wet from their lovemaking earlier in the night. Slick mixed with his seed.  

Some of their combined spend had leaked out onto the sheets below. The maids would no doubt gossip amongst themselves when they saw the state of his sheets. Exchanging giggles over their chattering.

Netty fidgeted in her sleep at his touch. He shushed her. Placing a kiss on the top of her black mane. Resting his lips there and stroking a hand down her spine which seemed to quiet her. She nuzzled deeper into his neck. Spoiled thing. His sweet girl needed rest. She had more than earned it. 

He was proud to say that Netty had developed quite an appetite. On that, he had stoked. She had come to him a timid little thing. Oh, she was quick to point out his faults, but she was still a girl.  

An ill-used girl who had to grow up before she was ready. The streets of Driftmark, of Hull, and Spicetown were less than kind to the innocents of her ports and lanes. The naive and pure-hearted against a world of depravity. Quick to remedy the former.  

If she had been another woman, another person mayhaps it would have broken her. Lost to the world around her. Become like the rest. Mindedness and numbness or sinked to their cruelty, but she was Netty. She had her will. She had survived it and found her way to him. A light in the sea of darkness. 

She had come to life under his patient tutelage and her inherent curiosity. Weary at first. Not scared, no. She was braver than most. Fearless and cautious. A lifetime of disappointment had taught her to be so. 

Cautious of him. He remembered how she avoided him. Back at Kings Landing. It felt as though it were half a century ago, but less than half a year had passed since then. Since their fates had been tied to one another. Or some would call it that, but they were firmly attached. That could not be cut without harming the other. That they would not wish to break. 

You would not make much note of her. Baela’s letter arrived from Dragonstone to Harrenhal. Detailing the result of Jacaerys' experiment. His war effort. From that ghostly ruin, the old prince had his first glimpse into her existence. His first taste of her. Salvation comes in the strangest of casts.

An odd choice in a friend, but his eldest had lacked sisterly companionship since her twin had been sent to the Vale. While Netty was not a replacement for Rhaena, Baela had found a kindred spirit in the young dragonrider. 

She's a small dark thing with quite a mouth upon her when need be. It is like she sprouted from the earth. You’d not think that she would be able to claim a dragon, but she’s tamed Sheepstealer. She’s guarded, and reserved, yet her face can not tell a lie. She is the most wonderful company father. He had tossed the letter under a mountain of others and put aside the contents in preparation for battle. 

Daemon had indeed landed from one battle to the next. The first time that he laid his eyes upon her was atop Visenya’s Hill. Perched on dragonback overlooking the swamp of King’s Landing. She appeared well within her element on her brown mount. Amongst the smoke and ruin of a city under siege. A beacon. 

Upon a closer inspection, his eldest had been true in her assessment. Nettles was a ragged foul-mouthed girl. She had not used her blood to claim her skinny dragon. Not with the blood of old Valyria, she had not one drop of it. That much was clear. Her skin was the color of the earth. Her hair an inky midnight of ringlets. Her eyes were as dark as obsidian. As rich too. She was not a dragonseed, yet that had not stopped her.    

No, Netty had claimed her wild mount with her own cunning. Like all the children from Driftmark  to Dragonstone, she had heard the tales of the first dragonriders and put them to use. Except, unlike the Rogue Prince's ancestors she had not used whatever perversions and acts of vulgarity they had. 

A cleverness lacking in the rest of the dragonseeds, or at least not thought of for they had blood. Nettles had to make up for her blood deficiency, but she was more than her lack. One could blind themselves into thinking that there was nothing else to her. That on account of her birth she was tainted. Lucky in that she had claimed a dragon where others even with the blood of the dragon had failed. Or rather she had made her own version of luck. 

No matter how much cleverness she possessed, it was no match for a dragon. Blood was the only payment. Blood or some trick. Some sorcery. That had to be the answer. How else could she claim and take such a wild beast?  

One could not be deceived by her common looks. At least, that was all anyone would think. All they would see. All they would look for. For her bastardly nature. For her low ways. All that the sordid prince himself had seen and thought. Not looking for the maiden in plain sight. 

A girl. Scarcely older than Baela and Rhaena. A young woman. Shown so little kindness yet her heart was not frozen over. Who managed to carve out some life for herself with her persistence. Who deserved more than what she had been handed. 

She beguiled him. Stirred his blood. Invoked his curiosity. Enraptured him in her spell that she did not know that she cast. Swept away by her very being. Why wouldn’t she? She was a rare stone. Lost at sea to land upon his shores. No one had dared open her. It was an unassuming rock. So very small. Easy to miss, but if one were to catch sight of it, if they had taken the chance, dared to, they would find inside that rock a jewel. 

It was hopeless not to notice her. Black hair in a sea of silver, blondes, and browns. Brown-eyed and brown-skinned. Sporting a scar across her nose from what one would think was some ill-gotten misadventure. A marker of her previous life. An impossible girl. She stood out from court. A court that was morbidly fascinated by her. 

Her presence commanded it wherever she went on account of her visage. Of her abilities. It was not in admiration. No, she was treated as a pariah. A spectacle. An oddity. Something to be poked and prodded at. Her existence was a contradiction to everything they knew. She should not exist and yet she did. A worrying feat to those at court and beyond. 

The small brown girl shied away from it all. Apart from the newly appointed heir of the Driftwood Throne, Addam of Hull turned Addam Velaryon, who she had seemed to form an attachment of some kind with, the girl kept her distance from those at court. From him. She did not miss his gaze among the nobles and royalty of court. A prince's gaze. A rogue prince. His reputation preceded him. 

