#i am never not here for the ladies in armor

[delphina2k]

I dunno who hurt my girl Chaarose but I'mma fight them.

(Chaarose and Patty the Pangolin are from Kings of Sorts by @crabbng)

[baekuras]

Today on Elden Ring bs

I wanted to go grab some more Runes AND do so fighting Fortisax which I haven’t done yet

yeah anyway i just lost 160k runes because i did something else since Fia wouldnt go to sleep even though I took every step listed and restarted the game 3 times and not even D’s brother shows up to murder her so nothing is happening there and now I’m poor

i just decided not to go all Frenzied Flame and save that for the next run of “kill everything and everyone” but i am feeling very much ‘chaos reigns’ right now thanks fia

[nabtime]

Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Healing Hands

This is just a short little fic, based on this post here. The tall, broad High-King demanded a drabble aside from the ones I'd already started about him, so what else could I do? He is the High King, after all. 🥰👑

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Gil-Galad (RoP) x Half-Elven!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff.]

Warnings: Spoilers for RoP s2e8, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, soft!Gil-Galad, affectionate teasing, romantic tension, healing injuries, Gil speaking Quenya, battle aftermath, minor angst with a happy ending.

~*~

Did she truly think she was being subtle with such a limp in her step? The High King and his Herald had led their soldiers and the survivors of Eregion into a valley, establishing around it a protective, magical barrier using the rings of power.

Together, the pair had healed Lady Galadriel, but as they settled her in a soft, flat spot to recover, Gil-Galad saw his lady, clad in her own black-splattered armor, attempting to limp away unnoticed.

"Go. I'll stay with Galadriel," Elrond volunteered quietly, and with a grateful nod of acknowledgement, the King hurried through the trees after her. He hadn't even remembered seeing her struck, but obviously she had been if she was limping.

She didn't get very far. At the edge of a small clearing, he found her sitting with her back against a tree, struggling to remain conscious. His breath caught when he saw how pale she'd become. She'd clearly been hiding this for quite some time.

Without a thought beyond healing his lady, Gil-Galad dropped to his knees beside her and began slicing a window into the leg of her trousers. The cloth parted easily at the behest of his dagger, and at the waft of cool air over her skin, her eyes fluttered open.

"Ereinion?" Her voice was so shaky and quiet. "I'm sorry. Didn't...want to bother you..."

"Hush, I am here, now," he murmured as he beheld the broken-off shaft of an arrow embedded in her leg. She'd lost quite a bit of blood if the dark, drenched fabric of her trousers was any indication. Thankfully, the arrow was not lodged too deeply, and she'd left enough of it exposed for a healer to grip in order to remove it. "Fool of a girl, you should have come straight to me."

She let out a weak laugh at his affectionate scolding.

"Calling your favorite patient a fool? Ondórëa ingaranya," she murmured cupping his cheek and drawing his eyes to her own. There was no real acidity in her tone. Gil-Galad took courage in the fact that she still had enough clarity of mind to tease him. He had, in fact, healed her before, but the injuries were always insignificant and superficial. And, she'd never actively hidden them from him before.

What cause had he given her to do so? Had she been embarrassed?

Without hesitation, he turned his head just far enough to kiss her palm.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, meldanya." He hoped that she knew he referred to more than his playful jab. He also knew that to call her such, to allow such a slip, would be tantamount to a confession for which he was not certain that he was prepared. But, to call her anything less than his beloved would be a lie. Furthermore, to do so in the aftermath of such rampant death and destruction would summon within his heart guilt in such quantities that he could not abide.

Turning his attention back to her leg, he laid his palm as lightly as he could over her thigh. He whispered in Quenya, allowing the magic from his ring and from his own healing abilities to seep into her skin and numb her pain. Working quickly, he removed the arrowhead and pressed his hand over the wound, murmuring some of the same healing spells he and Elrond had used on Galadriel.

Fortunately, though, this was not a cursed wound as the former had sustained from Morgoth's crown, nor was it as severe. Her skin glowed readily beneath his touch. Within moments, the skin bound itself shut and his lady shuddered in relief as a trickle of light penetrated the canopy of trees overhead to mingle with their own.

Her hand had fallen limply away after mere moments, but Gil-Galad retrieved it once his work was complete, grasping it gently between his own blood-stained fingers. Her pulse beat steady and strong in his grasp, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he breathed a sigh of relief. She would be alright. She had survived.

"Did you mean it?" She breathed, and he was so surprised that she was conscious that his eyes snapped immediately to hers. Despite the dirt and grime coating them both, he felt entirely exposed beneath her gaze - vulnerable and transparent before her.

He relished the sensation of being known so completely. To everyone else, he was Gil-Galad, the High King of Lindon, the bastion of strength from which his people drew their courage when darkness threatened.

To her, he was simply Ereinion. The feeling was more pleasant and intoxicating than he could possibly express.

"You called me your beloved," she continued. "Did you mean it?"

How could he deny it? He loved her. He had for centuries. Since the moment she set foot in Lindon nearly three hundred years before, Gil-Galad had surrendered to the realization that his heart would settle for no other. Her light was beyond compare, shining into even the most uncertain parts of his heart which he hid from all others. She drew him out so easily, comforted him simply by smiling in his direction. She was his strength, his courage, his most luxuriant pleasure and joy.

But, he was a king. Because she knew him, she also knew better than any other how taxing his position was. Over time, he'd convinced himself that she would not wish to bear the burden of ruling by his side, so he'd remained silent - reluctant to steal her own contentment and joy by forcing the responsibilities of a ruler upon her. She deserved to have a life unburdened by the weight of a crown.

In his secrecy, however, his heart had grown accustomed to a more profound loneliness than he'd ever previously known. On too-silent nights in his chambers, he longed to hold her close and whisper poetry in her ear - he'd composed more verses in her honor than he'd expected his heart to harbor. On tranquil mornings before the rush of the day's duties began, he ached with the need to see her curled peacefully in his arms as the light of the sunrise spilled in through the windows.

No longer. After today's battle, Ereinion could no more hold his tongue than the pair of robins who sang so freely in his gardens each morning.

"Yes. With all of my foolish heart, I meant it," he admitted, his heart singing with every word, and she lifted her free hand, threading it lightly into his hair. The King savored the feeling. Never before had she touched him so brazenly - he'd made it clear that she was more than welcome to, of course, but she never availed herself of such liberties.

He bent lower, hoping to encourage her by making his person easier to reach. He felt her bare wrist brush against the tip of his ear - sharper than her own, thanks to her half-mortal parentage - but he could not hide his blush nor the light groan she tugged from his chest.

"You have tempted me...enchanted me since our first meeting. I have eyes only for you, but if you do not feel the same, I swear on my honor that I will not torment you further." The King's oath came from the most sincere depths of his heart. For her, he would. Much as it would pain him, if she wanted nothing to do with his feelings, he would bury them deep so that only he would feel the ache. She would suffer no discomfort at his hands.

Her lips met his, stopping his spiraling thoughts in their tracks, and all his worries fell away beneath the most delicious relief. They were as soft and sumptuous as they looked - as he'd imagined them to be - and Ereinion didn't hesitate to return her affection. He may have healed her leg, but with that once simple act, she had healed the King's heart.

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

ondórëa ingaranya = my hard-hearted/pitiless high-king

meldanya = my beloved

~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge

[starshipdecay]

Toon Zelda redesigns! I've never been fond of the Toon Zelda design, and these girls deserve some individuality. Design notes and rambles below the cut :D

(time to turn the proper grammar off i aint capitalizing all this. warning: i am verbose)

first up, tmc zelda!

shes the one most like toon zelda, since i felt like the vibes fit the *most* (though not a lot). also, with her place on the timeline, i could justify a lot of bits, like the wings and the cape

the cape! obvs it comes from the toon zelda base design, but also it involves skyloftian fashion! i take the timeline as a challenge, and i once saw a take somewhere that the skyloftians all wear their family crests (most often birds lol) on their person. zelda here (and link too) do just that, wearing their family crests on little caplets. on the back is, of course the royal crest

i went very cutesy princess for her. tmc has such a *whimsical* vibe that i feel is very. muted? by the fact its stuck with the toon style. so i wanted to put in that vibe here. also her sprites make it look like her skirt is super poofy, so how could i not?

curly hair: i wanted something interesting, and most zeldas have straight hair. so! adds to the cuteness

i didnt draw it so well but she (and link) both have very sleepy expressions. zelda especially just has a sleepy expression in her sprite, its quite adorable.

shes not as decked out as other princesses, cuz i see tmc taking place before the royal family really starts to get *royal* as we see it. shes still of course got a tiara and some embroidery tho.

Tetra! her base design isnt all that changed from the original. her name is a fun hc of mine tho. i think "von Hyrule" sounds better as a surname than just "hyrule". shes not zelda, but shes still a descendant.

(WW) princess z (as i call her)

I went more oot zelda vibes for her, since she would be closer, temporally, to oot. i also went very warm, since ive never seen the flood as a *warm* endeavor.

shes got the shoulder danglies, as most zeldas have shoulder armor of some kind. the danglies instead of actual armor are supposed to kind of evoke a royal sea captain kind of vibe.

shes ghostly, with a fish-eyed stare. shes been dead and gone for a long time. shes also a bit taller and a few years older than tetra (as of ww). shes just some spectre the king saw in tetra, not at all a close match

tetra, being smaller than princess z, doesnt fit into the clothes. the dress is too big for her (as is in canon gd that skirt is WAY too long for her), the coat is baggy. the role of a princess *literally* does not fit her.

the ribbons! theyre my replacement for the wings, and they represent the wind in the game! since its represented by white lines, the ribbons are a perfect symbolic match. (also, a note, tetras hair is shorter and coarser than princess z's)

i mostly bullshitted the blue panel but the vague idea i gave it was 'a hope for the triforce to give good fortunes to the people' (pictured as dots, mostly behind her arms)

Pirate Queen Tetra

ph! about a year has passed, and tetra has really grown into her own! as well as literally grown!

shes still tetra, pirate and captain, but shes incorporated that royal heritage into her identity: quite literally! she made piecemeal of the original outfit (what was left of it anyway after the fight), and added bits and pieces to her new life.

she also takes full advantage of said heritage to call herself pirate queen. its great for branding. whos gonna say she CANT go by pirate queen?

the seagull feather is from Aryll. only crew member tetra wears a trinket from (who can say no to that ball of sunshine! certainly not tetra)

not many notes. yall can see whats there. (also she still wears her hair in a bun, its just in a low bun (you can almost see it) when she wears her hat)

st zelda!

first note is: shes not a princess! shes an heiress of the company tetra had made and left behind. hence her title of Lady zelda. ("new hyrule" rly just like-- the ending of ww was *literally* that hyrule is dead and thats okay. how did they miss that :sob emoji:) also calling her Lady Zelda fits with the train vibes

shes in a 1880s style bustle dress because 1) i am OBSESSED with bustle dresses. i love them. so much. 2) the more historical vibe works really well with trains! also a lot of the other outfits in the game have late victorian vibes, so shes certainly not out of place.

her hat (and gloves): any proper lady has a hat on when going about town, however, when she gets body snatched, she pulled out her hatpin to use (ineffectively) as a weapon (she IS tetras great-great-granddaughter), causing her to lose her hat *and* hairdo.

shes still got the hatpin in her ghost form, too. she uses it to threaten people for funsies

Ribbons! on the topic of hairdo, her ribbons! visually tying her to tetras design, the ribbons here instead take on the image of train tracks, with her pin (on the left side) evoking a train engine. the pin also makes her look rich and girly. when her hair comes undone, this makes the ribbons all loose, like how the train tracks disappear in game. (the hat also kinda connects her to tetra)

thanks for reading :D i hope you liked reading this as much as i liked typing it

[starogeorgina]

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

The king’s queen and hand

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader x Ser Criston Cole

Warnings: Swearing, smut

“Anyone walking by would think I have invited a whore from the streets of Silk into our bed.”

You swat at Aegon’s arm, “shush.”

The playfulness in your husband's voice brings a smile to your face. He has been attending small council meetings until late hours most nights discussing war plans, and by the time he returns to your shared apartments, you are fast asleep, so the intimacy has been lacking, and you crave nothing more than Aegon’s attention.

With your back pressed against his chest, you feel a vibrating ripple from him as he chuckles, “Am I wrong?”

“Oh gods,” you whine loudly, gripping onto Aegon’s wrist as he speeds up his movements of sliding two fingers in and out of your dripping cunny while rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit. His free hand is squeezing roughly at your clothed breast.

Aegon grazes his teeth against the back of your neck; he loved how obnoxiously loud you were being.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, and your body shudders with pleasure. “You're doing so well, taking my fingers,” Aegon whispers. “But I think you're ready to take more.”

“I want all of you, now.”

“Patience sweet wife,” he removes his fingers from you, leaving you with an ache between your legs that was verging on painful. “I have a surprise for you.”

A tingling sensation shoots through you. Aegon shuffles further back on the large bed that dominates the room until he hits the pillows, then motions for you to do the same. Your hand skims across the soft velvety emerald green sheet below, which matches the canopy adorned with gold thread and embroidered with intricate symbols including burning flames and dragons, before you sit between your husband's thick thighs again.

Hearing the clicking sound of the door closing, your head snaps up, and you lock eyes with the king's hand, who was wearing comfortable clothing instead of his usual armor. “Ser Criston,” heat rushes to cheeks; you were thankful that you hadn’t begun to undress yet. “I wasn’t expecting to see you; the hour is late.”

