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cower-before-power · 2 months

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Rest Easy, My Love

Pairing: Astarion x Fem Reader

Summary: Astarion is haunted by his painful memories more often than not, but you are always there to shelter him with your love.

Word Count: approx 1200

TW: Angst, hurt/comfort, allusions to Astarion's past, very very brief mention of Astarion unintentionally hurting reader, nightmares, slight dom reader/sub Astarion vibes (but nothing sexual), blood drinking

A/N: Had to write a little comfort piece for everyone's favourite vampire. He deserves peace and love and one big hug!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

The first whimper comes softly.

So soft, had you not already been awake, you wouldn’t have heard it. Your skin prickles, and you freeze, ears straining hard for another one.

It comes not a moment later, still hushed but more plaintive. A quiet gasp of pain follows it. You set your water cup down on the bedside table, eyebrows knitting together.

You’d left your lover trancing peacefully not 5 minutes prior, your parched throat calling for a trip to the kitchen for a drink. In that short time, his pleasant memories must have transformed, morphed into the horrors he’d suffered at the hands of his former master.

Even after months next to him, it doesn’t make it any easier. Or your heart bleed any less.

Your body turns towards your pale elf, his marble brow creased, his perfect mouth twisted. Reminders to approach this softly flit through your mind. You’d learned early on in your courtship that a loud voice and a rough shake was not the solution.

(Part of you was sure Astarion has never forgiven himself for that night, for when he awoke from shadows to find you gasping for breath beneath him. You hadn’t blamed him for a second, but his self loathing was a trench dug deep, and you could only fill it so much with your reassurances.)

“My love,” you call softly, gently. “My love, come back to me.”

Your hands tremble with the urge to touch him, but you restrain yourself. Astarion is mumbling now, pleas sewn in between gasps, fists closing tightly around the cool silk sheets. His whole being shakes with fear and despair.

Gods above, if you could murder Cazador all over again, you’d do it happily.

“Astarion,” you raise your voice the tiniest pinch, just enough to coax him, “wake up.”

The man beside you suddenly jerks upright, a harsh sob escaping his lips as blood red eyes fly open. He gulps lungfuls of unneeded air, and if he had a working heart, you’re sure it would be galloping fiercely.

“It’s only me, my love,” you coo, hands up in a gesture of peace. “It’s only me, and I won’t hurt you.”

“Cazador-“ Astarion chokes out, eyes darting wildly around the darkened room. “Cazador, no-“

“He’s dead, precious,” you affirm. “Dead and gone. There’s only me and you, safe and warm in our bed. Just us and the love we share.”

Red eyes focus on your face, and the glassy sheen begins to recede. “Dead?”

Slowly, carefully, you extend an open palm to him. He only flinches slightly-an improvement wrought through time and trust. Though it still stakes your heart. “Yes, he’s dead. Many months now.”

A single dewdrop slips down Astarion’s cheek. His eyes are wet with tears now, memories fading into the background. It is safe now to cup his face in your palm, to brush the moisture away with the pad of your thumb, to bestow on him a tender touch he needs. To your relief, he accepts your affection with a nuzzle into your palm.

“Darling?” his usually rich voice is hoarse and broken with pain. “You-You’re here?”

“It’s me,” you stroke his cheek reassuringly. “I’m here, precious. Right beside you. Always.”

Your arms open wide like the gates of the Heavens, and your vampire collapses into them.

Every sob that tears from him rips you apart; every tear that soaks your skin drowns you in sorrowful anger. How dare that cretin hurt your angel so? How dare he etch such monstrous events into Astarion’s soul? Cazador deserves to burn. You damn him to the very depth of the Hells, and even an eternity there isn’t enough to atone.

“Shhh, shhh,” you croon, fingers running through silver hair as your love weeps into your neck. “Shhh, precious boy. It’s alright. You’re safe with me. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

You kiss his hair, stroke his ears, squeeze him gently in your embrace. While most of you rages and shatters, a part thrills at the display of trust you are shown. Moons ago, you’d get nothing but a huff and some clipped words- a denial of the need for comfort. But now, now you are allowed to see, to hear, to touch Astarion at his most vulnerable. And more so, you are granted the privilege of easing his agony.

Astarion’s teeth scrape against the soft skin of your neck, his hands clutching at your chest desperately.

“I need-I’m sorry, please-“ he gasps, unable to voice his desires. But you know him inside and out, and you know what he needs.

You shake your head. “Never apologize,” you say, baring your neck to him. “Take what you need, my love. I am yours, wholly and completely. Take of me, and forget.”

Astarion nearly whines with gratitude, and sinks his fangs into your soft flesh. Like a babe at its mother’s breast, he sucks to soothe, less for the gush of blood down his gullet and more for the peace your taste brings. You taste and smell of home, of repose from every dark thing that’s ever haunted him. It’s a gift you’d never dream of denying him.

“That’s it,” you whisper, nails scraping gently against his scalp, “that’s it, precious boy. My good, precious boy. My wonderful love, my little star worthy of everything good and bright in this world. My heart, my joy, my Astarion.”

His body shudders at your praise. You continue to murmur it softly to him as he drinks, cocooning him in your love as best you can. Maybe you are no doctor, no healer able to stitch wounds and mend gashes, but you will bathe every hurt in your devotion most blessed. And healing will continue.

After a few moments, Astarion slows his gulping, his delirious pants becoming softer, gentler. His teeth detach but he does not, his now warm mouth pressing thankful kisses into your neck.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he begs, and his arms wind around you like twin vices. “Don’t ever leave me alone.”

“Never,” you vow, and you’d swear it on all the graves of your ancestors. “You will always have my love, precious. And I’ll always be here to chase away the dark. No god, man or monster will ever be able to tear me from you.”

Your vampire sighs, and the sound is full of shaky contentment. He sinks further into your softness, eyes slipping close as exhaustion takes its hold.

“I love you,” he murmurs, a last sentiment before he succumbs to actual sleep. You whisper your own feelings back, willing every syllable to etch itself into his very being. That your lover would be able to feel and grasps the depths of your devotion. That four little words can watch over him and protect him and turn his dreams sweet.

You know when he wakes again, none of this will be spoken of. He’ll act like this didn’t happen, like his rest was nothing but bliss. He’ll kiss you awake, teasing and light, his playful demeanor firmly back in place. But there will be love and gratitude in his eyes, and your own will affirm you’ll do it all over again, and again, and again. Until the dark no longer cuts, until the memories fade and burn to ash, until his smile always reaches his eyes.

For in your love, Astarion will come to rest easy.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion ancunin x you #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #my writing

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ladyempty · 23 days

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Yan! Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

° | !English is not my first language! |

° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life. |

For Rhaenyra, being attached to you since birth was normal. You were born together, with Rhaenyra clinging tightly to your heel with no intention of breaking free or parting.