A girl like her, Nettles was well within her rights to be wary of him. Had every right to be. Of what it meant to be the subject of his interest. He was always watching her. An oculus of violet meeting brown a million times over. Within the training yard where she seated herself on a bench to watch. Occasionally taking up a bow or some throwing daggers to practice herself. Never a sword. She disliked the feel of them.

In the Great Hall during those days of endless feasts to celebrate their taking of the capital he sat two seats from her. Throughout the halls of the Red Keep he would find her. She was always the first to turn away from him. To walk past him without a word. Not out of shyness, but for what was her own good. Preservation. Guarding herself. It was what she knew best. The only way she had known until then. 

He ventured into her domain. Try as he might, Daemon Targaryen could not get her from his head. She haunted him. Day and night. Waking. In his dreams. A siren call without her meaning to. 

“I’m not your bastard.” It was what the small dragonrider insisted, even though she need not say it, when he trailed after her. Joining her during a mid-morning visit to Sheepstealer. The early days.

They had not said a word to each other until her skinny beast had been fed. Unlike the other dragonseeds mounts who took to the confines of the Dragonpit without fuss, the wild dragon had to be kept in an open field that once housed Vhagar. He attracted quite a crowd of peasants, children in particular, who both rider and dragon alike happily entertained.

Daemon watched Nettles slit a lamb's throat with Dark Sister. The prince had wordlessly offered up his sword for her use. He did not know what possessed him to do so. Only a curiosity to see something, his sword, in her small brown hands. Something of his to be a part of her. Even if he had forgone naming the outright need to see such. 

She hesitated. Her plump little mouth parted. Revealing the slightly crooked set of white teeth residing there. All too soon accepting his offer. No words came. Her lips locked, forming a thin line as she reached for his outstretched offer. The tips of their fingers briefly collided. A mere brush of pale battle-hardened skin upon young supple flesh. A small spark that lingered. Imprinting itself on his skin. Left to wonder if she had felt it too as he cleared his throat. 

It was a simple act. Clean in its barbarity. Most certainly not witchcraft. Natural. Calming Witnessing the bond between rider and dragon as the small girl softly spoke in the common tongue to the beast. 

Neither paid him any mind. One could get lost in it. Forgetting about all their problems if only for a moment. A sight Daemon could not say he had witnessed till then. One that would not leave him as the moons waned. 

“I’m not one of you.” She was the first to break the spell that fell. “I’m no one from nowhere. My ma as well.” Her warm brown eyes hardened by a margin. A speech well rehearsed. “Whoever spilt his seed inside her wasn’t more than a common sailor.” Nettles turned around to face him. 

She held her head high. Craning her neck up to him. Her gaze could never quite turn to stone. A  glimmer of something else lay beneath it all, but a determination was written on her sable face streaked. “I know who I am. I know what I come from and I know where I’m going. I won’t  be your whore, my prince.” 

It was his face that went sour as if he bit into a lemon. Setting to stone. “You need not worry girl.” He sneered down at her.  Daemon could feel his face heating and wondered if its color reflected his irritation. If she could see how she rattled him. “I am not in the business of taking ill-mannered children into my bed.”  Overreaction born from a blow. Nettles had figured him out with one dark glance. Unlocked truth's bitter taste. She could not tell a lie and snuffed them out equally. 

Netty had not meant to be cruel for the sake of cruelty only for her mere protection, but shame to say Daemon wasn’t a man well accustomed to frankness. Most certainly not from someone like her. Narrowing her eyes she wordlessly dropped his now crimson-stained sword onto the earth. She wasted no time climbing upon her dragon's back and commanding Sheepstealer to take her into the skies. Leaving him in that field red-faced and ablaze. 

When his annoyance evaporated the encounter served only to embolden him. Resolve him. He had gone to her with the intention of possession. Wanting to take her and rid her from his mind, but that was no longer possible. He would not be able to crack her by mere possession. He would not wish to, for there would not be a Nettles if he did. She embedded herself into him. He would not be satisfied until he had her. 

The Rogue Prince's watch continued on, but his growing fondness for the small brown unlikely dragonrider was not the sole occupation of his mind. State matters clouded his days. Council meetings became a disagreeable affair. Ideas were spouted out that would incite riots, discord, and discontent. The appointment and reward of men that were unfit to hold what they gained. They had won the city, but they were far from winning the war or the hearts of the people low and high.

Opinion held high sway when there was another to claim the throne. An army and three dragons. The days of his brother's council and court had been more orderly than these proceedings. An ordeal in which he could find neither joy nor amusement. Leaving them in a foul mood. 

His mood was fed by one Addam of Hull. A laugh. He had made her laugh. A laugh that never ended. Clutching at her belly as she placed her other hand on the boy's pale bicep to steady herself.

If he were to go to her. To place his hands upon her cheeks he knew he would feel their warmth. Her elation. She reveled in his company. Free and open to express the range of her emotions. Her smile was crafted by him. 

In the blink of an eye, Daemon found himself before the happy pair, sword drawn in one hand. Knocking the boy face down into the dirt. A tan hand clutching at his bloody nose. Broken by his fall. He curled into himself as he was pummeled in the ribs by Dark Sister’s heel. 

The sound of her voice resounded across the yard. Pleading. Begging him to stop. He was deaf to her cries. To his ears, it sounded as if she were calling out to him from underwater.  He saw red take the form of a boy. It took Corlys and three other men to pull him from the bastard. 

