#speaking of gold in dragon age...

[lizzybeeee]

The most effective anti-lyrium PSA in existence

if you ever think you look bad for your age, just remember that this guy is supposed to be 18

[merrigel]

Been way deep into Dragon Age lately (replaying Inquisition and now, just getting into Veilguard) SO!! Check out my babies!!

[venmondiese]

DRAGON COINS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over. (based on this request)

✧pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Bastard!Female Reader.

✧word count: 4.1k

✧warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, targcest, oral (m) receiving, brat taming, very slight almost unnoticeable implied aegond AND (not so subtle) that reader is aegon's bastard, aemond is a dilf.. hehe, they are both insane.

You were the prettiest woman at the brothel; most men always repeated that to you. And for a fact, you knew it very well. 

You loved dancing; always have. You used to imagine yourself as a royal princess at balls and court events, who wore the prettiest dresses and the most extravagant headpieces, full of veils, patterns, and many details of gold, purple. You imagined, as well, that you would have a nicer figure, full of food, and expensive things, like caviar, and have meat all day. 

Yet you were not a princess. You didn’t dress in purple, didn't have anything gold, you never attended a ball or court. You just looked the part; with bright violet eyes, silver hair and that Targaryen’s appearance that called the attention. 

Your mother told you that your father was a prince; she never said more. You always thought who it could be. Daemon? He was away at that time. Laenor? The rumours of his liking of men didn’t help. Aegon? He was barely of age by the time you were conceived.

If it was a lie, or a truth, you did not know; you only knew that everyone was enchanted by your appearance; your bright eyes, that your mother often compared them to one of a doe; your lips, always pink without the need of any makeup. You were a natural, born to shine among the common people. 

Inevitably, you ended up in a brothel. As a dancer, with exotic clothes from Lys, and some large feather fan for your dances, and you learned how to do your hairstyles the same way Lyseni girls did, since they were the best of the best. 

You were the best of the best. You made sure of it. You had something special, the looks, and the wits. Just not the money nor position for it.  

Most of the time, the Brothel opens at the ninth bell rang of the day, when the sun starts falling down, and people come home from their work, and just some time after men get paid for their daily works. 

It was the eighth toll of the bell when you were helping one of the new girls out. She had auburn hair, and almost as long as yours; and you were helping her do a crown of braids. You heard the consistent knock on the door, and you frowned for a bit, as you walked towards the door. 

It was a hooded figure, tall, and looking around as if he was followed. You frown a bit, watching his shoes; you could tell a lot from a man's shoes. This one wore boots, black and slightly muddy. He also smelt strong, like fire, somehow. Oddly enough, he didn’t speak when he moved his eye to watch you silently.

“We are not open.” you say to him, holding the door close, just so half of your body could be seen. “Wait for the next bell toll”

“Call your Madame” He says, abruptly, rude as men used to be; never lacking that audacity that their demands have.

“The brothel opens-”

“I heard you fine the first time” he repeats, as if he didn’t have the time “Call your Madame” he says, throwing a bag full of coins as if nothing, as if he wanted to buy your silence.

You frowned as you knelt to grab the bag, and from that angle you could see the small silver hairs that he intended to hide in that hood, and the eye patch, covering his left eye as the other one, with a deep purple tone watched you intently. You could see the small dragon patterns on his clothes, and how even his cloak had gold details, with little dragons.

It was prince Aemond. You have never seen him up close before, perhaps you had seen Vhagar around the skies from time to time. You heard that he takes his sons to fly often. Just as his grandsire, he had been left a widow with two sons. Not that he shared a love for his late wife, and he did not care to seek another bride.

Yet, prideful as you were, made a face and turned around, opening the door for him as you guided him towards the personal room of the Madame. Although, it seems as if he knew the place since quite some time. 

You watch intently at the prince, who the Madame compliments as older. You suppose he looks older, you didn’t quite remember how old prince Aemond truly is. You remember the celebrations for his five and twenty name day, but you couldn’t quite recall how many years ago that was.

“Should I fetch something, Madame?” You ask simply to Madame Sylvi, who sits in the middle of the bed, and yet prince Aemond doesn’t mind your presence as he starts undressing, taking his cloak off, followed by his eye patch. 

He has no shame, truly. You watch how he takes off that leather jerkin, embroidered with dragon details made of gold, as if gold didn’t have a better use than to be embroidered on a prince’s clothes that he probably uses once or twice before asking the tailor for other clothes. 

“No, do not worry. You tell Daisy that she is in charge tonight”

Interesting. You think, as the prince takes off his breeches, and you turn around to close the curtains, leaving your Madame to take care of the prince. And yet, you took an unshameful glimpse of his ass, smiling as you walked to finish the braids for your friend. 

And that routine continued for quite a while, you now noticed when prince Aemond arrived at the brothel, sometime before it opened, sometimes near the end of the night. Sometimes he came day after day, and others it was weeks apart. 

You danced the most on busy days, and you refused to dance when you did not want to. You were as spoiled as a little princess, which gained you some popularity among the workers and the clients. Some of them called you a ‘little princess’ and others a ‘spoiled cunt’, and yet you didn’t mind because you knew you could be both. 

It was probably one of your new dances, with a bold sound of the lute as you moved the expensive fan around, as if teasing the audience with more peeks of your body. This was a busy day, and so, a lot of men were gathered around watching whatever lewd display it was shown on the occasion. 

A jousting was held by the Royal Family, and so a lot of lords and knights came to the city, which means that the street of Silk was at its full capacity, and every man looking for a woman to fuck. And you also knew that most squires that wanted to be knights came here to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before a joust. 

Yet, you don’t miss the one purple eye that watches you intently, still hiding before one of his expensive cloaks with dragon designs. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, at all. Perhaps he could be several years older, yet you know better than him. He could read books, but you have to survive day to day. 

Your long hair was braided in a Valyrian-Lyseni way, as you wore some gold detailed hair rings as you asked for them especially for tonight. Men had an appetite for women with that Valyrian looks, and you were an especially fine one. 

With every turn of your hips, you saw the expectancy of his eye, in the back of the crowd yet in the middle and not missing a thing. Prince Aemond was an especially eager one, instead of screaming and cheering at the swift movement of your body, he just remained quiet.

He was observant, he was ambitious, and you were the best. 

You weren’t surprised when he made a signal for one of the girls serving the ale, and whispered something in her ear. And you weren’t surprised either when the same girl was waiting for you at the edge of the platform where you performed.

He wanted you. 

And gods damned you if you didn’t want him. Because even with the whispers and rumours about prince Aemond, he was still one of the most divine Targaryen on earth. He might be older than you, but that never stopped you, at all. And with a chance like this? 

“He is a very exclusive client” Madame Sylvi says, as if instructing you as she walks you through the brothel “Likes very exclusive things, all of them you will please. If he wants to talk, you hear. You will touch him if he asks you, and you’ll do anything he wants. He usually gives you orders; how to be, what to do, what to say. You’ll do that- He likes having things in control and preparing for it. And something else; he doesn’t kiss” She says slightly annoyed. “A rule of his. He doesn’t like it. Not then, not now” 

You walk, not at all bothered by that rule. You shrug, and take notes, but something in your gut tells you it will be different, somehow. 

“I have been told you wanted me, my prince” you say softly, as you enter the exclusive room that Aemond was in. 

He looked at you; a hum left his lips without entertaining more in the conversation. He looked at you, as if thinking for a while. His shirt was undone, and his boots were still on, as his pants were a bit messy. . 

“Wine?” You ask walking toward the small cabinet with cups and some of the best ale and wine. Particular rooms were for expensive clients, those who paid stags… sometimes you could get a bag with some coins with the face of King Jaehaerys.

“No” he says simply. 

You shrug, the small jewellery tinkling as you walk, serving the wine for you to drink. If he didn’t need one, that’s okay. But you needed a small sip for courage, for your hips to lose up a little bit. 

“Are you Lyseni?” Aemond asks, his cold and stoic tone not changing. Most of the time, you’d say yes, to please the men like him that knew that Lyseni girls were the best whores. But you think prince Aemond asks for other reasons.

“No”

“A bastard, then” 

You watch him through your eyelashes. Was he more interested in your services or your blood? You were sure that both could please him very much.

“Yes.”

He hums, as if the thought interests him very much. You are aware of the bulge on his pants, by the way his legs are apart and he is leaning back, very much interested in you. 

“Care for a dance, my prince?” You ask, taking in your hand the fans, walking closer to him. “I’ve been told I am the best. I don‘t think you deserve anything but” 

It’s the small nod he gives that encourages you to move your hips, with no music but the one in your head. Years and years of dancing, you know the thrill by now. 

Translucent fabric from Essos, gives nothing to imagination, and it serves to give a more lustful touch to your body. It pushes your breasts up in the right way, and you can see the one eye of the prince roaming in your figure.

As you leave the fans, walking closer to him, he then asks again.

“You are Waters, then. A bastard from my father?” 

“Nuh-uh” you murmur, your hands going to his breeches, undoing them. 

“My uncle” 

“No”  

“Hm” he hums, looking at how his pants are undone, and his cock is rock hard, resting against his low abdomen, as if demanding attention from you. 

There was something about Targaryens that was so divine. 

“My brother, then?” 

You smirk, raising your eyebrows as if the mere question amuses you.

“I think you might know…” you murmur, watching him closely. Maybe he was old to keep up with your games, and less eager than most men who you attended to; with no problems in engaging with your games. 

Prince Aemond was a mature man, who had real duties to attend, and more concerns rather than which whore will he fuck today. And that aroused you. How little he seems to care about you, playing hard to get. It made you eager, and you realised that you were falling for his games instead.

“That makes you...” he murmurs, watching your lips. 

Targaryen. Valyrian. Dragon bound. His niece. All of those words he could say. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, words lingering in the air.

You raise your eyebrows, and a slight smirk appears on your lips. 

“Mhm. I might just be, my prince” 

Your hand drew slow patterns on his cock, stroking it softly as you two engaged on this odd talk. 

“Or you might not be”

“Or I might not be”

He watched your eyes intently; purple meeting purple. This man was calculating, and you could see it in his face. 

“That’s the thrill of it, I’d say” 

“You have his face” he murmurs, his thumb moving to touch your lips faintly. 

“So I have been told.”

He agrees with your statement as his hands move to take off the translucent fabric of your dress. You had many men touching you… but never the way that Aemond Targaryen did. His hands felt warm on your skin, and his touch felt right.

Aemond was an experienced man, and you noticed. He doesn't waste time fooling around, as the Madame told you. You were off your clothes in no time, as he had you right in his lap, comfortably. 

“What do you want me to do, my prince?” You ask, softly. 

He seems to think of an answer before saying. “Do your very best. Surprise me, if you can”

His hands slide down to the swell of your hips, firm grip as he watches your face; almost amazed, and by how he pulls your body closer to his chest, he was aroused too. 

Your hands go towards his shoulders, as you use that to hold as you grind against his own cock. The fabric from his open pants tickled your thighs as you straddled his lap, and yet that was the last of your worries. You were so horny, unlike many times, you were dripping wet for this man. 

Lewd moans spilled from your lips, one of your hands moving to cup his face, feeling the heavy breathing that came from his mouth. He was an intense one, his single eye never left your gaze; and you weren’t one to lose a challenge. 

“I think you are a spoiled thing” His tone is breathy, as he squeezes the flesh on your hips to force your cunt to grind against his cock, greedy as a dragon. 

“Been told so” your voice is more agitated, and you lean forward as if to kiss him, just to push your luck, and he moves his head slightly back. You giggle, trying to suppress a moan at his growl. 

“You little...” he says, yet a smirk appears on his lips due to the provocation. 

“Hm?” You ask almost innocently. “Didn’t do anything…”

“Spoiled whore” he says, with his chin and lips moving closer to yours, and you nod. “Proud of that?”

“I don’t hide anything, my prince” 

Aemond’s hands move upwards to your waist, and it takes him no real effort to turn you over on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as your back hits the mattress, gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, as you move some of your hair out of your face.

“I wanted to suck your cock” you say, using your elbows to get some height as he moves his hands to pull down his pants.

“And I want to fuck you” he says as if he was the one in the right, and it was obvious he lived to dominate. 

“And I want to suck your cock” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I am the one paying” he reminds you. Not upset, but more amusedly annoyed at your brattiness. It amused him greatly, to see a thing like you defy him. 

“Yes. And you said for me to surprise you, so I think I get the right to decide”

He has a smirk, yet his eye showed how amazed (and annoyed) he was.

“Brat” he spits the word, as he moves your legs apart further. 

You feel his dick slide against your slit, yet he only does to tease you, and to arouse himself more. You moan, feeling as if you could cum just by him doing that. What was this man doing to you?

“You are unfair” 

“Want to suck my cock? Fine, you’ll suck my fucking cock” He says, taking you by the shoulder, moving you to sit back up, and pushing you over the edge to the bed. “Go on.” He says patronisingly. Manhandling you to every whim he might have. “Fucking slut, come on, suck my cock”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were all over his dick, sucking every part you can of it. Seeing him over you, his hair loose as he was hard as a rock, and his hand grabbed your silvery hair, taking it into his hand with wonder. He was into it.

Your purple eyes look up to him, your lips around his cock as your obscene sounds delight his arousal. He groans as he pulls your hair, forcing you to take more and more of him.

Your hand caresses his balls softly, as if trying to caress every part of him. He was truly divine, and you knew something; you two were of the very same blood. And Aemond knew that too. Not that it stopped you, truly.

“Enough” He commands, forcing you to be up. You were about to protest, you were barely beginning! “Stop whining, bratty princess” It is now that he pulls you towards his lap, in a hurry that could only be interpreted as desperation and hunger. 

Princess. Coming from a royal’s mouth. Coming from what you think is your own blood. The sound that leaves your mouth isn’t fake, as you used to do when other clients complimented you. That one, and all the rest, was real. Just for him. 

The feeling of his cock entering inside you was truly like no other, you felt just like a court maiden, touched for the very first time, your hands gripping on his shoulders as he grabbed you by your thighs, making you to go down onto his cock, and the feeling of your pussy engulfing him whole, greedily… drove Aemond mad. 

“Fuck” he mutter against your lips, almost groaning. “Fuck, just like... Fuck…” 

As if the smugness from your eyes went away, your big eyes scan his face, as if searching for anything. “Fuck me” 

“I am fucking you” Aemond murmurs, his tone tense. 

“P-Please” You beg, pathetically, needing the feeling of his dick pounding hard and with no mercy against you “Fuck me, please, f-fuck me”

Your plea serves him enough, he leans back on the pillows just a bit, making it easy for you to have a better hold of him, and rest on his chest, as he took your hips and forced you to take his cock, fucking you on it. It drove you mad. 

Your first try to grip his shoulders, as your loud and lewd sounds fill the room, but it seems useless, your hands slipping off his shoulders, as your cunt squeezes his cock. You were desperate, your forehead pressed against his chest as your mouth was open, as if you could not have any control over your body, a little thread of drool coming out of your mouth. 

“Fuck me, please, please”

“Greedy princess, hm?” Aemond sounds smug, as he spanks your ass hard. The slap sound resonates in the room, along with the wet sounds and more sounds of your skin against his. 

“Yes, I am such… a needy girl”

“Always have been” he murmurs, picking up a pace as his hips start to meet your thrusts. You realised then, that it was affecting him as bad as you. Perhaps the pleasure was blinding you, but his tone was tense, his grip stronger and he was more demanding of you. He was solving it; and that only fuelled the fire.

“Yes. Please…” You murmurs, and as bold as you are, you murmur “Uncle, please” 

That sends him over the edge of madness. His pace is relentlessly, and his mouth only lets out groans and guttural sounds, as he insists on pounding hard on you, his hands on your ass as he pulls your hips down, his cock filling you in the most exquisite way, as his balls hit your skin from the force of impact. 

He slaps you when you move your head to see him, eyes full of need and pleasure. He seems to get off on it; and you won’t deny him anything. You know it. And you do love when he takes his frustration out on you, it is even better than the composed version of himself, stoic, cold and uncaring that he presented first. The unhinged version is... So much better.

“You will cum in my cock” He orders you, his low tone is a proof of his desperation about it “You’ll be a good little princess...” He grabs your platinum hair to make your head go up, your face closer to his. “And you’ll cum on my cock.” He says against your lips. 

You kind of don’t care about the ‘rule’ he has, because as soon as you feel the hot breath of his hit your lips, you lean slightly to kiss him, even if the grip on your hair makes it painful. And to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. 

There is lewdness as his cock opens your cunt, sloppy sounds and moans that spilled from your mouth over and over again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut due to the pleasure, focusing only on the feeling of him.

Your cunt felt on fire, you could only imagine how it felt around him, but you are getting so overwhelmed with pleasure that your right hand grip on his shoulder hard. You take the reins of your pleasure, moving your hips up and down, trying to get every grasp of pleasure. 

The position not only makes you shake with mind blowing pleasure, but also presents all of your tits on Aemond’s face, jumping in front of him as his dick hits the deepest part of you. 

“Fuck, princess” he mutters, another harsh spank on your ass that makes your moan loudly. 

He had the girth that you needed to feel full. He made you feel more than that, you felt alive. Truly alive. The head of his manhood hitting repeatedly all of the right parts, making you moan, his hand gripping on your ass as he also felt the same pleasure.

“I’m going to cum inside you, princess” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to cum on his cock.

You shake as your orgasm hits you, your thighs feel mire forced to be open, and your cunt craves to feel his cum flooding your insides, filling you with his seed. You craved it so bad; it had you moaning more and more.  