Criston stares at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Forgive the intrusion, your grace, but the king requested I come at this hour.”

You sit upright and look over your shoulder to face your husband. “Aegon?”

The candlelight flickers softly, casting shadows across the room making your brother-husband's lilac eyes glisten, and his expression even harder to read than normal. In high Valyrian Aegon says he knows about your conflicting feelings towards the knight, who was not only the hand of the king, but your former sworn protector.

Your mouth goes dry. “What is your suggestion?”

It was common for the occasional lady to join you and Aegon between the sheets since you both found pleasure from it, but never before has it been suggested that another man joined. You assumed the surprise he mentioned would be a new toy, oil, or even a new outfit designed for your husband’s eyes only.

Aegon licks his lips, “for the king's hand to fuck you. Is this something you want?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you say, Ser Criston? I see the way you look at my wife, and until the war is won, I cannot always be here to protect or satisfy her myself.”

Licking at his lips, Ser Criston looks down at the ground.

You lean forward and mumble into Aegon’s cheek, “I don’t believe he wishes—”

In the blink of an eye the knight is standing at the foot of the bed, “I believe what you are suggesting would be improper my king, I do not wish to offend her grace.”

Aegon reaches his hands down over your shoulders and slowly unlaces the front of your dress, revealing your breasts. “You can leave anytime Cole, or join me in pleasing our queen.”

The sexual tension in the air thickens as Aegon’s hand brushes against your thigh, slowly pulling your skirts up higher sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You could feel the heat emanating from your husband's body as his soft stomach pressed into your lower back, fuelling your desire. In a low voice you say, “no offense would or will be given Ser Criston.”

Aegon smirks against your neck.

Kneeling on the bed, Cristion’s eyes widen in anticipation as he stretches his arm out to slowly reach out to touch your breast. He traces his fingers over your nipples, causing them to harden under his touch. Sensing Criston was nervous, you decided to take the lead. You grip Aegon’s hand and press it against your other breasts; his touch is a lot rougher than the knights. You raise your skirts enough until your cunny is completely bare.

“My wife is wet and desperate to be touched.” Aegon rubs his thumb against your clit again, causing you to whimper. “Get on with it, Cole, or this chance will slip away.”

Criston seems lost in thought as he stares off for a moment as if he’s contemplating what to do. You half expected him to excuse himself and leave, but the knight surprises you by suddenly untying his breeches and lowering them enough that his hard cock springs free.

Aegon gives you a mischievous grin and says, “You’re going to enjoy this, my queen.”

You respond by clashing your lips against his while instinctively moving your legs open to make space for the knight. Criston presses the tip of his hard cock against your dripping hole, pushing into you slowly and stretching out your tight walls.

You moan at the stretch, “Oh gods!”

Criston grips your chin, turning your head away to face him so he can kiss you. His lips are softer than you imagined. Aegon hooks his hands under your knees to bend them back, opening you wider as Criston speeds up his thrusts.

Lightly, you tap at Aegon’s thigh and motion for him to move to the side. You lay completely flat on your back and fumble to pull his breeches down. You take Aegon’s cock in your hand and begin to stroke him before licking at his tip and taking him into your mouth.

“My queen, your cunt is so tight.”

Your free hand finds Cristion, linking fingers with his as his thrusts become sloppy. If your mouth wasn’t muffled by cock, you’d be moaning both of their names.

“Fuck!” Criston pulls out just as he cums, coating the outside of your cunny and thigh with his seed.

“It’s your mess, Cole; clean it up.”

When Criston goes to reach for a cloth, Aegon clicks his tongue and says, “With your mouth. And don’t stop until she cums.”

Without argument, Criston kneels between your legs and licks up your slit, tasting your wetness mixed with his seed eagerly. This continues for a few months until both you and Aegon climax at the same time, and his cum spills down your throat as your juices cover the knight's face.

—

You bask in the comfort of your husband's arms and the warmth from the water covering you from the chest down.

“May I ask what is in the box?”

A dark red leather box had been placed on the small table near your tub by one of your ladies a few hours prior. You were so exhausted from your activities the night before that you hadn’t had a chance to gift the item inside yet.

Stretching out, you lean further into his embrace. “I will deal with it shortly.”

“And which one of our children is this for?”

“It’s not for the babies. I’ve got a new collar made for my dragon.”

Aegon nuzzles his face into your neck, “dragon and children alike are spoiled just like their mother.”

“Me? Spoiled?”

He nods, “Not only do you have me wrapped around your finger, it appears the king's hand is bewitched by the sweetness between your legs also.”

“Hmm, I do hope so.”

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader 

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing. 

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court. 

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise. 

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand. 

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon. 

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs. 

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“ 

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair. 

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea. 

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations. 

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break. 

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers. 

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens. 

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses. 

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps. 

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head. 

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow. 

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm. 

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off. 

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations. 

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay. 

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens. 

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read. 

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother 

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him. 

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone. 

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull. 

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone. 

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle. 

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes. 

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount. 

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child. 

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man. 

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words. 

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest. 

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter. 

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes. 

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow. 

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest. 

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor. 

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Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard. 

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him. 

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows. 

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand. 

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out. 

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback. 

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated. 

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly. 

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises. 

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room. 

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers. 

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm. 

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow. 

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek. 

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch. 

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe. 

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity. 

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later. 

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep. 

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm. 

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him. 

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly. 

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face. 

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow. 

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite. 

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine. 

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me. 

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach. 

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration. 

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.  

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masterlist 🔌 

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

Part 4

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Chaggie AU where Vaggie is a member of a holy order devoted to slaying monsters. As part of her becoming a holy knight, she must commune with an Angel to be granted their divine power... only something goes wrong with the ritual, and the being that appears before her is none other than the Princess of Hell.

Lute: “Gay?! She’s supposed to be HOLY!”

Adam: “Yeah, hot.”

Lute: “…let. Me. See. That. SuMMOnINg sCRiPTuRE.”

Adam: “Sure thing dude. Here.”

Lute: “This isn’t a holy rite, this is… WRITINGS OF SAPPHO!”

Adam: "Heh, heathen and homoerotic. WLWhoops?"

-

Charlie: “You should really be more careful next time!"

Vaggie: "Uh."

Charlie: "Lot’s of other demons would be thrilled to get yanked into the mortal world without a circle of binding to hold them- especially by someone as cute as you-

Vaggie: "Excuse me?"

Charlie: "And when I say thrilled, I mean in the blood and guts and screaming kinda way, NOT just in the 'can feel hellfire in my cheeks' kinda way. Safe summoning is important!!”

Vaggie: “Why’re you drawing the circle in yourself, then. With your… claws.”

Charlie: “Because you didn’t?” (dusts fire off her hands) “Anyway you should be good now, ask me anything!”

Vaggie: “You’re seriously not taking advantage of being summoned but not bound?"

Charlie: "I'm taking advantage of the view!"

Charlie: (beat)

Charlie: "Of the, mortal world, I am enjoying the pretty scenery."

Vaggie: "It's dark."

Charlie: "I'm enjoying the beautiful knight. Night. Night without a 'K'. Not knight like YOU'RE a knight, not that you aren't beautiful-"

Vaggie: "I'm. What."

Charlie: "The one who should be talking now! Not me. I think I've done enough talking for now. I think I'm good on having said stuff recently. I think I should be quiet for a bit."

Vaggie: (gay) (not immune to adorable ladies) "WHY are you here. You're not, what I expected."

Charlie: “I'm not the usual demon- As hell princess I get first dibs on all summons! After dad anyway.”

Vaggie: (of COURSE she's a princess) “Why answer this one.”

Charlie: “You’re missing an eye? It looks painful?"

Vaggie: "...so?

Charlie: "?? I thought maybe you wanted help with that.”

Vaggie: "It's a penance. You can't help with it."

Charlie: "oh."

Vaggie: “...That’s it? You're not here for anything else?”

Charlie: “….”

Charlie: “You um. You look very cool in that armor.” (cringes) “Awesome.” (cringes more)

Vaggie: “Are you a siren or a succubus or something.”

Charlie: “What!? No! No I’m just, I just think girls are hot! Cool! You look great!! …girls all look great, and you’re a girl, and you…”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “Do you need any demons slayed?”

Charlie: “Ahaa, no.”

Vaggie: “Holy quests completed?”

Charlie: “No?”

Vaggie: “Are you gonna eat me.”

Charlie: “N-not on the first date- I- OH YOU MEAN ACTUALLY-? No no no! I don’t, I’m, I don’t eat souls. Or people.”

Vaggie: “So what’s the catch here. The price.”

Charlie: “Nothing. I just wanted to help.”

Charlie: “Okay and maaaaybe have a nice conversation for once. Kinda short on them in hell.”

Vaggie: “… is there ANYTHING I can help you with?”

Charlie: “Well I just broke up with-”

Vaggie: “I’ll kill them.”

Charlie: “-and I could really use a date for the ball, I mean! No killing needed!! Dad isn’t going again, mom’s um, busy. And it’ll be a lot less awkward if I already have a dance partner, you know?”

Vaggie: “You want me to find you a dance partner.”

Charlie: “Oh no I, I was hoping- do YOU dance?”

Vaggie: "Me."

Charlie: "If you want to?"

Vaggie: “You’re asking me to go to hell.”

Charlie: “Shit. Right, dumb idea. It’s my home but, yeah. It’s not like anyone enjoys being here.”

Vaggie: (fuck she's cute) (fuck she's SAD)

Vaggie: “No one does? What about you?”

Charlie: “I… just wish the people would be nicer. A place is the people who live there, right?”

Vaggie: “…”

Vaggie: “I’ll come.”

Charlie: “You wha?”

Vaggie: “I’ll come to the dance.”

Charlie: "But- hell! Why-"

Vaggie: "Hell’s a better place than I thought."

Charlie: "You've never even BEEN here!"

Vaggie: "I've met you."

Charlie: ".... I'm not... the usual demon."

Vaggie: "I'll take my chances. I'll need to borrow a dress though. All I have up here is, armor."

Charlie: "I can, I can change that. A dress. N- no problem."

Vaggie: "It's a deal then." (holds out hand) "A dance for a dress?"

Charlie: (takes her hand and shakes it eagerly while bowing) "ITS A DATE!"

Vaggie: (chuckles) "Yeah, I guess that's a better word for it."

Charlie: "And I PROMISE when we dance I WON'T trample your toes with my hooves!"

Vaggie: "... should I just keep the sabatons on?"

Charlie: "I promise to find you a dress that goes good with your armored shoes so your toes don't get trampled on."

Vaggie: "We're gonna be quite the pair, aren't we."

Charlie: "Heheh~"

-

Lute: "WHAT HAPPENED WHY WAS THERE FIRE AND BRIMSTONE INSTEAD OF HOLY LIGHT WHY WERE YOU COMMUNING WITH A FIEND SO LONG IS IT DEAD DID YOU KILL IT???"

Vaggie: "Does taking her heart count?"

Adam: "Whoooo VaGEEE! Totally FUCKED that demon huh!!"

Vaggie: "Mm, not totally sir."

Vaggie: (smiling) (softly to herself) "Not on the first date."

[mascdestr0yer]

Paige x royalty reader

Can i be him: Prologue

Knight!paige x Princess!reader

Warnings: reader is a bit if brat, overuse of italics, cursing, paige is jelly

Synopsis: paige can’t help but love you, even though she’s supposed to protect you and she would probably be burned at the stake or banished but, she’d take that risk.

A/N: this is placed during the 1700s but, it’s not going to be exactly historically accurate, only because i want it to give like house of the dragons (without the dragons) x beauty and. the beast (which was placed during the 1700s) bare with me yall.

“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE,” Paige snuck up behind you, you flinched hard.

“goodness you scared—“ she quickly you off, placing her hand over your mouth and pulling behind the wall. The priest peeks his head out of the door checking the corridor, he then goes back inside with the rest of the royal court.

Paige drops her hand from your mouth with a smirk, “you know, for a princess you’re awfully loud.”

you gasped lightly, taking offense, “am not.”

“yeah yeah, why were you ease dropping on the royal court anyway?” You guys began walking to your sleeping chambers, your feet were now freezing from walking on the bare ground of the castle floors, as it caused less noise.

“my father thinks it’s time for marriage, he was discussing with the king of Héroux, his son Vincent is around my age,” you tone of voice more soft-spoken then ever. Paige’s hand subconsciously balled up into fists as she continued to question you.

“do you like him or something?” She sounded more irritated than she wanted to but, you were to oblivious to notice. you laughed slightly, toying with the ends of your hair.

“no, i haven’t even met him yet,” you smiled, opening the door to you room, paige huffed.

“i have to go, try to stay out of trouble, goodnight, princess.” She placed a hand on you shoulder giving it a light squeeze, her hand then dropped down to her side.

“goodnight, bueckers,” you closed your door, laid in your bed, a smile dancing on your lips when you faded into your slumber.

Your father and king Héroux has set up an errangment for you and prince Vincent, now here you were sitting outside with some boy. He brought you flowers which you greatly appreciated.

“—yeah, i heard you’re quite the artist,” he smiled, he hand lightly brushing up against yours.

“i mean, i wouldn’t use the term artist,” you returned the smile.

“oh yeah? then what do you call it?” he positioned his body more in direction, his gaze never leaving your face, you were so distracted by the boy you didn’t even notice the lady knight watching from afar.