It was just his birthright above any title or throne. It was the other half of her soul, a life that had blossomed with her in her mother's womb and was destined to stay that way.

Together. united for an eternity that would extend beyond life and death.

This was how things should be, and she cared little about the laws of men or the condemnation of the seven. Dragon blood flowed through his veins. Proof of your rights.

In the early years, the princess' behavior was not seen with suspicious or malicious looks, she was just a sister wanting her company. What was wrong?

Even though it raised eyebrows every time the young princess became excessively irritated when you mentioned other ladies or had the opportunity to discuss matters deeper with them. Why did you need others? Rhaenyra was there, blood of her blood, with an infinite desire to listen to you.

King Viserys reassured the worried with soft, relaxed smiles and negligent behavior. He was blind to the situation unfolding in front of him.

Rhaenyra has always been obstinate and somewhat petty, her worst personality traits always came to the surface when the subject was related to you. Has another lady looked at you excessively? Rhaenyra would spare no bitter words or the cruelest lies her mind could come up with.

The princess also had no qualms or shame about skipping boring classes with the Septas or taking you out of your classes with the Miestres just to fly with you through the skies with her dragons or steal lemon cakes from the kitchen.

But when you want to teach her something or read some old book that has suddenly become very interesting, she never protests.

Sharing your attention, even with your parents, is out of the question. She's the only person you need to worry about.

And don't doubt your ability to be manipulative or play mind games. She will definitely cry and pout if you try to reprimand her behavior in any way.

How could you do this to your younger sister? She just cares so much about you!

Her behavior only gets worse as she enters adolescence • The hormones and feelings that arise, controlling your thoughts and actions.

She will certainly overhear and have conversations about courtship and knights in shining armor with other court ladies. Even though Rhaenyra found them all boring and annoyingly silly, the conversations about the other boys were interesting. • Every time one of the girls told, between laughs, something new she had done with a gentleman, Rhaenyra couldn't stop letting her thoughts wander. • What if it was her and you? • If it were her and you secretly exchanging kisses in the empty, forgotten corners of the fortress? • The feeling of tingling and restlessness in the belly. A heat that quickly rose through your body until your cheeks were red. • She knew these thoughts were not correct or appropriate. She knew of the Septas' countless boring monologues about purity, women's duty, etc.

The kind of thing she had never paid attention to before. But she found herself being terrorized and reflecting more and more in recent days.

The thoughts that haunted his dreams at dusk became more constant. With only the moon as a witness to his restlessness and confusion. • She just knew she needed you. She needed something that even she didn't know what it was. But it was running through his veins on instinct. • The girl suddenly became more demanding with your attention focused solely on her. She felt bitter and betrayed by any mere exchange of glances between you and any other woman or man. Lady or not. Lord or servant.

The Gods granted her such beautiful eyes for the sole purpose of looking at her alone. • She felt possessive and angry. With a growing pain, deadly and bitter, as fierce as if you were hers and had been unfaithful.

And when she heard whispers about the possibility of a marriage being arranged for you, She knew she couldn't keep her feelings quiet any longer.

No. She wouldn't sit by and watch you belong to someone less deserving.

I couldn't bear to see your other half give himself to someone other than her.

You were born to burn with her. And it was time for others to know this.

#Rhaenyra targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere house of the dragon #yandere x reader #rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon x Reader

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havendance · 11 months

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Velveteen vs The Masterpost

When I was in high school, I stumbled across Seanan McGuire’s series of “Velveteen vs.” stories, staring Velma “Velveteen” Martinez, a former child superhero with the power to animate toys, who stumbles from one misadventure to the next. Taking place in a world where superheroics is run almost entirely by a single corporation and child heroes are put through some of the worst abuses of child stars, the series features fun characters, worldbuilding, and relationships, and of course, cool fight scenes. In true comics fashion, it ends on a rather open-ended note and, as far as I can tell, she hasn’t written any stories since 2017, but most of the main arcs are tied up and I definitely recommend you check them out!

(I became obsessed with these stories after finding them. An example of me getting into comics before I actually got into comics.)

(Thank you to https://broken-engines.blogspot.com/ for compiling directory of story links I could borrow for this post.)

Velveteen vs. The Isley Crayfish Festival

Velveteen vs. The Coffee Freaks

Velveteen vs. The Flashback Sequence

Velveteen vs. The Old Flame

Velveteen vs. The Junior Super Patriots, West Coast Division

Velveteen vs. The Eternal Halloween

Velveteen vs. The Ordinary Day

Velveteen vs. Patrol

Velveteen vs. The Blind Date

Velveteen vs. Blacklight vs. Sin-Dee, Part I

Velveteen vs. Blacklight vs. Sin-Dee, Part II

Velveteen vs. The Holiday Special

Velveteen vs. The Secret Identity

Martinez and Martinez v. Velveteen

Velveteen vs. The Alternate Timeline, Part I

Velveteen vs. The Alternate Timeline, Part II

Velveteen vs. The Retroactive Continuity

Velveteen Presents Victory Anna vs. All These Stupid Parallel Worlds

Velveteen vs. The Uncomfortable Conversation

Velveteen vs. Bacon

Velveteen vs. The Robot Armies of Dr. Walter Creelman, DDS

Velveteen vs. The Fright Night Sorority House Massacre Sleepover Camp

Velveteen vs. Vegas

Velveteen Presents Victory Anna vs. The Difficulties With Pan-Dimensional Courtship

Velveteen vs. Legal

Velveteen Presents Jackie Frost vs. Four Conversations and a Funeral

Velveteen vs. Jolly Roger

Velveteen vs. Everyone, Part I

Velveteen vs. Everyone, Part II

Sponsorship: Velveteen vs. The Epilogue

Velveteen vs. The Aftermath

Velveteen vs. Hypothermia

Velveteen vs. Santa Claus

Velveteen vs. Global Warming

Velveteen Presents The Princess vs. Public Relations

Velveteen vs. The Thaw

Velveteen vs. Balance

Velveteen vs. Spring Cleaning

Velveteen Presents Polychrome vs. The Court of Public Opinion and Not Punching Anyone

Velveteen vs. The Melancholy of Autumn

Velveteen vs. A Disturbing Number of Crows

Velveteen vs. Trick or Treat

Velveteen Presents Action Dude vs. Doing the Right Thing

Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

Velveteen vs. Going Home Again

Velveteen vs. Everything You Ever Wanted

Velveteen vs. The Retroactive Continuity (2)