Aemond uses your body, still shaking and limper to fuck you, his cock full of your juices as he groans, throwing his head back as he mutters some words in high Valyrian, cumming hard in your welcoming pussy. 

“Iksā sepār hae zirȳla.  Hylagon hae zirȳla.  Aōha kepa se kesā sagon ñuha morghon.  JēDar hen iksā ñuhon” Aemond groans his grip firm as he makes sure not a drop of his cum gets out of your pussy. 

As you catch your breath, you feel a bit limp on Aemond’s chest. He was sweaty, so were you. And you were tired, feeling the bruises of his marks on your delicate skin. You feel his seed coming out of your cunt, and that makes you whimper. 

“You are beautiful” He murmurs, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it on your mouth, playfully, sucking it just a bit to tease him. Aemond hums, very pleased. “Just like your father” 

As he extends his arm, he takes the bad of coins, and takes some of them into his hand, showing the gold to you.

“Full of it, just for you.” Prince Aemond murmurs, his hand caressing your lower back. “But you have to be just mine” he warns, possessive just like a man from his position is. 

You sigh, taking one of the coins with your fingers and inspectionating it. A bag full of dragon coins. You could see the face of Jaehaerys I, and turning it around is the profile of a dragon. 

“No men. No flirting. No whoring around” he says, whispering in your ear. “Just mine. Could you do that, princess?”

If you could do that? You don’t mind whoring around, you didn’t hide being hedonistic. Be his? Not hard. But be a princess? Could you do that?

“Of course I will, my prince.” 

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[aenramsden]

The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

[andromedas-wrath]

Hi! I saw your post and what you do/don't write and was wondering if you could write anything regarding male hotd characters x Tulley/Riverlands reader? Preferably Tully, they're my favourite house. I don't mind gen neutral but I am fem, either way is okay :)

Hi!! This is my first request (which I’m so happy about, so thank you!! I hope you enjoy! (Edit- yall this took me 3 hours omg.)

family, duty, honor- J. Velaryon

Word count- 2759 words

Summary: Jacaerys travels the river-lands, reaching Riverrun to get House Tully to declare for the blacks. They seem unwilling- until Lord Tully strikes a deal.

WARNINGS: slightly uncanon events, arranged marriage, 18+, speaking of war+violence, medieval customs, romance, p in v, vulgar language, unprotected, but lovey dovey!

Jacaerys and his men had taken most of the Riverlands for the blacks- securing what seemed to be almost a victory- by blocking out the greens from the majority of the wetlands- it gave them a large upper hand in what battles were going to be.

They took refuge inside the castle of Riverrun, where the Tully’s resided. The large dining hall held many of his men. He stood before the men of house Tully, lord Grover, Oscar, and Kermit Tully all sat in their seats, advisors beside them.

Lord Grover sat on his throne, head propped against his fist, as he spoke, “What brings you to Riverrun, boy?”

Jacaerys remained diplomatic and cool, as he stood straight and replied

“My lord, I come on behalf of my mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen. If you vouch for her claim to the throne, you will earn protection, and be heavily rewarded.”

Whispers spread throughout the court, servants stopping to listen as Jacaerys never slightly turned his gaze from the lords.

Lord Tully licked his lips softly, sitting up straight on his throne.

“You mean to persuade my house, for gold dragons, for protection from whom?”, lord Tully hardened his gaze.

“With your support, my lord, you will have the protection of the men of the north, my men. Alongside that, my mother would gift your people a dragon.”

Lord Tully laughed, leaning back into his seat, a leg thrown over his relaxed one. “Hah! You mean to give me a hatchling, like you did to Lady Arryn?”

Jace’s gaze hardened, yet he remained calm. “No hatching my lord, Vermithor, a fine and aged dragon.”

The lord scoffed, “You dare try throwing a dragon- with no rider into this. You dare embarrass my house- with greybeards and unwanted dragons?”

Jacaerys smiled, slightly angered by the man’s insolence, before replying, “For now he lacks a rider yes, but I assure you, once we find a rider worthy of him, he will be a ruthless one- one who can fight for our claim.”

Lord Tully slammed his cane onto the ground, his grandsons watching him as he leaned onto it, meeting Jacaerys eyes with a dark scowl. “House Tully, will not have such idiocy thrown in our quarters.”

Jace’s jaw tensed, breathing out as he met the lord's eyes. “I mean no harm- lord Tully, I am willing to strike a deal to have your house’s power and land, to fight against the greens.”

Lord Tully’s advisor whispered into his ear, as his face somewhat brightened, as he leaned into his chair, a delighted look on his face, as he spoke, “Prince Jacaerys, it’s come to my attention that you are not betrothed.”

Jace’s gaze hardened, somewhat from surprise and oddity of the question. “I am not.”

Lord Tully turned to his grandson, Oscar. “Go fetch your sister, lad.”

Oscar looked between him and the prince, sensing a rise of tension, as he scurried off, footsteps heard against the cobblestone floors. Jace cocked his head, questioning.

“And just what do you mean- by asking me of my marital status?”

Before lord Tully could answer, Oscar walked back in, a girl trailing behind him, as the court went quiet. She was clad in her house colors, a dark navy dress, her hair done intricately into braids. She curtsied before her brothers, moving beside her grandsire as she sat in her throne next to him, as Jacaerys and her met eyes.

He took in almost every detail he could, her soft features, the way she held herself- it made him swallow hard, before he turned his gaze back to her grandfather.

Lord Tully smiled, a hand motioning to her. “This, is my granddaughter, Y/n. My third-in-line heir of House Tully. She sits here today, a maiden, unbetrothed.”

Jace’s gaze turned from confused, to almost knowing, as he looked between the lords. He held his tongue, as he kept a careful expression.

Lord Tully smiled, “We will take on your- proposition, your gold dragons, grey beards, dragon- if, you take my granddaughter's hand.”

The hall erupted into gasps- whispers- all sorts of muffled noises, as he saw her eyes widen, her gaze falling to her lap. His heart beat in his chest, as shock struck him. He spoke diplomatically, yet fueled with emotion. “Is this some type of joke, Tully? You think that marriage is what it takes- for our support? You mean to throw your granddaughter at me and expect me to agree?”

Lord tullys expression changed, his smile dropping, as his voice dripped venom. “Then Riverrun will have to turn green.”

Jacaerys' face paled as Lord Tully made his threat. His heart began to beat faster and a cold feeling crept through his veins. He didn't want to make more enemies, and the idea of House Tully siding with the Greens was terrifying. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, the girl's face was expressionless, but her eyes gleamed with something he couldn't quite place. He looked back to the lord, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Lord Tully sat up, “So now my prince, I must request- take my granddaughter's hand- or leave.”

Jacaerys' mind was a storm of thoughts, his heart and mind battling each other. He couldn't take his eyes off her, his emotions in turmoil. They needed the Tully’s, for they could not win this war without their support. He hesitated, his breath hitching for a moment, before he replied

"I'll take her hand."

Her and her brother’s eyes met, as her mouth gaped slightly open, gasps and whispers spreading through the castle, before lord Tully let out an amused laugh, standing on his cane, pulling her into a side hug. “What a glorious day for Tully history!”

The room erupted into cheers, as Jacaerys gaze locked onto her form, as she squeezed out of her grandfather's grasp, running up the stairs and away from the attention. Jace felt his body move after her, as he followed her down the torch-lit halls.

He found her, standing as she looked out the window, watching the rain. He approached her side, as she turned to meet his gaze. He finally managed to break the silence.

“I wanted to speak to you.”

She nodded softly, turning back to the window. “I assume, this isn’t of your heart’s desire.”

He looked out the window, thinking of how to reply. “It’s- not what I imagined when I thought of taking Riverrun,” he paused “It’s unexpected, is all.” He met her gaze once again, as her face was lit by the torches.

Her gaze hardened slightly. “I never expected, to be auctioned off as such. I, am a lady, I have always been told “Family, duty, honor”, for it is what drives house Tully, my prince.”, she met his gaze, turning to him. “If that means that- I must marry you, then I grant myself to you.”

He met her gaze, taking her hand, his larger hand holding her hand to his lips, as he placed a whisper of a kiss over her knuckles. “If it helps, I never imagined this either.”, he fiddled with her hand. “But I am not against having your hand, my lady.”

Her face slightly softened, a soft flush covering the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. “I never imagined you to be such a gentleman.”

He slightly grinned, cocking an eyebrow, as he spoke lowly, “Do I seem so cocky, my lady? How you ail me.”, he teased.

She smiled, and he swore his heart increased double, if not triple. He took in her soft expression, and for a moment, he didn’t feel so guilty about being okay with having her all to himself. She caught his gaze, as they both were lost to eachothers intense analysis.

He felt a wave of confidence, as tucked her stray hairs away from her face, whispering, “I never knew tullys for their beauty, until you, my lady.”

She shivered beneath him, her eyes fluttering, as she whispered. “I wish you to call me by my name, as I should call you yours.”

His breath caught, as he softly smiled. “Y/n. A pretty name, fit enough for your beauty.”, he rested his hand on her face.

She met his eyes, as a soft recognition of want- desire was felt between them. He slowly moved towards her, limits of inches between them, as they could almost hear eachothers hearts beneath their own touch.

She moved her own hands to his face, pushing soft curls away from his face, as she whispered, “Is it wrong for me, to desire your lips upon mine?”

He froze for a second, looking between her eyes, taking a shaky breath as he took her all in. He finally spoke,

“No.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “It’s not wrong, for I long for you too.”

She met his gaze with a small smile. “Then, if I’ve heard right, Velaryon men are men of action.”

His gaze darkened, as he closed the further distance, pulling her close to him, as he leaned down, whispering to her lips, “You’ve heard correctly my lady, for we also have little patience.”

He pressed his lips into her plush ones, as he felt a spark between them, as if all breath was lost to her. He placed a hand behind her head, not prince-like of him no, but all he felt was a pure, pure desire for her, and he didn’t care who they were. She whimpered into him, as a hand grasped his cloak, pulling him impossibly closer.

He felt as if he was swimming in the depths of a dream, her noise urging him further, as his hands explored her soft body, clutching her dress in his hands, finding anything to pull her closer.

She pulled away for air, gasping as she met his eyes, her once bright eyes, darkened with desire. She spook, breathless.

“My room- a stride away.”, she whispered out.

His gaze darkened, his heart beating in his throat. Images of them- in her room flashed through his mind, as he nodded, speaking lowly.

“Lead me, pretty one.”

As she closed the door to her quarters, he was on her in a second, pinning her against the large wooden doors as their lips met in a heated dance. He tangled his fingers in her hair, as he angled her neck open, for his mouth to mark her. She whimpered as he sucked, leaving marks all over. He groaned out, moaning against her.

“You’re mine for the taking.”

She pulled his head away slightly, panting as she whimpered out, “the bed, please Jacaerys.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, as he carried her to her large canopy bed, laying her down on the soft covers, climbing above her and pinning her down, holding her close, as his eyes studied her.

“Gods- I have never seen such a sight as you.”

She sat up, holding his face, speaking softly, “Remove my dress.”

He felt a jolt of heat and desire run through him at her request and didn’t need to be told twice. He helped her sit up, his hands going to the laces that held her dress on her body. Slowly and gently, he untied the laces, revealing more and more of her skin to him. He took his time, his eyes roaming over the newly exposed flesh, his fingers brushing against her skin in the process. Her dress fell off the bed, as she laid amongst the sheets, her nude body shown to him.

He shuddered out a groan, as he simply stared. He was new to all of this- contrary to many thoughts of him. He was a soldier, a dragon rider, yes- but he was not familiar with a gift from Aphrodite- such as her. The mere sight of her sent blood straight to his hardening cock.

He quickly removed his garments, as he climbed on top of her, caging her, his muscular body holding her carefully, as he pressed a scorching kiss to her lips, his hands wandering over her body.

His touch was nervous- gentle, but filled with the need to memorize your curves, everything.

She spoke up, differed from her soft moans, “Gods- I need you Jacaerys- I can’t take this.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words. The urgency in her voice, the need and the desire in her eyes - it was almost too much for him to bear. His own lust and need for her were almost overwhelming, and he knew he couldn’t keep her waiting any longer.

“I’m here.”

He reached a nervous hand down to her heat, watching her reaction, as she swiped a digit through her wetness, as she whimpered. He groaned alongside her, teasing her by accident, before she grasped his hand, and lead a finger into her softly. He groaned, feeling how she took him in, held him so close. He slowly moved his finger, thriving off her noises, as he slowly humped her leg. He huskily spoke, groaning.

“Gods- you hug me so good- can’t imagine how it will really feel.”

She moaned from his talk, shivering. She uttered out a response. “If you keep speaking like that- I won’t be able to keep you away for much longer-“

His cock jumped, as he groaned. From that, he stopped his movements, turning her head towards him. “Do you want me, pretty thing? Want to feel me?”

She moaned in response, meeting his eyes with frequent nodding, and pleading. “Gods yes- just take me now-“

And with that, he pulled his hand away, earning a whimper from which he smiled, he pushed her legs apart, settling between her. He noticed her nervous expression, as he kissed her lips slowly and softly, pulling away to meet her eyes. “Do you want this?”, he spoke softly

She nodded softly, biting her lip. “Im a maiden, Jacaerys.”

He smiled softly, holding her hand. “I’ve never done this either- I want to learn with you.”

She nodded, as he looked down, positioning himself, as he slowly inched in, groaning as she took him in. They both moaned together, trembling.

“Gods you’re- amazing. Never thought it would be this good.”

she whimpered, holding his hand tight. He noticed her tense, as he stopped, meeting her eyes, “are you alright? I can stop-“

“No- no please don’t-“, she uttered out. “You feel- you’re huge, Jacaerys.”

He shuddered, moaning from her praise, as he started to move. “Keep talking like that and I won’t last long-“

They moaned in unison as his movements progressed in speed and depth, his hands trembling as he held her hips, slapping noises echoing across her chambers.

He met her eyes- and that’s where he almost came down. She looked angelic, her eyes stuck on him, her face twisted in pleasure, as her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs pinned behind his back. He pressed his lips to hers in an instant, quickening his pace. She moaned into him, speaking, whilst meeting his eyes.

“Feels so good- gods- I’ll give you an heir, anything you want-!”

And that's where he felt like he almost died. Giving her an heir- fueled him faster, making him groan, his hips snapping into hers as he sucked hard on her neck, popping off as he whispered.

“Fuck- I’ll give you as many as you want- gonna make sure it sticks-“

Their moans pitched higher, as he started to whimper, his head falling into her chest. “I can’t last much longer- you’re too tight-“

“Come down with me- please-“

His movements turned sloppy, as he quickly pressed his lips to hers, his hips stilling, as they moaned into each other's mouths, his seed filling her.

He pulled away, kissing her cheeks, as he pulled out slowly, both groaning from the loss of contact, as he slumped beside her, pulling her into his chest.

She rested her head on his chest, looking into his eyes, with a breathless smile, which he met with a bashful smile.

She smiled, fluttering her eyes shut, speaking, “Quite improper for a prince, bedding his wife before they are married.”, she teased.

He flushed softly, pulling her closer. “You’re saying you didn’t like it?”She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“I’ve never felt more loved, Jacaerys.”, she met his eyes.

They both melted into each other, naked bodies embraced under the might of the gods, old and new.

Houses intertwined for family, duty, honor, and more importantly, love.

[chanafehs]

isabela's veilguard outfit is literally insane like a bikini that's it??? what world are we living in that her design from da2, a game that came out 12 years ago, is somehow less racist and misogynistic than her 2024 design??????

Am I surprised by this design choice? No. Am I disappointed? Absolutely.

If I’m not mistaken, Isabela is the first woman of color we have as a companion - specifically the first Black woman as a companion - and she is arguably the most sexualized character within the entire series. Like even going back and playing da2 it feels like everyone makes a comment about her sex life or literally slut shames her (Aveline and Anders I’m looking right at you) - even one of the voice actors called her a whore on Twitter. They don’t even seem committed to having her be Black either instead just racially ambiguous which sucks.

(I want to make it clear I am speaking as a non Black person but if any Black Dragon Age fans would like to add their own thoughts to this post please do so!)

I really want to know the thought process the devs had about this design behind the scenes because throughout all the jokes about bikini armor and making the armor “practical”, we still got this?? How????

The only argument I can see taken place in defense of this is having some kind of under water themed mission (in her concept art for dav she’s underwater with some of our companions) but if that were the case: why is she wearing gold armor. It makes no sense. She would sink right to the bottom and don’t give me some excuse about using magic. Also, you don’t need a bikini to swim underwater.

I’m upset also because the creators keep trying to say that games can’t exist without some politics and having more options to be inclusive to marginalized identities is paramount (these are both good things) but they consistently fall short when it comes to Orientalism, Racism, and Anti-Blackness. It only sends the message that these games are geared for white audiences, not us. It’s 2024 how have we not retired the bellydancer adjacent armors.