Nettles stormed from the scene. Her mask of indifference towards him had turned to horror. He followed after her. His blood was up as he grabbed her arm. Sheltering them in a dark alcove before bending down to envelop her in a kiss. Pouring himself into her. Dragging her into his depths. Netty. He breathed the pet name into her honey mouth. She was too sweet, far too saccharine to be named any other. No, she was his. 

She had almost given in. Receiving his passions until his right hand wandered from her cupped face. Traveling under her skirts. Desperate to find her waiting core. The caress was returned with a bite. Forcing the Rogue Prince to release the grief-stricken woman. He had finally managed to extinguish the light from her eyes. Her palm reached up. He had been struck, but she breathed as if she had run clear across the castle. “Mayhaps I’m not worthy to warm your bed, but I pity you, my prince.” The sting of her words long outlasted the slap. “You are a bastard, but I believe even you are capable of more than the cruelty you show.” 

Daemon conceded that then and now it was a dangerous game of cat and mouse he played at. Endangering her. Making her a party to his wants. Far too dangerous. Especially when her person and his interest in her person did not go amiss from two pairs of violet orbs. A queen and her mistress. 

Rhaenyra was a covetous woman by nurture. Pampered from a young age. Raised to sit upon the Iron Throne despite her sex and the trouble which she found herself in on account of her impetuous nature. Over indulged by himself and Viserys. She was not familiar with compromise. Or one not in her favor. 

He had not visited his niece-wife’s bed in an intimate capacity for moons. Long before the messy business of this tiresome war. She had given birth to a girl. Their daughter. Her long-awaited daughter. The babe never drew breath. She had named her Visenya. More dragon than a child. 

Another blow was served in the shape of his bastard stepson, Lucerys death at the hands of his ill-tempered nephew. Then Viserys their youngest boy. Swept away in the chaos. Aegon was left traumatized by his escape and his younger brother's capture. 

Jacaerys followed his younger brother to a watery grave in the Battle of the Gullet. Another impediment was removed by intervention without the prince’s hand, but Daemon no longer had the taste for such plots. To mourn for one child and lose several others in a manner of weeks was a tragedy in the highest measures, but his wife pushed through. 

It was not like Rhaenyra to not rally her spirits even in the face of grief. She had a war to fight. Her losses had served to strengthen her resolve. However, it had served little to strengthen their relationship. 

One could not blame their lack of intimacy all on the children. Or the strain of battling for the throne. That would most certainly not be the truth of their situation. Even before the tragedies of war, whatever passion for the other had long since faded. 

Theirs had never been a great love, at least not a great romantic love. No, it was not a great passion that brought them together nor kept them, but they had a common cause. A cause that suited them and himself well. One he had admittedly lit inside of her when she had been but a girl. When his brother’s affections and favor had been bestowed on her. 

That had held them. That had sustained them, but it became increasingly clear as the war progressed the folly of their relationship. Born only from an eruption long ago set by the pains of a second son. A hunger. One that had overtaken everything in its path. Careless.  If there ever was a way to prevent this folly mayhaps they both would have been better off, but there was no way back now. That road was a broken thing. He had doomed them from the start. 

They made their concessions to each. A way forward into the murky waters. Rhaenyra not minded that he had rekindled his relations with Lady Mysaria. She would not say a word against the woman to whom she owed a great debt. The Lyseni whore was brought to court for both their benefits. The queen gained a mistress of whisperers and he a mistress. One trusted far more than she needed. Some things are better left in the past. 

The Rogue Prince bitterly regretted his decision to bring the White Worm to court and his bed from the moment she arrived. There was no love lost between them, however, she expected his complete confidence. Something he was no longer able to give. 

Where his wife was entirely a vain and vapid creature, Mysaria was an overly observant worm. In particular when it came to his activities and his lack of enthusiasm during their time together. Another folly to his ever-growing list of misdeeds. He had wanted relief from his torment. The very same comfort she had provided him when he last had known her. 

This time she had only brought misery. For that is what she had truly become. The years had not been kind to her, nor was she quick to forget the past or her tenuous position in his future. Her presence only served as a reminder. A reminder of what he truly desired. 

“Does my prince wish for another to join us?” My prince. The endearment, if one could call it that, whispered in his ear from the wrong pair of lips. The wrong cadence. All the more apparent when Daemon recollected the words uttered by another tongue. No matter how clipped her speech was, the Rogue Prince would prefer it over any. 

“A raven-haired girl? Young? Non-Valyrian? Dark? The look of Naath or the Summer Isles perhaps would please you.” A smile was plastered on her white face. Her eyes told another story. They were cold. Devoid of any life. “Netty is a pretty thing Daemon. An exotic feral beauty, but she is intoxicating.” A dagger to his underbelly. Grazing his flesh. Twisting its edge. 

She had offered him his spread of whores before, but they were no good either. He had difficulty performing following that kiss. He thought of her taste. Her lips. Her pert little mouth. He thought of what the rest of her might taste like. Another set of lips. Her cream. Pulling himself from the whores cunt. Taking his cock in hand. Imagining her soft little hand in replace of his.

In a few short tugs upon his member, he emptied himself on Misery's pale backside. Relief eluded him yet. Picturing her once more. Hardening with a strained groan at the thought of what his sweet girl might look like painted with his seed.  

