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superprincesspea · 3 months ago

Text

Say My Name

Sharako Lohar invites Tyland Lannister to share a night of passion with her many wives.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Orgy

Word Count: 1,972

Masterlist

~~~

“How many wives do you have?”

The moment Tyland asked the question, he regretted it, and the answer seemed of little importance, because even one woman, warm and willing, was more than enough. More than he could wish for, and it had been a while, too long in fact, since he’d last shared a night with anything other than his hand.

“Why don’t I show you?” Lohar said, slapping her thigh before jumping onto her feet, and once more, he found himself marvelling at this strange pirate Admiral. He’d never seen anything like her, and if he was honest, he'd never hope to again. The world could only stand to harbour one Sharako Lohar, and perhaps one was one too many.

“Come,” she insisted, hauling him up under his arm.

“Right now ?” he confirmed, and the look in her eye was positively feral.

He should have just gone to bed, should have never asked that dammed question. But curiosity had gotten the better of him, or perhaps he was giving too much credit to his mind, when it had been his cock which had done the talking.

She laughed, as though his question was absurd, and perhaps it was absurd to a person with more than one wife.

Then she began to lead the way, and Tyland followed, to a place where the revelry of drinking and sea shanties were dimmed but not forgotten. To where a heavy curtain pulled back, revealing a room draped with plush fabrics in every colour and pattern imaginable, rugs and cushions lit tering the floor, and women, so many women.

He counted at least twelve. Some sleeping, some talking, some... he swallowed hard, doing other things.

“These are your wives?” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking, as he gestured across the room, trepidation inching into his veins with far more strength than desire.

“ Some of them,” Lohar grinned, treading carefully as she made her way into the swell of bodies, so not to step on the silky-smooth limbs sprawled across the floor.

“What say you, Tylo ?” she asked, hand on her hip, goblet of wine raised in the air.

“ Tyland, ” he reminded her, and not for the first time since their meeting.

“Well? Which wife would you like to plough first?”

He coughed, choking on the gasp of shock which tried to escape his lips. He hadn’t thought her offer an entirely serious one, she didn’t seem to take anything too seriously. But the way her wives were all looking at him, was anything but a joke.

They could eat him alive. Nay, they would eat him alive.

He tugged a steadying hand at the front of his tunic, straightening his spine, as though his stance or masculinity held any authority in this room, and it didn’t. It certainly didn’t.

Hands grasped his hands, two women pulling him into the middle of the room while the curtain closed behind him. Then he was on the floor, more hands pulling at his buttons, unbuckling his belt, stroking through his hair, a kiss on his cheek, a caress across his thigh.

He didn’t know where to look, what to feel, or what to do except, take it , and all of it under the watchful eye of Lohar, who paced a circle around the scene, drinking intently from the goblet clutched in her hand.

He was naked in no time at all, and he was hard, of course he was hard, these women were beautiful and all so different, a true feast for the eyes and the hands, and... quite frankly, his cock.

“ Fuck ,” he gritted out, he rarely swore and never in front of a lady, but there were no other words, no other feeling. Just fuck .

Hands touched him everywhere, their light caresses breezing across his skin, then one of the wives leaned in to kiss him, her eyes so dark they were almost black, before he was tasting the sweet wine on her skillful tongue as she took control of his mouth.

He needed to touch her, to tangle his fingers with the tight coils of hair falling across his cheek, but his hands were held back, and so were his feet, not that he wanted to fight it, what man would fight this?

The woman was still kissing him, his bottom lip trapped between her teeth in a nibble which boarded on the right side of painful, when he felt one of those wandering hands brush across his cock.

It twitched, alert , and he drew in a tight breath, wanting to see who it was that touched him there , but his body was not his own, and his vision was shielded by breasts, and hair, and hands, and kisses.

A second wife took turns with the first to kiss him until he could barely breathe, then a third took him into her mouth, carefully , just the tip, her tongue flat and teasing, and so slow, so painfully slow.

He tried to rut his hips up, to feel more of her, but Lohar was standing over him, her bare foot pressed onto his chest, holding him down, making him wait, and wait, until his cock was finally sheathed in the hot embrace of a stranger's mouth.

Then she freed him, and he didn’t want to move at all, just feel, tongue and pressure, up and down. Soft hands still exploring, he couldn’t last much longer, not like this. He felt the pressure building and tried to think of anything to stop it from bubbling over.

Mud pits, Aegon, Vhagar, Caraxes... oh fuck.

He was half drunk on pleasure, when he noticed Lohar settle on the ground, laying on her stomach so she could watch the way his face contorted, his muscles tightening, holding on, desperately holding on.

“You like this?” she asked, that bright white smile reappearing, almost laughing.

“ Yes ,” his voice was strained, everything was strained, and strange, and so fucking marvellous.

And Lohar seemed pleased by this, her attention flicking to a place behind him, where he could only imagine another wife was waiting. “Sit on his face,” she said.

“What?” he gasped, barely able to hold a conscious thought, before she knelt either side of his head and lowered herself just close enough for him to taste her.

“Eat up Tyler , take your fill, there’s plenty of pussy for all of us,” Lohar laughed, and she was sitting up now, with a wife on her knee, her fingers reaching between the woman’s legs, rubbing, spreading, pushing inside.

“It's Tyland,” he said again, but his voice was weak, and who fucking cared what his name was, when there was a womans pussy glistening right in front of him.

He arched his neck, so he could get closer, his tongue soft and slick as it explored between her legs with one slow lick. He didn’t even know what she looked like, but she tasted good, sweet and wanting, his tongue finding her swollen bud and swirling pressure across it in time with the soft sway of her hips.