[bigtedbear]

" 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 "

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

content warnings: nsfw content 𝐌𝐃��𝐈 𝟏𝟖+, dom top male reader, bottom male character, mlm, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, implied mpreg, breeding kink, implied impregnation (there's existential dread washing over me as I write this wondering what my ancestors think), unsafe sex (i fear condoms don't exist yet), they're both virgins but blade definitely doesn't act like one, the reader on the other hand-, sub top reader kinda, dom bottom blade kinda hallelujah amen, they're basically just both horny losers, medieval alternate universe, monsterfucking, blade is a dragon, mating rituals, extremely brief mentions of religion/purity/chastity, i didn't tag this as yandere cause that's kinda just blade???, hey 🪷 anon,,, pov getting over blade's creepy tendencies because of his absolutely fatal face card

ADDED CONTENT WARNINGS: body piercings (nipple piercings), mentions of lactation (there's no real lactation sorry guys i have to stick to the timeline), HEAVY talk of mpreg like that's the whole premise of this part, nipple play, reader is a FREAK for his wife, it came out way softer than I meant it to????, blade is still emotionally constipated but less than usual because he's also a horny loser

" new contact noted! caller blade has been added to your phonebook! - love, operator t-19 "

NOTE: hey guys I forgot about blades pierced nipples, both my heart and the hearts of my audience were broken

the public has spoken, I'm adding on more smut that's probably gonna basically revolve around his tits will update when this has been amended 🫡

SECOND NOTE: the section has been added in, you can read it as part of the entirety of the post of just a single drabble on foreplay with blades tiddies and HEAVY discussion of mpreg

" welcome back caller 🪷! connecting your line as we speak..."

‘The atmosphere swam around you like fish in a bowl; dark, dank, musty.

The strange tension in the air pulled you into an equally strange trance. Dazed, your perception seemed to fade in and out, in and out. Fully alert one moment, your eyelids were drooping as a wave of fatigue overtook you the next. You did your best to still the shaky sense of being that rocked the environment like a cradle, opting to try and break down the situation using your individual senses.

Sight: the air was cloudy and gray, thick like a curtain. You couldn't see it, but you knew there was a fire somewhere. It was shielded by the cold stone walls and the glittering mountains of gold and jewels.

Sound: the crackle of the fire and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Ominously, the quiet “drip… drip… drip…” of an unknown source tickled your eardrums.

Smell: sulfur and smoke curled and singed the tips of your nose hairs. The unpleasantness almost completely shrouded the warmth of the smoldering firewood. Some other smell, however, also permeated the area… something strong but hidden beneath the smell of smog.

Taste: akin to bile and equally nauseating, it crawled up your throat and threatened to spill past your lips. Infused with the noteworthy copper tone, the flavor in your mouth was disgusting at best.

Touch: there was a considerable weight in your dominant hand. It drew your arm down, down, down. Metal coated every inch of your body, but you were already used to that as a knight.

You forced your arm up, revealing to yourself what you had been holding. Of course, it was your own aged, well-loved sword…

drip… drip… dripping crimson.’

As much as your body urged you to sit up straight the moment you were awake, your lackluster sleep kept your body flush against your equally lackluster bed. Thrown together with what little blankets you could manage to carry, it was too thin and too flexible to adequately support your body.

Still, despite the recurring nightmares and terrible moral dilemmas, you forced your impossibly heavy body to sit up. The tiny wisps of sunlight that peeked through the openings of your makeshift tent forced you to squint. .Calloused hands met your face, trying to wipe the tired crust out of your eyes and bring some kind of sensation to your skin.

How pathetic. A Xianzhou Luofu knight afraid of a little blood.

It was a wonder you managed to retain your position, nonetheless become the unspoken “Chosen One” among your ranks.

Sure, you were tall, imposing even, muscular and sharp-witted. But even then, all that qualified you to be a top-rank knight was equally balanced with factors that should've barred you from the position altogether.

A pacifist, an outlander, and more than just uninterested, you were not only an oddity, but an exception to many of the hiring requirements. It was a shame your chosen profession as a botanist became a long forgotten dream you only seemed to remember when you weren't patrolling (never).

Combing your fingers through your hair served as a self-soothing gesture when you became lost in your thoughts. It'd first been pointed out to you by the Arbiter General. However, as you found yourself traversing the narrow, winding passages of inner conflict, you found it impossible to get into a rhythm.

It was to be expected after a few weeks of traveling. Your body was coated in soil and your hair was no exception. It was starting to get matted and knotted, more than just difficult but near impossible to comb through.

Of course you'd washed yourself during the prior few weeks, but continual travel and no access to good soap stunted what could be washed off your body in cold streams or still ponds.

The mountains nearby actually were known for two things; natural hot springs and… that other thing. While you might have originally intended to climb the mountain for one, the other served a pleasant add-on.

…

…maybe a hot bath would help ease your mind just a little bit.

However, deciding to take a bath in a hot spring was one thing. Then came the question of how you'd find a hot spring to take a bath in. You turned the query over in your head a few times before you came to a final decision.

‘I mean, they're everywhere, aren't they? It shouldn't be too hard to find one around here.’

With the decision made, you made the effort to stumble through your usual morning routine. Making breakfast, packing up your tent, and pulling on your heavy suit of armor, you prepared for another long day scaling the mountain.

With nobody to talk to, the only voice that cut through the sounds of the mountain habitat was your internal monologue. Crushing the twigs and branches under foot, the sparsely marked path was all but forgotten as the imagery of the strange visions from your sleep dotted your vision.

It was only when you'd nearly fell into a hot spring that you seemed to wake the fuck up and stop thinking about the nonexistent blood staining your sword.

Carefully, you propped your pack on a nearby tree, shielded by some shrubbery for safe keeping. Piece by piece, you began to strip the heavy pieces of iron armor that weighed down your fatigue worn body. They dropped to the hard, arid soil.

They looked as though they were smeared with red.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes.

It was just the same armor you always donned. Free of blood, free of stains.

You chastised yourself mentally for being such a wimp. All it took to make you crack was a task and a little sleep deprivation.

When the final piece of armor hit the sparse grass, you were left in the thin shirt and worn pair of trousers. Carefully, you unlaced the drawstrings at your collar, hastily tugging your shirt off to lay on the dirt. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your socks next. Despite being all alone in the mountains, for fear of being watched, you crept closer to the water before beginning to unbuckle your belt.

The warm water on your skin was a luxury you seldom had the fortune to indulge in; one you hadn't indulged in since leaving. Sinking into the depths of the tide, your eyes fluttered shut. Finally, what greeted you in the darkness of your mind wasn't the visage of murder scene.

Originally, you’d chosen to bask in the warmth of the natural hot spring to clear your mind. Your task and the blood that would be on your hands… it weighed heavy on your conscience.

Observing the abundance of flora that decorated the banks of the water, you managed to strangle an eerie serenity you’d thought you’d lost. Sitting against the rocks and letting the soft slosh of the waves wash the muck and mire off your body, the tension building in your muscles finally seemed to release just a little bit.

Still, when your hands shook while brushing through the knots in your hair. Something unsettling resting at the bottom of your stomach told you not to get too comfortable.

Why did it feel like someone was watching you?

It took a day and a half to find the entrance to the cave.

For holding such a strong, looming beast in its walls, the opening to the nest wasn’t nearly as imposing as you’d imagined it to be. It made sense, thinking about it objectively. It wasn’t as though the dragon was trying to be found…

Still, you considered that perhaps it would’ve wanted to set up some kind of deterrent to all those that dared to enter.

With a heavy heart, you laid your possessions off to the side of the opening in the stone, taking the first few lumbering steps into the opening.

It was more than just eerie how similar the inner workings of the dragon’s den were to the visions you'd been having. Like some kind of prophet, the sights, the smells, the sounds, even the weight of your sword in your hand from your dream were like they were ripped straight from this moment in time exactly.

It was difficult to be quiet. The spilling piles of metal trinkets and gold coins littered the floor and clinked against the pieces of armor that adorned your figure.

Still, creeping in deeper to the cave, you came to a strange realization.

The dragon’s den was empty.

Despite knowing you were afforded the unique opportunity to have the upperhand in enemy territory, it didn’t seem to calm your anxious heart in the slightest. Instead, a new anxiety wrapped your pulse like a parasite.

You didn’t know why.

Up until this point, you attributed your nerves to fear of inadequacy. You were a head taller than the rest of the Cloud Knights, you worked hard for your position, but hard work did not equal competence.

Patrols were worlds away from dragon slaying. The worst you’d had to deal with was the occasional thief, a dispute in the squares, you weren’t killing mythical beasts on the daily. Relatively speaking, you were still at the very beginning of your life as a long-life species. You were a novice—a baby–in comparison to any of your superiors.

Stalking up the mountain, the weight of your sword was perpetually heavy in your hands because you felt you hadn’t earned the right to wield it.

But now, here you were.

There was a golden opportunity served to you on a platter, an ambush. You could sneak up on the dragon, free its head from its shoulders and return from the mountain a hero.

So why were you suddenly even more scared than before?

Why could you not just appreciate this blessing bestowed upon your shoulders?

As more and more doubts started to cloud your mind, you could feel your breathing start to pick up.

Aeons, this entire thing was becoming far too real.

You could pretend you were just going on some other trip while you were hiking up the side of the mountain. You could pretend this was just some training exercise when you laid down in your makeshift shelter at night. But right now? Right now, it seemed like reality was starting to set in.

You were inside of the dragon’s lair. You were inside of the den.

The light from somewhere deeper in the stone maze flickered and tickled the underbelly of the smoke and smog that hung heavy in the air. The shiny piles of gold that seemed to decorate every wall were almost mockingly bright. Even when you closed your eyes, the outline of the giant glittering heaps of extravagance traced the darkness behind your eyelids.

Rather quickly you came to the conclusion that you were hyperventilating. The grip on your weapon became harder to maintain as the influx of breath caused your vision to swim.

Still, when you heard a noise at the other end of the cavern, you ceased at once.

The shoddy handle you had on your sword suddenly became bone crushingly tight. You cringed at the noise of steel handguards scraping the metal handhold.

Soon enough, the shrill screech was nothing but a distant memory as the room was swarmed with the curious sound of rushing air. The thick, dark smoke that hung like a cloud was suddenly moving in a frenzy, rushing about like it had somewhere to be. Instead of clearing up, it seemed the moving smoke only further clouded your vision.

Your free arm came up to try and keep it out of your eyes. You screwed your feet to the sticking plate, remaining in stance and trying to figure out what exactly you were hearing beyond the opening of the dragon’s den.

The pit of dread forming in your stomach took a steep turn for the worse when you realized exactly what you were hearing.

The flapping of giant wings drew closer to the entrance of the cave and suddenly your previous courage started to dissipate into nothingness. You might have seen the dragon from afar when it came to ambush the treasury before, but the sound it was making now made it seem as though it was the size of the entire castle.

Taking a much stronger liking to your former ambush plans, you shuffled to one of the few exposed walls in the ever winding corridors of stone.

Good gods, the sounds were getting even closer now.

Both hands gripped the handle of your rather large weapon, the shriek of metal against metal all but drowned out by the louder and louder beating of your heart against your eardrums.

‘THUD!’

Your heart jumped into your throat.

The smoke began to settle again.

You forced your breathing to do the same.

You waited…

…and waited…

…and waited some more…

…but curiously…

…you didn't hear anything.

You realized something was wrong, but it took you a few more breathing cycles to actually solidify your resolve to check.

‘One…

Two…

Three!’

Cautiously, you peeled your back off the wall as quietly as possible. Despite your best efforts, there was a just barely audible scrape of stone against the back of your metal shin guards. Your face twisted with displeasure.

Still, nothing.

Waiting for another moment, you finally turned the corner and peeped just beyond the wall and back to the entrance of the cave.

The beast heaved through its nose as evidenced by the smoke billowing out of its nostrils. Its wings curled into its sides, but with the uncanny angling of the bones, the posture they had taken was awkward and forced.

It was about then you noticed the glaringly obvious problem the dragon had been confronted with.

A comically oversized crossbow arrow lodged where its ribs should've been. Grimly, you recognized the arrow to belong to the Zhuming. A clawed foot rested over the injury, most likely trying to feel for a solution of some kind.

Based on its current predicament, it was failing miserably.

Before you could even process what you were seeing, there was a blinding flash of light that forced you to shield your eyes. When you finally lowered your arm, you had to blink a few times to process what you were seeing.

In the previous position of the dragon, sat a man.

…but he was also obviously the dragon?

Long curled horns atop the crown of his head, a long serpentine tail dragging behind him on the ground, he heaved the same smoke and cradled the same injury.

Despite your reservations, you approached.

Sword heavy in your hand, you dropped it clattering to the ground.

That was when the man locked eyes with you.

Dragons were slowly beginning to die out.  

Of course, that was only natural when their usual courting rituals involved pissing off every other species known to man.  The larger the stash of gold, the more desirable a dragon would be to another.  The more valuable the gold, the harder it would be to steal. 

One would think this wouldn’t apply to Blade, a dragon with little to no interest in settling down.  However, at his core he was still a dragon and he still felt the need to build his own little stash of gold for peace of mind. 

What little dragons were left in the world had exactly zero appeal to him.  The proud, strong ones had all been eliminated by technology and weaponry far beyond the capabilities of a singular beast.   The only ones that seemed to be left were those that took to hiding and settling for paltry sums that served more as a courtesy than something that would draw a potential match in naturally. 

He frowned upon it entirely.  

Blade seemed to be the only dragon left in the Xianzhou with the upright morals that made up the core belief system of the species as a whole.  But because of his own steadfast values, he also seemed to be the only dragon that refused to form a bond with one of his own. 

He had never known the comfort of another, never. 

Yet when he awoke, he found himself atop a nest of soft blankets.  Blinking away the fatigue from his eyelids, he was greeted with the visage of a man at rest.

Half stripped of armor, a few meters away from him, a knight polished his breastplate while watching something roasting over a fire.  Completely at peace in the tranquility of the silence, (e/c) eyes sparkled in the low light against the dreary atmosphere of the cave. 

The smell of meat stunk up the corridor with an aroma enticing enough for Blade’s mouth to water.  His clawed hands searched for some kind of purchase against the fluff of the comforters you'd laid him on as piercing red eyes swept his cave.  

Your sword was nowhere to be seen.  

Why?

Blade would've asked if he wasn’t already in an extremely compromised position.  

You hadn’t even done anything to him, he had been incapacitated in his own home without you having to so much as raise a finger.  You had been sent to kill him, even if you had chosen to do the exact opposite as of now, he didn’t know if or when you would feel the need to go back on your silent promise not to hurt him. 

As he went to lay his tousled hair back against the blankets you’d laid out on the cave floor, embarrassingly, he misjudged the stability of his arms.  With an even more embarrassingly loud–but muted–thud, his clawed fingers slipped against the fabric and his face hit the comforter just a second later. 

The noise cracked the little moment you were having by the fire roasting meat over the open flame.  Your eyes trailed over to where he was laying, basically completely still.  He hoped that if he played dead, you wouldn’t comment on him falling back onto the makeshift mattress. Unfortunately, his prayers went unanswered. 

“Careful,” you admonished him gently, “I just stitched up the puncture, if you strain too much, I’ll have to do it again and you probably won’t be asleep this time.” 

Still, instead of coddling him like a baby, you turned back to the shiny piece of metal in your lap reflecting the impassioned red hues of the fire.  With a damp rag, you swept over each and every scratch and dent with a special precision and care Blade was both unfamiliar and uncomfortable with. 

Still, despite the idea being completely foreign to him and the soft nausea that rocked his gut with the unfamiliar trepidation, he found it difficult to pry his eyes away from your hands. 

You used your fingernail to pick at the larger pieces of dirt, otherwise pressing the pads of your fingertips to the rag to wipe and wipe until the heavy armor shined.   This, Blade wasn’t unfamiliar with.  The gleam of the metal mirrored the mounds of spoils he’d managed to snag from the surrounding kingdoms.  After you finished with the breastplate, the rag and the plate were set to the side in favor of grabbing a dagger strapped to your thigh. 

To this, the man sprawled on the sheets visibly seemed to cringe and crumple in on himself.  

He was increasingly vulnerable: you knew this. 

You really didn’t want to infantilize him, he was a feared predator and someone who far outmatched you in terms of experience and wisdom.  You brandished the dagger as you would’ve any other times, but avoided making any sudden movements. 

You cut into the rather large slab of meat carefully, observing the color of the meat and the feeling of the muscle under the edge of the knife.  

Satisfied with the hue and smell of the meat, you stomped a boot onto the pile of leaves you’d used to establish the fire.  The dragon was visibly alarmed by the sudden loud noise, but you paid him no mind.  Instead, you removed the stake you’d been using to roast the meat from the precarious stand you’d painstakingly crafted. 

Using the dagger once again, the goat meat you’d be salting and seasoning for a couple days slid off the stick you’d whittled down with ease.   You dropped the generous flank steak in front of the observing party.  You sheathed the dagger in its holster on your thigh once again, dropping back onto the stone you’d turned into a makeshift stool.  

It took Blade a moment to realize that the portion of meat was for him.  His mouth watered at the smell, especially since the hide had been pierced and the true aroma of the seasonings began to mingle with meat.  He poked at it carefully with a taloned finger.  

You watched him prod at the food, crossing your arms in front of your your chest as you observed.

“...”

“...”

Finally, the other man pulled himself to sit up.  Dragging the meal into his lap, he began to eat. 

Once again, you watched him with a nonchalance that sent the hairs on the back of Blade’s neck standing up. 

After he finished eating, you seemed to turn away from him once again to give him his privacy.  Instead, you picked up the next piece of dirty armor to start to scrub off the accumulated dirt.  

“Why?” 

Blade’s cheeks simmered a baby pink upon the realization his voice had cracked.  Instead of pointing it out, you skipped over it entirely. 

“Why what?” 

“Why are you helping me?” 

You shrugged.  

He blinked.  

“...”

“...”

You hummed, “Perhaps I’m not cut out to be a knight.” 

He balked at your response. 

You bit the inside of your cheek, “The entire time I was climbing the mountain, I thought I was scared I wouldn’t be able to kill you.”  You chipped away at the building dirt on the surface of your shin guard, “I eventually realized it wasn’t that I couldn’t kill you.”

“...”