Velveteen Presents Jacqueline Claus vs. The Lost and the Found

Velveteen vs. Recovery

Velveteen vs. Temptation

#velveteen vs #seanan mcguire #comics #(tangentially)#carthago delenda est

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 10 months

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Anhedonia

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Canon typical sexism. Mentions of past trauma. Angst. Heavy Petting. Oral (m receiving). Smut. Word count: ~6.1k

Summary: A young noblewoman's family have travelled to King's Landing for an upcoming tourney and are guests of House Targaryen. She is excited to explore the capital and all it has to offer, however, she finds herself dismayed when a certain Prince does not share her adventurous spirit. She makes it her mission to ensure he learns to appreciate the pleasures he considers to be "depravities". Based on this request.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

A month in King’s Landing, she can hardly wait. The journey from the Vale to the capital has taken ten days, each of them feeling like they stretch on for an eternity. She hops down from the carriage once it pulls to a stop in the grounds of the Red Keep, helped by the footman, and does her best to remain poised and ladylike despite the overwhelming urge to exaggeratedly stretch her limbs after having been seated for so long. Her and her family are to be guests of House Targaryen, invited to attend a tourney being held in honour of King Viserys’ upcoming name day, a gesture of goodwill for having hosted the royal hunting party the last time they visited the Vale.

While life in the Vale is lush, green and peaceful, it is also quiet, too quiet, and she finds it dull. The only excitement she has are her visits to Riverrun to spend time with her betrothed; she is six months into a courtship with Lord Tommen Tully, but even the Riverlands do not offer the excitement that King’s Landing boasts. She longs to explore the maze-like streets of the city and immerse herself in a culture where sheep do not outnumber people.

They receive a warm welcome from Queen Alicent and the Hand of the King, Otto, who informs them that, regrettably, the King’s health prevents him from being able to greet them personally, but he sends his regards. The children that Alicent shares with Viserys all stand in a row as part of the greeting party. Prince Aegon leers at her, his eyes roaming the length of her body, making her feel self conscious and embarrassed. Princess Helaena puts her at ease, however; there is a natural slouch to her posture which lends an air of informality to her, and makes her seem more approachable than the rest of her family. She smiles easily, which is in direct juxtaposition with the stony demeanour of her younger brother, Prince Aemond. He stands straight as an arrow, arms clasped firmly behind his back and offers little more than a curt nod and a quick glance her and her family’s way, his gaze remaining fixed on the middle distance the rest of the time. She wonders if he is like that all of the time, or if he has taken a particular dislike to her presence.

Once they are settled, she is elated when she is sent to spend time with Helaena, her imagination running wild with the possibility of all the interesting things they might get up to. She is disappointed, however, when she finds that Helaena is happy to simply sit and embroider. The Princess talks dreamily about insects, as she stitches away with her needle and thread, but from the faraway look in her eye, she gets the distinct impression that it wouldn’t matter to her if she was there or not.

She slips out of the Princess’ quarters in search of something else to do, and doesn’t have to go far to find it.

“Did you tire of my sister already?” Aegon leans against an alcove, a smug smirk on his face.

She feels her cheeks heat up, she hasn’t even been here a day and yet already she has caused offense. Remembering how he’d looked at her earlier, she worries what he might do to her, her heart thudding loudly as her eyes dart around the corridor, looking to see if there’s anyone to save her. “N-no, my Prince, I simply-”

“-it’s fine,” He holds up a hand to halt her embarrassed apologies. “Helaena isn’t what I’d describe as exciting. You’ve come all this way, it seems a shame for you to sit cooped up in the Keep, when there’s an entire city to explore.”

His apparent lack of anger towards her, and offer of companionship eases her mind. and she grins at the possibility of finally getting to see more of King’s Landing. “What did you have in mind?”

“Follow me.”

Aegon leads her to what she assumes are his chambers, donning a hooded cloak, before throwing one to her. She slips it on, her eyes going wide as she watches him move a chest of drawers out of the way and push through an opening in the stone wall. They exit the Keep and head down the hill to what Aegon tells her is “Flea Bottom”.

She is overwhelmed by the sights of street performers dancing, breathing fire and offering palm readings, the sounds of traders shouting out to sell their wares, the smell of urine that seems to linger in every corner they pass, and the sheer number of people. They jostle in crowds up and down the narrow, winding cobbled streets and she grips tightly to Aegon’s hand, terrified she’ll get lost if she lets go even for a moment.

They drink brown ale that tastes like old copper coins and eat roasted meats that have been burned to the point that she is no longer able to discern their animal of origin. She decides it’s best that she doesn’t know. For every cup of ale she drinks, Aegon has three and it’s not until they reach the door of a building where the cheers of a crowd can be heard from inside, that she realises how far into his cups he is as he sways beside her.

“Perhaps we ought to go back.” She suggests uneasily, feeling apprehension begin to gnaw at her insides.

“Rubbish...” He slurs. “...come on, you’ll enjoy this.”

He grabs for her hand, tugging her through the jeering crowd and she recoils when the sight of two children hitting each other in a pit below comes into view. Her stomach turns at the sight, not wanting to look long enough to comprehend what she is seeing, the thought is simply too awful. She wrenches away, pushing herself back outside.

She leans against a wall, catching her breath and it is not until her heart rate has slowed that she notices that Aegon has not followed her. She had assumed he’d be just as disgusted as she was, and a shiver runs through her as she realises that he had intended for them to watch that, it was no mere accident, he enjoyed it.

The faces of the people on the street seem more sinister now she is alone and it dawns on her how perilous her situation is; she is a lone noblewoman in a foreign city, absolutely anything could happen to her here, and there’d be no one to save her. She breaks into a run, sprinting through the narrow streets, not knowing if she’s following the same route that she took with Aegon on the way there, but just knowing that if she keeps the castle on the hill in sight then she will make it back in one piece.

Winded by the time she eventually returns, she shuts herself away in her bedchamber and vows never to spend time alone with Prince Aegon for the rest of her stay in King’s Landing. His idea of a good time could not be farther removed from her own.

She has a troubled night’s sleep, plagued by the visions of what she’d seen in the fighting pit. She feels fuzzy headed by the time she eventually rouses from her bed, and a sadness settles over her. The month was going to be an incredibly lonely one without anyone to keep her company; her parents would be entertained by the Queen and her father, they would not want her around. Tommen could not even come to visit; an invitation had not been extended to the Tullys, it would be impolite and presumptuous for him to simply turn up.

Walking towards the window, she looks out across the city. The faint orange glow of the sun has barely begun to rise above the rooftops in the distance, it is still the hour of the rooster. A sound of steel clashing against steel draws her attention to the courtyard below.

She watches a tall, silver-haired man cross swords with a dark haired knight. Though they both fight valiantly, it is clear that the knight’s opponent is getting the best of him. It’s only when the fairer of the two turns that she notices the eyepatch. Aemond.