Then his hands broke free from restraint, or perhaps he was released, so his fingers could press tightly into the wonderful curve of her arse. He needed her closer, needed his tongue to sink into her, to feel her. She cried out, her body shaking, on the very edge of bliss, and he intended to send her spiralling.

He replaced his tongue with two fingers, pumping them in and out of her, while he lapped again at that swollen bud, faster and faster, until her next cry was one of release.

He watched her afterwards, coming down from the high, her hands clutched to her breasts, so beguiling and so unlike any woman he’d seen in the Red Keep.

But the sound of her pleasure, had only made him more desperate for his own. He thrust his hips up, craving touch, craving his own release, only to realise there were no more tongues torturing the length of his cock, and perhaps that had been a good thing.

“You want more, Typot?” Lohar said, and he didn’t need to answer, when one wife moved, another was upon him.

Not on his face, but on his thighs, her hand wrapping tightly around his desperate cock, pumping it, teasing it.

He was about to beg for more, when she held him straight and true, and sank her body down onto his, the tight embrace of her pussy grasping him from root to tip until his toes were curling.

“ Seven save me ,” he hissed, thinking he should slow the pace she began to set upon him, but finding it too compelling to resist.

This room of pirate wives was a realm of pleasure he had never imagined, and if he died tomorrow, it would be with a worn-out cock and a smile on his face.

He closed his eyes, giving himself to these women. To more touches, hands and tongues, and the unrelenting thrust of pleasure, which worked up and down his cock, winding the need for release tighter and tighter.

He was so close now. He needed to come, and he couldn't wait any longer, so he began to match her thrusts with his own. Grinding up into her, despite the hands still trying to hold him down. Then she stopped, and his eyes sprang open, to see Lohar, resting a steadying hand on her wife's shoulder.

“I want to see how you really fuck her,” she said, before tugging the wife up, and guiding her onto all fours.

His cock felt cold, and more needy than ever before, so he didn’t need telling twice. He could hardly move fast enough, feeling no shame at all, in the way the women watched as he lined himself up at her entrance and pushed back inside.

His head fell back, relief, sweet relief, then he began to move, slowly at first, his hands tracing the wonderful shape of her figure, before finding a home on her hips, so he could hold her steady while he took her with more intensity.

Again, he could feel the mounting pressure, his balls tightening, then Lohar was on him, kneeling behind him, her hips pushing into his, controlling his thrusts, as though it was her cock which fucked this woman, and he was just a tool. To be used, to be milked dry, and he’d be damned if he didn’t love every moment.

“Make her come,” Lohar demanded, her tongue sliding across the shell of his ear, and who was he to disobey an order from the Admiral?

He reached between the wife's legs, finding the spot which would tear her apart, while Lohar kept control of his body, guiding him harder, slamming him into her wife.

He wasn’t sure how much more stimulation he could take, holding onto his release was becoming impossible, and then he felt her, this stranger, her pussy flooding with warmth before it pulsed with an orgasm and claimed the last shred of his resolve.

“Say my name,” he all but roared, his hips jerky, despite the press of Lohar’s control.

“Tyland Lannister,” she whispered in his ear, like a secret, like a promise, as he finally unleashed his pleasure and filled this woman with the hot ropes of his seed.

“Good,” Lohar commended him, slapping his arse, “now let us start on the rest.”

Delirious, Tyland struggled to catch his breath, before he opened his eyes to look at the other wives, who were all waiting, like a pack of rabid cats, for their turn.

Swiping his hand across his face, he hoped he didn’t look as worn out as he felt. This might take all night, but if it was for King and country, he supposed he could muster the energy to fuck the whole damn fleet.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I just couldn't stop thinking about these two and needed to write something for them. I hope you enjoyed it <3

#tyland lannister #sharako lohar #hotd #house of the dragon #admiral lohar #fanfiction #tyland lannister/sharako lohar #tyland lannister/original female character #tyland lannister/ofc

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arcielee · 3 months ago

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I wish you would write a fic where... - Sharako Lohar. Maybe already as a wife, or maybe she wants reader to become her wife...little cheeky back and forth...earn me type situation...*littlefinger.gif here*

(if this sucks please disregard)

Okay, so she has been non-stop in my head since they introduced her, and I just keep thinking of that scene when she was watching the dancer:

[Gif by my beloved @mojogifs]

TW: men grabbing what they should not be grabbing

It is a delightful prickle against your skin with how her eyes settle onto you, her smirk curling, roguish with the bold, red cut on her upper lip. Her commanding presence is a beacon that calls to you and your movements are fluid, aflutter with silk draped on your curves, dancing to push through the crowds and closer to her.

You cannot hear anything over how your blood roars in your head, your attention only pulling away when a patron grabs at you. It falters your steps, but before you could twist away from his hold, Lohar strikes, a hot fury with a loud pop of his wrist dislocating and his painful howls echoing off the stones.

These same hands then reach to steady you, careful and calloused, pleasantly warm. "Thank you," you breathe, looking up to meet with her eyes.

The admiral is still focused on the other man, glaring as he is ushered away, cradling his arm, but her brow softens when she looks down at you. "Are you all right?"

It thrills you how she seems to be another woman towering over you, deadly and precise, only to shower you with a careful consideration. Her fingertips drop to ghost the knotted scarf around your waist, her persistent and lingering warmth, and only then did you notice that the fabric was torn. Damn.

"I would offer to buy you another one, but I would only do so if you wore it for my eyes alone."

Her honeyed words shiver down your spine, a heat pooling at the apex of your thighs. Your lips are parted, wordless, and you are burning as her hand knits with your own, warm and rough and still so gentle to guide you away from the noise around, following her back to her private quarters...

wish upon a writer

#ask arcie #ask game #mojogifs #admiral lohar #sharako lohar #house of the dragon #what a woman #wish upon a writer

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