“...”

“...Then what’s stopping you?”  His clawed fingers gripped at the plush material beneath him, “You need to kill me, so why don’t you?” 

You sighed, sweeping off the chalky remains of a particularly rough mud stain, “I don’t want to.  I really don’t want to kill you; I don’t want to kill anyone.”  You held the rag tight in your offhand,  “If I can, I really want to solve this in a way where you don’t die.” 

“...”

“...”

“...”

You swallowed the building lump of spit at the back of your throat,

“So, name your price.  What exactly do you need in order to stop attacking Xianzhou?”

What did Blade want in return for not attacking the Xianzhou Alliance?

He didn’t know.

He was honest in not knowing what he wanted in exchange. You appreciated it… to a certain extent. He was honest and he didn’t lie to you when he said he didn’t know, but his indecision also put you in the precarious position of not knowing whether or not he was stringing you along until he healed and could properly fight you.

You were half tempted to put a deadline on his decision, but every time you looked over at his pitiful body lounging around on your blankets in his loose drapery, you decided against it.

It was around this point you learned his name.

You had what you liked to believe was a gentleman’s agreement. Even with the lack of any verbal acknowledgement, you would stay here and oversee his healing process. Eventually, he would make a decision on what he wanted in exchange for peace. Even if he decided there really wasn’t anything you could provide for him, he would allow you to walk away from this alive if you ultimately came to the decision to not try to kill him.

It was a little bit awkward to start with, neither trusted the other.

You were worried he’d grow tired of you taking up the space in his cave and slaughter you in your sleep. He was worried you’d do the same if you eventually grew tired of his indecision or some kind of outside pressure from your commander came up. Still, that was an awkward conversation to bring up so you opted to avoid it entirely.

After a week or so, the two of you seemed to grow a lot more comfortable with each other. It was about then you were starting to run out of meat.

While Blade had been unconscious, you’d been making trips to and from the closest water source to get your hands on some water for stew. You boiled some of the rabbit bones you’d held onto for broth, pulled out some salt and leftover meat you dried to make him some soup. He couldn’t chew while he was awake so that was the best you could do for him.

When you started running out of those ingredients, you went out and brought back a mountain goat for meat. While in the process of cooking yourself a nice, juicy flank steak, Blade had woken up. It’d be rude to hold a big hunk of meat in front of him without giving him some of the spoils, especially since he hadn’t been eating anything but bland rabbit stew while he was out of it. For the next few days, you cooked up what remained of the goat and shared it between the two of you.

Goats were not an infinite source of magical forever meat though, so you ended up having to go out to get more food. You left and came back with another goat, started cooking it. Around the time you came back, it seemed Blade was waking up from a nap and he fully came around when the cooked meat was basically being dangled right in front of his nose.

Once again, there weren’t any words exchanged between the two of you but the air seemed to be a lot more relaxed than usual. He didn’t seem to be picking at every bite of food you served him and you weren’t watching him like a hawk while you were clearing your own plate. A few more days went by before you actually started talking over your food.

You’d been the one to initiate the conversation, asking if he’d been thinking about anything that could possibly convince him to stop adding to his ever growing treasure hoard. He responded he had, but he still hadn’t come to any conclusions.

You didn’t press any further.

The next day while eating, you asked him again. Once again, he answered in the negative. Again, you didn’t press any further.

The third day, when he answered in the negative, you decided to press him further. You asked him, “Why exactly do dragons create hoards?” It was a long talk about mating rituals and explanations later that he seemed satisfied with his answer. You, also, were satisfied with this answer.

A few more days of asking went by before you would run out of meat again. At this point in the year, summer was beginning to come to a close and the peaks of the mountains were becoming colder and colder.

Instead of venturing out in just your shirt and trousers, you’d decide to pull on your armor before venturing out of the cave. While it was definitely warm inside the stone walls of the dragon’s den, the air outside the cave couldn’t say the same. In order to preserve your body heat, putting on more layers was the best course of action, even if the layer was made completely out of metal.

It seemed, while you were suiting up in armor that Blade watched you with a special curiosity he had yet to display before. For the first time since you’d stitched up his wound, he made the effort to approach you first. He gave you a once over in your suit, eyes dragging over the shine of the metal in the light of the fire.

You didn’t know why he was looking at you, but you’d made a habit of not asking too many questions about things you didn’t understand. He seemed satisfied after a little bit, nodding his head and letting out a grunt of approval. You nodded in response, holstering your sword in your belt.

Eventually, you would return with another goat. It really was the only option for food seeing as two grown men needed a little more food than a few rabbits could provide. With the goat over your shoulders, you made the long trek back to the cave and back to the warmth that came with it.

When you eventually found your way back to the same stone walls, Blade was at attention waiting for you at the door. You dropped the fresh game onto the ground, the dragon watching intently. It made you uneasy, but what could you do about it?

As you went to strip yourself of your armor, it seemed something about your hunting trip had caused something to change inside what you believed to be your temporary companion. Your hands rested on top of the large steel helmet, but before you could tug it off, there were clawed fingers fumbling with the hooks on the inside of your shoulder plates.

You jumped, startled.

Quickly, the same talons retracted.

You turned your head to face him, chastise him for sneaking up on you like that and putting his hands on you. However, your complaints were promptly swallowed. His expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, but he still managed to look like a kicked puppy.

Despite the stone cold nature of his face, his fingers clasped close to his chest like he didn’t know what to do with them. The long draconic tail was tucked between his legs and his head was painted a bashful pink and lowered just the slightest bit to avoid eye contact.

Your brows furrowed, really wondering if you should be letting him do this. The longer you looked, the more moved your poor, weak heart was. In the end, you huffed through your nose before going back to removing your helmet and turning your back on him again.

Slowly this time, the hands crept up your shoulder to unhook the heavy plate from your bicep. You didn’t pay him any mind the second time around, undoing the buckle that kept your metal handguards flush against the back of your knuckles.

He was a quick learner, especially once he'd gotten into the groove of helping you take off the amalgam of pieces that clung to your clothing. Soon enough, you were back in your shirt and trousers, turning to start a fire so you could warm up.

He trailed back over to the little pile of blankets you'd laid out for him. His eyes lingered as you started to skin the goat you'd brought home.

His home.

Something clicked in his brain as he observed. Despite the piles of gold that covered every other square inch of the scenery, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. He didn't know why.

When you were in armor he could write it off as another innate attraction to something shiny for his hoard. But at the moment you were in plain clothes, doing something he'd seen you do before already. Still, he watched with what he could only describe as bated breath. Mesmerized by the simple movement of the dagger cutting through the layers of fat.

As he tapped his nails against the plush fabric, he seemed to realize something.

His fingers stopped moving.

He blinked a couple times

'Yes,' he concluded,

... perhaps he knew what he wanted.

It was quiet, as it usually was for the majority of the time you would be eating dinner.   Usually, you’d be the one to initiate the same conversation every single day.  It was monotonous and predictable to the point that you could recite word for word what the two of you would say, the tone, and in what order. 

“Have you thought about my offer at all, today?” 

“I have.” 

“Have you come any closer to making a decision?”

“I have not.” 

If nothing else, you could count on Blade to be reliable. 

Tonight however, your mind wandered.  

Instead of striking up the usual conversation the two of you would have over dinner, you found your thoughts drifting off to your life on the Luofu.  The temporary situation you found yourself in wasn’t bad, not at all even.   If you were to make any complaints, it would be about how lonely you felt. 

Even if you had a dragon to keep you company day in and day out, the dragon wasn’t all that good at being company.  He didn’t like to talk but he liked to watch.  Instead of having someone to pass comfortable silence with, it felt more like you were being observed by a camera. 

Again, you really didn’t mind.  You enjoyed your solitude and alone time.  Today specifically, you reminisced on your home, your garden, your coworkers.  You missed the privacy that came with living alone, you missed quiet afternoons on your days off tending to a low maintenance garden.   Even if your coworkers annoyed you most of the time, they still made the effort to make you feel included.  

Adrift among the clouds of memory lane, it completely slipped your mind to start up your usual conversation.  Not only did you not pick up normal conversation, it seemed you were somewhere else altogether.   You didn’t even notice the nervous fidgeting across the makeshift fire pit.  

Blade’s long nails tapped all but silently on the cushioned ground.  The long tail that trailed behind him swished back and forth quicker than usual.  Instead of the same lethargic, languid movement, scales brushed over the bed haphazardly like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.  

Tonight, he would be the one to initiate the conversation. 

“I’ve thought about your offer.” 

You blinked a couple times, taking a second to process what was being said.  

“You have?” 

Finally in the present moment, your hand reached forward for your own share of dinner laid out between the two of you.   Absent-mindedly you raised the steak to your mouth, chewing and swallowing in the time it took for the other man to respond. 

“I have.” 

The tapping of his nails ceased, instead taking to poking and prodding his food.  

You nodded, falling into the familiar lull of the conversation.  “Have you come any closer to making a decision?” 

“...”

“...”

A pause. 

That was new. 

“I have.” 

“...”

“...”

That was newer.  

You finally tore your gaze away from the slab of meat in front of you, making direct eye contact.  

His expression was immovable and stone cold as before.  At least, it appeared to be upon first glance.  You were quick to notice the tension in his jaw and the tiny crease between his eyebrows.  It seemed he was… nervous? 

“...you have?” 

Instead of responding verbally, he gave a curt nod of the head.  

“...”

“...”

You tilted your head to the side, thoughts of eating all but abandoned the more and more the reality of the situation set in.  

“What did you end up deciding?”

“...”

“...”

He folded his arms into his lap, swallowing the lump of spit at the back of his throat in the process.  “I want you to stay here; permanently.” 

“...”

“...”

You cocked your head to the side, “...as a companion?” 

“...”

It took him a second to respond; his hand clenched around the hunk of flesh in his palm.  Internally, you cringed at the noise his talons made tearing into the meat. 

“...I suppose it'd be similar to that.” 

You didn't grasp what he was trying to get at, still.  “Similar?  I… I'm getting the feeling that I'm not quite following.” 

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  You could feel a pang of anxiety nip at the corners of your pulse.   Like always, it seemed he struggled to find the words to accurately articulate himself.  He always paused before he said something, searching for exactly the right way to convey himself. 

“Dragons collect hoards to draw in potential partners; I explained this to you a few nights ago.” 

Then it clicked. 

“...oh.” 

Still, the man sitting across from you continued.  “If I fulfilled the purpose of collecting a hoard, there wouldn’t be a need for me to continue visiting the Xianzhou.” 

Your cheeks started to burn indignantly.  “I-” you bit the inside of your cheek, “Wouldn’t you prefer help in finding a partner rather than just settling with the first person to enter the cave?  It seems counterintuitive to collect such a… robust hoard and partner with someone such as myself. We wouldn't be able to produce any... offspring seeing as we're both men.” 

Instead of his usual pause, Blade was quick to respond in the negative.

“I find you to be more than satisfactory.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but found it increasingly difficult to find the right words to say.  “It’s just-” you stammered, “I’m not- I don’t-”

Your jaw snapped shut after a couple attempts to open a dialogue.   Your brows crept down your face in an expression of exasperation.  You flexed your hand into fists and then relaxed them again, trying to collect your thoughts.  

Directly in front of you, the dragon sat with an unmoving expression. 

You huffed a sigh, trying to ignore the painful flame across your cheekbones, “This would cause a few complications for me, is all.  I’m unsure why you’re choosing this; I can’t seem to find the logic behind this and I’m frustrated.  I want to confirm that this is truly what you want before I commit to fulfilling your request.” 

Once again, he seemed to answer in the affirmative without a second thought.  

“I am sure.” 

You locked gazes with him.  It almost seemed like you were challenging his resolve.  Without any prompting he confirmed himself. 

“I have thought on this matter for a period of time, I have confirmed this is the best option.” 

You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip, seemingly going through the processes that would be required to actually fulfill the task set out in front of you.  Without really thinking too much about your next words, you pondered to yourself aloud, “Isn't the purpose of mating to have children? You really wish to be married; married to me?”

The end of his tufted tail rattled in the air, seemingly amused, “Is that what the people of the Xianzhou call it? Aside from the issue of marriage, dragons have long evolved for both male presenting and female presenting partners to be able to carry children.”  It was difficult to gauge what he was actually feeling, “...if that is the context you must view it in.” 

Your face got impossibly redder, food completely forgotten by this point.  “Well, that-”  you made a gesture with your hands, “-That would require a ceremony–a wedding– because of my own pledges as a Knight.” Your hands fell into your lap, “I would need to assemble a dowry for a proper proposal, exchanging rings, vows…” In a much quieter voice, you all but whispered, “...and the expected traditions after the wedding…” 

For the first time during the discussion, Blade’s expression shifted.  His lips pressed into a thin line.  There was an awkward silence that hung in the air.

“...”

“...”

Eventually, he sighed, “The Xianzhou complicates these matters too much for my own liking.” 

You avoided eye contact, the flush on your face having long crept down your neck and up your ears. “...”

Once again, Blade’s expression changed.  He closed his eyes to let out a sigh, raking a hand through his silky navy blue hair.  “We can go through these rituals quickly, yes?  I don’t see the need for a large affair, the agreement is between the two of us.” 

You didn’t really have the mind to reject him, nodding your head slowly after a pause that felt a little bit too long,

“I suppose so.” 

“I believe a fitting dowry would be your armor.  You will be giving up your status as a knight to stay here with me, will you not?” 

Despite the fact you’d already seen his upper torso unclothed in the process of stitching up the crossbow wound cutting across the bottom of his ribs, the new context of the situation made your face flush a bright red.  Where there had been a deep puncture wound carved by arrow, lay a star-shaped imprint of the memory.  

His dexterous fingers wound up your sides on top of your clothes, stopping when they came to grasp the draw strings keeping your collar closed.  

You realized you could stop him from pulling on them any moment now, he even paused to make sure he wasn’t moving too quickly.  Instead of grabbing his wrists to stop him, you laid your hands on his thin, lean waist.  Leaning against the impossibly soft hug of the blankets he’d been sleeping on top of for weeks, you tried to stay grounded and slow down your breathing.   While avoiding eye contact, your eyes trailed down to his chest.

They were pierced.

Ripping your eyes away, you suddenly were now very conscious of where you were putting your eyes. Instead of giving him any verbal encouragement, your hands gently squeezed his love handles. 

His throat gave a pleased rumble, his hands pinching the ends of the drawstring not unsimilar to how one would undo the ribbon on a gift. 

“I’ve amassed a plentiful amount of rings to choose from, pick two and we’ll exchange them now.” 

With a healthy amount of trepidation, your hands found themselves tracing Blade’s waistband.  The loose bottoms he usually wore were equally loose around his hips, displaying a navy blue trail of hair framing the center of his pale stomach.  

Impatiently, he raised his hips so you could tug his pants off.  You hesitated to follow suit, suddenly seized by a wave of anxiety.  Still, it seemed Blade was less than happy with that outcome.  

One of his hands moved from bracing his weight on your thighs to making a grab towards your chest.  He leaned forward, all but hovering over your body.  Despite being in such a compromising position, it was hard to not be a little intimidated by the constant look he had in his eyes.  It was almost like he was constantly planning a murder.

With his non-verbal request to go a little bit faster, you finally pulled his waistband down below his knees.

“Vows aren’t a complicated matter, it’d be much easier to speed up the process here.  We can say our vows while consummating the marriage, can’t we? I don't want to delay the mating rituals of my own kind either.” 

Like he was following a rhythm, little huffs and panting fell past his open lips.  His eyes were wrenched shut, hips falling back onto your lap with each little movement he made.  His thighs shook as you tried your best to stretch him out.  He wasn’t making it easy, long clawed fingers digging into your shoulder blades the deeper your fingers were reaching.  

He let out a particularly loud whine as your fingertips just barely grazed the little spot inside him that made him see stars.  

His grip on your shoulder tightened, hips shifting impatiently to inch closer to your knuckles.  You hissed, feeling the very tips of the talons start to break the skin.  You started to draw your fingers from his hole, chastising him for not being more gentle.  “Careful, I’ll bleed if you squeeze that hard.” 

When confronted with his lack of self-control, it seemed Blade retreated into himself.  With the two of you sitting up at this point, it was difficult to shy away from your eyes.  His face transitioned from a sweet pink to an embarrassed cherry red.  He didn't answer your admonishment verbally, but it was clear he heard you.

He stopped squeezing your shoulders, winding his arms around your neck instead.  Avoiding the shame burning up his skin, he hid his nose in the crook of your neck.  

You tried to give him a little grace period, but your offer was entirely unwanted.  A few short seconds passed before his sharp canines were nipping at your collarbones, painfully hard leaking cock grinding against your still clothed thigh.

No words were exchanged, but the things that needed to be said were clearly communicated.

His neck was right in front of your waiting lips, tempting you really.  Before going back to stretching him open on your fingers, you laid an open mouthed kiss on his jawline, dripping with a sweet taste like honey. Still embarrassed, he bit back the whimper that threatened to spill forth from his lips.  

He let out a shaky sigh as he could feel your fingers start to hollow him out again.  Almost immediately you were jabbing at the little lump that was his prostate.  He keened, pressing back onto your fingers with shaky legs while he balled up his fists.  His long nails dug into his palms this time, leaving your shoulders unblemished.  You were particularly aware of the movement with the way the cold metal nipple piercings rubbed against the front of your torso.

If he was this excited you reasoned, he was most likely ready for a third finger.  Slowly, doing your best to be gentle, you finally added in the last finger.  He let out a little groan of discomfort, but ultimately didn't make any moves to stop you.