There was no way to hide it even if he hadn’t made himself look like an old fool. She would know. In some regards, the whore knew him better than his own niece-wife and he knew her. That smile chilled him to the bone. He threw her from his bed. Ordering her never to return to it. 

Reckless. It was his way. His temper had served him well in the past, but his hot-blooded nature would only serve to endanger her. Nettles. A bastard girl with common blood. A girl who had survived the streets of Driftmark to claim a dragon. A girl who had barely lived. Tis her head that would be mounted upon a spike outside the Red Keep with one wrong move. 

Rhaenyra was a self-absorbed woman but even she could be roused from her slumber. The old prince had seen the looks his niece-wife had thrown the young dragonrider. The tight-lipped smile at the feast to celebrate the dragonseeds. The way she and her imp sniggered at the sight of her. The way her pale eyes darkened when she thought no one was observing her.  One word. One whisper from a worm. One order from an envious queen and, Netty, his Netty would pay for his sins. 

A private meeting was called to mule over her fate. Past the endless drivel of political appointments. Brought forth by the mistress of whispers who took pleasure in his agitated state  at the proceeding. 

“She is an intelligent sort of creature.” Netty was referred to in a manner as if she were cattle. He had to bite his tongue to withstand cursing at the lot of them. “More so than Hugh and Ulf.” That at least could not be denied. The two were arrogant as they were low in wit. “One like her has to be, I suppose.” 

His dear wife placed her pudgy hand upon his. Daemon placed a pat on said hand in placation before shaking her off. Slipping out from her grip, a set of violet eyes that matched his own blinked to keep from embarrassment. Her complexion and disposition betrayed her 

Her words dripped with distaste. “But one has to ask the question, Lord Hand, who would marry her?” Rhaenyra’s tittering resounded around the room. Echoed by Bartimos Celtigar. Her fool would have joined in on the jape, but the dwarf was noticeably absent from council. “We’d have an easier time marrying her beast off than her.”

Another round of sniggers could be heard before proposals were put forward. The girl needed to be married. Some phantom lord would have her for his wife. Netty lacked the proper breeding, even he would not argue that, but she was young and no doubt fertile. In possession of a dragon. What she was deficient in could be made up for in other areas.

One of Celtigar's runts mayhaps take her hand in marriage. They had always been in want of a dragon even if it came with a stain. Addam Velaryon was put forward by the Sea Snake himself. He would not soon forget his outburst in the training yard as he eyed the slightly younger Valyrian man. He had long since apologized to the heir of the Driftwood Throne, but suspicion played behind the old lord's jovial veneer. 

Addam was a decent young fellow in truth. He would not harm his Netty and the two might even find some felicity in the union, but his status as heir of his “grandsires” seat was a precarious thing. The remainder of Corlys’ nephews were not likely to give over their ancestral seat to a bastard no matter if they shared blood, much less two bastard whelps, one of which would further pollute their noble house.

The most unfortunate of them all, Dalton Greyjoy was added to the hoard. Rather gleefully by Mysaria. Echoed by the queen herself. The Red Kraken. A bloodthirsty savage.  Little more than a butcher, but he had served their cause well and had merited his reward.

Dalton Greyjoy. A raper with twenty-two salt wives. Each despised him more than the last. He would not object to taking Netty for his bride. He would not mind even if she were not a maid. Nor her bawdy tongue. She would be his lady wife if he accepted. 

She would be the one to bear his children. To warm his bed. He would fill her up with his rotten seed and she would birth him son after son until her body gave out.  He and that fetid set of islands he called home would snuff out her light. The thought of it, the images his mind conjured, boiled his blood. 

“The girl is little more than a child.” Daemon interrupted the council's musings. Inaction would no longer do. The violet eyes of old Valyria turned to him as countered their proposal.  A worthy excuse. One that no one would think anything of. What better than the truth to tear apart their dreadful suggestions? 

“She isn’t fit to marry anyone. Lest you wish to find her lordly husband burnt in his bed and her off to the Gods knows where or her beast in the hands of the likes of Dalton Greyjoy.” Celtigar, Gerardys, and Corlys were in reluctant agreement with him. The girl was too wild. Untested. A bastard girl with no ties to them. Too important to just hand off to some lord. There was no telling what she may do or what purposes her new groom might use her for.

No voices of descent were heard from any others present. Not even Rhaenyra nor the mistress of whispers could reject it. The matter was put to bed and another put forth. Maidenpool. A job for two dragonriders. 

His late brother's spawn had become a plague upon the Riverlands. Razing hellfire. The dragonseeds Ulf or Hugh were proposed to accompany him in the defense of Lord Mooton’s seat. Thick as thieves the pair were. Bastards in nature as well as name. Dull brutes. Dull company. There was merit in splitting the two, but he would not leave her. 

Abandon her in the capital without a soul to advocate for her. Care for her. True she would have Corlys. The Lord of the Tides seemed to have some regard for her, but his loyalty lay with his blood. If Nettles ever became a danger to himself or Addam’s position, he would not hesitate to cease his protection. Kings Landing as always remained a den of vipers.

There was of course the option to send Nettles away. To send her home, but she had neither a home to return to nor would she ever be allowed back to what was left of Spicetown with a dragon in tow. Unsupervised in the middle of a war or otherwise. There could only be one course of action.

He went to her. The first time in a fortnight to that open field. Reviving the ritual of the lamb’s slaughter by offering his blade. She snatched the sword from his outreached hand, remaining mute. He could take her anger, but he would need her to understand.