Though she has yet to actually speak to him, she knows all about him, all of Westeros does, she presumes; the terrible accident that cost him his eye and that he rides the largest dragon in all of Westeros, both subjects of keen interest in every noble household.

She wonders if he is as vulgar as his older brother, or perhaps possesses a gentleness that’s more akin to his sister; it was impossible to tell from his stoicism when she’d arrived yesterday. Smiling as she watches him point the tip of his blade towards the knight’s throat, she decides she will seek him out and find out for herself. Perhaps he will be a worthy companion for the duration of her stay.

Once she is washed, dressed and has broken her fast, she goes in search of the One-Eyed Prince. He has long since departed the training yard, so she wanders the halls of the Red Keep, hoping she might run into him.

It’s not until she reaches the library that she finally encounters him. He is seated at the head of a long, mahogany table with a book in his hands. He has changed out of the doublet he wore when sparring and is now dressed in a black leather tunic, his long silver-white hair falling elegantly around his shoulders.

He does not look up as she enters the library and she finds herself unsure of how to handle the situation; she hadn’t anticipated that he’d ignore her.

She draws in a breath and clears her throat, and when he still doesn’t acknowledge her she then speaks.

“Prince Aemond, it is a pleasure to meet you properly. I saw that you were part of the welcoming party for my family and I yesterday, but I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

He looks up then and she feels she may wither from the intensity with which he glares at her.

“Hm,” is all he musters, before returning his attention back to his reading.

The logical part of her knows she ought to take offense to his dismissiveness of her, however, her curiosity is far greater and she wants to know precisely why he’s so reluctant to speak to her. She walks towards him, stopping a few paces in front of where he sits, regarding him carefully.

It’s obvious that he does not enjoy the intrusion, visibly bristling and shifting haughtily in his seat. She makes no moves, determined to stand her ground until he talks to her.

Aemond sighs, closing his book and fixing her with a pointed stare. “What is it that you want exactly?”

She gives a gentle shrug of her shoulders, fingertips grazing over the smooth wood of the tabletop as she approaches him. “I thought we might be friends.”

“I don’t have friends.” He replies stiffly, reopening the tome in front of him and continuing to read.

“You must get lonely.” She watches the way his eye scans the page and smiles to herself. He isn’t really reading.

“No.” He doesn’t look up, keeping his focus firmly on the text.

“What are you reading?” She pulls out the chair next to where he sits at the head of the table and sits down.

“It wouldn’t interest you.” He says dismissively.

“Try me.” She stretches out her arms, gently drumming her fingers on the table.

He looks up then, annoyance pinching his angular features. “What do you mean?”

“Read it to me.” She fights the urge to laugh at the expression of horror that flashes across his face.

“Read to you?! Are you an infant?”

“I’m not going to leave you alone until you do, and it means you get to carry on with your book, so you might as well.”

He sighs, rolling his eye. “Fine, but I’m not starting from the beginning.”

She settles back in her chair as he reads aloud, paying rapt attention to the way his brows raise for particular sentences, the way his lips shape around each word. His voice is soothing when he’s not being petulant. A warmth blossoms in her chest at how animated he becomes. It is a history book he reads to her from, but he is almost passionate in his delivery of every word. It seems she has found common ground with Aemond, and perhaps the beginning of breaking down the walls which he appears to have built up around him.

She watches Aemond train from her chamber window every morning, and visits the library every afternoon over the next few days. Each time Aemond reads to her; books about history, philosophy and dragon lore. She finds each topic fascinating, but it perhaps has more to do with how ardently he speaks of them than her own interest or understanding. Whether he enjoys or simply endures her presence is a mystery to her, but he doesn’t turn her away and reads aloud without complaint, so she continues to come back. Each day their chairs draw closer together, until they sit shoulder to shoulder, her leaning in to follow the words along with him. He is stiff at first, seemingly unsure of her physical presence, but gradually softens, leaning into her as much as she does to him.

The day of the tourney arrives and as she is seated in the stands she looks around, noticing that Aemond is absent, despite the fact the rest of his family are all in attendance; even Viserys has made it out to spectate, though he appears to be frail and in ill health. A golden mask covers half of his face, and a maester hovers by his side, while Alicent looks on worriedly. She wonders if he’s even aware of what he’s supposed to be watching. Assuming that on account of all Aemond’s training, he will be taking part, she is surprised that as the jousting gets underway she cannot spot him.

She feels restless and bored without her new found friend, if she can even call him that, and during a commotion when a knight is unseated from his horse, she uses the distraction to sneak away back to Keep. It’s the time of day when Aemond would usually read to her, so she knows exactly where to find him.

He looks up from his book as she enters the library, the faintest of smirks pulling at the corners of his lips.

“You’re late,” He drawls. “I started without you.”

“I was at the tourney,” She replies, taking her usual seat beside him. “I thought you would be too.”

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys.” He says matter of factly.

Her eyebrows raise in shock, she’s never heard him speak so colloquially before, but she finds she rather likes it. “No ladies whose favour you’re after then?”

“No need. I’m to be betrothed to one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters.”

“Lucky you! Which one?”

Aemond shrugs slightly. “I’ll choose when I fly to Storm’s End.”

“And leave three poor ladies heartbroken afterwards.” She teases with a smile.

“I hardly think so.” He mutters, stiffening with discomfort and frowning slightly.

Assuming he is being needlessly modest, she places a hand on his arm. “You must have no end of admirers.”

Aemond snatches his arm away, fixing her with an angry stare. “I do not appreciate your mockery.”

“I-I wasn’t…” She stammers, stunned by the abruptness of his reaction.

“Well, then I do not need your pity.” He utters darkly, rising from his seat and striding from the library.

She stares after him, a tightness in her chest preventing her from calling out to him. She has no idea what she has said or done to make him behave in such a way, but the urge to burst into tears is overwhelming, so she makes a hasty return to her chambers so that is able to do just that in private.

She weeps bitterly as she curls up on her bedspread, a combination of remorse for having offended her only companion in this city, and shock that such a harmless remark could have done so in the first place. As her cries subside, they give way to confusion. What had she said that had upset him so much? She had only meant to pay him a compliment. Words of flattery should not inspire such outrage. Her perplexed state gradually evolves into anger. She decides it is him in the wrong, and if he wishes to be annoyed with her then he can be.

For two days she does not speak to Aemond, fighting the urge to go to the window in the morning to watch him train, refusing the familiar path to the library that her feet long to take in the afternoons. She misses him, and the Red Keep becomes a lonely place to be without the only friend she has made within its walls. She wonders if perhaps he misses her too, but is resolute in her determination not to seek him out.