You continued to try your best to make him feel comfortable, gentle and slow as you could manage.  As another moan slipped past his lips, you curled your fingers against his insides for the last time before completely pulling your fingers out of him.

You didn't know how you could tell, but you could feel a brewing sense of frustration wafting off of Blade. Your suspicions were confirmed when he all but lunged for your belt buckle.

He fumbled with the leather for a moment before you grabbed his wrist, stammering, “Wait, wait-” You swallowed some spit to wet your dry throat, “We, We haven't said our vows yet.  We haven't officially been married.” 

The dragon situated on your lap didn't seem happy when he was stopped.  Instead, he hesitated to let go of your belt for a few long, awkward seconds before finally sitting back on his burning loins.

“Go on, quickly.”

He stressed the last word adamantly.  It was extremely clear the speed at which his patience waned. 

You swallowed more spit for a second, trying to rack your brain for the typical contents of wedding vows.  “I-”

He watched you expectantly, tufted tail whipping back and forth on the blankets expectantly. 

“For- For as long as I live, I swear to love and to cherish you as my wife,” the memories seemed to roll just out of reach, your inner monologue desperately grasping at straws, “With the lord as my witness, be it for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part I will fulfill my duty to you as a husband.  To protect and honor you until my final breath.”

You held your breath for a second, trying to think of anything you missed.  On the other hand, the oh-so “bashful” bride seated on your lap gave a straightforward nod.  The next second, his clawed fingers were flying towards your belt again.

Reflexively, you stopped him, only further agitating what little patience he had left.  “Wait!” 

“What is it now?”  His hands rested on your thighs, pointer finger tapping on your leg indignantly.  Despite the accusatory tone of his voice, it seemed his eyes were trained on what exactly was hidden underneath your hand.

“You…” you paused, “You haven't said your vows yet.” 

His brows furrowed, the first change in his expression the entire night.  He sighed, grip tightening as he did his best to ignore the aching weight of his erection on your leg. “Fine.”

He sat back on his thighs to restrain himself, pulling his grip to sit lower on your thighs. 

“As your wife, I swear to…” he paused, trying to recall your own vows, “love and cherish you for as long as I live.”  He took a deep breath, trying to figure out what else to say.  You had mentioned your duty as a husband, protecting and honoring him… what would his duties as a wife entail?  Well, there was the obvious.

“I will fulfill my duty to you as a wife, bearing your children, honoring, and protecting you.”

“...”

He reached forward experimentally, testing to see if his own vows had been satisfactory. 

You averted your gaze, moving your hand aside to give him full access to your belt buckle.

At this point in time, Blade was regretting his own lack of patience. 

His thighs clenched with the exertion, flexing and unflexing while he tried to relax and sink a little bit further onto your dick.  His breathing was labored, the flame of desire flickering and tickling at the bottom of his gut.  You weren’t faring much better, fists gathering up the sheets in a vice grip.  It took every fiber of determination in your body to not slam him down ass first onto your pelvis.  Your jaw was tight, only breathing heavy out of your nose.  You let out a particularly harsh breath the lower he managed to get.  He was barely halfway down and you were already starting to see sounds.   As a knight, you’d sworn yourself to abstinence your entire career.  Was this really what you had been missing out on this entire time?

Without any warning, Blade’s legs completely seized up.  His thighs squeezed together, clawed fingers suddenly scraping your skin.  He braced himself on your chest, leaning his torso forward so you’d catch him.  The change of angle didn’t seem to help him at all, a choked moan slipping out of his usually reserved lips the harder the tip of your dick prodded at his prostate. One of your hands moved from strangling the sheets to wrap snugly around his waist.  

Despite your compulsions, your arm stayed draped around his midsection without applying any pressure. The sensations were overwhelming, so overwhelming you were struggling to keep any noises from sliding out.  In the heat of the moment, you pushed yourself up from where you were leaning on your remaining arm to bury your face in the teal hair that framed his neck.  Nuzzling your nose into his collarbone, you stifled what would’ve been a pathetic whine against his bare skin. 

His hips nudged just a little bit lower, getting ever closer to bottoming out.  Unlike yourself, he didn’t feel the need to try and be quiet.  He pushed his neck up closer to your face, using a shaky hand to grasp the one you were still clutching the sheets with.  He groaned, pulling your wrist to guide it onto his waist.  You obliged him, fully cradling him between your large biceps.  In return, his hands made their way up and around your neck.  

They rested over your broad shoulders, still shaking when he finally managed to slide your dick in all the way to the hilt.  He was breathless, feeling like he couldn’t breathe with how much room you were taking up in his guts.  His core felt even hotter when you squeezed him tight in your arms, carving the imprint of your teeth into the side of his neck.  He exhaled a shaky moan, hand trailing up the back of your neck to tangle his fingers in your hair.  

In response, the clamp of your jaw drew tighter, a wave of heat surging over Blade’s entire body.  Even with your impromptu gag, the sounds you were making were only further fueling his instincts.  You huffed a raggedy breath through your nose, trying to hold back from bucking your hips up like an animal.  You were a gentleman, you wanted your receiving partner to be the one to set the pace for fear of hurting him.  

But you really were only human, and your blood was currently not rushing to your brain.  Your heels dug into the mattress with how hard you were trying not to move, so it definitely wasn’t that you weren’t holding it in.  But he was really warm and tight and sitting still was starting to get underwhelming and almost painful when you were this hard.  

Blade let out a surprised noise when you pulled him in impossibly tighter, followed up by a punched out gasp when your hips involuntarily jerked upwards.  Desperate at this point, you unlatched your teeth from the side of his neck, pressing feverish kisses up his jawline to his ear.  In the process, you really couldn’t afford to try and mute any of your noises.  Blade’s heart felt like it stopped when you whined directly in his ear.  Suddenly very aware of his own dick rubbing up against the defined muscles of your abs.  

You sounded like a kicked puppy when you whimpered into his ear, “Are you ready to move? Can I please move?” 

Even if he tried to deny it, it seemed he wanted to move just as much as you did when a thick bead of precum dripped down your stomach. 

Instead of immediately giving you the go ahead, though, he moved his arms from around your neck, grabbing at the hands wrapped around his waist.  Pressing them back against the makeshift mattress, you took it as the go ahead to move, thrusting up slowly to start. He let out a drawn out moan, before putting his hand on your stomach, “Wait, wait-” 

At this point, you could feel frustrated tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes but still, you stopped moving.  You let him press his other hand on your chest, flexing and unflexing your hands to try and keep yourself from busting like a teenage boy seeing a pair of tits for the first time.   You didn’t complain when he urged you to lay on your back, one of his hands bracing itself on your pecs, the other resting on the middle of your abdomen.  

Experimentally, he rolled his hips.  Instinctively, Blade bit down on his lower lip, feeling the delicious mix of pleasure and pain send an addictive shudder up his spine.  Without even thinking, he rolled his hips again to get another taste.  

And then another. 

And another. 

And another. 

And then he couldn’t stop moving his hips, chin tilted up with his mouth hanging open.  The movement was easy and the friction divine with the generous prep you’d done beforehand.  The generous amount of precum sprouting from the end of his drooling tip made his dick slide across your stomach with ease, only encouraging Blade to move his hips even faster in search of euphoria.  It really didn’t help his sanity when your large hands grappled his hips, serving to drag him up and down your length all while his legs seemed to grow weaker and weaker.  It also didn’t help that it looked like you were equally lost in the fervor. 

Saliva pooling in the back of your throat, you swallowed thickly when it seemed Blade’s arms gave out.  He slumped against your chest, navy hair covering the lower half of his face awkwardly.  Despite the harsh impact against your chest, you couldn’t seem to care less, finding a lot more frustration in the lack of movement.  He used a shaky hand to brush the hair out of his face, chasing after your lips with his own.  Before he could quite reach it, your hips seemed to develop a mind of their own, suddenly bucking up into his waiting insides. 

The kiss ended up being teeth first, canines clacking against canines before your lips ended up locking.  He let out a heavy groan when your hips still didn’t stop moving from behind.  Combined with the new pressure on his dick from all sides, his piercings were dragging up and down the dips of your stomach every time you moved. His eyes fluttered open when the two of you finally parted for air, high-pitched whines rhythmically pushed out of him the harder your thighs hit his ass.  

Drool trickled from the side of his mouth, leaking onto your shoulder before he tried to warn you, “Closer- agh~ really- mmmhmmnn close-”  He really wanted to hold back for the sake of finishing at the same time, but the feeling of you rearranging his guts just about had him crying like a baby.  

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna- Ouhhghh~”  

His talons broke the skin on your shoulders while his orgasm cut through him sharp and intense, an echoing squeal resounding through the room as sticky white cum shot out of his angry red tip onto both of your stomachs.  With the way he clamped down around you, you only lasted for a few more thrusts before you were cumming basically in unison.  You bit down hard on your bottom lip, tasting iron on your tongue. 

For a moment, the two of you lay in a sweaty pile of limbs.   Focused on breathing and recuperating your energy, you didn’t think to pull out.  Eventually though, you’d gone soft and the sound of your heart pounding in your ears wasn’t as loud as your thoughts anymore.  Slowly, you went to pull out so you could start clean-up–that’s what couples normally did, right?--but despite his numb legs, Blade pushed back onto your flaccid cock.  

Blearily, you looked up at him, blinking away the fatigue that crept in at the corners of your vision.  

“Did you think we were only going to have sex once?” 

What he said didn’t compute in your tired brain.  

“...huh?” 

He hummed, you could hear disappointment in his tone. 

“It’s customary for dragons to continue mating until pregnancy is guaranteed.”

"When you're pregnant, how exactly… will your body change?" 

For the sake of Blade’s back and legs, the two of  you decided a few rounds were enough to ensure he was actually pregnant.  He lay splayed out on the thick stack of blankets, having made it his favorite place in the den long prior.  He was on his stomach, resting his head on top of his crossed arms.  

“Why? Did you not expect it to?” 

You were a few feet away from him, sitting up cross-legged.  Despite the two of you having been fucking minutes prior, you were still a little shy about sitting completely naked in the open expanse of the cave.  For a bit of added modesty, you let your hands rest in your lap to cover up your dick at least a little bit. 

“It’s not that I didn’t...” Your neck dropped at the miniscule creep of shame across your face.  “I’m not versed in…”  You fumbled with your words for a moment, rocking back and forth in an effort to get your blood from your dick back up to your brain. 

“Pregnancy?” 

You lagged for a second before nodding in agreement.  “I haven’t spent much time around the women of the Xianzhou, usually it was with plants or other knights.” Your leg started bouncing when the air fell stagnant, “That isn’t to say I don’t know basic anatomy, it’s just… that I'm unfamiliar with some of the more intimate changes… not to mention, you’re also a man.” 

To this, Blade raised an accusatory brow.  “You say that as if you still don’t believe I can bear children.” 

You held your hands up in front of your chest defensively, “That isn’t what I’m saying at all!” 

Your partner let out a tired huff, not engaging in conversation further. 

“...”

“...”

“I’m…just worried I’ll fail to support you properly while you’re carrying our child.” 

Another silence hung, thickening into a kind of tension you couldn’t quite place your finger on.  

“...”

“...”

“...come here.” 

Immediately, you perked up.  

Dutifully, you shuffled over to where your spouse had beckoned you forward.  Watching him push up on tired arms and a strained back, you couldn’t help but admire the sheen of shiny sweat that gleamed in the warm firelight.  He always tended to show things better with actions rather than words, cuffing your wrist in one of his hands.   You let him guide your hand to rest on his stomach. 

“The most notable change will be weight gain.” 

Immediately, you fervently nodded your head, completely at attention.  

“The weight gain won’t just be my stomach,” he continued, “the rest of my body will start to swell.  Simple tasks like walking and bending over will become difficult, especially in the later stages of pregnancy.” 

You nodded a little bit slower. 

“Physical illness is also possible, but my ancestors didn’t struggle with it as commonly as other draconic lines.”  He positioned your hand at his hips, “During the first trimester, I’ll likely become more sensitive to smells.  That can cause symptoms like vomiting.” 

His grip eventually guided your hand to his back, all but tilting your body to drape over him.  “The added weight will stress the back.  I’ll be relying on you to do much of the heavy lifting.” 

You nodded again, even slower than the last time. 

Finally, he moved your hand to rest on his chest.  The rush of cold from the silver piercing sent a rush of red hot flame to your cheeks.  For the sake of paying attention to your pretty wife lecturing you about what would happen when he gets pregnant, you wrestled any nasty thoughts out of your mind. 

“Based on genetics, the chest will begin swelling around the end of the second trimester.” With the minimal amount of light in the room, you could just barely make out the pink hue on the usual impassive features of the man in front of you.  “I’ll be unusually sensitive, at times I could start lactating.” 

“...lactating?”

Suddenly, all your efforts to be a gentleman were forgotten.

You repeated it again, this time a little bit louder.  “Lactating?” 

Blade didn’t respond.

Unintentionally, your grip on his tit got a little bit tighter.  

He grunted, his own grip around your wrist tightening.  “How else would I feed the child?” 

This time, you didn't answer him. Your free hand was moving from your lap to tickle up his exposed side. 

The higher up his side your touch danced on his skin, the darker he could feel the flush on his cheeks.  Now, he was the one to avoid looking you in the eyes.  Even in his embarrassment, he didn’t stop you from pushing him to lay flat on his back.   He didn’t stop you when you kissed the underside of his jaw, he also didn’t stop you as you kissed a line down his jaw to his collarbones.  

Most importantly, he still didn’t stop you when your teeth clacked against one of his piercings.   

“How long will that take?” 

In this position, there were two things that seemed to jump out to Blade in particular. 

One, your breath was fanning hot against his chest and especially steamy over the nipple you were hovering over. 

Two, your hard-on was starting to leak on his leg. 

Much to your dismay his lips pressed into a tight line.  However, even in the face of a roadblock, you didn’t relent.  Experimentally, you licked a stripe up the exposed skin in between his pecs, drinking in the explosive shudder that ripped through his body.  

Trembling fingers all of sudden were tangled in your hair, unsure whether or not to push your head away or pull it in closer.   In the thick of it, you almost didn’t catch him muttering under his breath. 

“...pervert.” 

In retaliation, you tugged on one of the silver piercings with your teeth.   He let out a strained whimper, suddenly pulling your hair away from his chest.  You pinched the other nipple between two fingers, listening to the whine that was forced out of his throat.  Eventually, you relented with a lewd click of enamel against metal and the even lewder noise created by the spit accumulating on his skin.   “What was that?” 

Even if your sudden burst of confidence was out of the blue (and starting to make him nervous), Blade’s own pride didn’t allow him to take anything back. 

“Pervert.” 

You cupped his pecs with both hands, sitting up on your elbows to make a point.  “Ah, but last I checked you like this just as much as I do.”  To punctuate your statement,  you rutted against the inside of his thigh, all but pointing at his own excitement with your cock.  

He looked away, closing his eyes shut with furrowed eyebrows. 

An amused smile pulled at your features, suddenly emboldened by the surplus of blood rushing to your dick.  “So tell me, how long will it take until you start producing milk?” 

“...”

“...”

“...6 months.” 

You frowned, groping his chest with both hands.  Only a little groan managed to slip past Blade’s lips.  “Ah… are you sure?  Your chest already seems sensitive.” 

He nodded his head, still refusing to make eye contact.  

You rolled one of his nipples in your hand, positively ecstatic when his dick twitched in tandem.  “You’ll start lactating because you’re pregnant, right?” 

Thinking nothing of it, Blade gave a hum of affirmation.  

There was your opening.  “I think I should test to see if you’re actually pregnant then.” 

Before he could process your words, your lips were already suctioned around one of his nipples.  He bit down hard on his bottom lip, failing miserably to drown out the whine caught in the back of his throat. “That’s not- HnNg~” 

Obviously, you didn’t neglect the other one.  While your tongue laved over one, you pinched and pulled at the other with a pair of fingers.  You groaned when his claws started to dig into the back of your head, the tight pressure only serving to add another layer of intimacy to the moment.  He gave a particularly high-pitched whine when you started to thrust your cock against the inside of hip dip.  

“Mmhgn~ Wait- ahn~ Wait-” he pleaded. 

Insistently, you hooked your canines around the piercing and continued to suck on his chest. That was enough to have him rutting against your stomach.  At this point, you finally pulled off of his chest with what one would call “a shit-eating grin”.  

“Hm, nothing seemed to come out… maybe I’ll have better luck with the other one.”  

The hand he was using to grapple the sheets flew up to your shoulder, trying to push your head back, “That isn’t how it works!” 

Despite his complaints while you moved your head, they all seemed to get caught in his throat when your lips wrapped around his other nipple.  His chest shook with the effort it took to breath through his nose without letting out any more pathetic whimpers.   This time you got nasty with it. After a moment of suckling on his hardened bud until it turned a cherry red, you pulled back to spit on it.  

At the same time, you flicked his other piercing with two fingers.  Drool spilling past your lips at this point,  you watched with satisfaction as his head fell back against the comforter.  His thighs started to rub together as you flicked the nipple that wasn’t in your mouth again a little harder the second time around.  

Feeling a little extra mean, you locked your teeth on the soft skin before pinching the other abused nub hard.   He keened, nails scratching bloody lines into your upper back.  Ultimately, you took your mouth off of his chest in favor of starting to kiss up the center of his chest in between his tits.  

In between leaving sloppy wet kisses on his collarbones, you smiled, hands trailing back down to his sides before finally hooking the underside of his thighs.  You looped one of his shins over your shoulder, watching with glee the panic interlaced in the way he whipped his head around to look you in the eyes.  