“a girl who dabbles in artistic expressions, often.” it came out as more of a question than a proper answer, Vincent snickered at your uncertainty.

“artistic expressions? Hm, i’m pretty sure you do a little more than dabble.”

When the Héroux’s finally left, you were still outside, it wasn’t too cold nor too hot, just right.

“you two got along pretty well, huh?”

“hm?” you turned around facing the voice, it being no surprise when you saw paige, in almost full armor, her helmet in her hands.

“you two got along pretty well,” Her tone more harsh as she repeated the question. you paused to think of a good answer.

“i mean, i guess, we had a lot in common considering we both are next in line,” You wondered why she was acting strangely, i mean, you know she works for your father but, you thought of you two friends.

“cool,” she nods, gripping her helmet even tighter.

“cool,”

“i have to go—train and stuff, i’ll see you around.” she walks off, without a single goodbye.

i hope you guys liked it, give me feedback yall please, taglist: @aerinaga @danc1ngqu33n @darlindayss @secretlifeofmarii @aavasstuff @h34rtsformilli @ajcuteee @naipoohh @theendofevangelionnn @mrsengstler @thebignunfun @tired-duckling @julienbakerloverr @mrsarnold @slut4uconnwbb @abbyswif3 @svudetective @liviiyyy @hellokittyfeenie @paigeslanyard @latenighttalkinqwp @ashortyluvsports @kittykatz1227 @seraphicgrll @4rt3m1ss @paulamdm

[dumbkiri]

𝕯𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖄𝖔𝖚

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫����𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

"Can we have a twin of Aegon be the rider of Balerion? I know Balerion dies and cannot fly even with Viserys, but I want him to be a supported for the Blacks because...yeah! Also give him a sword of fire like Dondarrion has too! I know incest is weird to write, but Helaena needs someone to appreciate her!! Not a lot of detail, but pop off with this one! "

Not very knowledgeable on HOTD, but I tried!

The doors to the council room pushed open with an eerie creak paired with the sounds of heavy footfalls of a grieving father and husband. Dressed in his black armor with red accents and his sword, Hellfire, strapped to his waist unnerved the council. The presence of [Name] Targaryen hushed his grieving twin brother instantly.  

Aegon quieted down his anger upon witnessing the emotion flowing off of [Name], his lilac glare pointed at the floor in deep thought as he walked up the steps. This emotion [Name] conveyed hadn’t been new to Aegon, it reminded him of the time [Name] demanded their father to give Helaena’s hand to himself. 

Their father, Viserys, laughed in his face…the old man hadn’t laughed in awhile like that and it unnerved the twin boys. But Viserys’ laugh turned into a cough and he cleared his throat out saying, “Your brother is getting married to Lady Jeyne, [Name]. Helaena is all yours and will be soon.” 

[Name] has always wanted Helaena, their odd sister and claimed that, ‘Nobody is willing to understand her, but I am. She should be with me.’ That madness subsided with Viserys’ joyful laugh and reassuring words. This time was different. Their father wasn’t here as king or here to calm him down with hopeful words. No, it was just him. Aegon, the drunken twin…the weak king. 

He watched his twin walk up to the table and stopped at the foot of it. [Name] leaned over it and set his palms on the smooth surface. Clearing his throat and looking straight ahead, at no one in particular this time, he asked every council member, 

“Why were our wives and children unguarded at the dead of night?” 

His calm words  didn’t quite match the fire in his eyes, but the sudden echoed roar of Balerion outside of King’s Landing stirred the council fully awake. Alicent looked around the table and waited for someone to answer her son’s question. She couldn’t put the dangerous eyes of her son on herself...or Cole.

But fear seeped into the very essence of her wretched soul. Helaena walked in on a terrible deed between the queen dowager and the lord commander. Alicent knew that [Name], his gentle words would convince Helaena to tell him every detail of this night. Helaena never held secrets away from her older brother, she always confided with him in everything. 

The rest of the men didn’t speak either and Tyland kept his mouth shut. The outburst he received from Aegon was unmatched to [Name]’s, the rider of The Black Dread. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to speak against the dragon rider that had a god of light guarding him. 

“A little bit ago, I was with your brother, Aemond,” Otto spoke freely, casting a smooth glance over at Criston Cole, “but before that, Cole and your brother were conversing together. I sent Cole away to his watch to have a word with Aemond.”

[Name] dragged his eyes over from his grandfather to Cole and asked, “Did you go back to your post, Lord Commander? Answer this question correctly, I fear that Balerion didn’t have his full for today.” 

Tension was high in the room and Balerion never seized his loud roaring that sounded closer with each minute. Cole shuffled in his spot next to Aegon who looked up at him with suspicion. The rest of the council looked at the Lord Commander wondering why [Name] fixated his lilac eyes so hard on Cole.

“I was abed, my prince.” Cole said without looking [Name] in the eyes. 

“And where were your men? Why weren’t there any guards patrolling the floor my family slept on?” The rising tone, the boiling anger in his throat made his voice raspy. His open palms closed into tight fists as he continued to ask, “Why is it that the moment you send the Watch to sleep, our sons were left at the cruel hands of murderers!” 

His left hand slammed against the table making glasses clink in their place. 

“Your white cloak,” [Name]’s voice knocked down in volume, not seizing up for anyone to speak between his breaths, “is stained with the blood of Jaehaerys and Rhaegar. I will figure out a punishment befitting you once I clear my head.”

Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to reason with her usual kind son, “[Name], this doesn’t-” 

“You will speak once spoken to, mother,” His eyes slowly moved over to her fear stricken ones and she knew why she was getting his hostility. His biting words covering her in flames eating away at her guilt, “Helaena told me what happened tonight. Everything I need to know. For being such a godly woman and criticizing every move the Blacks make, I’m disappointed in the actions you took tonight.”

He straightened out his back and addressed everyone at the table, “Tonight will teach everyone here a lesson.

“The Night’s Watch will stay at their post, guarding the royal family to their very last breath. They will have patrol times and stick to it. If their Lord Commander comes up to them with a release, the Night’s Watch will turn into stone and keep their post. Their job is to guard the royal family, protect the castle. I will not have another incident like this one. I will not have my wife witness such a heinous act of child murder. 

“As for the rest of us, before we return to bed, we make sure there is a knight in or around our presence. I want you to fall asleep to the sounds of clinking armor knowing that there is a knight outside your door or on your floor patrolling. I want us to sleep peacefully and…”

“Rhaegar…he was faster than I was,” Helaena’s tears slid down her cheeks, “he was braver than I was. I didn’t see this, I-I couldn’t stop him. Our little boy ran in to save Jaehaerys and he wasn’t scared. He held the dagger you gave him on his nameday and scarred one of them. Then while he was choking at that man’s hands, he said his last words, “My father will burn you in the blackest hells, ratcatcher. He will.””

[Name] paused hearing Helaena’s voice in his head, he couldn't cry right now. Rhaegar was only seven years old and the boy fought back to save his family. His little boy had run in to save his family's lives because no one else was there, not even himself. 

“-and not worry about ratcatchers.” 

His stance faltered and he fell back into the chair at his side. His gloved hand wiped at his face to shake away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. Helaena kept speaking to him, her words haunting him, 

“Jeyne grabbed her remaining daughter out of her bed and Daenerys held tightly onto my dress while I snuck Viserys out of his crib. The two of us ran away from that horrible sound with our children, leaving poor Jaehaerys and Rhaegar behind. Jeyne kept crying as we ran for our lives, kept asking where the knights were. Where were they?” 

“I don’t know,” [Name] felt like she was asking him, ‘where were you?’ and he wanted to say out flying Balerion in the night. But she knew he flew Balerion out in the night because he had the need to patrol around that time. And no one would see him or Balerion when the beast itself blends in the darkest sky. 

“Helaena, is there anything else you would like to tell me?” He asked before he would storm into the council room and demand for answers. 

His wife looked over at Daenerys cuddled up in her father’s arms with tear tracks stained on her young face. Helaena didn’t know if she could tell him about their mother’s…activity with the Lord Commander. But she didn’t need to because Daenerys mumbled something in his chest. 

[Name] stirred and moved his daughter to look her in the eyes, “Say that again, Dany. I didn’t quite catch that.” 

Daenerys looked into his eyes and said, “Grandmother…she was with the Lord Commander.” 

Helaena watched the confusion morph her husband’s face and he nodded his head, “Well yes, Ser Criston Cole is in charge of watching over your grandmother.”

Daenerys shook her head and clarified as best as a child could do, “He wasn’t guarding her, father. He was in her bed.” [Name]’s blood ran cold. The reason why Jaehaerys and Rhaegar died was because Cole didn’t want the Night’s Watch to-

“Helaena is this true?” He looked over at his sister-wife and she nodded her head with her eyes on the floor. His heart dropped to his stomach at this revelation. His skin crawled with the act of deceit. His mother called the Lord Commander to her chambers, thus allowing the release of the Night’s Watch on the royal family. 

“Rhaegar looked like you, father, fighting back that man” Daenerys sniffled and wiped her eyes with her small hands, “he wounded the ratcatcher. His eye is scarred, sort of like uncle Aemond. I think…I think Rhaegar knew his end, but he wounded his attacker so you could find him.”

“Of course he did,” [Name] whispered and hugged his daughter to his chest, pressing her face into the crook of his neck where she cried some more. Of course Rhaegar did that, he never went down without a fight. He was taught to protect his family, to harm those that pose a threat to them. But [Name] never taught his first born to think for himself. Think about a life Rhaegar could live for. Instead his son sacrificed himself to buy time for Helaena and Jeyne. 

“I’m sorry, my girls,” [Name] choked out, his tears finally cascading down his face, “I wasn’t there for you. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you from those bastards. Dany, your brother could have still been alive if I had-”

Daenerys moved her head and tilted her chin up, her gaze piercing his soul, “I know it’s not your fault, father. You were flying out with Balerion like you always do every night. Rhaegar knew what he had to do, I don’t blame you for his bravery.” 

Bravery. Not death. Daenerys saw her older brother as a brave child that passed away with honor. Not as a little boy with a dagger, weak to a full grown man. He looked over at his wife and she nodded her head in approval. Helaena could never blame [Name], she knew if he were present, he would have slaughtered the ratcatchers. 

“Helaena, Daenerys,” [Name] looked at his daughter then back to his wife. With gritted teeth, he said, “Cole will face consequences for releasing the Night’s Watch and I will find the ratcatcher that killed Rhaegar. This I promise to you.” 

“What about…mother?” Helaena cautiously asked her husband. She saw the turmoil in his eyes and he handed Daenerys over to her arms. Then he stood up and brought his sad gaze over to Viserys sleeping in his crib.  

“Mother will feel guilty all her life for this moment,” [Name] began walking away and said, “I hope it drives her mad.” 

“Brother, tell them that this idea is madness! We cannot allow our sons to be dragged across this city for show!” Aegon’s voice filled with hurt brought [Name] out of his misery and he looked at the table.

“What idea?” He sat up in his chair and Otto looked over at [Name] carefully wording his sentence out. 

“We will honor Prince Jaehaerys and Rhaegar by showing the cruelty of Rhaenyra’s actions to the people. This will-” 

[Name] shook his head and looked at Otto, asking, “Wait, Rhaenyra did this? She was the one that ordered our sons to die?” 

Alicent looked down at the table and folded her hands together, “We don’t know for sure, but-” 

“That’s a serious accusation that will not be taken lightly. Did she or did she not order that Prince Jaehaerys should die?” [Name] demanded, his hand itching to spill some blood. His anger was getting the best of him, eating away at his best traits. 

Everyone remained quiet at the table until Aegon shot up from his seat, raging with fury. [Name] didn’t notice that Cole had left the room. “Of course she fucking did! She’s a cunning little bitch! I want her to answer for the crimes she committed against us!” 

[Name] couldn't believe it. Rhaenyra would never cause the same pain she felt when she lost Lucerys to Aemond on Helaena. But he wanted answers, “I will fly to Dragonstone tomorrow morning and demand for answers.” He stood up from his seat and stopped short in his path. “I’m not going to start a war, not yet. I will confront my sister and ask her about this crime.” 

“She’ll lie to your face!” Aegon shouted, spit flying viciously out of his mouth. 

[Name] looked over his shoulder and scrutinized him, “People cannot lie easily with Balerion in sight. You pissed your pants when he didn’t choose you, so imagine what others will do.”

He walked a bit more and one of the guards opened the door for him. Then he set his hand on the door, he kept his eyes forward and addressed his grandfather, “A Hightower shouldn’t speak on Targaryen traditions. My son is going to be honored only by his family and burned by Balerion. His bravery isn’t a spectacle for King’s Landing and I won’t have strangers mourning him. His body has been defiled enough along with Jaehaerys. I don’t see why we have to show them our pain, sympathizing with us isn’t enough reason for them to peek into our lives. Anyone who touches Rhaegar’s body…will die.”

……

After his talk with the council, [Name] found himself in his bed with his two girls and baby boy. Viserys had been busy climbing on Helaena with cute babbles while Dany cuddled up against [Name]’s bare chest. “I am going to Dragonstone to ask our sister if she had anything to do with this. I’m leaving early in the morning, I would like everyone to join me.” 

“You’re going to visit Aunt Rhaenyra, father?” Daenerys sat up with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “That means we can fly on Balerion together.” [Name] nodded his head and brushed her long hair behind her ears. 