It is on the third day that she hears a soft rapping at the door to her quarters. She only ever receives visits from the Keep’s serving staff, so she calls out for them to enter. Her heart feels as though it has leapt into her throat when she sees Aemond slip through the door, softly closing it behind him.

He holds a book in his hand, and the pair of them stare at each other in silence for a few moments. She knows she should rise when in the presence of royalty, but it’s taking all of her effort just to remind herself to breathe, formalities are the furthest thing from her mind as her yearning for his company and her anger at how he’d spoken to her are at direct odds with each other.

It appears he is unbothered by her lack of formality, however, as he grips the book tightly in both hands, swallowing thickly. His right eye is almost pleading as he looks at her. “It’s been a few days…I thought I might read to you, if you’d like me to?” Though he does not say the words aloud, they are clear; I’m sorry.

She softens, unable to help the smile that spreads across her face. She’d expected him to be far too proud to have ever come to her, and yet here he was. “I’d like that,” She says; I forgive you.

Aemond seats himself next to her on the settee and begins to read. It is a volume about the Age of Heroes, and though interesting, she is barely able to register the words, just thankful to have the ease of his presence once more.

He squirms as he reads, something she is unused to seeing. Aemond is still by nature, his posture stiff and unyielding, yet he arches his back and rolls his shoulders until eventually, with a sigh, he stops reading and closes the book.

“This seat is unbearable, how can you stand it?” He grumbles.

“We could go to the library, if you’d prefer?” She offers.

“I’ve a better idea,” He says. “But you’ll need to be dressed in something warmer, much warmer. Get changed and I’ll meet you back here in a moment.”

She watches him leave, wondering what he could possibly have in mind, and why she’d need to dress warmly. It is early summer, and the sun shines brightly, regardless of this she dons her thickest clothing before Aemond returns. She notices that he too has changed, he’s wearing a long, thick jacket and leather riding gloves. Puzzled by his choice of attire, she does not have time to ask questions as he gestures for her to follow him.

He guides her out of and away from the Red Keep, the briskness of his pace causing her to break into a light sweat on account of how wrapped up she is. Her discomfort is short lived, however, replaced by a mixture of fright and awe as the sight of the largest and most monstrous beast she has ever laid eyes upon draws closer into view the further their footsteps draw them away from the center of the city.

“Are…are we going towards that?” She asks fearfully.

Aemond chuckles drily. “That is Vhagar,” He tells her proudly. “Is she not the most magnificent dragon you’ve ever seen?”

“She is the only dragon I’ve ever seen.” She replies, voice shaking slightly.

“I thought you might enjoy an opportunity to escape the Keep, and experience something more exciting than a tourney.”

“We’re going to ride her?!”

“It’s perfectly safe, I do it often. But if you’re afraid, we don’t have to.”

She chews her lip in uncertainty. The thought of flying on dragonback terrifies her, but at the same time she’d arrived in King’s Landing in search of adventure and this certainly was one. She decides to place her trust in Aemond. “I want to.”

Trembling as Aemond helps her up into the saddle before climbing on after her, she tries her best to be brave in spite of the way her stomach lurches as Vhagar takes flight. She holds onto the handles of the saddle for dear life, thankful for her thicker than usual garments as a rush of cold air gusts over them as they gain more height.

The queasiness she feels at the weightlessness subsides a little, as she feels Aemonds arms encircle her waist in order to take hold of the reins of Vhagar’s saddle. For a moment she is sure she imagines it, until she hears it again; Aemond is actually laughing. It’s the first time she’s ever heard him express such unbridled joy since she met him, and she turns slightly, taking in the view of the upward curve of his mouth, the crinkle of his seeking eye, how utterly carefree he looks. It suits him. She would endure a thousand death defying flights on Vhagar if it meant she got to see more of him like this, it is so far removed from how solemn he usually seems.

They land on a grassy cliff top, overlooking the sea, and he informs her that he has brought her to Parchments, as he helps her down, an area that overlooks Tarth and the Narrow Sea towards the Flatlands of Pentos and Myr.

“It is too loud sometimes, even in the most silent parts of the Red Keep. It’s quiet here.” Aemond tells her, shrugging off his coat and laying it upon the ground before sitting upon it. He gestures to the empty space beside him and she joins him.

“You like the quiet.” She muses, looking out sea, watching the gentle undulation of the waves as the breeze softly moves through her hair.

“It is preferable to being laughed at.”

She startles, assuming he is referring to their conversation in the library a few days’ prior. “I wasn’t–”

“I did not mean you,” He tells her, glancing quickly over at her, then returning his gaze to the horizon. “They have always laughed at me. I grow tired of it.”

She is unsure of who he means by they, but is eager to comfort him. “I think you are magnificent, Aemond, I’d never laugh at you. My compliment was genuine.”

“I know that now,” He admits. “No one has ever sought my company willingly before, or expressed that I am…desirable. It was hard for me to imagine you weren’t joking.”

Her heart aches for him. “Have you never even kissed a woman before?”

Aemond shakes his head. “Aegon took me to a pleasure house on the Street of Silk for my thirteenth name day. He said ‘time to get it wet’. I don’t really remember much of that day, just that it smelled unclean, and that when I encountered the woman I was to lay with…” He pauses, drawing in a breath. “...the sight of her spread out like that was too much. I couldn’t do it, so I turned and ran. Aegon laughed. He has always laughed. I haven’t bothered with that sort of thing since.”

She frowns, thinking back on her own experience in Flea Bottom with Aegon. “Aegon is a shit,” She tells him, earning the slightest of smiles from him. “But I am sorry that that happened to you, you deserve better. It is not supposed to be that way.”

“How should it be then?”

“You should feel safe and comfortable, it should be with someone who cares for you, who wants to take the time to learn what makes you feel pleasure.” She says wistfully, heat creeping across her cheeks.

“It sounds as though you speak from experience.” He says with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

She hesitates a moment, shame giving her pause, but she has trusted Aemond once already today and he has not failed her, so she decides to confide in him. “Yes, I am betrothed to Tommen Tully. We have…explored the various aspects of intimacy together during our courtship. If you are going to enter into an arranged marriage then it makes sense to know what you are doing, and are able to keep your partner happy.”

“Hmm, Lord Tully,” Aemond says quietly. “Lucky man!”

She giggles at the way he mimics her compliment from a few days’ prior, and they both turn their attention back to the expanse of the Narrow Sea.

It is dusk when Vhagar lands back on the outskirts of King’s Landing. Streaks of lavender, orange, pink and yellow all disappear into the horizon, slowly swallowed by the darkness of light as she climbs from the saddle with Aemond’s help.