You leaned over him, basically folding him in half to put a kiss on his lips.  

“Nothing’s coming out… I’m not really sure you’re pregnant yet.” 

You hooked his other thigh over your hip, blowing on his ear when your hand wrapped around your cock.  Alarmed, his hands braced themselves on your shoulder.  “What are you-”

You lined yourself up with his ass, biting on his earlobe.  “Well, I thought maybe we’d go a couple more rounds to really make sure you’re pregnant.”

there's a note attached to the side of the phone booth, read it?

" you guys have to promise not to make fun of me for writing this after making a bit about how much mpreg terrifies me "

to my dearest anon for whom this was written:

i hope you're doing better SINCE YOU TOOK YOUR MEDICINE

YOU BETTER KEEP TAKING UR MEDICINE OR I'M NOT GONNA START ON UR SHORT REQUEST AFTER THIS ONE

to everyone else:

mentioned briefly in my little posts between updates, it's been so long since I've written smut I had to like take a break after every other word to look over my shoulder and make sure nobody was reading it from behind me or something (I am home alone with two cats)

one of the most humbling experiences is going back and editing your own smut, like damn what position are they in I've gotta go back and write in more details 🏃

as of now, i'm planning on having my update schedule consist of a lot more short requests than long requests since they're going to be a lot easier to update consistently with

now that college has rolled in I have a lot less time to write the longer form content my audience loves me for so expect drabbles most of the time

i'm still planning book content but as of right now, I'm struggling with concepting and figuring out ideas that I can consistently stay motivated for

I might scrap the book I'm planning right now and go with something else in its entirety, but we shall see

a big thank you to all the lovely supporters who have stayed by my side through my inactivity, you will be rewarded one day when I graduate promise

love all of you, also love blades titties <3

incoming shameless plug: if you guys were wondering about my next follower goal (238/300) follow for clear skin and part 3 ayato fic (mpreg edition)

[llamagoddessofficial]

In today's age of magic, shapeshifting has never been easier or more frequent. Have you started to notice your partner has some strange quirks? Does your husband, wife, spouse or significant other demonstrate some odd behaviours that you've only started to take real notice of after significant time together? Accidentally getting into a relationship with a nonhuman is more common than you might think. Here's a handy guide on some entities your partner might be, in case you feel you need to approach that topic.

1 - Fae Fae are a very diverse race, ranging wildly in appearance and power, and disguising themselves as humans is an everyday occurrence. You most likely grew up on stories about not giving your name to strangers, in case they are Fae - unknowingly marrying a Fae is shockingly common, the Bureau of Nonhuman Entities (BoNE) estimates that anywhere between 0.5 to 2% of human marriages actually include one or more Fae in disguise. Here are the signs your partner may be Fae.

A 'green thumb', very knowledgeable about highly local plants and fungi

Strong aptitude for poetry and instruments, a very beautiful singing voice. They highly enjoy writing songs for you, composing poems about you, and singing together.

Enjoys singing you to sleep.

Wild animals are completely unafraid of them, and often approach both of you

Loves gold jewellery, but abjectly refuses to wear anything silver.

Sees suspiciously well in the dark

Cannot get drunk - Fae are often immune to human poisons

Acquaintances of yours describe your partner as 'ethereal', 'enchanting', or 'hypnotising'. You may hear comments that your partner seems out of your league.

They place a very heavy emphasis on manners and politeness, and can quickly grow upset when social rules are not followed.

When frustrated, they use swear words you've never heard before

Fae are frequently attracted to neurodivergent humans. If you're neurodivergent the likelihood is even higher.

2 - Deity Again, more common than you might think. Deities both minor and major often find themselves attracted to humans, and stories of these romances are baked into our histories. Your spouse may be the God of anything from a very specific kind of flower, to a certain weather pattern, to (rarely) something very big like knowledge or the ocean itself. They're harder to spot than Fae, often indistinguishable from a normal human thanks to their many years observing people.

The biggest clue is that they don't notice pain, and never seem to get hurt. They'll have invulnerability or high resistance to things such as burning, freezing, drowning, cutting, and blunt force trauma. They might not notice they've put their hand on a hot burner, for example.

Speaks in strangely archaic language, often misunderstanding modern trends and linguistics. Oddly knowledgeable around ancient subjects.

They may randomly smell like blood and/or smoke. This is often a sign they've just received an offering, and the intensity of the smell is stronger with more powerful deities.

They can immediately tell when someone is lying, usually without giving a cause for the knowledge.

The two of you share pet names of a celestial nature, such as "star", "nova", "sun", "moon", "comet".

When upset, they have a highly commanding voice that can shake glass or cause bizarre events to happen (ie; mist indoors, words on a page scrambling, lights changing colour).

Heightened interest in the topic of immortality - particularly your views on it. Frequently asking you 'how you would feel' if you would live forever.

3 - Dragon A very rare (but not impossible) phenomena, most people have no idea that dragons are intelligent and emotionally complex beings that can very convincingly disguise themselves. Living in caves isn't for everyone and loneliness is not just a human feeling.

Very wealthy, but with no clear sign of where the wealth originates from. They may say their money comes from a 'long-term investment'.

Highly passionate lover. Deeply devoted and affectionate, sometimes to the point of it being inappropriate in public. Enjoys big displays of affection and physical intimacy. May need to be told to slow down.

Abandonment issues. This often stems from the highly violent childhood many dragons experience, and the frequent loss of loved ones to dragonslayers. They might be reluctant to be separated too long.

Has a particular item they enjoy hoarding. This could be clothes, trinkets, plushies, shoes, anything at all. You may find that they're very easygoing about you touching their collection, maybe they even actively make you part of the hoard. They may dress you in collected clothes, sort their collected plushies around your bed, or ask you to wear jewellery they've found. But they'll become extremely agitated and aggressive if anyone other than you tries to interact with 'their things'.

Prone to anger, quick-tempered.

Frequently concerned about your health, seems to perceive you as delicate and easily injured.

Please remember that if your partner IS nonhuman, they almost certainly didn't intentionally lie. Human relationships will seem very fast to other entities. Many transform into humans for a fun year out, find themselves head over heels in love, and then can't figure out the right time to tell their human lover the truth. Try not to hold it against them, everyone has their quirks!

[felassan]

The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard Deluxe edition (DA:TV artbook bonus stuff). [source, via]

"The deluxe edition features: - An elegant foil-stamped slipcase and cover - Gilded pages - A ribbon book marker - Two lithographic art prints housed in a sleek portfolio" [source]

It looks like the two lithographic prints are this mural (which is from the 2020 TGA teaser iirc) and this art of Solas with a wolf by Matt Rhodes (which is from the Gamescom 2020 video iirc). The packaging's color theme-ing is black and gold, reminding of this version (that pic is from 2021) of the game's branding/color theme-ing, and also of course bringing to mind the Golden/Black City. the Golden/Black City was featured on the vinyl cover arts.

The knife here on this cover looks like the 'blue lyrium' [?] dagger, but also simultaneously not like it.

This artbook cover one is more gnarled in appearance and the 'ring' of the handle isn't complete (the way the 'broken' handle could almost be an Evanuris headpiece-shape... if it was a bit more symmetrical, it would look like Elgar'nan's headpiece).

It has extra spiky bits protruding off it too and it looks like something is growing on it. Maybe this is what happens if/when the blue [lyrium?] dagger becomes red (Blighted)? because this gnarled kinda vibe reminds me a bit of Meredith's sword Certainty in DA2, and of that body horror way in which red lyrium growth looks on people. It also reminds me of the tendrils of Blight corruption on walls and the ground and stuff in DA:TV screenshots, and the gnarled red lyrium darkspawn we've seen (look at this darkspawn's back for example).

Or maybe there's simply more than one dagger? There's two rising Evil Gods.

in the background of that image is the now-familiar geometric patterning with the concentric rings around the outside that tend to represent the Veil, and also the multiple almooost-overlapping circles/spheres inside that is suggestive of an eclipse* (something which we can see in the DA:TV screenshot with the dragon, which keeps coming up, which speaks to a lot of the pertinent imagery/symbolism e.g. Elgar'nan overthrowing his father the Sun and darkening the sky, and something which to me makes sense in a Witcher-style Conjunction of the Spheres kinda vibe, multiple realms colliding, like, if you tear down the Veil, you're bringing two 'bodies' or realms together to 'overlap' once again - the Fade and the waking world). [*in the 'eclipse' link there it's just searching the word on my blog btw, since I've banged on and on about that lots before and I don't wanna repeat myself loads in this post hhh]. the placement of the dagger over that design and what it represents makes sense; as we saw in the gameplay reveal video, the dagger was part of Solas' ritual to tear down the Veil/move the Evanuris prison.

On this cover, we can see two eyeballs in two of the corners (the eyes remind me of the Inquisition hairy eyeball, the eye motifs cropping up around Lucanis, Pride, and the Fade peacock feather/eye motif [image from this post]). in the other two corners is a sword that reminds again of Certainty. Meredith brandishing the sword is part of this DA:TV mural in the bottom left, underneath Ghil. surely not a coincidence. :D maybe a Certainty-like sword is the final corrupted form of the dagger, or one of them? in TN, the red lyrium idol changed shape enough that a ritual-blade sprang from its base.

the background of this middle cover also contains triangles, reminding of ancient elven artifacts and ancient elven magic-tech (like with Bellara, the Veil Jumpers etc) and the recurring triangle symbols in DA art around Fade/Veil/magic-y stuff (example from the Tevinter Nights map below).

The cover on the right has more geometric patterns, circles, rings etc. (all these patterns remind of the art in the vinyl booklet btw). and, in the center, the eye again. 👁️

[novaursa]

Heyyyy me again! Mybe some cute father reader! And mom whoever you want!

Fires of Rook's Rest

- Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest you return to Dragonstone; to your family.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is brother-husband to Rhaenyra and is bonded with Silverwing.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

The wind howls in your ears as you guide Silverwing through the thick clouds, the salty sting of the sea below mingling with the smoke that still clings to you. Your muscles ache with the strain of battle, and the burns and cuts that mar your body pulse with each movement, though you have grown accustomed to the pain. It is the price of victory, however fleeting. Behind you, the flames of Rook’s Rest still burn in your mind’s eye, the screams of men and the clash of steel echoing like ghosts as you think of your half-brother, Aegon, brought low by your hand. Aemond was there too, his one good eye burning with rage as you narrowly escaped his wrath. 

But now, Dragonstone looms ahead, a shadowed fortress nestled in the mist of the sea. It is home. A haven amidst the storm of war. The sight of it stirs something deep within you, though your body threatens to give way under the weight of exhaustion. You press on, guiding Silverwing with a firm hand as you descend toward the familiar cliffs, where the black stone walls rise like jagged teeth from the earth.

As you near the landing courtyard, you see movement below. Waiting. A small cluster of figures, their bright hair glinting like pale fire in the twilight. The children. Your children. Your heart clenches, a wave of warmth overtaking the cold, hollow feeling that has filled you since the battle. 

Baelon is the first you notice, standing tall despite his young age, his serious face a reflection of your own as he watches you approach. Beside him, Aenys fidgets, eyes wide and filled with awe as always, eager to see Silverwing up close. And there, clutching the hem of her nursemaid’s skirts, is Visenya, her silver-gold curls tumbling down her back. She is the smallest, yet her presence is as fierce as any dragon.

And then, there is her.

Rhaenyra. Your sister. Your wife. She stands apart from the children, her gown billowing in the wind as the light of the setting sun catches the red of your house's colors. Her eyes are fixed on you, sharp and searching, though her lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile—one reserved only for you.

Silverwing lands with a thud, shaking the stones beneath you, and you slide from her back, your legs barely steady beneath you as you land. The pain in your side flares, but you push it away. There is no room for weakness here. Not in front of them. You straighten, your eyes meeting Rhaenyra’s as she steps forward, her face a mask of composure though you see the worry in her eyes.

“You’ve returned,” she says softly, her voice low and intimate, meant only for you.

“Aye,” you rasp, your throat dry from the heat of battle, “though not unscathed.”

Her eyes flicker over the burns that mar your arm, the blood that stains your tunic where Aemond’s sword nearly found its mark. For a moment, you see the flicker of fear in her, but it is quickly replaced with something harder. She is a Targaryen, as are you. This is the cost of the crown you both seek to protect.

Before you can speak again, Baelon rushes forward, his youthful vigor uncontained as he reaches for you, his arms wrapping around your waist despite your wounds. “Father,” he breathes, his voice tight with the worry he tries to hide. “You won, didn’t you?”

You smile down at him, resting a hand on his silver hair. “We won a battle, yes, but the war is not done.” Your voice is firm, though you soften it for him. Baelon is old enough to understand, but still, you wish to shield him from the harsher truths of war.

Aenys, ever curious, steps forward, eyes wide as he peers up at you. “Did Silverwing burn them all, father? Did you see Uncle Aegon fall?” There is excitement in his tone, the thrill of the tales he has been told of dragons and war, but you see Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze land on him, warning him silently.

You crouch down, grimacing as pain shoots through your side, but you manage a weary smile. “Silverwing fought fiercely, and yes, your uncle Aegon was brought down. But war is not a story, Aenys. There is little glory in the bloodshed.”

Visenya, shy and quiet, takes a hesitant step forward, her wide violet eyes fixed on you. She says nothing, but you see the concern in her expression, the way she looks at the burns on your hands. She is only five, yet already wise enough to sense the weight of what you carry.

You reach out to her, and she steps into your arms, her tiny hands clutching the fabric of your tunic. “I’m here,” you murmur to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, her curls soft against your lips. “I’ll always come back.”

Rhaenyra moves forward then, her hand resting on your arm as she looks between you and the children. “Let’s us go inside,” she says softly, but her voice leaves no room for argument. “You need rest. The children have been waiting long enough.”

You nod, allowing her to lead you toward the doors of the keep, your steps heavy but your heart lighter for their presence. As you pass through the archway, you glance down at your children, each of them a reminder of what you fight for. 

For them. For her.

And as long as you have them, you will endure.

[unironicallytes]

✨📜 A Mostly Very Specific Elder Scrolls OC Ask Game 📜✨

I wanted to talk about my TES OCs, so I threw together an Ask Game - anyone can use it, so play to your heart's content if you feel inclined! Remember to indicate if you have multiple OCs that can be asked about. I hope you have fun with it!

What era(s) is your OC from?

What is your OC’s birthsign? Does it affect the way they live their life?

What is your OC’s race and cultural heritage? Are they multiracial?

How old is your OC? Is their age typical for their race, or are they an outlier?

What is your OC's first language? Do they know any others?

Does your OC have any formal education? Via what organization, if so?

What province does your OC currently live in?

Does your OC tend to live on the road, or do they tend to settle in one place?

What is your OC’s current primary living space? Ex: a house, a mansion, an alley, a dormitory, campsites, etc.

How does your OC decorate their primary living space?

What does your OC's daily/nightly schedule look like? Do they have any routines?

Which different provinces has your OC visited? If they haven't visited any others, do they have a particular place they'd like to go?

Can your OC ride a mount? If so, what do they ride?

At what age did your OC leave their hometown and why? Or have they never left?

Has your OC ever been to the sea? Is it mundane or remarkable to them?

Can your OC swim? Do they like or dislike it?

Does your OC have a living family? What is/was their relationship like?

Does your OC have a companion, romantic or otherwise? How did they meet?

How easily does your OC make friends?

How does your OC earn money? How much does money affect their life?

What skill lines does your OC primarily excel at? Which ones are they weak in?

Is your OC passionate about an area of study? What got them into the topic?

What are your OC's opinions on vampires and werewolves? Do they belong to one of those groups? If so, what is their opinion on vampire/werewolf clans?

What moral boundaries does your OC have? Have they ever crossed them? What happened?

What are your OC’s religious beliefs? How strong is their faith?

How does the game’s main plot affect your OC’s life? (ex: Skyrim = civil war and dragons; Oblivion = Oblivion crisis; etc.)?

Your OC runs into some bandits on the road. Does your OC comply with their demands, fight them off, flee the area, or etc.?

Somewhere in a town your OC has frequented, another character mentions their name in conversation. What reactions do others have to your OC’s reputation? Does your OC even have a reputation, or do they fly under the radar?

Your OC sits down at a tavern. What food/drink are they ordering?

While walking through town, your OC is approached by a beggar asking for some gold. How does your OC respond?

Your OC is packing for a day-long trip on the road. What is in their travel bag?

A guard has confronted your OC, suspecting that they've broken the law in some way. What offense is your OC most likely to be accused of? Did they actually do it?

Your OC has just woken up from a horrible nightmare. What was it about?

Your OC feels that they are about to die. What are their last words, and to whom do they speak them to?

After miraculously surviving a near-death experience, your OC regains consciousness. What are the first words out of their mouth, and to whom do they speak them to?

[rooksspite]

The Invitation

Lucanis Dellamorte x f! De Riva! Rook

this is my first time actually posting something i’ve written for dragon age! i’ve loved the series for so long and decided to finally bite the bullet.

I wanted to write about Lucanis’ reaction to that crow armour you can get from the lords of fortune. let’s pretend that there aren’t other npc crows that wear it.

“C’mon! It’s blue, has feathers, and some flowy stuff. Doesn’t that check all the boxes for what you crows wear?”

Rook turns her head to look up at Taash with an unconvinced look, “we also prefer to have our vital organs covered Taash. You’re sure there isn’t a missing shirt?” she asks, turning back to the merchant of the Hall of Valour, who only raised his hands and shrugged.

“It’s rumoured to have been worn by a pretty well known crow before making its way into my collection.”