“But what if she thinks it's a sign of war?” Helaena asked.

[Name] cleared his throat and said, “They’re scared of Vhagar as it is, I don’t think they want to fight Balerion as well. I can win that fight easily against her motherly dragon. Rhaenys would be my worry for Balerion. But that’s beside the point, I’m there looking for answers, not a fight.”

Helaena looked down at Viserys and the two year old smiled at her. “I’m afraid to fly with him.”

[Name] sat up and cleared his throat, “I can have Viserys’ strapped to my back while-”

“I meant Rhaegar,” Helaena murmured and looked away from her family. Meanwhile [Name] sighed and knew his plan for having Rhaegar honored by the Blacks instead of the Greens was going to have a bad effect on his wife. But he couldn’t do it. Jaehaerys would be shown around to the people, but not Rhaegar. Not his boy.

“I can fly with all three of them, Helaena. Balerion is big enough to carry all of us and it’ll be no big deal for him.” [Name] reasoned, hoping his wife would look at him. 

“I can ride with Mother,” Dany offered with a sweet smile, “if she wants me too.” 

Helaena looked back at her daughter and returned the smile, “Yes, of course little one. Are we also taking their dragons with us?” She looked at [Name] for clarification. She knew what his big plan was and this would cement the fact. 

“Yes, that is the idea of it,” He whispered back, afraid she would reject it. Moving out of King’s Landing to Dragonstone is a risk he was willing to take to keep his family alive. He wished he only did it sooner. 

“Okay, I trust you.” She leaned forward and pressed a shy kiss on his cheek. This action had Daenerys giggle with a blush on her face. [Name] bristled at the action himself and awed at the expression on his daughter’s face. Though they experienced a terrible night, his girls were able to show a bit of comfort and happiness. 

He held back his tears and longed for Rhaegar to return. Longed for his family to be complete again. Helaena saw the tears in his eyes nonetheless and she placed her hand onto his face, “We should rest, we have an early journey ahead of us.” She released his face and picked up Viserys, putting the babe into his own bed with his young dragon laying at the top left corner.

While she settled the boy, [Name] slid out of bed and pulled out the logs from the fireplace leaving it only a kindle now. The room darkened exponentially and he made his way back to the bed at the same time Helaena did. Dany pushed her father over to the middle so she could share him with her mother. With Helaena on his right, she cuddled up against his chest, her head laying on his shoulder. Daenerys on his left hugged his arm tightly and the little girl went fast asleep with light snores. 

The fire crackled a few times before dying out completely, letting the full moon being the only source of light in the room. [Name] stayed awake thinking about tonight. He thought about looking for the ratcatcher when his girls fell asleep. He already had Rhaegar wrapped and prepared for the flight to Dragonstone. Perhaps he wanted to torture his mother a little bit longer before he left too. 

His eyes felt heavy with sleep, shouldn’t be long until his eyes shut for the night. Then he heard a few clicking noises of baby dragons. He lied still and saw two silhouettes climbing up his legs. Then the two baby dragons made their way to Dany, they made small noises until they settled right next to her body. One curled up next to her stomach and the other laid on his arm where Dany held on tightly. 

“My love,” [Name] whispered and turned his head slowly at Helaena. His wife stirred then blinked her eyes a couple of times. “You have to look at Dany, Helaena.” He whispered again, hoping not to scare the two hatchlings near his daughter. 

Helaena noticed his stiff body and she cautiously moved herself upward, peering down at the scene her husband was fawning over. “Moonlight and Nightmare…Rhaegar’s dragon is sleeping with her too?” 

[Name] shook his head with a teary grin, “Even in death, our boy is watching over his twin. I don’t know what to say right now besides that. I…There’s so many words I want to say, Helaena. I know you said it’s not my fault, but if I just stayed-”

Helaena put her hand on his chest then moved it upward to wipe the tears from his eyes. “It’s not your fault, [Name]. Please stop blaming yourself. You are a great father, you raised a strong boy who protected his family. You raised a strong girl who speaks with praise, not blame. And I know how Viserys is going to grow up too.”

“You…you had a dream again?” [Name] asked and relished her warm touch. 

“I’m a dreamer of you, my love,” She smiled with glee, “and yes, it was beautiful. Our family finds peace in the North, not sure how, but we do. And our family never stops growing. Dreamfyre and Balerion grow accustomed to the cold and have clutches to support our growing family. All is well with the Targaryens that move up North, my light in the darkness. Now please, let us rest, we need not worry about our future anymore.” 

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and his head fell back onto the pillow. He closed his eyes and followed her order. Yes, she had a vision and she loved every second of it. She couldn’t wait to move up North. To have her husband create a grand alliance with Cregan Stark, the Wolf and the Dragon. This alliance will bring an end to this war between the Greens and the Blacks. 

After the war ends, she would be surrounded by five children and even more grandchildren. And the amount of dragons flying in the North would scare any Southerner that threatens the North. 

Yes, this vision was beautiful. After all, any vision involving [Name] always has been.

[mydadleft471]

A Brief Respite

Summary: Something is bothering Messmer. Even if you can't fix what's wrong, you can show him how much you care for him.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings, just tooth-rotting fluff for my favorite boi.

MESSMER LOVERS, I AM BACK!!!

Sorry for the radio silence! I was on vacation (which was so nice btw) and I got back and hammered this baby out! I missed writing for Messmer sm. Anywho, thank you to the genius @manitscold for the idea for this fic! If there's any other ideas for fics, please let me know!

Please enjoy and realize that ye olde English is a pain in the ass.

You awake early in the morning to sunlight streaming in through your window.

You rub your eyes and clumsily push the plush red comforter embroidered with Messmer’s insignia back and ease out of your bed. Per usual, the servants at the Shadow Keep had catered to your every need, and your breakfast was already sitting on the table in your quarters. You truly believe you get better service than Messmer himself.

He had always treated you well even before he began courting you, but now, he showers you with the finest gifts he can find. Beautiful embroidered dresses, specifically tailored for you, flawless gemstones, rich wines, and sturdy armor sets were all left for you in your private quarters. You live quite comfortably here.

He has also ensured your protection. His most trusted guards stand watch outside your quarters, day and night, and you are allowed to carry your weapon freely around the castle. You don’t really need your weapon much, as Messmer prefers to personally guard you whenever possible. You have never felt more safe. His presence is comforting and warm.

Lately, though, you haven’t seen him as much. Perhaps a battle went horribly wrong, or he’s sick. You don’t know, but whenever he is around, he seems like something is troubling him. He doesn’t speak as often and he remains closed-off, even from you.

You were, hopefully, going to remedy that today. You requested various flowers, bath salts, and oils from Castle Ensis, and they had finally arrived. You were going to make him relax, no matter what. 

Dressed in a fine dress made of red velvet with glimmering gold accents and with a satchel filled to the brim with salts, petals, and soaps, you begin to make your way to Messmer’s chamber. Servants bow their heads in reverence to you as you pass, and you greet two Fire Knights as you approach Messmer’s door. Not unusual, but today they’re standing directly in front of the door rather than off to the sides.

“Good morning. I wish to see Lord Messmer.” 

The right guard bows his head and replies solemnly. “My Lady, Sir Messmer has requested to not be bothered.”

“Even if it’s me?” You quirk your brow upwards and place a hand on your hip.

“Well… I suppose he wouldn’t bar you from entering. Apologies, My Lady.” You hear a wavering fear in his voice. Perhaps he realizes that keeping his Lord from you would be a terrible idea.

Stepping aside, they push open the solid metal doors and bow their heads as you pass. Being the Lady of the castle certainly had its perks.

The heavy doors shut with a heavy thump behind you and you proceed into the darkened room. There are a few candles lit around the chamber. You hear thundering footsteps from behind the throne at the front of the room. You wonder if you should’ve left him alone.

“I requested to be left well alone. Secluded from all.” His low, authoritative voice echoes across the stone walls. You see one of his snakes poke its head out from the darkness and you straighten your posture.

Messmer comes out from behind the large throne and hurries towards you, steps light yet graceful, befitting a demigod. He grabs your hand and inspects you for injuries.

“My darling, whatever is the matter? Has something happened?” His features soften and butterflies erupt in your stomach from his gentle touch.

“Nothing has happened. Everything is alright, love.” You reach your hand up towards his cheek to cradle it and he lowers himself to allow you to. You notice that the dark circles underneath his eyes have grown heavier and he looks weary. “Are you alright, Messmer?”

The question takes him aback. He shoots you a weak smile and gently kisses your palm. “Yes, my darling. It has been a rather vexing week, nothing more. Thou must not worry about such matters; I will attend to them.”

You know he is lying. Something has happened, but why would he be worried to open up to you? He has been forthcoming about his mother and his crusade in her name, so what could possibly make him think he can’t talk to you?

“Love, I’m here for you. I know something is bothering you.” He looks away from you, head bowed down. You make him look at you, and he meets your soft gaze with hesitation. “You do not have to bear everything by yourself, you know. Please let me help you.”

He sighs and grabs your hands with his much larger ones. “A sweeter companion I could never hope to have. But some burdens are mine to bear as they are mine own sins.”

“Are you thinking about the war?”

“Yes. The blood I have spilled would paint this castle ruby, inside and out. And yet, it is Mother’s will. Her vengeance has become mine own flesh.” He sounds conflicted, like he knows what is right and wrong, and yet, he can’t bring himself to stray from the path his Mother set him on. He pulls his hands away from yours, scared he will taint your innocence with his touch.

“I’m not scared of you.” His eye gleams bright gold at your words.

“Perhaps not now. But, should we have met before, my visage would haunt thy very nightmares.” His snakes gently coil around him more, as if comforting him. You long to do the same. To take all his pain and make it vanish into thin air.

But you cannot do that.

“I have a surprise for you.” You break the haunting silence and interrupt his spiraling train of thought.

“What is it?” He sounds exhausted.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” You shoot him a playful smile, and he returns it with a much weaker one. You take his hand and begin to lead him back to his chambers behind his towering throne. Slowly, you make your way to the back of his room where a large marble tub sits vacant. 

“So… there’s really no better way to say this, but I need you to strip and get in the bath for me.” Heat rushes to your cheeks. You dare to look up at him. His gaze shifts between the tub and you rapidly, and his face matches his hair.

“Only if you want to! If this makes you uncomfortable, we can forget this ever happened. I got fancy bath salts and soaps from Castle Ensis to help you relax.” You open your satchel and show him the various bottles and wrapped packages you brought with you.

“Thou hast done this… to offer me a respite?”

“You’ve seemed preoccupied lately. A nice bath always helps me clear my mind and rest.” You give him a bashful smile. His eye is wide and his face is twisted in confusion.

“Thou does not wish for me to disrobe for thy own pleasure?” 

You think you’re going to die before this conversation is over.

“No! I just want you to get in the bath and relax!” You take a second to breathe and quiet your voice. You don’t want him to think that you want him just for sex. “I can wash your hair if you’d like.” 

“I’d like that.” You barely hear his response over your rapid heartbeat.

“Okay.”

You begin to run the water, making sure it’s warm, but not hot. You sprinkle in some lavender and rose petals and throw in some sweet-smelling salts for good measure. Messmer watches you with a curious eye. His snakes do the same. They flick their tongues and turn their heads side-to-side.

Once the tub is filled, the room smells fantastic. You set your satchel to the side and fetch him a soft towel and his favorite red silk robe. You set everything within arms reach.

“Okay, I’ve got everything set up. So I’ll, uh, step out for a few minutes. Just call me back when you’re ready.”

He nods at you and you make your way out of his chambers. Shutting the heavy door behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Hopefully, this will help him relax and take his mind off of fighting a war he wasn’t meant to wage. You know you aren’t able to take away the horrible memories of hundreds of years of war, but you can help him forget, even if for a moment.

“I am ready.” His voice interrupts your thoughts. You take a deep breath and step back inside. Peeking around the corner, you see him sitting perfectly straight in the tub with his back to you, his snakes curiously peering over his shoulder for your return.

You sit on the edge of the bath and gently place a hand on his back, careful of where his snakes have torn through his skin. “How do you feel? Is the water okay?”

“I am… nervous. But the water is quite nice.”

“Why are you nervous, my love?” You rub soothing circles into his back.

“No one has ever seen me like this. Exposed.”

“I can leave if I’m making you uncomfortable.” You begin to stand up, but he grabs your wrist.

“Thy presence is never unwelcome. I am just not used to this. Thy touch. Thy care.” He lets go of your wrist.

“You deserve love and care, Messmer.” 

“Perhaps.”

“You do.” You lean down to wrap your arms around him, but he stops you.

“Thy dress. I do not wish for you to ruin it because of me.”

“Oh hush. Have you seen the amount of dresses in my wardrobe? Now lean your head back.”

He does as you ask and you see the worry in his eye. As gently as you can, you pour water over his head and smooth his hair down. You reach over and grab some shampoo and begin to massage it into his scalp. His eye flutters closed at the sensation of your nails scratching against his scalp and he shudders.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to stop?”

“No. This is wonderful.” You laugh and keep going. Your hands are comically small compared to his head, so it takes you quite some time to make sure all of his hair is covered. Not that you mind, however, when the slightest touch leaves him in such a state of relaxation.

Once again, you pour water over his hair and wash away the sweet shampoo. You ensure no suds get into his eye.

He has allowed you to move him how you please and you’re touched by how much he trusts you. Grabbing some conditioner, you run it through his hair and rub it into his scalp. Once again, he shudders and his breathing slows. He’s enjoying this.