Daemon was the one to break the strained accord. “We leave for Maidenpool on the morrow.” Netty was not a fool. She made her protests known. The other dragonseeds mounts were larger than Sheepstealer. She had spirit, but in a fight against a skilled swordsman and the largest dragon in the known world, neither she nor her mount would be much help to the old prince and his blood wyrm. 

“I can not leave you here.” He would not mince his words. This was not solely for his benefit. This was first and foremost for her safety. “I know that you are fond of Addam Velaryon,” she made no move to contradict him, “and he of you, but he can not protect you. Neither will Lord Corlys. He will abandon you the moment his protection becomes an inconvenience for him.”  He had done so with his young foolhardy nephew those years ago. A bastard girl left in his care would fare no better. 

“And you, the Queen’s husband, will protect me?” The girl had turned away from him. Taking an interest in Sheepstelers hide. Her eyes were downcast. She thought him no different. No better than the others. Worse in fact. His loyalties were in conflict with one another and he had not done anything to recommend himself. To suggest that he would defend her. Protect her. 

That he saw her as little more than a useful distraction. A lustful prince who whispered sweet hollow words in dark enclaves and desolate fields. He would have his fun and toss to the side afterward. That was the face he had shown her. “I would not become a burden to you the same as any other lord?” 

“I would let you feed me to your beast if it meant your safety Netty.” The truth. Daemon Targaryen had resolved himself to his duty. He did not care if he sounded like an old fool. If he was one for her, he did not care. He had made his bed for her. He would keep to it even if she did not join him. 

She laughed. A belly ache of a laugh. Her face a light. Shining brighter than the sun’s glow. “Sheepstealer wouldn’t like that I’m afraid.” Still clutching her belly. Wiping a stray tear with the back of her hand. “He isn’t very fond of the taste of pig.” He joined her in jubilation. A much-needed moment of levity. 

“Do you wish that Addam of Hull was in my steed?” His thoughts had turned to the round of laughter she let out in the training yard in his company. The lightness of their conversation dimmed somewhat. 

Daemon Targaryen was and would always remain a possessive man. He would never apologize for that. It was infuriating that the bastard boy from Hull caused her unadulterated elation, but it was a pretty sight. A sight it seems the prince was capable of bringing on. Tenfold judging by the way she beamed seconds ago. Something he yearned to see more of. He supposed he was growing overly affectionate in his old age. He did not mind it. Not for her. 

Netty shook her head in reply. Taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Her gaze traveled back to Sheepstealer who seemed as restless as his rider. “Do you wish for your wife to be in mine?” Stuttering as she swallowed down her nerves. “Or a younger version of her-”, he pulled her to him. Leaning down so that they were in each other's eye line. He could see every freckle. Every mole that dotted her little face. Whatever she had to say quieted. 

They stood there for a spell. The wind howled around them. Just them. Drowning out all the rest. Whatever storm awaited them, they were shielded from it in each other's arms. “No.” A single word. It can have more power than a thousand. An action told more than it all.

She looked so very small in his hold. So very young. Wideyed. Reminding him of her youth and his years. He could see her reasoning. On the surface at least. They were both determined willful women, but that was where their similarities ended. The two were as alike as fire and earth and Daemon was glad of it. 

“No Netty.” The affectionate nickname slipped from his lips. She did not correct him this time. Simply nodding her head. Nuzzling into his touch as he began to trace the scar that marred the brown skin across her button nose. “I wish for your company.” Just yours. Only your little company will do for me. 

The first moon that followed at Maidenpool could be described as being on the very edge of felicity. The pressures of the capital dissipated. Contentment reigned. They had fallen into a painstakingly crafted routine. Broken only by Lord Mooton. The meddlesome fool. 

They had spent every waking moment with each other. Days and evenings alike. Dinners, riding upon dragonback scanning for the half-blind prince, accompanying him to the training yard, or meetings. He ventured to teach her some words in Valyrian after he had found she was literate in the common tongue.

“Madam disliked dolts.” She imparted little on her girlhood, but half pictures. The manse where she grew up. Where she escaped seeking more than a life of degradation. “My girls are better served literate Nettles.” Her voice grew low when recollecting her earliest memories. Not ashamed of her circumstances. For she couldn’t help what she was born in, but they were not fit for a child with so much light in her. The old prince welcomed the chance to give his Netty new memories. To give her everything she had not yet should have. 

Where he went, she went. Where she moved, he followed. Netty was at his side in sky and in castle. The only time they spent apart was when they rested their weary heads for the night. Separated only by one mere door. He requested that the lord place them in adjoining bed chambers. Thankfully the man hadn’t given much thought to their sleeping arrangements, but their host and his household were a prying lot. 

The lord could not keep from giving his own opinions. Fulfilling his own curiosity. A question. Why had they not split up while searching for Prince Aemond? They would cover more ground if they rode apart. Surely they could be back in King's Landing triumphant if they did. A much-needed victory. 

Surely his wife was in need of him. They had a war to win. Surely the Rogue Prince was needed back in the capital. Back to his queen instead of wasting his time here. Let the matter be done with so that he may return to her. 

An innocuous set of observations, but a bitter reminder of why they had come here. Why a prince had brought one bastard girl with him. A reminder of what they could not be to each other. Why did he waste his time with her? Why when this would all end? It was just a bit of fun. This was all a farce and Nettles wanted no part in it. 