“Right.” Rook replies, unconvinced

“Perhaps the crow was so good at their job they felt they didn’t need to cover up. Isn’t a big part of the crow uniform making statement against enemies?” Neve pipes up, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Rook narrows her eyes at the woman before turning back to the armour before her. Neve wasn’t wrong about crow fashion, and the quality was really nice but it was just so… exposing.

“if I showed up in Treviso in this Viago would burst into laughter and then kick me out… again.” Rook mumbles.

Taash groans in impatience, they’d been standing here for the better part of twenty minutes as Rook looked at the merchant’s stuff, “come on Rook, we have a ring to fight in! just get it! Show off some skin for once.”

Rook blushes at that, everything she wore usually covered her up. Even her casual clothes she wore back at the lighthouse was the most she’s ever shown.

“Why don’t you try it on and see how it fairs in the ring? I’m sure Isabela would be more than happy to introduce you in your new outfit.” Neve offers

Room sighs, she didn’t know why but ever since she talked to Neve about her very limited knowledge on beauty and fashion and Neve and Taash have both been very insistent on her trying out new styles.

“Fine… We have plenty of gold anyways.”

She doesn’t notice the victorious smirks Neve and Taash share over her head.

———

“Lucanis.”

“Davrin.”

Silence rings through the library of the lighthouse as the two men greet each other. Both pretending to look at the various titles in the spines of books. Lucanis swirls the coffee in his cup and clears his throat before taking a sip.

Davin finally speaks, “So… You and Rook hey?”

Lucanis pulls his gaze away from the bookshelf, turning to Davrin with a raised eyebrow, “we have been over this no?”

Davrin shrugs leaning against another bookshelf, “just double checking, leave it up to both crows of the group to end up in a nest together.”

Lucanis chuckles, “we have not ‘nested’”

There’s a pause before Davrin continues, “You two haven’t really gone out alone have you? Outside of our work against the gods i mean.”

Lucanis blinks at the question and pauses to think, “well uh… no not really.”

“Why not?”

Lucanis sighs, it had been weeks since their near kiss before he cowered away, and while they continued to show clear attraction on both sides, it’s not as if there was an official label on their… relationship. Would it be too much to spend time alone? With no goal in mind?

“it’s complicated” He finally says stiffly.

Davrin chuckles, “I can see that,”

The familiar whoosh of the eluvian from below can be heard, “perfect timing,” Davrin hums.

The doors to the eluvian room creak open and the murmur of chatter can be heard as the three make their way up the stairs.

Neve surfaces first and a sly smile crosses her face when she makes eye contact with lucanis.

Well that can’t be good, he thinks to himself as he takes a sip of his coffee,

“Welcome back,” Davrin greets, “How was the ring?”

Neve shrugs, “Isabela’s out another 60 gold. We would’ve been back sooner if someone didn’t take their time shopping.”

Rook’s laughter can be heard as she climbs the staircase, “I didn’t take that long neve.” she says as she reaches the top of the staircase.

Lucanis chokes on his coffee.

“Sooo what do we think?” Taash says as they walk up behind Room. A large grin on their face. They put their hands on Rook’s shoulders and spin her around like a doll, ignoring her sounds of protest.

Davrin throws an amused look back at Lucanis, “What do we think Lucanis?” he turns his gaze back and crosses his arms, “I think you’re missing a shirt Rook.”

“According to the merchant I’m not.” Rook says with a sheepish chuckle. Suppressing the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

“Thing fits like a glove though, she fought in the arena with this armour on and left perfectly fine.” Neve says, nudging Rook with her elbow.

“Mierda, you fought in that?” Lucanis finally chokes out. Barely recovering from the initial shock of seeing the woman he was already extremely attracted to wearing… That.

“Like a badass.” Taash confirms, smirking at the sight of Lucanis’ face, “well Neve you had to show me that… thing right?”

Neve nods, the mischievous smile never leaving her face, “right of course. would you like to come with Davrin? For the thing?”

The elf smiles knowingly, “I’d love to.”

the three waste no time in leaving the library of the lighthouse, the door swinging shut behind them.

Rook chuckles nervously under Lucanis’ stare, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“It’s a bit much right? The merchant said a renowned crow once wore this armour but I think he just lost the shirt.”

Lucanis rakes his eyes up and down her body. Trying desperately not to focus on her chest.

But how could he when she was wearing a variety of necklaces that led his eyes even further down? For once he could see almost the entirety of the tattoo she had on her chest, who put that there? Who had the pleasure of seeing the full expanse of her soft skin before he could-

“Lucanis?”

Lucanis jumps as his train of thought is broken, he clears his throat as he tightens his grip on his coffee cup, “you look…”

“VERY NICE ROOK.”

There’s a pause as Spite’s voice rings through the library. Lucanis suddenly wishes that the device spinning above their heads would malfunction and he would be torn up by the fade.

Rook, in all her kindness laughs, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, “thank you Spite but I was asking Lucanis.”

Her eyes meet his again and he swallows. There’s a pause before he takes a deep breath, calming the shock in his mind.

“I think…” he started slowly, stalking his way up to Rook, “you look beautiful, though I would advise against leaving some of the most important parts of you… vulnerable.”

Rook doesn’t know if the dip in his voice is intentional but it makes her shiver nonetheless. Her eyes trained on the free hand that comes up to feel the plumage on her shoulders.

“T-that’s what I told Taash,”, she says with an awkward chuckle. Suddenly feeling very warm.

Rook breaks her gaze away from his hand and nearly gasps when she meets Lucanis’ eyes. Dark and intense, with a heat in them that was starting to become familiar to her.

Flustered, Rook breaks eye contact. laughing awkwardly as one of her hands comes up to fiddle with the chains in her neck. Lucanis tries to not make his stare so obvious.

“I-I should change, no need to be in armour here right?” Rook steps away awkwardly, not waiting for an answer. Nearly tripping as she quickly ascends the stairs towards her room.

It’s only when Lucanis hears the creak of a door opening and closing does he slouch and inhale shakily, his hand reaching towards a bookshelf to steady himself, “mierda.”

[astrumark]

── GIVE ME THAT LITTLE BIT OF SATISFACTION ★.

PAIRING: aemond targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: aemond needs your assistance after a battle, in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: blood, curse words, smut with plot, use of coconut oil as lube, hand-job, p in v, tits sucking, multiple orgasms, creampie, a hint of sub aemond? oops? :3

WC: 5.3K

NOTES: obviously this is my take on what happened after rook's rest. the show's approach next year will definitely be different. but it's fun working with the book's events and its lack of minor details (you can fill it in however you wish!).

Your eyes flutter open with a jump, a firm hand gripping your shoulder. You didn't remember when you had fallen asleep, or what hour it was, but certainly wasn't the time for your shift yet. It takes a few seconds for your cloudy vision to focus on where you were, now noticing the older servant in front of you, and you look at her dazedly.

"The prince has just arrived, and requests your presence," Annabel explains.

Aemond. Immediate relief washes over you as your face softens. "Very well."

You leave the servants' quarters as fast as you can after fixing your appearance, and as you walk through the halls, you notice the castle is way too agitated. Tension and seriousness ripple in the air, and you start to feel uneasy as well, mind fumbling with numberless possibilities.

It's one of the gold cloaks that finally speaks a little louder, talking fervently about the victory of the greens at the battle of Rook's Rest. It had been quite a few days since their army had marched, and news was often shared about their progression. Usually, you tend to avoid it, since most of it makes you feel sick in your stomach.

Besides the armored man, there is no more commemoration or sense of victory. Not on this side of the castle, at least. Lords were probably planning on throwing banquets, but people like you are too aware of the damages of the war, and how at the end of the day the smallfolk suffer the most. Countless common people would die in the name of greedy royalty that know no limits to their ambition, families ruined beyond repair, a ravaging hunger was plaguing the poorest, and the coffers would soon be emptied, money being spent on battles other than improving the realm and making life easier. It's obvious how no good could ever come regardless of the result of the war.

You find Annabel again, shouting order after order, the middle-aged woman was the one in charge of the servants for a good while now and was a reliable source of information.

"What happened?" You approach her.

"A lot happened, child." Her tone is somber.

"Did someone die?" What a foolish question. Not just someone, but hundreds.

"The queen who never was and her dragon."

You grimace, reminiscing about the princess back when she was visiting the Red Keep. Although such casualties are expected during the war, it is still difficult to grasp that the imposing woman is dead. It's fearful how one's life could be ripped from them so suddenly. A paralyzing concern floods you. Aemond being back does not mean he is unharmed.

"Has the prince been hurt?" Your voice falters, your heart pounding with fear.

Annabel's gaze flickers to your face, and you could see her disapproval, almost making you wish to recoil. But she would never say a thing about your unusual closeness with the prince, being unlike her to intrude in personal affairs. You are aware she doesn't like Aemond or any of the royals, but then again very few did. You have grown to understand it was not only because of his eye, or lack thereof, but because he simply did not inspire sympathy. Aemond is stoic, defensive, and difficult to relate to. You were only one of the very few lucky enough to know better.

"The prince is fine," Annabel says and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "However, it is said the king is in critical condition, it is not known if he will recover, and his dragon is unable to fly, one of his wings was damaged during the fight."

You gasp, in your slumber you have forgotten about the man, not being concerned about him in the slightest. Anyhow, you feel your mind almost melting as you process the shocking news and the aftermath of it. If the king were to perish, that means Aemond would be regent until his nephew is of ideal age. Seven. "Poor Sunfyre."

Annabel tries to scold you, but the amusement behind her blue eyes is hard to conceal. "You are pitying the dragon, not the king?"

"Well, people have the free will of choice, and are aware of the consequences their actions might have… a dragon can only obey their rider's command, isn't it right?"

"We cannot say. These magical creatures are beyond our comprehension."

You ponder. "That is true."

After the quick conversation, you make your way to one of the huge kitchens, assuming the prince would probably fancy a bath. Warming up buckets of water, you carry them to Maegor's Holdfast with the help of three other servants.

A strong smell of blood and smoke fills your nose as you enter his quarters, and your eyes widen. The expensive rug is stained and marked by large boots, and even more astounding is the prince's appearance.

Aemond is lounging on a chair close to his study table. His face and hair are covered by blood, ash, and dirt, and splatters of dried blood stains his black and gold armor. His braids are loose, and you can even notice some twigs tangled in his silver strands. However, the prince's hands are the most distressing, gloves discarded at some point and almost fully covered by the red liquid. With a frown, you deduce it must be from his brother's injury. He looks haunting, almighty, and ruthless. There's a scowl on his face, though his eyes seem perturbed.

You notice how the servants' hands seem to tremble slightly as they pour the water into the bathtub in the next room, their eyes never daring to look up while adding some essential oils and chamomile herbs to the water as well, however, you cannot share their fear. All you wish to do is reach out and comfort him. Leaving one of the buckets outside the bathroom, you can see from the corner of your eyes the one-eyed man dismissing the other servants with a wave of a hand, and they seem eager to oblige. You kneel in front of him.

"I am glad you are well," You squeeze his knees. "And tremendously sorry for your brother."

Aemond does not respond, and his gaze is piercing as he stares at you as if memorizing each detail of your face. You don't look away either, a comfortable but powerful silence pairing between the two of you. His fingers slowly graze your cheek, and you do not mind the blood, eyes closing with the delicate caress.

"Help me undress, will you?"

You nod, aware he was never one to talk in deep about his emotions and thoughts, to allow himself to be vulnerable. Nonetheless, you've been noticing this quietness getting worse ever since Storm's End, and although concerned, you would not push him. Especially because you weren't even aware of the extent of your relationship. That he has a certain tenderness for you is clear, but the amount of liberties you could take with the royal is not as much.

Carefully undoing his heavy armor, the pieces fall to the ground with a whump, and the clothes underneath are a lot easier to deal with. His defined body slowly comes into view, a few goosebumps arising on his bare skin with the sudden lack of materials. Aemond's nakedness is of no surprise to you, though you could never help but admire him. Grabbing a cloth you wet it in the bucket nearby and start to clean his face first, hoping to get rid of the thicker layers of dirt before starting the bath.

Your touch is light, afraid to harshly rub any scratches, big or small. "Are you hurt in any way?"

Aemond shakes his head. "None of the blood is mine," He says. "It's from the princess and my brother, and their dragons. I believe some from Lord Staunton and his garrison as well."

You shudder with discomfort and drift your attention to cleaning his hands, the cloth immediately being painted red, you discard it for another as you move to the other hand. You've always enjoyed tending to him.

His hair comes next, and you take off his eyepatch. Undoing the braids is quick, long accustomed to it, though his strands are now sticking and smelling terribly, like a pan that spent too much time on fire, simply nose scrunching and suffocating. Aemond moves his head side to side with a growl after you are done, the bones of his neck cracking.

The prince sighs pleasantly as he enters the tub, and you grab a bowl to wet his hair. The silver strands get soaped quickly as you massage his scalp with both hands, his good eye close, and the sapphire twinkles.

After washing it, you fetch another soap bar, one that the merchant guaranteed you was special, something about adding more oils while making it. There was no harm in trying, and you were surprised by how such a thing made his hair healthier, not as dry which means fewer cuts, and more tamed and lustrous. His strands instantly become more emollient as you run the soap along the length.

Aemond seems completely unbothered as you get to scrub his body, the fine hairs covering his arms and legs so light it's barely visible. It's, in fact, a moment of relaxation and customariness, a routine for both of you. But the water is already dirty and gray by now, and you cannot help but recall it's not only ashes and dirt but also the mixed blood of people and beasts alike. Some perished.

You do not notice the silver-haired staring at you until he speaks. "You do not seem very pleased."

You raise your eyebrows. "Is there something to be pleased about?"

"Is there not?" He squints his eye. "We have just won a battle."

"Congratulations."

"Your sincerity is appreciated." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. "You know you can speak freely with me." He studies your face.

You bite your lips, focusing on the task at hand and adding more soap to the scrubber. The prince would never understand your point, so you would rather avoid a useless discussion. Especially today.

Unfortunately, he doesn't give up, cocking his head. "What is restraining you from doing so? Are you disgusted? Would you prefer me to not have killed all those cunty traitors?" His voice is low, dangerous. "Would you prefer to have that whore sitting on the throne? Is that the reason for your unpleasantness? Do you believe she's more suitable than my brother? Than me?"

You look at him sternly, the scrubber falling to the water with a splash. His face is now a lot closer to yours, but he does not intimidate you, never did, and probably never will. But he hits a nerve, and your mouth moves even before you could notice you were speaking.

"I would prefer your family to resolve the succession issue in another way other than submitting the kingdom to a devastating war with horrendous consequences, for all of you certainly, as proved by your nephew's death and older brother's injury now, but mostly, innocent people that have nothing to do with your schemes." Your voice holds a cold rage. "That is my opinion if it's of any importance to you, but I highly doubt it."

Aemond scoffs, shaking his head and averting his eye for a minute. His finger rests on top of his mouth, and there's still blood underneath his nails. He inhales to control his annoyance. He looks like he's going to say something, but then changes his mind, closing his lips and opting for another choice of words.

"You would not understand it, as a commoner." He looks at you up and down, not with the usual desire, but with a hint of superiority now, clear in how the corner of his lips twitches upward dismissively.

You are quick to respond. "Nor would you, as a prince."

Deafening silence. You have a good point, the drastic difference in your backgrounds would never let you completely understand one another's views and priorities. Aemond sighs.

"You are lucky I am fond of you." A truce.

You chuckle. "And I do not dislike you entirely."

The prince smiles, tight-lipped, but it is lovely, showing off his beautiful dimples. The rest of the bath goes calmly as you resume the chore. You wrap his hair in a cotton towel, and his body in a linen one. You leave the prince to dry himself while you make your way to the bedchamber, gathering loose mud green trousers and some shea butter.

The one-eyed stands in his full glory as you spread the product all over his lean body. Back, arms, chest, and stomach, then his legs. When you get up from your kneeling position, his hand wraps around your neck swiftly, bringing your body forward and kissing you.

You return it immediately, deep and eager. However, it's also contemplative and cozy, almost lazy as you taste one another. Your hand rests on his forearm, the softness and warmth of his lips never failing to get you weak on the knees, and he smells great now, fresh. Your eyes seem unable to open as you get lost in the small kisses and teases.

"Do not resent me, beauty." He says as you part.

You smile against his mouth, you thought it was precious when he got like this, clingy in his way. It was only on these rare occasions that he let his pride and loftiness aside, and would do everything to prevent you from being upset with him. Seeking your comfort in such an intense manner it was flattering.

A verbal answer doesn't leave your lips, you just kiss him again, and it's enough. "Get dressed and sit down." You motion to the dressing table, throwing the trousers at him.

You comb his hair delicately, adding some sunflower oil to his scalp before braiding his damp hair, he prefers it this way, claiming it was the only way it wouldn't get tangled up in the morning. You start from his very root, sectioning small amounts of silver hair and crossing them over in between your fingers, slowly but surely creating a beautiful and tight pattern. It's not a fast process, but you delight in it and you suspect so does the man in front of you, almost purring as you work. Tying the end of it, you rub his shoulders affectionately, his skin always warm beneath your palms.

"I am sore," Aemond complains. "A massage would be great."

You grin, pecking his cheek from behind. "As you wish, my Prince."

He is truly very tense, and you cannot fathom how distressing all that he witnessed is. You suppose it was a life-changing experience, in the worst way possible. It was clear how his eye hardened considerably in a short time. You would have surely run to the hills in his place, but he doesn't. He breathes and keeps his composure, hiding away all his fright, pretending to be indifferent, that he accepts his duty and the price of it gladly. But nobody would, less they lacked emotions.