“You’re very pretty, my love.” You see his cheeks redden and he opens his mouth to protest, but you scratch his scalp with both hands and he falls silent immediately. The next time he goes to rebuke something you say, you’ll just do this. You’ll never be wrong again.

Washing the conditioner out of his hair, you also notice that his snakes seem to be enjoying this. They watch you with content looks on their faces, tongues flicking out happily. You rinse your hands off and reach out to pet them. They nuzzle approvingly into your palm.

“They adore you, darling.” He gives you a loving smile.

“More than you do?” 

“An impossible feat.” The snakes hiss out in disagreement and you laugh. 

“Would you like me to let you get out?” You feel the water and frown as it’s beginning to get a little cold.

“Perhaps. I do rather enjoy this.”

“I’ll brush your hair when you’re dressed. How does that sound?”

“Marvelous. Thy surprise continues to enchant me.”

“Good.” You kiss him on the cheek and rise from where you were sitting. You move the towel and his robe closer to him at the edge of the tub, and leave his chambers again. You make a mental note to add the salts, soaps, and flowers to the supply list from Castle Ensis permanently. Perhaps this could be a weekly thing for him. You’d do it as often as it took for him to look so relaxed again.

The large door opens and Messmer greets you with a smile. He looks decades younger. His red hair dangles around his face, droplets of water kissing his skin and rolling down his neck. His red robe hugs his frame nicely. 

He holds out his hand and you take it wordlessly. He shuts the doors with a flick of his wrist and guides you over to his large bed. You notice that his hairbrush is already on the comforter. He sits down on the edge of the bed and you shuffle your way behind him.

“Ready?” You don’t need to ask, but you do.

“Yes. I do not know how this will go. Mine hair is… unruly.”

“Then I’ll just have to brush it everyday.”

“You spoil me, darling.”

“As do you. Now hold still, and tell me if anything hurts.”

You test the waters by running your fingers through his hair, and he wasn’t lying. His hair is rather tangled and will take some work to get straight. You silently curse your lover for not taking better care of himself, and get to work. You start with the ends of his hair and brush out the small knots at the bottom as carefully as you can. Eventually, with some work, the hair obeys and flows down his back as it’s supposed to. 

You take a second to check on Messmer. He’s been silent the whole time and you want to make sure he’s enjoying this. Your worries are short lived, however, when you see his eye closed and his face relaxed. His mouth is slightly open and his breathing is even.

“Is something the matter?” He asks you, still with his eye closed.

“Just making sure you’re alright, love.”

“With thee, I am blissfully content.”

“Please keep that in mind as I work through these tangles.” He laughs and shakes his head at your antics.

“I shall. I will repeat it as a mantra for thine efforts.” 

You give him a small peck on the cheek and return to your work. You begin to move up to the hair beneath his neck and slowly brush at any tangles you find. With some persistence, his hair is soft and silky once again. You notice one of his snakes out of the corner of your eye watching your gentle movements. The other is happily splayed on the comforter.

Slowly, you make your way to his scalp, and within a half hour, you have his fiery hair running in gentle waves down his shoulders. Putting the brush down, you use your fingers to sweep through his hair for any stubborn tangles, but you don’t find any. Satisfied, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lay your head against his neck.

“I’m tired now.” Your remark makes him chuckle and wrap his hand around one of yours.

“I have no doubt.” He leans his head against yours and sighs. “This was a most pleasant surprise, my darling. I thank thee for this.”

“Of course. It’s the least I can do for you.”

He untangles himself from you and gently pulls you down onto the soft bed beside him. You tuck yourself into his side and yawn.

“There are days I find myself believing that I do not deserve thee. This is yet another one of those days.”

You kiss the back of his hand and shake your head. “You deserve all of this and more.”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you closer to him. His skin is smooth and smells like lavender. “Sleep, my beloved.”

“It’s not even time for dinner.”

“You would disobey your Lord?” He taunts you playfully.

“No, I would not.” You snort.

“I shall wake thee for dinner.” 

“You’re going to fall asleep with me.”

He relaxes into the cushions and pillows beneath him and kisses your forehead. “I do not hear thee complaining.”

“I’m not. I want to stay here forever with you.”

You’re beginning to slip into slumber. You let your eyes flutter closed and snuggle into Messmer’s side. He gently pulls a blanket over you and tucks you in as best he can.

“As do I, my beloved.”

“I love you, Messmer.”

Before you completely succumb to sleep, you hear his quiet reply.

“And I thee, my sweet consort.”

[moodymisty]

𝕴 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐, 𝖆𝖘 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖙’𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, part 2, Part 3

Author’s note: Time for the dicking, enjoy.

Summary: Cato Sicarius continues to fume over Primarch Guilliman's diplomat, unable to hide his disdain; But neither you or himself are wise to how he truly feels.

Relationships: Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Sexism/misogyny, Choking, Size difference, Toxic relationship, inadequate foreplay and aftercare, Dubious consent, Sicarius is a virgin because like... he's a space marine but also he's not going to admit that to you lmao, Please remember this is not me like slandering Sicarius or something this is just my kink

tWord count: 5240

Cato Sicarius makes his way down the main thoroughfare of the Macragge’s Honour, helmet tucked in the crook of his left arm. His cape flows behind him just barely dusting over the ground, the shine of his sword catching every glint of light. He walks with purpose, head held high.

Cato Sicarius is ever the epitome of Ultramarine valor.

His dutiful walk is interrupted by something catching his eye however, as he looks out towards a myriad of docked ships. One is being refueled- an action that in and of itself is not wholly unusual - and he sees Ultramarines preparing to board it.

Second Company, Ultramarines. He recognizes their regalia, and some of the men armoured and prepared to be loaded in. Titus is among them; A face and set of armor he instantly recognizes despite his preference not to.

But... What are Second Company Ultramarines doing preparing to board a landing ship without his leadership, or at least knowhow?

With a newfound haste, he approaches the landing ship and catches the attention of the first marine that passes by.

“Yes, Captain Sicarius?” Sicarius gestures to the ship with his right hand, still holding his helm with the other.

“What is happening that’s deployed some of Second Company that I am somehow not aware of?”

The marine looks at him with a very odd expression, that Sicarius can't seem to place. He looks back towards his fellows for a moment, of whom give Captain Sicarius the proper respect when they realize they've caught his eye. The young marine he had questioned speaks up and regains his attention, Sicarius turning to look back at him.

“Lord Guilliman has us as retinue for the lady diplomat. She’s in charge of negotiating planetside with the local population.”

You.

Of course it’s you. Sicarius laments that it’s never anyone else. Since the day Guilliman requested your assistance to the day he kept you aboard this ship, he’s found your existence at best annoying, and at worst absolutely infuriating.

He is worth more than escorting around baseline diplomats, as are his men; But why don’t they seem to mind?

Titus doesn’t mind; but Titus is a scavenger seeking anyone who will blindly trust him after his incident, in Sicarius’ eyes. To think the man had once served as captain.

Sicarius turns away from the marine with nary a farewell and begins to make his way to Lord Guillman’s study with haste, his ceramite boots freshly cleaned thunder on the ground and rattle the metal tiles.

When Sicarius arrives at the doors to Guilliman’s chambers the guard in front lets him pass without issue, given his rank. Sicarius wouldn’t be here if he didn’t consider the matter important.

Though when he enters and announces himself to his primarch, Guilliman looks up from flimies and parchments with an expression Sicarius can only describe has bland.

“Have I misheard that some of Second Company are leaving without a captain?” Guilliman steadies his soul and looks at him with a dour expression.

“No, you haven’t. I have Lieutenant Titus currently serving as their leader. I made the decision not an hour ago.” So Titus was not only involved, he was leading the front. Unlike your previous escorts, where he had merely served under Sicarius.

“You have a lieutenant serving in my stead? Do I have no voice in this?” Guilliman leans upright, abandoning his materials and any hope of continuing to go through them.

“I have a lieutenant serving in your stead because you have an attitude that has become uncharacteristic of this legion.” He gestures plainly to his table, and unconscious action to emphasize his words.

“Were you not one the most gifted fighters this legion has seen, I would consider your attitude problem beginning to exceed your worth,” Guilliman continues. “The woman is staying. She serves a purpose for me to trust with less important tasks and if you cannot handle that, then I will assign another to lead her retinue in your stead.”

Sicarius boils in his armor at his primarch's words, like he's been spit in the face. His face grows hot with anger, though he holds his tongue.

Does Guilliman really put so much value on you? You're nothing but a weak little inconvenience that must be escorted around to avoid being killed by even the simplest of things, how can a primarch possibly trust you so much? Enough to waste so many resources, like Astartes that should be in the field of battle, just to keep you alive?

You must've done a great job at convincing him of your own importance, slotting yourself right close to his side. Have you seduced him the same way you seduced his men, with the delicate fabrics of your dresses that tight wrap around your waist and soft hands that contrast with scarred ceramite plates? Do you have your eyes set on larger goals?

No. How dare he think such a thing of his primarch; To think he would be so weak as to fall of the wiles of such a woman.

Sicarius clears his throat, and then regains the composure he had so nearly lost.

"Very well."

Sicarius leaves his Primarch's study when Guilliman nods at him, a cue that he understands the conversation is concluded. The dark red fabric of his cape billows behind him as he walks, the bottom frayed from years of dependable use.

He is sure you've departed by now to the surface of the planet they now orbit. He can see the top half of the planet through the windows as he looks out, past the space debris. He stops for a moment, as serfs, servitors and servoskulls pass him by.

He wonders what you're doing down there, before he swiftly pushes it from his mind.

The rest of Second Company that are not currently on active duty are now currently in their daily training, and Sicarius makes himself busy by attending in person; Standing like a shadow watching and inserting himself or his voice where needed.

He hopes his presence even occasionally prevents any of the men from slacking, as even the most minor error can cause irreparable damage to his men, their battle brothers, and perhaps even worse. Minor slip ups are not something Ultramarines will tolerate, not even once.

After a few hours, Sicarius decides to take his leave once many of the men currently training put down their arms to eat their meal of the day. Sicarius purposely takes a different path than them, to avoid bunches of young, talkative marines. Neophytes are even worse, though thankfully he hasn't had to deal with them today.

While walking, he hears a voice that stands out through the sounds of ceramite boots on the ground, and the hum of machinery.

"I don't mean to be disrespectful to any of you all, but I would pay anything to see that."

It’s you. He recognizes your tone of voice.

Sicarius slows his walk slightly, eyes glancing to the left at the branching hall that will soon connect with the one he walks down. That's where the voices must be coming from, as an astartes laughs.

"We all still give the new ones a hard time about it. Not all of us had the most smooth transition into wearing our armor."

Another marine laughs, as they continue to walk.

"We fall over for Macragge!"

Sicarius reaches the apex where the two halls collide, and sees you with the same squad of marines that he had seen you leave with. Titus included. You're all smiling; Though the smiles fade from the astartes faces completely and turn to expected stoicism upon getting noticed by their captain. You loose your smile as well, and nod politely at him.

"Captain Sicarius."

You all say, greeting him. He glances at them, a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He only casts you a brief glance, before he forces himself to look away.

"You all returned quite quickly."

You nod, and Sicarius doesn't know why he's upset over your change in disposition. The marine behind you speaks for you, his ashy blonde hair sticking to his forehead from the pressure of his helmet.

"It went well, Captain. We are on our way to report to Lord Primarch Guilliman."

Sicarius hums.

"Very well. Get on with it then."

Sicarius continues walking by, gripping the pommel of his chainsword tight as you all disappear from view, in the direction of the bridge. As he continues to walk, he figure you’ve all made it there by now, if not already left.

He wonders how the conversation went.

Did Primarch Guilliman praise you all? Compliment you for you diplomatic talents? The Primarch has a surprising amount of trust in you, for a baseline human. He has had no shortage of good things to say about your dedication and work ethic, how well you’ve helped him in this new Imperium- As Lord Guilliman uniquely calls it.

Is he the only one that feels this way? Why does no one just understand? Why is he alone in this?

The lights in the halls are dimming slightly; The marines are all beginning to sleep. Sicarius decides to quit wandering with no goal and get his armour removed, before returning to his quarters and getting some rest. Perhaps that will make him a bit less irritated at every little thing that manages to get under his skin.

It hasn't worked in the past, but he isn't apposed to giving it another chance. At least he wasn't the one who had to escort you, though he knows that it would've been significantly easier to assassinate Primarch Guilliman's prized diplomat without him there.

He should’ve been there. He should’ve been at your side, not Titus, he thinks as he has his armored removed piece by piece. The serfs and tech priests treat every piece with respect, as they should. Once they carefully hand him his robe, he slings it over his shoulders putting it on before stepping down the two steps away from the armouring machinery and leaving. The walk is short, and it isn’t long before the captain can slouch his shoulders once safely behind the privacy of his own door.

Sicarius’ quarters as one would expect are befitting of his rank; A singular habitation suite occupied by him alone. The bed is more than large enough for a man of his stature, and he sits on it in only his linen robes before taking them off and throwing his legs fully onto the bed.

He has five hours before he needs to wake. Tomorrow shouldn't be a day filled with too many unknowns and busywork. He hopes. But no matter how much he thinks it, sleep just won’t come. At least not full sleep; He could do as he does in the field and let only parts of his brain rest, but that isn’t what he wants. Normally he can fall asleep within moments after he closes his eyes as he's trained himself to do, but now he finds himself staring at the ceiling, flexing his fingers.