She is taken aback when he sweeps her into his arms as she makes her dismount, pulling her close to him. He presses his lips to hers and it is filled with the clumsy inexperience that comes with the action of a first kiss, but the plushness of his mouth against hers is not unpleasant and she returns the gesture softly and slowly.

He pulls back, his eye looking deep into hers. “I feel safe and comfortable with you,” He murmurs. “And I would like for you to teach me…how to be intimate. If that is agreeable to you?”

Her stomach flutters as she stares back at him breathlessly. “Yes,” She whispers, before leaning back in again.

Aemond is a fast learner and over the coming days he becomes more confident with his kisses. He leans in to kiss her each day as he reads to her, begins walking her back to her quarters at the end of every evening so that he may kiss her goodnight, his tongue licking deftly against her own. His lips possess hers with such assertiveness that it steals her breath away, the softness of them molding to hers in a way that has her chasing forward for more with a whine when he pulls away.

She knows that she ought to feel guilty, she is betrothed to Tommen after all, but she reasons that they are not married yet, and it is unlikely that he has shied away from having fun of his own when they are apart. She is merely ensuring Aemond feels confident when the time comes for him to depart for Storm’s End in pursuit of his own betrothal. With this in mind, she does not push for more beyond what he is willing to give, waiting for him to give the signal that he is ready.

It is early evening as he walks her back from the library, his mouth moves unhurriedly against her own as he presses her back against the door to her bedchamber.

He lingers once they break apart, not bidding her goodnight as he usually would. “I thought I might…come inside, if that is fine with you?”

She nods, her breath quickening as he follows in behind her. Aemond sits himself on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking uncertain of himself.

“How do I–”

“It’s alright,” She smiles, sitting beside him. “I don’t mind taking the lead. Just tell me to stop if it’s too much.”

He nods, laying against the pillows as she gently pushes him back. Draping herself over him, she resumes their earlier kisses, deep and passionate, both savouring the taste of each other. She breaks away to trail her lips along the sharpness of his jaw as her fingers work to unbuckle his tunic. She delights in the soft sighs that he emits, unbuttoning his undershirt and admiring the hard planes of his lean torso.

“Do you ever touch yourself?” She whispers, feeling how his pulse races as she strokes her fingers over his neck.

“Sometimes…” He breathes, eyes fluttering closed as her fingertips trail across his chest.

“What do you think about?”

“Lately…” He inhales a shaky breath as her hand moves lower, toying with the laces of his breeches. “...I think of you.”

She feels the warmth of arousal pooling between her legs as she palms the hardness of him through his underclothes. Though she does not have much to compare Aemond to, he is much larger than Tommen. She cannot resist dipping her hand beneath the fabric to touch him. “And what am I doing in your thoughts?”

He hisses through his teeth as she wraps her hand around him, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction at how weighty and warm he feels against her palm as she strokes him.

“You are…fuck…you are beneath me, and I-I am inside you.”

“Is that something you’re ready for?” She questions, slowly lowering herself on the bed, mouth watering at the sight of him; long and thick, flushed pink with arousal at the tip.

“I want to be.”

“Why don’t we start with this instead…”

She licks delicately at the head of him, grinning to herself at his quiet gasp, then allowing him to pass between her lips, suckling delicately. He is slightly salty against her tongue, though not unpleasant. Releasing him, she glances up.

“G-gods…don’t stop…” Aemond all but whines, his eye screwed shut as he bucks his hips slightly.

She smirks, taking him once more into her mouth, deeper this time, bobbing her head back and forth and using her hand to stroke the length of what won’t fit. He tenses and trembles beneath her attention, his knuckles turning white with the intensity with which he grips the sheets. She readies herself as the telltale pulsation of his length indicates he is nearing his peak, swallowing as he releases down her throat with a low groan.

Wiping her mouth, she crawls to lay beside him, smiling softly as she takes in his lazy, blissed out expression; right eye hooded with pleasure and lips slightly parted.

“Can I stay with you?” He whispers.

“As long as you’d like.”

From that point on, when Aemond walks her back to her rooms he does not depart to his own. They spend every evening exploring each other, hands, lips and tongues roaming over every bared inch, before falling asleep in each other’s arms. She does not recoil when he lifts his eyepatch for the first time in front of her, instead she takes his face in her hands, turning it slightly, admiring the way his sapphire glimmers in the firelight, before softly stroking her thumb over the scar on his cheek.

He takes her that night. It is brief, as she knew it would be, a few awkward thrusts inside of her and he spills himself, embarrassed apologies uttered into the crook of her neck. She strokes his hair and tells him not to worry, they will try again once he is recovered, and they do.

She sits astride him, hips rocking back and forth, head tilted back in pleasure as the length of him stretches and fills her over and over, working at a spot inside of her that causes her to clench around him. Taking his hand, she guides it to her pearl.

“Stroke here,” She instructs, moaning wantonly as he begins to rub in tight circles.

She collapses against his chest, white hot waves of pleasure coursing through her as she falls apart, and he follows soon after.

Aemond is dutiful, fetching her moon tea without needing to be asked, and the pair fall into a happy routine of reading and dragon riding by day and lovemaking by night.

She lays against his chest, listening to the soft thud of his heartbeat as his fingers stroke through her hair.

“Thank you,” He tells her earnestly. “For all you have done for me.”

“I have done nothing but remind you of what is already there,” She replies. “You are intelligent, you fight fiercely, you are a skilled dragonrider, anyone can see that.”

“How do I fare as a lover?” He asks.

She does not need to look at him to hear the smirk in his tone and she giggles lightly. “Extremely well. Your Baratheon girl will certainly be lucky to have you.”

She hates the pang of jealousy she feels acrid and hot within her chest as she says those words, but what she detests even more is the look of sadness that flashes across Aemond’s face, his eye glancing away as the upward curve of his mouth falters. So they speak no more of it, clinging desperately to each other and the time that they have left.

On her final night in King’s Landing, Aemond fucks her into the mattress as though he means to push her through it, his grip on her hips so tight it is sure to leave bruises in its wake. She does not care though, clinging to him just as tightly, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulder blades as she tries her best to memorise the way that he moves inside of her.

Come the morning, he sits up in the bed, his expression sullen as he watches her hurriedly throw her belongings into a chest - a task she ought to have completed the previous evening, but Aemond had kept her otherwise occupied.

“The stewards will be here for my things soon,” She says, stuffing a dress down the side of the rest of her haphazardly packed possessions. “You should leave before anyone sees you. You’ll be expected to be a part of the official send off for my family anyway.”

Slowly, Aemond rises from the mattress, walking over to her. “Don’t go,” He pleads quietly, taking her hands in his.