Aemond lays down on his stomach, folding his arms above his head. Grabbing a bottle of coconut oil from the table, you take off your shoes and raise your dress to your knees before crawling on the bed to sit on top of his butt.

His body jolts as you drip a generous amount of oil on his large back, his muscles flexing. His body is so magnificent you could easily imagine a greater force meticulously creating each detail of it. Aemond moans the moment your hands start to caress his lower back. Your first touches are gentle, tracing circles up and down with your fingertips, mapping where you can feel some knots. Your hands move from his sides, to his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck, pinching it slightly.

"Fuck," Aemond grunts, voice muffled by the mattress. "This feels nice."

You add more pressure, stroking his back up and down, and after a few minutes back to tracing firm circles, this time with the heel of your hand. The prince is unable to contain noises of pleasure. Laying one of your hands on top of the other, you start the process of pushing his spine, once again beginning down and going up. A few cracks are heard.

Then, you add gentle pressure with your thumbs on his knots, his grunts are now a little bit more uncomfortable, but it's necessary. After you are done, you softly knead his back up and down, and then start switching between circling and stroking.

Aemond's moans along with the feel of his skin start to alight a desire in you, your lower stomach tingling in a known and annoying manner, womanhood pulsating with each new sound. It doesn't help how your filthy encounters had been becoming less frequent, the prince growing too busy with the war, and often you would feel bothered and insatiable.

It's unconscious the way you start rubbing on him, trying to relieve the ache you feel, and you do not realize what you are doing until he grips your thigh, halting your tentative movements at once.

"Stop teasing." He warns.

You stammer, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not, I–"

Suddenly you are pinned down by the prince, your positions switched as you utter your confusion by the suddenness. You should've been used to his strength and fast reflexes by now. "Do you deem your behavior acceptable?"

You swallow, trying not to smile, and feign innocence. "I have no clue what you are talking about."

"Oh, yes? You are unaware you were rubbing yourself on me like a bitch in heat?"

"I would never do that, my Prince."

"You would never…?" He chuckles, feeling amused.

"During my work? No." You shake your head in denial.

"So, if I touch your cunt right now, you would not be wet?" He cocks his head.

You bite your lips. "Not at all."

"Forgive me for not believing your words, but I shall need proof." Aemond's hand sneaks under your dress, fingers moving slowly from your shin to your thigh, his eye never leaving yours, daring.

You giggle when his finger parts your folds, rubbing the dampness between your legs. You buck your hips, in need of more friction.

"Liar." Aemond disregards with a click of his tongue, his pupil blown out as he circles your bud.

"Aemond." You gasp, eyes closing.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes, I've been taking care of you so well..." You try to negotiate.

"But I deserve so much more attention, don't you agree?" He kisses and licks your collarbone, finger never faltering, teasing.

"More?" Your breath is labored, and your voice is weak. His hand leaves your heat.

"I have killed a whole other dragon. It is not frequently one can say it. Yes, I believe I am due special treatment." He faces you again.

"I see," You grin. "You want me to do all the work?" Your lips brush his. "Such an idle prince." You provoke.

"Watch your mouth," He warns, pecking you. "I am merely tired. It's been eventful."

"Conveniently for you, I am feeling generous today." Your hands trail his bare waist.

"You are?" He smirks, nose touching yours.

"Uh-huh, and very happy you are unscathed."

"Show me, then," Aemond kisses your jaw. "Just how grateful you are."

The kiss you share is lecherous, wet, and rushed. Aemond does not fight you as you flip your bodies over and climb onto his lap, an evident bulge in the thin trousers that contours all of his cock tantalizingly. Even the clothed friction makes you both shudder, and you gather all of your strength to not start instantly grinding on his shaft.

You pull his trousers down, and his manhood springs free. Big, thick, veiny. Dripping coconut oil on your hands, you rub them together. Aemond wets his lips in anticipation.

Your hand slides through his length with no difficulty with the help of the oil, and the smell of it is delicious. You start jerking him off, and the prince hums in satisfaction.

Aemond wasn't the most vocal in bed, you realized it soon into your affair, but with time you had discovered the exceptions, the things that would make him forget all about his inhibitions and scream in pleasure.

After stroking him for a while, you cup one of your hands, very slowly circling his tip with the palm of your oily hand, fingertips dragging up and down his length while you do so. Aemond breathes sharply, his stomach twitching.

"Seven hells, love." He mutters with a tight hold on the sheets due to his sensitivity. You smile.

You focus on your fingertips, running them up and down his shaft lightly. Aemond adored the delicacy of the movement, the gentle yet torturous pressure, promising and unforgiving, kind and cruel. Then you circle his head again, again, and again. Careful to not hurt him. Aemond grunts, his eyebrows pinching together and face completely flushed as he bites his lips harshly, trying to hold back his moans, but you know it won't last long.

"Stop, it 's too much." He whines, but the delighted sound that escapes his mouth tells you to do anything but, his body trembling.

"Aw," You coo mockingly. "We know you can take it, my Prince."

You add more oil to your hands, holding his length and rotating your wrist as your palm rubs over his tip and shaft over and over. He completely let go as he closes his eye, his grunts being replaced by enchanting high-pitched and broken moans. It's quite pathetic the sight of him, the mighty and fearsome prince so supple on your hands, forehead glistening with sweat and breath erratic. Anyone outside could hear him.

"My love, please." He begs in the middle of whimpers, all of his body hair stirred up.

"Please what, my dear?" You ask innocently.

Aemond squirms. "I need to come," He gasps. "Please, please, please."

"Since you asked so nicely…"

You change the movement, keeping it only on his sensitive head, your other hand squeezing his balls. His voice gets louder, face twisted in pleasure as a tear falls down his gorgeous face, violet iris shining bright. You can feel your cunt soaked and throbbing achingly with the view.

He comes in a silent scream, hips bucking as hot loads of his spend fall into your hand and his shaft. You spread some of it around his length, still jerking him off as you help him ride out of his peak, the prince's body spasming.

"That's it," You praise him. "Good boy."

Aemond's breath is heavy as you find his lips, and he struggles to follow your pace, but he tries anyway, messy and urging. "Now you are going to be even nicer and let me use your cock, won't you?" You whisper.

His eye is lidded as he stares at you and nods, and you cannot resist the urge to press two sticky fingers to his curved lips, Aemond opens his mouth with no resistance, licking your hand clean. He's so compliant, somehow still lost in the void between the extraordinary bliss and the present moment.

"Anything for you." He mutters.

You grin. "That is what I like to hear."

Even if not necessarily frequent, happening mostly when he was worn-out or glum, it was rather obvious how letting someone of your position have control over him in bed, one of the very few situations in which you could be so blunt and disrespectful to a high-born, aroused the prince more than he would ever admit, a time in which he could forget about his obligations and just be good to you.

It doesn't take long into your kissing until you can feel him growing hard again, hands eagerly grabbing the hem of your dark red dress and pulling it up around your waist.

"Stupid dress." He complains in between lustful kisses, struggling to get rid of the clothing.

You laugh and help him take it off, throwing your apron and the dress somewhere around his quarters. Aemond instantly latches onto your right breast once you are fully naked, tongue hot and wet twirling around your nipple, and making you shiver and mewl as he sucks it into his mouth as if he is starved, your hand pulling at his braided hair.

Too impatient and greedy, you push him back on the mattress, positioning his member on your wet and tight entrance before lowering yourself down on it. You both moan at the stretch. It is spellbinding the way he watches you on top of him, making you feel like the most desired person in existence, his hands on your hips tightly.

You feel so full and excited you could almost see stars, the position has always been one of your favorites, his cock being able to reach just the right spots in this way.

"Seven, you feel perfect inside me." You gasp, grinding back and forward, your lungs clenching with the sudden and powerful wave of pleasure, so strong it is maddening.

Aemond growls, his body jolting with the motion. "You are a fucking witch, woman."

"For knowing exactly how to deal with you? I might as well be." You grin viciously, your hands resting on his chest.

Your eyes close as you rock your hips slowly and sensually, strained moans already leaving your mouth, and your bud brushing over his pubic bone makes you tremble. It's doubtless the best sensation you have ever felt, his cock dragging against your walls marvelously.

"Fuck, you fit me so well," You say out of breath, fastening your grinding. "Always so good for me, aren't you?"

You lean over slightly, pressing yourself more to him as you begin to bounce on his cock restlessly, the sinful noises echoing in the chamber only increasing your pleasure.

Aemond whimpers, both by the change of the movement and your words. "Always good for you, my love." He repeats, choking out.

Aemond's hands come to grip your ass desperately, certainly to leave bruises later, but now it's nothing but motivating for you.

He suddenly sits you both up, mouth finding one of your breasts again, saliva coating it as he plays with your nipple with tongue and teeth with no care. The sensitivity makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Delightful yet torturous whimpers on your lips as you continue to ride him mercilessly.

Sweat covers almost all of your body, and you feel as if you were burning from the inside out, the prince not looking any different, his cheeks and nose terribly reddened. You don't even care about the slight throbbing of your legs getting tired, or for the man you were fucking anymore, simply focused on the building of that rapture that feels so close yet so far. Your hold on his shoulders is firm beyond pleasant, but you assume his mind is elsewhere, and not in how your nails are breaking his pale skin.

You needed this badly and you knew you wouldn't last long. The knot inside you tightens hazardously, and you furrow your eyebrows, your bouncing getting even more frenetic. However, as good as it feels, you are growing overwhelmed as you ache for a release that's taking too long to come, somewhat stuck in a sadic joy. You whine out of glee and anticipation, too fucking eager.

"Don't stop, love," Aemond says with a groan, letting go of your breast with a pop to give attention to the other, his sucking sloppy as you pull at his hair harshly. You moan.

Not even in a thousand years you would dare to. When the long-awaited white-hot pleasure slams your body, you feel like ascending to the seven heavens itself. It's astoundingly overpowering at first and then diminishes in ripples as your heart drums painfully inside your chest, cunt fluttering around his member.

Your breath is heavy as you slow down, shivering and a little weary. Aemond moans while watching you come on his cock, and fortunately, he seems disposed to help you as he lays down again, bringing your body flush against his. He seems very roused as he impales you with his cock from beneath, growling into your ears while his hands squeeze your ass possessively.

You whine due to overstimulation, his thrusts are relentless, and the squelching sounds more prominent with how much you soaked his cock not too long ago. You are unsure if you want him to finish already or just keep using your cunt as he wishes regardless of your comfort, and the sheer thought of it inflames you.

It's surprising how fast it comes back, that burning and expectation in your lower stomach, apparently even stronger now. All that was not him and his cock in your womanhood is long forgotten. Blood rushes hot in your veins, high-pitched mewls and low grunts blending.

"By the Seven, Aemond." You hide your face in the crook of his neck, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

"Can you give me another one?" Aemond pounds into you harder, the smell of the shea butter and coconut oil from earlier consuming you. "I want to give you another one, beauty. I want to make you feel exceptionally good, yes?"

You try to respond to him but you just babble, teeth biting into the conjecture of his neck and shoulder, painting it red and purple, too dumbfounded to think or to measure your strength. But it seems your bites only incite the silver-haired more, his shoves faster and his groans broken.

One of his hands circles your waist securely to lock you in place, no falter in his thrusts. The wave of elation that suddenly crashes down over you is potent, numbing all your senses for a few seconds, but you are certain you must be screaming as you squirm. Your legs shake tremendously and your eyelids feel heavier.

Your second peak and the clenching of your cunt send Aemond over the edge. He bucks his hips, stilling inside you as he comes with a prolonged and deep grunt, head tilted back and lips parted. You didn't know what good action guaranteed you the privilege to see such a beautiful thing. Getting off him as he tries to regain his breath, a good amount of his warm seed drips in between your thighs, walls spinning as you feel quite faint.

Your back hits the fluffy mattress, your heart pounding in your ears and black dots cover your vision, which is slightly blurry. Shutting your eyes, you could not say how much time has passed as you recompose yourself and wait for your skin to cool down, but when you do, you are shocked to see the prince already soundly asleep next to you, mouth hung open as exhaustion had finally caught up to him after the latest events and your passionate indulgence.

Chuckling, you roll to your side as you watch him, his expression for once serene and breath even. You trace your finger gently across his straight eyebrow while appreciating the details of his face. The concern comes back to torment you as you wonder what the future has reserved for him, but you try to brush it off. You could only pray for his safety.

You recall the first time you saw him sleeping, it was quite unnerving, only the sapphire shining brightly while his good eye rested, but now the gemstone staring back at you was not only usual but comforting, a unique and enchanting charm in your opinion.

After getting up, you grab a cloth to clean the two of you, and although with a drowsy complaint from him, you manage to tuck the one-eyed in warm sheets. You put on your servant robes again and organize the mess you could deal with at the moment, gathering his armor as quietly as you can to be cleaned later. Pecking his pinkish lips slowly, you exit his quarters, feeling completely satisfied.

TAGS: @godrakin @m1ndbrand ♡⋆˙

[jacktheeldergod2]

You won a lucky coupon in your coffee. You can now take one item from the trove of the seven suns,your options being:

The first boomstick to ever be fired during war. By wielding this ancient emblem of war,misery and orphaned children you can control the aggression and hatred in people. The gun speaks to you in a husky voice,constantly talking about horrid tales of war and famine

Alissa. An old bulky computer that can connect to and hack any electronics that have ever and will ever be made. Her storage is infinite and she always has wifi and a full battery. Prides herself on being the best archive in the world. There are so many forgotten games and articles saved in her it makes the library of Alexandria look like a common bookshop

The artist's box. A closet that lowers the passage of time inside so that a day inside is a minute outside and has all art supplies you could ever need. Gives feedback on your art but only through adding stars on a piece of paper,1-10 stars. Plays the exact music you need for whatever you're doing

The skull of Asclepius. As long as you lay a single kiss on this old skull you'll will get all known medical knowledge and the ability to perform any medical procedure as long as you actually mean to help the person. You need to kiss it each night to maintain the effect

The pugilist's polyhedron. A multi-sided shape made of black and blue metal that floats beside its owner. As long as the owner has the goal of training in combat the shape won't let them become disabled or age beyond their prime,regressing the aging if needed. The shape can also make perfect mimics of any person to spar,allowing you to spar Bruce Lee

The compass of Davy Jones. A compass that points to the thing you ask it. You'll always have safe travels while having it

The choker of wings. A common black choker necklace with gold embroidery in the shape of wings. Allows you to spread wings and fly. No law enforcer or bullet will hit you. You'll be free to see the world,safe and free

The rings of the dragon. 10 rings each with a different gemstone. Allows you to turn into a dragon and from dragon back to human. Will sometimes trigger feelings of megalomania

@1969chevycamaro @whereserpentswalk @everythingismadeofchaos @techiekittie @trashsouppossum @ononpetitecroissant @parsley-and-lesbianism @polkadotsunshine @strange-and-stupid @doyoudreamofwater @dackychansworldofhoshino @dh-ng @decoysender @foxundermoon @frozen-antifreeze @gloriousvermin @kinkshame-puncher-666 @kirkland-brand-witch @leavesswaytoday @bisexual-bat @bellaphomet3 @mmmmmmky @mun-urufu @moonsfavoritedaughter

[differentsoulsweets]

Hermes: Introductory Post

This is going be a long one, so buckle up!

Ἑρμης [Mercurius, Mercury] God of boundaries, roads, travelers, merchants, thieves, athletes, shepherds, commerce, speed, cunning, language, oratory, wit, and messages

Epithets:

Poetic: ACACE′SIUS (Akakêsios) AGE′TOR (Agêtôr) AGO′NIUS (Agônios) AGORAEUS and AGORAEA (Agoraia and Agoraios) ARCAS (Arkas) ARGEIPHONTES (Argeiphontês) CATAE′BATES ( Kataibatês) CTE′SIUS (Ktêsios) CYLLE′NIUS (Kullênios) ERIU′NIUS (Eriounios) I′MBRAMUS (Imbramos) I′MBRASUS (Imbrasos) NO′MIUS (Noumios) PRO′MACHUS (Promakhos)

Cult: Επιμηλιος [ Keeper of the Flocks ] Κριοφορος [ Ram-Bearer ] Αγοραιος [ Of the Market-Place ] Δολιος [ Of Crafts, Of Wiles ] Εναγωνιος [ Of the Games ] Προμαχος [ Champion ] Ἑρμηνευτης [ Interpretor, Translator ] Τρικεφαλος [ Three-Headed [Of Road-Intersections ]

A Link to even more epithets <3

Domains: ✧ travel ✧ Animal husbandry ✧ thievery n wit ✧ The Dead ✧ Heraldry

Devotional acts: ✧ Spouting about your interests to friends! ✧ Traveling ✧ Practice public speaking ✧ Learn Astrology ✧ Learn a new sport or language

Associations:

Symbol: ✧ Cadecus

Color: ✧ White ✧ Gold ✧ Orange ✧ Green

Crystals & Stones: ✧ Amythyst, Hematite, agate, amber, citrine, peridot

Fruits,Vegetables,Flower, Herb: ✧ Crocus, strawberry tree

Animals: ✧ Hare, turtle, sheep, cow, ram, hawk, horses, mules, goats

Incense: ✧ Frankincense, Myrrh, Saffron, Dragon's Blood

Food & Drinks: ✧ Universal offerings plus strawberries, chocolate, wheat, lemons, almonds, cinnamon, coffee

Day, Season, Time of Day: ✧ Wednesday and associated with Mercury

Tarot: ✧ The Fool ✧ The Magician ✧ The Heirophant ✧ The Star ✧ The World ✧ King of Swords