His palms are sweating. Sicarius wonders if he's getting ill, as he realizes much of his skin feels warmer than usual.

He takes few slow, deep breaths. The way he would when trying to get partial sleep in the field. But it doesn't work, and he finds himself leaning up to sit.

One of his hands presses against his bare thigh, as he slouches. The muscle and fat of his stomach folds as he runs a hand through his cropped hair.

He wonders what you're doing right now. You sleep for a few hours longer than the marines do, and when he had voiced up about it, Guilliman had told him baseline humans need more sleep than them to function at their peak. You had joked to one of his men once however that you didn't always sleep for all that time, sometimes you would work while in bed.

Sicarius growls and shakes his head.

Why does no matter for how briefly he lets his minder wander, it goes back to you? He can't even clear his mind for a moment before it's back on you, what you're doing, the way you look at the people around you; But not at him.

Why?

What do you see in all of them that you don't see in him? He is Cato Sicarius; The commander of the Victrix Honour Guard, the Grand Duke of Talassar, the Master of the Watch. Yet you cast your whoreish gaze to the likes of Titus, a demoted marine with a permanent stain upon his name.

You treat him with respect, issue the bare minimum conversation needed to communicate, before leaving him. Is he not enough for you? Are you scared of him? Why does the idea of you fearing him illicit a feeling that seems negative?

He knows he shouldn't care. That this is all meaningless, but he can't help but want an answer. Why do you keep your most whoreish and sweet smiles for others? Perhaps you know he is too well disciplined to even bother trying. And so you toy with the others, sitting beside them as they shadow you with massive sets of armor, holding a gauntlet of which you can only grasp two fingers.

Sicarius shifts slightly, and feels the way his lower body is tight; He’s hard, pressing against his inner thigh. He feels disgusted with himself that he's allowed this to happen.

You just keep clouding his mind like some sort of malignancy that he can’t remove.

Damn it all.

Sicarius rises from his bed and lets his feet hit the floor, dressing himself before leaving his personal quarters not two hours after he entered.

He knows where your own quarters are by memory despite having never actually entering, storming by anyone in his path to get there. When he does, it’s easy enough for him to override the door lock and enter himself, closing it behind him.

You are just rising in your bed as the door hisses shut, the fabric of your clothes molding to your skin.

You’ve taken off the underclothing for your chest- Sicarius doesn’t know the name - and he can clearly see the outline of your breasts through your clothes.

“What is t- Captain Sicarius?”

He storms closer and as his face becomes more illuminated by the soft light at your bedside, you see his seething expression distorting his stubble-ridden face. The papers you must’ve been working on are sitting on the small table to your side, having been recently abandoned in favor of sleep.

“You."

He points at you and you can almost see the finger shake from how furious he is. Your lips are parted slightly as your mouth gapes from surprise, wide eyes looking between his hand and him.

"You are little more than an Ultramarine branded harlot.”

Your face is shocked and surprised, Sicarius heeds none of it. He can hear your heart racing in his ears as he approaches more and grasps the front of your clothing, pulling it away from your chest. For a brief moment he feels the soft pillowy nature of your breasts pressing against his knuckles, before the fabric is pulled away.

"Captain Sicarius, I, what do you think you're doing?"

He hears you stutter, the crack in in your voice. Now of all times you become shy? Not when you were pressing your hands to Titus' armor and complimenting him? Like you’re begging him to ravish you? Not when you have one of the young, fresh marines toss out a hand for you to grab so you don’t fall?

“I am sick of you throwing yourself at my men like some faithless degenerate. If you want it so badly, then I will give it to you.”

Sicarius leans forward, putting his knee on the bed while he shoves you back down into it. Your head thumps against the pillow, bouncing as the massive astartes moves to cage you underneath him.

Both of you have always been well aware of the size difference of all the astartes of the Macragge's honour, and Guilliman himself; Other than the serfs, occasional other diplomat or Imperial pskyer, everyone aboard the ship towers over you. It is particularly apparent with Sicarius, who shadows you in the near dark with a body significantly wider and taller than your own. He’d never realized just how small you were; Both of his massive hands could circle your entire waist.

“Throwing myself? What are you t-“

The speed in which Sicarius moves a hand to your jaw is enough to pull the air from your lungs.

“Quiet, whore.”

Your hands latch onto his arm, pulling at solid muscle. It doesn’t budge in the slightest, your palms sliding over scars, hair, and the metal of his interface ports. It feels like barely anything at all, your touch is so feather light and soft.

Pulling his hand away from your jaw he reaches and grabs a handful of the fabric of your nightgown, pulling it upward roughly. You could hear the sound of multiple stitches snapping, fabric now bunched at your stomach.

The air on the ship is always cold, but a shiver runs through you as you feel the hot skin of his hand on your waist.

He’s never actually touched you before. He’s never felt your skin with his own, the most he’s done is grab your shoulder with his gauntlets on to guide you someplace. You’re even more fragile that he would expect, you’re nothing compared to his hardened bones and you feel as if you’ll break apart in his hand. Your back arches up to fit his fingers between you and the bed, breathing heavily. Your attire always left little to his imagination, but it’s still different to actually feel.

“How are you still so soft after all this time,” He grumbles.

You have a less taxing job than many aboard the ship, but Sicarius knows that if you could have your way, you’d lay back and let the marines of your retinue use you. If you aren’t already, the way his men follow you around like dogs instead of acting like the way the Emperor’s Angels should gives doubt. The mere thought makes him jealo- furious; For his men not himself, he thinks as he grabs a fistful of his robes.

The front of most astartes robes are tied or wrapped, and so it doesn't take any sort of intense effort from Sicarius to pull the fabric apart, pressing his bare skin to your own.

It’s so hot; It's like his blood is boiling just below the surface of his skin. But is it because of his anger, how much he seems to hate you for reasons indiscernible, or because of something you can feel pressing against your thigh? His cock is already completely hard, tip wet and leaking precum as it slides up your thigh.

He only needs to do this once; Break this curse you have on him. He needs to be able to be around you like are aren't suffocating him.

With little regard Sicarius slips his hand between your thighs and only briefly notes how soft they are, the pillowy flesh of your inner thighs presses against his hand like a blanket rather than hard muscle.

"Sicarius, are you really not going to explain yoursel-"

Your voice cuts off with a shaky inhale as his fingers slip between your outer folds, soft wet velvety skin covered by his hand. It isn't long after his initial touch that his fingers find your entrance and he pushes one inside.

You feel so much softer than he had imagined. So soft that even he in his anger is unconsciously more gentle than he expected, forcing his finger deep into you down to the hilt until his palm presses against you. Your body wraps around him like velvet fabric, warm and hot. When he moves, your thighs tense and shake, but you're still trapped in the cage made by his body.

"I don't need to explain myself to you," He says, and you quickly combat him with:

"You do when you storm into my room and try to-"

He pushes a second finger inside of you, and your throat shakes with a moan as you feel that aching stretch of being just under your limit. He feels the way you tighten around him, and even in his lack on knowhow, Sicarius can tell that it will be a tight fit for him inside you.

Why do you have to be so damn small? It just furthers his worri- complaints that you're so easily hurt, and need to be so heavily protected from even minor damage.

Even he's hurt you, he can see the bruise starting to blossom on your jaw where he grabbed you a bit too hard, though you don't seem to mind. You're too busy panting, grasping at his arms as his two fingers curl inside your cunt. It's like you're trying to pull him in deeper, you just want more and more because you're his little wh-

Perhaps impatient, Sicarius pulls his two fingers from you and feels the way your thighs tremble, and the way you've covered his fingers and some of his palm in that sweet stickiness. For the briefest, most minute moment, he wonders how it might taste.

His wipes them off on the blankets below him, before grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him. You can feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh until he moves to slide it along your folds, slicking himself with the wetness he pulled from you. Suddenly Sicarius shakes his head, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The room smells, entrenched in this sweet, salty smell that radiates from you in waves. It's intoxicating, the way it screams at him that you want to be fucked, you want to be turned over bent over you little whore you just want him finally you want h-

Sicarius presses the head of his cock against your entrance and pushes slightly, feeling the way he can slowly sink into your tight heat once he pops past the tight ring of your entrance. Though it is still a stretch. Astartes are big, and they match suitably. Your neck is tense, collarbone prominent as your muscles flex.

"Fuck- that's, that's too big..."

He only manages to force half of his cock into you when you already start complaining about feeling full, it being too much, but he continues to push and go farther beyond until you feel like he's threatening to push into your stomach.

"You'll take it- I'm not leaving till you do."

Eventually his hips press against the back of your thighs when he's fully sheathed inside of you, and he can hear your breath rattle in your lungs and your singular heartbeat against your ribcage like the pistons in an engine. Badum badum badum, he hears as his cock throbs inside of you.

Sicarius pulls himself out barely halfway before flicking his hips back towards you, listening to the way you suddenly keen underneath him. You tighten and leak around him, your pillowy cunt swallowing him whole. He hears the sound of his own skin slapping against your own as he drives himself deeper, and each time you squeal as his massive body forces your thighs apart.

"By the t- Sicarius,"

You can't help the way you tense, your stomach turns and tightens in knots as the head of his cock threatens to knock against your cervix. He can see tears pricking in your eyes; You don't get to whine about him being too much, you wanted this, you begged for it with those pretty dresses and sweet smiles, you wanton harlot. You keep begging, as your hands grip his thick forearms to keep yourself steady as he thrusts into you.

He had imagined once what it would be like to rip those dresses off of you, and the curse of his memory means he'll never forget that pondering. He'd have to wrap you in the fabric of his cape, hiding your body from everyone but him-

"You're too big, I can't-"

You're whining, tears prick your eyes but your cunt is soaked, leaking down his cock, your well thought out words and demure voice turned into helpless ramblings as you lay beneath him thighs spread for your better, your superior; Pulling him in with your greedy cunt.

"You can," He grips your hip tight and pulls you to meet him halfway into his thrust and listens to you let out a broken moan. "And you will."

Your eyes have been fluttering open and closed for much of this, unable to look at him directly in the eyes for long. But even now Sicarius' eyes drift downward, distracted by the shape of your barely parted lips. They're so soft looking, unscarred, and he finds himself pulled in before he even realizes.

Sicarius finally kisses you for the first time, pressing his lips to yours as his hips smack against your thighs. He rests on his forearm to get lower, while his other hand still grips your waist.

You’re frozen at first, before your hands move to knit into his cropped hair and you press back into him. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough that he bleeds- tasting metal before it instantly coagulates. He’s rough, forceful- his teeth are dangerously close to hitting your own, he catches your bottom lip between his and hears the way you whimper.

“Cato…”

You speak against his lips, the bow of his upper lip brushing across your own. The stubble against his jawline scratches your skin, as your lips grow puffier from his less than gentle treatment of them.

He pulls away from you, your spit on his lips while his forehead rests on yours.

“I, I thought you hated me,”

You say, nails digging into the skin at the nape of his neck, just above the scars he has from the surgery for his black carapace. If the light was brighter in your room, you might've been able to see the grayish tint to his skin where you could see it underneath the surface. His voice sounds angry and confused when he responds.

...Does he hate you?

“I… don’t know.” His voice almost tremors, confused within himself.

If not for the circulated air of the Macragge's Honour always being so frigid, you're sure you would feel even hotter than you already did, as Sicarius traps you in a cage beneath him, radiating body heat. His arm rests close to your head, while the other grips your hip to keep him from accidentally pushing you away as he humps into you.

His forehead slides from your own to the side of your head, and you can hear his heavy breathing in your ear as he pushes his cock deeper into you than anything else has previously. The wet noises and skin on skin fill the previously silent room other than the humming of pipes in the ceiling and walls, and the sound of animalistic grunting from an astartes you thought hated you.

He does hate you. He hates you so much for doing this to him, but he's the one who's failing, who fell to the temptation rutting into you like an animal-

Sicarius groans as you somehow get even tighter than you were, feeling the way a shiver runs through your entire body as you cum on him. Your nails leave little marks that will leave in moments, though he knows the smell of your wet cunt will stick on him far longer.

"By the throne, you are too damn tight,"

Sicarius continues through it even as you gasp, nails digging into his skin. He goes faster and faster, your soft skin will surely be bruised tomorrow but you keep begging for more, as he snaps his hips into you and pushes himself as deep as he can possibly go. He lets out a shaking groan, and you feel him finally empty himself inside of you.

It's hot, there's so much; You feel limp underneath him as he keeps cumming inside of you. When he slowly tries to pull out you whimper, the feeling of emptiness and the way the moment the head of his cock slips out of you, the seed he left behind slowly dribbles out of you and onto the bed.

Sicarius, for a man barged into your room and humped into you like an animal in rut, clams up the emotions he showed to much of and looks away.

“You should wash. Titus will be able to smell me on you.”

You look up at him confused, leaning up just slightly before stopping. He can see spit from his kisses on the corners of your mouth, lips swollen and hair messy.

“Why would that matter?”

Sicarius goes to laugh, though he quickly cuts it off when he notices that instead of becoming angry like you normally would, you get withdrawn.

“You don’t think he’ll mind that his cute little diplomat is off with other Astartes?”

The collar of your nightdress is stretched and uneven, and you push down the bottom of it away from your stomach so it covers the mess he left between your legs. Or you at least try to, but you grimace when you attempt to lift your hips enough to push it down. Sicarius leans forward and gently tugs on it for you, snapping more seams but succeeding in covering your sore, cum slicked thighs.