She was halfway to where their mounts rested when he caught her. Flying would be the death of her in that state. Neither would the weather be helpful. Storm clouds gathered overhead. Breaking into a drizzle mirroring her clouded-over glower. “Netty.”

His Netty had made a valiant effort trying to outrun him. Going so far as to chuck her new leather boots at his head, but he caught her with ease when she was slowed down by the damp earth. Sweeping her in his arms. Shushing her as she began to kick at him. Determined to ride out the storm with her. 

“I am not a plaything for your amusement Daemon!” Daemon. The first time she had spoken his name and she wanted to run from him. Netty would have thrown herself on the ground or found the nearest object, a rock, to hurl at his head, but she remained firmly in his grasp. Keeping her from hurting him or herself.

“Let me go, you old man. I’m not yours to keep!” He turned her around to come face to face with a frightened child. His Netty gone. Replaced by a girl who had kept her safe when no one else had. “I don’t need your protection. You have a wife and your brood of children. Go to them! Go protect them!” He called out her name, but she refused to calm down. “Leave me be. I don’t need your pity!”

“I do not pity you.” He shook her lightly to stop her babbling. Taking her hands in his so that she could not claw at him. “I could split us up and we can be back in King's Landing by the end of the moon.”

Daemon had stalled. He would not lie to her. Yes, it was in part for Netty’s safety, but he had grown weary of the war. Of the endless council meetings which provided more complications than solutions. Of Rhaenyra and her stubborn conceit. Of Mysaria and her endless weed of deception. 

Here at Maidenpool with this small brown dragonrider, this impossible girl, he had not known such contentment. Not since he could recall. Not even in the early days with Laena. In Pentos with her and their girls. 

He had been well satisfied. Away from the schemes. With a morsel of bliss. Of love, but a taste wouldn’t do. The old prince knew that he would not find this again for he never had before. 

She too bloomed in his company. Her shy smiles had been replaced by laughter, mirth, and merry. Regular meals and proper rest had done well. A glow affixed to her brown face. Her old rags were long discarded. The cut of her new garments accentuated her shape nicely. No longer hanging off her slender frame. 

They breathed freely. Spoke freely. They held nothing from each other. Slowly Daemon was finding himself unable to go on without her. He had and could not go back to a life without her. What good was mere blood or a name? An empty life chasing after an iron throne that did little but rot its occupant’s away. 

“Say the word and we can be rid of each other but I do not wish to part from you.” If it was up to him they would remain in each other's company. With no end in sight to speak of. “Neither do I believe that you wish to leave my side.” Netty managed to squeak out a small no in affirmation. Still, she wriggled in his hold. He pressed on. The pads of his thumb caressing her wrists  to calm her  “I am where I should be.” They were well past the point of half-truths. There was no point in lying to one another or themselves. 

“You are not my plaything. I do not wish for you to be my whore. I love you. I am in love with you Netty. I love you, you wild thing.” She quieted. Stopped her squirming. Her dark eyes went wide. He was able to bring his forehead down to hers. “Every day when you are not in my arms I am in agony. That is why I keep you.” 

He had left her mute when he finally pulled a fraction away. Stunned to silence. Having to carry her back for she had gone limp in his arms. All Netty was capable of was staring at him with red-rimmed eyes. Half scared, half something unnameable. 

Dinner that evening was spent in solitude. A morose affair. Netty had locked herself inside her chambers once she had been deposited back into the safety of them. No sounds came from the other side of the door as he sat gazing into his chamber's fire. A silent taunt. The old prince wondered if she would sneak from her bed to take flight. Away from Maidenpool. From him and off into the unknown. 

In truth, he did not know how long he sat there with his thoughts. His conviction, however, strengthened in the flames. He would not let her leave. Away from here. Away from him. He wouldn’t let her. She was something entirely his. Not the realms. Not belonging to someone or something else. His. 

The old prince would play out Rhaenyra’s war, but he would not give up what he had found. He would not lose Netty. He would be lost without her. Above all others, his first duty had become to her. 

Daemon made to go after Netty. Lunging from the chair. The knob of the heavy oak door turned. Stopping the prince A brown little face appeared. A figure clothed in her nightgown and the dark robe he had gifted her. She closed the door to lean against it. Not moving. Still. Merely resting. One brown hand upon the knob while wringing the other. Their eyes met. She opened her mouth a dozen times before he took the first plunge. 

“Could you not sleep?” A silly question, but she granted him with a reply, a nod of a head. Lovely dark coils covered half her face. The light of the fire reflected off of them. Casting her head in a halo. A pretty sight. A sight he would never tire of. 

He motioned for her to join him by the hearth. She made her ascent. It was not a long walk for she broke into a run. Leaping. Netty pulled herself into him as he caught her. Tugging him down so that their lips met. Her little hands were greedy as they roamed his person. He was no better. They could not resist. 

By the time they were finished with one another, they had become a warm heap in his bed. Bare skin against skin. Her pebbled nipples against his chest. Connected at their cores. His half-hard cock still tucked within her sopping heat. Her cunt spasmed around him, sending the most delicious shockwaves of pleasure up their spines on occasion. Radiating throughout their love-worn bodies. 

She would not have him leave her and he was in no position to argue. His silver head rested upon her dark coils. A hand gently stroked up and down the arm she had thrown around his middle.

Soaked. Satisfied. Mouthing at the pocket marketed red scars on his neck. He did not know where he ended and she began. “I love you too, old man.” Breathed into his skin as she began to drift off. He thought about taking her again then, but he let her rest. Joining her in dreamland. Well rested for the first time in moons.