She could cry from the gesture; a month ago he’d have rather flung himself from the walls of the Red Keep than initiate any form of physical contact with her, let alone a gesture so intimate.

“You can’t ask that of me, Aemond,” She tells him gently, softly pressing her fingers into his palms. “It isn’t fair.”

He swallows thickly and the sincerity she sees in his eye is more than she can stand. “But I love you.”

She feels wetness rim her eyes, sharp and stinging. “And I love you. But so what? It’s not enough. We are duty bound, you and I.”

He bows his head sadly for a moment, but eventually nods. “I hope Lord Tully appreciates what a fine woman he has.”

Smiling warmly, in spite of her unshed tears, she nods. “And I hope the Baratheon girls give you a warm welcome. Be sure to kiss them all, don’t settle for what’s offered up first.”

He huffs a silent laugh, that releases itself as a heavy exhale through his nose.

“I mean it,” She urges. “This world is too small for you, never let anyone make you feel less than what you are.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs. “For everything.”

She lets go of his hands, crushing herself against his chest as she wraps her arms around him, as he envelopes her.

“Don’t forget me.”

“As if I could.”

She stares out of the carriage window as it rolls away from the Red Keep, away from King’s Landing, away from Aemond. Though she is returning to the Vale, she knows a part of her will forever remain in the capital, a part that she has imprinted upon Aemond. It is bittersweet to leave him behind. She is comforted knowing that she has pieced together the broken man she encountered when she first arrived. The world is too small a place for the likes of the Targaryen Prince, but she has given him the confidence to realise that he holds it in the palm of his hand.

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shooting-love-arrows · 4 months

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What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? (I assume one of them is breeding? 🥰)

Also I assume that the men of his clan are raised a certain way to follow in their fathers’ foot steps, but what of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? (I think you said that they were “traditionalists”?) And how would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything?

*I just wanna be a house wifey/mother to my lovely barbarian man 🙈

Dear Anon,

What of the women born into his clan? What’s their role? The barbarian woman:

Stay in the village most of the time. They aren't trained enough to go on the raids or fight bigger armies. But that doesn't mean they're harmless. They are trained in basic combat and to wield a white weapon so that they can protect themselves in case of an intruder or attack.

They hold the power in the village/camp/location they are currently residing. They are the one to decide if the place is good enough to camp, make sure there's enough supplies (food/medicine/sacrificial artifact/etc). If there's not enough, they turn to males who are responsible for bringing the females necessary supplies.

They are considered gifts from the beings above. Since the birth of females is rather low among the barbarians, when one is born, it's a moment a family should fervently pray for giving them such a blessing. After all, it is the woman who is a gifter and nourishes life. So with that in mind, they are also considered a link between the mortal world and eternal one. They are the priestesses.

They're the one to lead sacred ceremonies, give blessings, organize the funeral, pray and give sacrifices to gods. If one doesn't have the necessary blessing from a head female of their family (which is usually the oldest), then there is little to no chance you can do in some matters. You can always try persuading the head female but you never know how it can end up, since they can end up cursing you.

How would courtship work for them since they aren’t abducted or anything? Barbarian courting traditions when it comes to their own people still includes kidnapping. Since I mentioned earlier, there is significantly less females in the barbarian population. This means there is high competition among male members of the population. So in the end this part of the courting is still a bloody mess. At first, the male is supposed to woo the female with a show of power/wealth/ability to provide and protect her. Those are the generall first stages of courtship. Kidnapping comes as the last step. It is the ultimate test of his ambition and abilities. The difficulty lies in the fact that he has to kidnap the bride from her household/family. Remember, all of them can harm him and they will protect their daughter with all they have since they are probably made aware that there’s a bachelor interested in her in the first place. If he succeeds, then he's supposed to bring her to his tent/house, where the members of the bride's family have a last chance to take her back by attempting to buy her out of captivity. If the family fails, the woman and man are considered engaged and are supposed to be blessed by the head females of each of their households. From this day onward, the future bride is to live in her future husband's household.

What’s Yandere Barbarians kinks? Yandere! Barbarian (some of the) kinks would include:

Breeding. It's only normal to desire an offspring(s). And since Yandere! Barbarian lets his primal instincts take control in most situations, I think he'll like to have one too.

Blindfolding their partner. You don't need to see him during your passionate and rough love making. You only need to feel him and bask in the pleasure he gives you. He just loves how confused and helpless you look. Sprawled on the bed, swallowed by thick furs and left at his mercy, not even knowing what’s to come next.

Role play (prey [the reader] and a hunter [Yandere! Barbarian])/chasing. He loves a good dose of adrenaline. The feeling of his heart speeding up to the point it’s ready to burst out of his chest, the thin layer of sweat on his skin and the wind blowing his hair and filling his lungs with fresh air. It’s what gets him going. So with that in mind, he’ll let you run away from him, only to chase you down and in the end catch you. Once he does, there’s no escape. He will hold you tightly, hugging your body to his like he’s trying to be one with you. He'll most likely take on the spot he has caught you.

I hope that answers some the questions. I am sure you'll be a perfect wife for him :)

@shooting-love-arrows

#s.l.arrows answers <3

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chvnnie · 1 year

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Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #chvnnie thots

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mlmshipbracket · 5 months

Text

ROUND 2: POLL #1

ROUND 2 ALL POLLS [HERE]

PROPAGANDA BELOW

Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones:

NO PROPAGANDA SUBMITTED

Astarion Ancunín/Wyll Ravengard:

Wyll and Astarion play out as a story of parallels and contrasts.

Wyll is a monster hunter, and Astarion is a vampire. However, Wyll can be surprisingly reasonable when he learns of Astarion's true nature, to the point that he makes a "pact" with a player character Astarion to not hunt him if Astarion promises not to drink from innocents.

Both Astarion and Wyll are trapped in a relationship with an abuser--Astarion with his vampire sire, Cazador, and Wyll with the devil he contracted with to receive his powers as a warlock, Mizora. (Spoiler: Both Cazador and Mizora cause monsters transformations in Astarion and Wyll.) The way the two react to their bondage contrasts in interesting ways: Astarion latches onto behaving selfishly, his centuries of slavery without any aid convincing him that he needs to focus on gaining power to protect himself, no matter the cost. Wyll responds to his own abuse by clinging to his folk hero persona, the Blade of Frontiers, leading to him being selfless to the point of great personal cost--at one point in the story, Wyll can choose to (spoilers: be bound into his contract with Mizora for an eternity to save his father--the father that banished him from Baldur's Gate at the age of 17 because of his contract.) There's a good chance for them to push each other away from the extremes of selfishness and selflessness to end up more toward the middle, particularly if you choose one of them as the player character. (Spoilers: Astarion can be talked out of sacrificing 700 souls in a demonic ritual to become the Vampire Ascendant with a charisma check, and Wyll's highest stat is charisma. If you're playing as Astarion, you can offer to use your past as a magistrate to try to help Wyll get out of his contract, and it's pretty in character for him to argue against giving up on ever breaking free from it to save Wyll's father.)