"No, Titus was only being nice since he knew I was having trouble dealing with everything that's happened. Primarch Guilliman has been," You look away for a moment at the papers at your bedside, that are now scattered across the floor.

"He's been giving me so much to ease his burdens and believe me I am honoured to serve him, it's just- it's been overwhelming. Titus had just offered me an ear so I could vent." You look at him confused, brow furrowed and lips parted.

"You didn't think we were... Did you?"

Sicarius looks at you, at the concerned expression on your face. Your body is swollen and sore from his abuse even as gentle as he was, he can smell the salt of sweat on your skin.

With one smooth motion Sicarius shifts himself to get off your bed and stand, wrapping his robes about around him in an acceptable enough fashion for a captain.

"Cato?"

You raise up higher, sitting up and curling your legs to the side. He turns to leave, but that damn demure, worried voice of yours stops him. He doesn't even care that you're using his first name, calling him so casually.

"Can you stay for a minute?" He turns and looks at you with that neutral astartes expression.

"Why?" You blow a breath of air through your lips that makes them shake.

"Dammit Cato just, can you? Please?"

He watches you for a moment, as you wipe the corner of your mouth.

Eventually however he turns fully around and walks closer, standing at your bedside and towering over you. You swallow and he can see the knot in your throat move, before you look up at him and start talking.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Aemond is out here talking shit again, gosh. He has two moods. Mega Simp and Murder. 

132 AC

Aemond watched as the door to Rhaella’s chamber slid shut. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He had every opportunity to kiss her or at least tell her his feelings as they swam together in the King's Wood. Even now, his face was still hot with the memory of her legs wrapped around his torso. Who did she think she was moving like that? It was driving him mad. 

He expected to be alone when he entered his own chamber. After all, Rhaella would be leaving for Highgarden in a few hours, he needed to bathe and redress to properly bid her farewell. Instead, he was met with Ser Criston and his mother of all people. 

“Where were you? The guards say you snuck away in the middle of the night.” His mother questioned, her tongue as sharp as ever. 

“He was with Lady Rhaella, Your Grace,” Cole said 

“Aemond I have told you to stay away from her. She is soon to be married. You cannot sully her name.” Alicent scolded 

Aemond scoffed, the idea of the court not respecting Rhaella. She was the blood of the dragon, above the whispers of men since the dawn of time

“Why are you here, mother? It is rather early for you.” He asked 

“You must find Aegon.” She said simply 

“He is probably whoring in the Street of Silk. He’ll show his face eventually.” Aemond dismissed. 

Their mother rarely worried about Aegon’s pursuits. Why start now? 

“Your father is dead. Aegon will be King.” Alicent said, crossing the room to take Aemond’s hand in her own, “I need you to find him. Bring him to me.” 

Aemond looked at Cole, already dressed in a dark cloak rather than his usual King's Guard armor. 

“What of the Tyrells?” Aemond asked, suddenly thinking of how today was supposed to go. 

“They will wait. Your grandfather has demanded that no one leave the city.” Alicent said, “After Aegon has been crowned they will depart.” 

Aemond felt a smile twitching on his lips. Perhaps he would get a chance to speak to Rhaella again. 

“I will find him, mother.” He said 

Rhaella could hardly believe what was happening. She had been locked in her room for nearly half the day now. What were the Tyrell’s thinking? She was supposed to meet with them and leave hours ago. Instead, she was stuck staring at the walls of her room like she was a child being punished. 

Was this because of the swim with Aemond? Was the queen upset with them? Perhaps Aemond was locked away as well. Though, Rhaella couldn’t imagine that going over well. Aemond’s temper had never been the best. 

A soft knock at her door had her jumping. Was she finally going to get answers to what was happening? 

“My Lady. I have been sent to help you dress.” 

A handmaid, one Rhaella didn’t know, entered, a deep green dress hung on her arm. 

“Dressed for what? I am flying to Highgarden on my dragon. My riding clothes are better suited than that dress.” 

Rhaella hadn’t worn green since she was a girl. She knew what it represented here at court, that it meant something to the Hightowers. 

“Queen Alicent has picked this dress for you, My Lady.” The handmaid says simply. 

Rhaella lets the dress be laced up. Something tells her that she doesn’t have much of a choice in all this as her hair is neatly twisted into a simple style. Perhaps she would have a meal with the Tyrells before leaving. That would explain the gown. 

The halls of the Red Keep are suspiciously bare as two guards lead her to the yard where a carriage awaits. 

“Where am I going?” Rhaella asked, stopping when she saw the horses,” If I am being sent to Highgarden there is someone I must speak to first.” 

Rhaella thought of Edric and how she couldn’t leave him without a farewell. His frail body could give out at any time. 

“You’re not going to Highgarden.” One guard said, “Now walk.” 

Rhaella gasped in pain when they grabbed her arms and pulled her towards the carriage. Her feet scuffed the ground as she tried to stop them. They couldn’t just toss her into a carriage and not tell her where she was going. 

“Let her go.” 

Their meaty hands loosen and Rhaella is left with her arms aching as she turns to see who has spoken for her. 

“I will escort Lady Rhaella.” Aemond says 

His appearance has changed. He looks rather weary. Perhaps he hasn’t slept yet. Rhaella had been able to nap while being locked in her room all day long. 

Aemond dismisses the guards with a wave of his hand and offers it to Rhaella.

"Come, Get in the carriage with me."

Rhaellas gut is still churning at what could possibly be happening but nothing about Aemond is off so she takes his hand. His gloved hand is warm in hers as she helps her into the carriage. Rhaella finds herself wishing for the absence of the gloves. She liked the way his skin felt on hers, she had been given a taste of it at the lake just hours ago.

“Aemond what is happening? I have been locked up all day and now they refuse to tell me anything.” Rhaella says once they are safely in the carriage together 

“We are going to the Dragonpit.” Aemond said simply 

“Why? I cannot fly in this dress. Surely the Tyrells want a spectacle if they are to meet Sōna. 

“Not to fly. My father is dead. Aegon is being crowned in the pit.” Aemond explained. 

“What?” 

Rhaella felt her head spin as the carriage bumped along. Viserys had died? When? Last night? She knew he was sick and it was a matter of time. But if he had died that meant Rhaenrya was queen, Aegon couldn’t be crowned in the pit. Even if the Hightowers wanted him in some position of power, Daemon would be Rhaenrya’s consort. 

“He cannot be crowned,” Rhaella said 

Aemond’s head snapped to her, finally meeting her eyes with his own. 

“He will be. I pulled him out of his drinks and whores this morning. Aegon will be king.” He said 

“And what of Rhaenrya?” Rhaella asked, her blood was boiling at all of this. Usurping the throne from their own sister. Surely Aegon and Aemond were better than this.

“The bitch from Dragonstone will bend the knee. As will my uncle.” Aemond dismissed 

“She will not,” Rhaella said, thinking of Rhaenrya’s spirit, “My father surely will not either.” 

“They will. Or I will end them myself.”

Rhaella could hardly believe what he was saying. Surely this could not be the same person she was swimming with just hours ago. He had been so gentle and lighthearted with her in the water. And yet, now he spoke of killing their relatives like it was what he was deciding to have for dinner.

"We will play our parts today at this corrination." He said, not interested in addressing his murderous plans, "After Aegon is crowned I will have him dissolve your engagement to that Tyrell cunt."

"What are you talking about?" Rhaella scoffed, Aegon shouldn't have a crown anywhere near his head, let alone given the power to dissolve engagements.

"Did you honestly think I was going to let you marry some pompous golden rose?" Aemond asked, " We are dragons, Rhaella. We will remain together, you and I. I don't plan on letting you go."

Next Part

I'm not entirely sure if I like this part...That being said, this marks the end of part one of this story. Onto part two we go!

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[anthaeum]

mona lisa.

love is when you try to make it out alive.

🏹 — wherein leo valdez realizes the absolutes in his life.

leo valdez x roman apollo!reader. enemies to lovers to exes to lovers (implied), set in the future, non canon-compliant. gn!singer!reader.

(not proofread.)

wc. 906

💭 : it's 3:22 AM and i have school tmr but this legit wouldn't stop bugging me until i posted it. the title is from mona lisa by dominic fike, listen to it here! please let me know your thoughts, comments, and any reactions through my askbox! enjoy reading 🤍

Leo Valdez knows there are absolutes in his life. 

One of them is metalwork. Smelting, forging, blacksmithing — the flames and heat of the furnace were never a nuisance to Leo when his nimble fingers and tools pulled and twisted at any piece of metal, whether it be the finest bar of gold or the lowest piece of scrap. The son of Hephaestus takes pride in his craft, displaying the tiniest coin he created or the biggest metal dragon he’s fixed on a glass shelf in the confines of his heart. 

His friends are one of them. He thinks of Piper, his sister, who he still cooks tofu for because she says "it's the best she’s ever had". There’s Reyna — and he doesn't tell anyone, but he’s glad he found a friendship in Reyna, someone he doesn't have to mind the language barriers around. There’s Frank, who trusted Leo with his life, literally and figuratively. He thinks of Jason, his best friend, and Leo counts him as two absolutes. 

There’s also the little things, too. He always runs maintenance checks every week, he ties the right shoe before the left, he keeps his loose change in his pant pockets, he wasn’t good at freehand engraving. 

Another, he thinks, is you. 

You, the sweet child of the sun. 

The radio echoes across the room, filling the quiet workshop with life. 

Leo Valdez, sweat-drenched and exhausted, stares down at the sheet of gold on his anvil. Engraved on its surface is a set of symbols he knew by heart — a harp, six lines, and the letters S, P, Q, and R. 

You, you, you, you. 

He remembers the first time he laid his eyes on you. He doesn't remember the way you knocked an arrow and aimed down at him; his mind’s eye just sees gold — in the shine of your eyes, your armor, the tips of your arrows, your aura, you.

He remembers the war's aftermath — his war specifically. He remembers searching through seas of orange, purple, bronze, and gold; none of them were his golden archer. 

He doesn’t know if he’s still dreaming when he hears your voice echoing through the radio. He stays still, eyes wide and unmoving, and it’s only until the radio croons a, “that was Yn Ln’s latest single, ladies and gentlemen!” does he snap out of his reverie. 

He remembers the taste of golden victory. Nights under starlight, conversations of the future, you (finally) in his arms. The stars shone faux spotlights on you as your singing lulled Leo into peace he hadn't known for a long while. 

You told him your dreams, your love for singing, and how you wished to be able to share your voice to the world. Suddenly, the taste in his mouth is bitter. 

Because here he was, in his workshop, listening to you, when he could have been celebrating you and your dream (now, your reality) instead. 

He puts his head in his hands as if struck with agony, the unfamiliar beginning melody of “another hit from the rising popstar!” playing on the radio and echoing through his mind. 

(Yet, Leo can't find it in himself to turn the radio down.) 

A walk would clear his mind, he thinks. 

Any attempt to clear his mind is futile. You’re all he sees. 

In the billboards, posters, street signs. 

You, you, you, you.

Leo stares. He stands and stares, unmoving, at the features he fell so in love with. He's transfixed at the way your eyes shine and crinkle at the corners, the curve of your lips as you bare your teeth into a grin. You look ethereal in this light, it would make Parisian paintings look over at you in envy. 

The same tattooed lyre he memorized peeks from above your gold-etched name. He wishes he could feel them under his fingertips once more. 

Anguish akin to the heat of hot iron crushes his chest. He feels the fingerprints of yearning litter his heart, indelible and engraved. This was your doing, Leo thinks; because, no matter how many times he tries to deny it, the same aching muscle has never once left the confines of your hand. 

(And Leo can't find it in himself to turn away. he can’t think of anyone else.)

Leo knows it’s only a matter of time. Passersby’s comments fall on his eager ears, and Leo’s heart only beats faster when he hears a, “they’ll be performing tonight!”

He tries not to think of the feeling in his chest, of the painful yearning and the jittery nervousness, as he pushes the door to the jazz bar open. 

When he hears your voice, oh so melodic and beautiful, he freezes. 

You’re under real spotlights now, shining and so golden under their light. 

You look at him, and Leo swears his heart stops.

Your eyes still shine the same. 

Leo Valdez realizes another absolute — you, in all your golden glory, would forever be his weakness. His heel tingles at the sound of the arrows you draw with your song, as if they’d home in on the one vulnerable spot on his flesh and leave him for dead.  

(And yet, he thinks you’ve done it. You, the one Leo Valdez sees in Parisian paintings. You, whose voice Leo Baldez hears in TV stations. You, the sweet child of the sun, who had pierced his heart with the same arrows that stared him down all those years ago.)

aaaa my first post ever ever .... hope u all enjoy !!!! reblogs are so appreciated, please tell me how u liked my fic 😞😞

© ANTHAEUM (2024). do not republish, edit, translate, or plagiarize my works.

[12raccoonsinadress]

heyyy if your request are still open can i get a mha fantasy au! fic were the princess!reader is in love with knight!tenyaiida and one night they get finally spend a night together and it’s like soft smut and fluff. and iida knows it’s wrong but he can’t help his love for the reader please💖💖

This is literally adorable ~ 💚

As You Wish : Knight!Iida x Princess!Reader (Smut)

Word Count : 2,465

Third POV

When you were told that you would be getting your own personal guard, your first thought most certainly wasn't that you were going to be falling in love with him. As time passed though, you realized that was exactly what was happening. You weren't exactly sure when it happened. Maybe it was during the long walks you often took through the garden with him by your side. Or perhaps it was during those nights you stayed up late in the library because you couldn't rest and, though tired, he insisted on staying by your side until you were ready to go to your room to sleep. Maybe it was the time you'd missed a step coming down the stairs and he caught you in his arms. Though in the end, it didn't really matter when you fell for him. All you knew was that you were head over heels for your loyal knight, Tenya.