It was a hard battle won, but well worth it. His most worthy fight. For her, for his impossible clever girl, got his netty he would fight a thousand battles. Again and again. Not for blood nor for title. For her. 

For a day more with her. For something as unassuming as an hour can feel like a hundred years if it is spent in good company of one’s choosing. The moons spent at Maidenpool certainly felt as if they were an eternity. Theirs. Entirely so. 

The old prince was drawn back to the present by a little whimper. He should let her rest, but he would not. Rest was for the penitent and the patient. Daemon Targaryen was neither of those things. Not in the least. Not when it came to her. Not at that very moment. Not with his impossible girl.

He could not resist her. He would never deign to try. Nor pass an opportunity to ensnare her into bliss for she deserved that and more. Planting another kiss into her hairline. A pale calloused hand renewed its descent between her damp curls that framed her cunny. Drawing slow circles into her little pearl. 

His lovely girl began to stir. Burying herself into the battle scars of old that lined his neck to enjoy the warmth of him. Her brown eyes fluttered open with a breathy moan of his name. Waking from dreamland to hazy pleasure. Melting into his touch as he replaced his fingers with his length. Sinking into her. Capturing her lips in the most tender of embraces. 

The hunt as well as sleep could wait for there were more pressing matters to attend to. He broke their kiss. Netty whined but he soothed her with a thrust that rendered a cry of ecstasy. A whisper played upon his lips. One that would usher them into the ardor that awaited at dawn's doorstep. “Nyke emagon jorrāelagon hen ao issa ōños.” I have need of you my light.

Ao3 Link:

[eoinmcgonigal]

Fic writer interview :))

Thank you @davidstirlings for the tag ^^

I'll just do this for my current ao3 account, because I can't be bothered logging into the other two, and lj and ff.net are long gone. (One had just under 300 fics on it but... eh)

How many works do you have on AO3? 215+ (107 for SAS: Rogue Heroes, lost track of some anon fics for another fandom)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 523,984

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? For Rogue Heroes: 1 - Diminished; 2 - Beat; 3 - Melody; 4 - Refrain; 5 - Transposition

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to but I'm super awkward alskjdf;adlfj

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 'Pale Undeath' - a very short Johnny/Bill demon hunter AU thing

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? They usually have happy endings!

Do you write crossovers? I've got one, but generally no.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yeah

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yep, and all kinds with very few exceptions.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Sadly yes, and other stuff as well

Have you ever had a fic translated? I have! It was Star Wars fic though, so long ago

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Sort of? Someone edited an RP we did and posted it as fic, if that counts.

What’s your all-time favourite ship? I truly couldn't pick, but if it's not Paddy/Eoin, it'll be a niche Naruto one

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Probably Refrain (the unead Eoin one) because I need a lot more cheering on and encouraging, and no one 'wants to be a bother', so... (same with the other WIPs, which is why I try not to post them)

What are your writing strengths? Writing a lot. But not necessarily of any great quality

What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing things? I miss having a cheer-reader XD

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? A nope, with one exception. I mean, if I had to, I would provide a translation right there next to it, because I would never assume people have the same knowledge I do. The only exception was when I wrote Bill speaking in Scots, which is close enough to English and the context made it clear (and things like Johnny repeating the question in English).

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Naruto...

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? - hmm, I never posted any Master and Commander stuff, maybe that I guess

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? How to pick???? The short 'Pale Undeath', or 'Death's Embrace' I think. There was a Tozer/Armitage (Terror) fic I never posted, but I really loved it so much, I just called it 'the button fic'.

tagging anyone who wants to do this! @revolutionarybillfraser @dukesoakedoats @regseekings @fergusfraserapologist @a-case-of-the-ace @almost-a-class-act

[fezwearingjellybananas]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @starstruckpurpledragon, thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

315

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,163,434

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently predominantly The Flash (TV and Comics), though I have written a couple of The Adventure Zone fics, one Naddpod, and one Ghosts (BBC) this year too, and I've written one or two other things. I've been writing fic for a bit

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Crossed Wires - The Flash (TV), Barry/Eddie (prompt fill for a Misunderstandings prompt in a Barry Week)

2. Mis-sent - The Flash (TV), Barry/Cisco (college AU texting fic)

3. "Just sleep in my damn shirt" - The Flash (TV), Barry/Eddie (a short prompt fill that does not even have a proper title)

4. Milk and Sugar - The Flash (TV), Iris/Caitlin (coffee shop AU that changed to a pre-canon canon divergence that ended up a 12 fic series)

5. Digging Out The Hole - The Flash (TV), Barry/Cisco (an episode 1x16 AU again featuring some fake dating and some Rogues)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I appreciate all of them therefore I like to say thank you

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ashes to Ashes, it's part of the collaborative Marvellous Ladies of DC AU with @agentmarymargaretskitz where the ladies of DCTV get to be all the heroes in a MCU AU and this one is part of the Infinity War one so there is a very large amount of character death

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I like writing happy endings so that one's a little tricky, but I think I might nominate Stargazing (DC comics, Barry/Iris/Hal), since the start is not quite so happy

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

I have but it's a rare occurrence

9. Do you write smut?

Nope! On the sliding scale of sex favourable to sex repulsed ace I generally slide between neutral and repulsed and usually fall at forgot sex exists again until I get a question like this. I do sometimes read the smut bits instead of just skipping now, but I have to be in a very particular mood, it's not a common thing, so I don't think I'll ever get closer to writing it than implying some might be going on somewhere