Tonight you lay awake in your room, staring at the ceiling and letting your mind wander to places quite shameful for a lady. You imagined him out of armor. You'd seen him shirtless once. It was by accident and you'd since remembered to knock before entering his room if you ever needed to, but the image of his perfectly sculpted upper body had burned itself into the depths of your mind and made fantasies of him taking your innocence all the better. You imagined him saying things he'd never dare say to you. Filthy, inappropriate things. You wondered what it'd feel like for his hands to touch you. Holding you close, caressing your body, grazing your skin.

And little did you know, he fantasized about you just the same.

He knew it was horribly wrong. You were the princess. His only duty in life was to protect you and yet, here he was, imagining you beneath him. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the way your body might look beneath your lovely dresses. How your skin might feel. He bet it was soft. How you'd look as he pleased you. That's really what he wanted. Not to ravish you like an animal, or use you for his own pleasure. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him over and over again. He wanted to hear your beautiful voice turn lewd with pleasure. He wanted to satisfy you. He didn't just lust for you. He loved you.

As he was your personal guard, he had to stay close to you. For this reason, his bedroom connected to yours through a door that didn't lock. You sat up in bed, unable to calm the restlessness caused by your dirty thoughts. You had a moment of boldness, if not foolishness as you knocked on the door between rooms. Much to your surprise, it was answered almost instantly. He looked just as awake as you were.

"Is something wrong, princess?"

His voice had a slight gruffness to it. Your cheeks were flushed a soft pink color as you spoke.

"Did I wake you?"

"No. I'm a bit restless tonight it seems."

"As am I. Would you.. keep me company?"

"Of course, princess."

You stepped aside so that he could enter the room. He stepped inside and you closed the door behind him. You walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge and patting the spot beside you. Hesitantly, he joined you.

"Do you feel alright?"

He asked, still generally concerned for your well being. You picked at the edge of your silky nightgown.

"Mostly. I'm... Restless."

You said, looking at him. You wondered if he'd have you. You desired him so deeply. You were sure he'd give himself to you if you asked, simply out of obligation in his loyalty to you. But you didn't want simple compliance. You wanted him to crave you as much as you craved him. You punctuated your response by gently setting your hand on his knee. You noticed his cheeks turn red.

"I.. understand the feeling."

"Do you understand how I'm feeling, Tenya?"

You asked, hoping to make your desires known. He swallowed hard, taking a shallow breath.

"If.. my assumptions are correct.. then.. yes. I understand completely."

His words were shaky though he took his time to make sure they were precise.

You brought a hand to his cheek, making him look you in the eye. He was putty in your hands.

"This is wrong. I shouldn't be here."

He whispered, though his hand found its way to your waist. You leaned in closer to him.

"I want you here."

You responded softly. His gaze lowered to your lips, lingering there.

"I live to serve you, princess. Anything you want of me is yours."

You leaned in, just a little more, though not touching your lips to his quite yet.

"Do you want me?"

You asked, hardly above a whisper.

"More than life."

He responded, a hint of desperation in his voice. With that, you close the gap, softly pressing your lips to his. He practically melted into your touch. He kissed you back gently, holding you just a little closer to himself. You leaned into him, elated that he returned your feelings. You broke the kiss, though he clearly didn't want to stop. You spoke quietly.

"Would you have me?"

His face was a lovely shade of red.

"Princess.. This.. this isn't right."

He was evidently nervous. You could understand why. It was scandalous he was even here right now. You didn't care though. Not about that at least.

"I'm not asking if it's right. I'm asking if you'd have me. I want you, no one else."

He took a moment, weighing his options. Then, in a loving show of strength, he lifted you and laid you down on your bed, holding himself above you. You looked up at him starry eyed.

"Princess, I don't think you know how many nights I've laid awake wondering what you'd look like just like this."

He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours once more. This one was a little less soft, though still full of love and desire. It was more desperate. He deepened it, taking immediate control of the situation. You didn't mind one bit. In fact, you were glad he wanted you so badly. It showed how much he loved you. You slid your hands up his chest beneath the loose nightshirt he wore. He was so strong. One of the many reasons you admired him so much.

He pulled away, just enough to breathe. You took that as your opportunity to start to slide his shirt up. He caught on, leaning back to discard it before looking back down at you. You looked so beautiful, lying beneath him in your dainty little nightgown. He reached up, gently brushing some stray hair from your face and cupping your cheek. He spoke softly.

"Princess... You're positive you want this?"

"I am."

You said back, matching his tone, and setting your hand on his. He rested his free hand on your thigh, just below the hem of your nightgown, squeezing gently.

"If it was discovered we did this..."

He trailed off. You knew though. He'd lose his job and you'd most likely be locked in your room until being sent off to marry some prince from another kingdom for one reason or another. You kissed the palm of his hand.

"Then we'll just have to not be caught."

He took a short moment to consider if he was really going to do this. But when he looked at you, so beautiful and perfect, eyes filled with love and lust for him and no one else, he caved. He leaned down to kiss you once more, letting both hands slip up the sides of your legs under your nightgown. You raised your hips so it was easier for him to undress you. He got the gown just above your breast when he paused, staring just a little bit. You smiled, though blushing, as you assumed this was the reaction of a man who's never seen a woman's breasts before.

"You can touch them if you'd like."

He blushed darker, knowing he'd been caught staring. He first finished removing your nightgown before letting himself focus on your body once again. Carefully, he took one of your breasts into his hand, squeezing gently. They were so soft, and your skin was so smooth. He wasn't exactly experienced, so he followed his first instinct which was to lean down and kiss the soft skin. There was something so nice about hearing you gasp softly as his lips just grazed past the more sensitive part of your chest. He liked seeing you react like that to something he did, so he stopped to focus there, kissing it with an open mouth whilst letting his hand play with the other. Hearing your soft moans, feeling you squirm just a little beneath him. It was everything he'd fantasized about. He continued on like that for a while until your squirming seemed to stem from impatience as opposed to stimulation. He pulled back. You spoke, though a little shakily.

"I need you, Tenya."

Those words alone could've put him at full mast if he weren't already incredibly hard.

"Yes, my princess."

He said, eyes drifting down your body, and hands moving to your thighs. He spread your legs. He stared. Though still in your little white panties, seeing you so vulnerable for him made more than just his heart throb. Through your panties, he began to feel you. It was no secret how wet you were. He could feel that through the fabric. You whined at the almost teasing touches. He pressed into you as much as your panties let him. There was no doubt if he continued this they'd be completely soaked. Through the thin fabric, he found and pressed against your clit. Seeing you moan, pressing yourself into his hand, he knew that must've been a good spot and so he continued to apply pressure there. He rubbed there in small circles, listening to your heavy breathing. By the time you were whining for him to take you, your pretty little white panties had become completely translucent from wet.

He was getting impatient himself, now moving to pull them off of you and gently set them aside. He spread your legs as wide as you comfortably could. He pressed a finger in, sliding in with ease from all the foreplay. He added a second when he saw how easily you took one. He pushed them in, curling them, loving hearing you moan. You gripped the sheets beneath you, willing yourself to not just cum now from all this teasing. You didn't want it to end. You didn't have the strength to stop yourself as his fingers pumped into you faster, his palm pressing to your clit and moving with his fingers. You moaned out, back arching, your inner walls clenching around his fingers. He slowly pulled his fingers out, admiring you. Face flushed red, legs shaking ever so slightly, pussy leaking from all he's done. He leaned over you again, kissing your forehead.

"I apologize, princess. I was too distracted by your beauty."

He had intended to take you as you had asked him but you looked so lovely just like that. He got carried away.

You kissed him softly. You knew he still needed attention and you weren't a cruel princess. Your duty was to serve your kingdom and its people. He was no exception.

"Take me."

You whispered. He seemed surprised.

"Princess, didn't you already-?"

You cut him off.

"Because you're so incredibly good to me, I have. I want you to feel just as good, and I want you to use my body to get there. I don't care how many times you make me cum, I want you to go until you're satisfied as well."

He looked at you in awe. It was an offer he couldn't refuse. He kissed your lips softly. You were so incredibly kind. So wonderful. And he took this as an opportunity and a challenge. He'd see how many times he could make you orgasm. He'd push you to that edge as many times as he could before letting himself let go. It was the least he could do.

He removed his pants and you got a moment to admire his impressive size. He ran his fingers along your still soaking wet slit, using the wetness to lube himself so it'd be easier for him to slide in. He positioned himself between your legs, holding them open on either side of his waist. He slowly pushed in. You moaned lowly, loving the stretch he gave you. He groaned, pushing until he was fully inside of you, taking a moment to relish the feeling. Slowly, he began to move. He didn't fully pull out, keeping his thrusts shallow. You covered your mouth to keep your moans and noises under control, but it proved difficult since you were so sensitive now.

He began to pull out more each time he pushed in. His pace wasn't incredibly fast, he was more focused on making you feel good right now, choosing going deep and hard over going fast. His hand found its way back between your legs, playing with your clit some more as he continued to push himself into you. Your legs trembled, threatening to snap closed around him from all the overstimulation. It didn't take much of that to push you over that edge again, letting out a whimper, muffled by your hand. He felt the way you tightened around him, squeezing, just as you had done around his fingers and he knew he must've been doing well. You felt so good around him, he wasn't sure he'd last particularly long. But he'd do his best.

2 or maybe 3 more orgasms later (truthfully your mind was long past the ability to count), he quickly pulled out, cumming on your lower stomach, panting heavily. The bed beneath you was soaked from a mix of your wetness and sweat. He got off of you, going to find something to clean you up with. He found a small towel, cleaning you up before realizing the bed would need to be cleaned as well. For now, he pulled his nightshirt onto you, which may as well have been a short nightgown, and lifted you into his arms, taking you to lay in his bed. He pulled his sleep pants on, putting your discarded clothes in your laundry hamper before returning to join you. By the time he laid down beside you and was pulling you close into his arms, you were sound asleep. He kissed your forehead.

"I love you, Y/n."

He whispered.

"And I always will."

[cosmerelists]

Interviewing My Wife About The Cosmere: Part 2

My wife has not read any Cosmere books. All of her knowledge comes from me and this blog. But last time, when I interviewed her about the Cosmere, you guys seemed to enjoy it!

So here is part two. This time, she must determine whether I am describing Kaladin, Shallan, Adolin...or Szeth. The guy she can never remember.

1. Part 1: The Introduction

Question: Okay, to make sure this is fair, please identify each of the characters. Who are Kaladin, Shallan, Adolin & Szeth?

"Kaladin: sad boy with spear." "Shallan: lady with multiple personalities." "Adolin: no powers. Poops in his armor." "Szeth..." [Pause. Momentary look of pure panic] "Wait! It's GO WHITE BOY GO"

2. Part 2: Identifying Their Murders

Question: Who stabbed someone through the eye in a dark alley?

"Adolin!!" [Under what circumstances?] "Dunno! I just remember that you said he didn't kill people in duels but he did once kill someone in an alley!"

Question: Who strangled someone to death slowly while singing a lullaby?

"Well that sounds scary, so....Shallan!"

Question: Who threw a spear tip through the eye hole in someone's armor?

"Kaladin! Spear boy!"

Question: Who just LOVES lashing people to the sky until the power runs out and they drop to their death?

"................Wait, is it one to one? Because I would say Kaladin! He's sky boy!" [It's one to one] "Huh! Go white boy go I guess!"

3. Part 3: Identifying their Talents

Question: Who is canonically trained in ice skating?

"Shallan?" [Why?] "Because she's artsy fartsy." [It's not Shallan] "Adolin? He's a rich boy." [Nope.] "White boy???" [Yes!] "Huh. Well good for him I guess."

Question: Who is canonically good at drawing?

"That's Shallan!!"

Question: Who loves horses?

"Adolin right? Because Kaladin is, like, scared of them."

Question: Then who is good at rock climbing?

"My baby!! I'm so proud of him!!!"

4. Part 4: Miscellaneous

Question: Who said, "I don't want to study. I want to be dead."

"Adolin because he's a himbo? Wait! He can't read! Then it must be Shallan?" [Nope.] "White boy???" [Yes!]

Question: Who set a ship on fire to escape from pirates?

"Shallan. She seems to escape a lot from things. Mostly trauma. That seems traumatic."

Question: Who reads fashion magazines?

"Adolin of course!"

Question: So who said, "Honor is dead but I'll see what I can do."

"Kaladin! That's your favorite thing!" [Until the next part] "Why what's the next part?"

Part 5: Predictions

Question: This one won't have answers, but I want you to predict the ultimate fate of each character in Stormlight 5. We'll see if you get any correct!

"Kaladin will be dead. So. Because he's a sad boy and that's what they do with sad boys." "Shallan will...merge personalities maybe?" "Adolin will have a power with his buddy. Hopefully she won't scream too much." "White boy is there. Hmmm...maybe he'll be a world hopper! Yeah! He's weird enough to be a world hopper!"

So there you have it, folks!