10. Do you write crossovers?

I have, though not for a little while. I might still have (very brief) notes for a Legends of Tomorrow/Librarians crossover somewhere though. Maybe one day

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone ask if they could once but I don't think they ever posted it, and this was quite a while ago

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, the previously mentioned Marvellous Ladies of DC AU.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Barry/Iris probably? That's the one I have been writing to fill the Year of the OTP prompts, and I'm pretty sure these poly ships appear because I like ones like Barry/Cisco and Barry/Hal, but I also Barry and Iris together, so now they all get to be a part of this

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Wally Fic, my Flash TV s2 AU where Wally becomes the Flash (because Barry did not survive his first encounter with Zoom). Perhaps one day, but it's been just sitting as part of a first draft for a long time now not getting very far. I might just cut it into scenes and post what I have when I have an end I'm happy with but I've also been saying that for a while and still not doing anything so who knows.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I don't know if I really think about strengths, this is just for fun, but I often feel I write more dialogue than descriptions, so maybe dialogue?

I've also had a few people tell me I'm good at writing AUs which I am very flattered by and very happy they like them. I just enjoy myself messing around with how things could go if I change that bit of canon or sometimes trying to see if I can make a plot work in another genre instead, but it's very nice when people say they like my messing around and encourage me to do it more.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Describing body language. Especially during conversations, like a pinched nose or stuff like that, I'm often not sure how to phrase the motion and don't know if I put enough in.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Mixed. On the one hand, it can throw you out if suddenly there is a large passage in another language you're meant to still be able to understand as easily as the first bit, so I think if it were a full conversation I would still write in English and use the dialogue tags to indicate it's another language.

However if the point of view character has, say, my Spanish levels where I can pick out words and get the gist of some bits but not necessarily understand everything I might write that part as Spanish with the missing words and have the translation as the point of view character trying to work out what they just said.

I have also written characters swearing in French (as a "pardon my French" joke. The opportunity for a bad joke will trump everything else always). I hated my French teacher at school and dropped it for Spanish as soon as I could and I'm really, really bad at French, but I do know Merde.

People who have managed to become fluent in multiple languages are so cool. I don't know how you all did this.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It was a very short Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover where Sherlock and John get zapped by Weeping Angels and end up at Victorian Edinburgh University meeting someone named Arthur. I panicked about posting that so much

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

This is an impossible question always, but since I haven't got a gen fic mentioned here yet I really enjoyed writing The Questing Flower (Flash TV), which is a fantasy AU centred around Iris West. She's on a Quest to save the Moon (and maybe her best friend along the way) and no one's managed to do this in the past 500 years they've been trying, but Iris is going to try anyway.

There's so many fics I've really enjoyed writing though, I don't think I have an all time favourite. Ghosting (Flash TV, Cisco/Hartley) usually gets an honourable mention at least though.

Tagging @agentmarymargaretskitz @squireofgeekdom @alittleflashvibe and @spectralarchers and anyone else if you fancy it?

[qvnthesia]

Qvnthesia: Request Guidelines

Currently Open for Requests!

Before you submit a request, please read through the guidelines below on what I can/can't write for you. Feel free to be as specific or vague as you'd like in your ask; song-based prompts are also appreciated, as well as characters from different fandoms! Please make sure to include if it's SFW or NSFW.

← Back to Masterlist

Topics/Characters I Do Write For:

fem!reader or gn!reader

smut, angst, hurt/comfort, or fluff.

(from star wars) anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, grand admiral thrawn, kanan jarrus, hera syndulla, rebels!ahsoka tano, rey skywalker, poe dameron, din djarin, rogue one squad, padmé amidala, and the clones.

(from asoiaf) rhaenyra targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, williem blackwood, daemon targaryen, aemond targaryen, cregan stark, and helaena targaryen.

(from marvel) peter parker, stephen strange, hope van dyne, carol danvers, steve rogers, bucky barnes, tony stark, erik lehnsherr, jean grey, raven darkhölme, moon knight (all of the moonboys), and layla el-faouly.

(from the hunger games) haymitch abernathy, young!coriolanus snow, finnick odair, and johanna mason.

(from the wizarding world) the marauders, golden trio, and scamander brothers.

(from the vampire diaries universe) elena gilbert, the mikaelson siblings, tyler lockwood, bonnie bennett, hayley marshall, cami o'connell and enzo st. john.

benedict & francesca bridgerton!

(from percy jackson) luke castellan, and percy jackson.

edmond dantès, from the 2002 film of the count of monte cristo

adrian chase/vigilante

(from the boys) hughie, frenchie, annie january, and soldier boy.

ransom drysdale!

Topics/Characters I Don't Write:

clonecest.

incest (except for house of the dragon)

poly relationships (still new to the concept)

rape, pedophilia, non-con (including consensual somnophilia).

major character death

any real-life person x reader (know the difference between actor and character)

damon and stefan salvatore

Topics/Characters I Love to Write for:

elena gilbert

clones - if y'all give me a hunter request, expect it 1000000% fulfilled

cheesy tropes/headcanons

smut with plot

moon knight

hurt/comfort

desperate-prompted tropes from feelings like jealousy and angst.

song-based prompts! anything ranging from lady gaga to ac/dc to louis armstrong.

mutual pining.

headcanon list

happy endings!

If I fulfill your request, please do reblog the same! (P.S. Reviews/Comments are greatly appreciated along with the reblog <33)