The way their romance paths play out also have an interesting mix of contrast and parallels. Astarion is an incorrigible flirt and very quickly pursues a sexual relationship with the player character as long as he reaches a relatively low approval score threshold, while Wyll refuses sex in his romance until the end, because he wants to have a slow, romantic courtship as portrayed in the bardic tales he loves so much. However, (spoilers: Astarion eventually comes to the realization that being forced to prostitute himself to lure victims for Cazador has damaged his self image and relationship with sex, and admits he was initially seducing a romanced player to try to secure protection for himself. Once he hits that point he asks the player to halt sex in their relationship until he can figure out what he himself actually wants. Between this and dev notes found in the game's script that details that Astarion actually DOES want to have non-sexual intimacy, there's a good argument to be made that Wyll's style of romance is actually much closer to what Astarion truly wants in a relationship.)

Both Astarion and Wyll are attracted to all genders, and make comments indicating attraction to each other. Wyll frequently mentions that he finds Astarion charming and beautiful (particularly commenting on his "well-coiffed" hair), and Astarion immediately responds "Wyll" when asked which party member he wants to drink from the most, and eventually admits (if somewhat derisively) that "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

And the cherry on top of all of this? You can choose to play the game as either Astarion or Wyll, and romance the other. So you can, in a sense, choose to make this pairing canon, at least in your playthrough.

#jack harkness #ianto jones #jack harkness/ianto jones #janto #torchwood #astarion ancunin #wyll ravengard #astarion ancurin/wyll ravengard #wyllstarion #baldur's gate 3 #tumblr poll #tumblr bracket #mlm ship #mlm ship poll #mlm ship bracket #mlm ship bracket tournament #mlm ship bracket 2023 #mlm ship bracket tournament 2023 #thirdr2

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ashensgrotto · 10 months

Text

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 2)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x Fem!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 Part 2 (You Are Here) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author’s Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui ’s annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don’t write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will have links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree with anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Come my love be one with the sea

Rule with me for eternity

Drown all dreams so mercilessly

And leave their souls to me

***

You don’t see the twins for the remainder of the day.

When you make mention of the encounter in passing to Crewel that evening, the man only smiles - and not in a warm way whatsoever.

“It would seem that our puppy here has peaked their interest,” the eccentric man grinned, an unsettling look on his face as he bares his teeth, “It’s interesting how Floyd has taken the first step, though - I thought for certain Jade would’ve been the one to approach you first.”

“Floyd? Jade?” you arch a brow at the black and white cloaked professor, “Those things have names?”

“They are not things, pup,” Crewel taps his cigarette case against the palm of his hand before pulling one out and lighting it up, “To answer your question, yes, the mers do have names. While you were waiting for them to make their first appearance with you, Trein and I have been working on cracking their communication code. All three speak in chirps, clicks, and coos - though their growls are both intriguing and nerve-wrecking. We believe, based on how quickly they chirp or click, they are either warning each other of danger, food, or saying each other’s names.”

“And how did you figure out their names?”

“It’s a mere guess - but the sound waves we see on our monitors follow a similar pattern as the sound waves in the air following the pronunciation of the names ‘ Jade ’ and ‘Floyd. ’ We’ve also hidden cameras in the enclosure and have heard them speak in our language during playback sessions after certain incidents - such as the attacks on our coworkers.”

“And part of my job is to see how much of our language they know and potentially teach them more?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to know how much they know or teach them,” Crewel chuckled, “one can’t be too careful with so much knowledge after all.”

‘Knowledge was power,’ you recalled someone telling you once long ago, ‘and too much power could either destroy you or save you.’

“Regardless,” Crewel continued, “I, personally, think it would be interesting to see exactly how much they know about us land dwellers. It would allow us to know if they are watching us and, if so, where we should look to find more - maybe even see how they live and coexist with each other, what parts of the ocean they are likely to hide out in… maybe even see how they mate!”

You sputter, “M-mate?!”

“Of course it’s perfectly natural for animals to go through mating seasons,” Crewel answered with a shrug, “For scientific purposes, it would be interesting to see if they mate like their animal forms or if they follow the human side of romantic courtship.”

‘I’m beginning to think you and the rest of this group are a bunch of perverts,’ you thought to yourself, grinding your teeth together, “And what are you going to do about… that particular question?”

“I think that is enough questions for the day,” Crewel raised his arms above his head, a popping noise indicating a cracked back as he let out a yawn, “Come, puppy. Both of us need rest - we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

***

You didn’t see the twins when you first came in the following morning, nor even after depositing your stuff beside the coat rack and your lunch into the freezer.

At first, you thought maybe they didn’t exist and you had dreamt up the encounter; but the memory of Crewel’s grin and comment about interacting with ‘Floyd’ kept replaying in your mind as you prepared the merfolks’ breakfast. As you leaned down to dump the second bucket into the pool, a sudden splash of water soaked you from head to toe - forcing you to drop your bucket and fall back on the concrete flooring, sputtering as giggles and clicking noises filled the room. You brushed your damp hair and salted water away from your eyes as they fell on a familiar figure leaning over the edge of the pool.

Skin the color of seaweed shone under the dimmed fluorescent lights while a set of heterochromic eyes gleamed in delight at your surprise. A grin spread across the mer’s features, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that flashed in satisfaction, the dark teal strand falling in front of his features.

You huff, grunting as you slowly stand and arch a brow at the creature, “Was that really necessary?”

The creature only beamed wider, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Honestly, you scared me - nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The creature clicked a few times before pushing himself away and swimming around close to the edge, watching as you grab the last bucket and bring it to the edge.

“No more surprises, ok?” you eye the creature as you reach in and pull out a squid that was about the size of your palm - much larger than a fry, but too small for an adult - offering it to him, “I give you this, you won’t splash me again, deal?”

The moray mer chirps, moving his head in a nod and shifting his body slightly before you toss the squid in his direction. He catches it mid-air like a dog with a tennis ball, the squid dangling out of his mouth as he beams at you. You watch him carefully as you dump the contents into the water and he begins his meal. He starts with the tentacles, pulling them apart and gnawing on them while his webbed hands dug into the mantle of the miniature sea beast - strings of muscle, blood, and ink staining his features before crunching of bone echoes around.

“Geez, take it easy,” you grumble, “no one is going to take it from you.”

The mer stops and regards you with a look that means, ‘Shut up, I’m trying to enjoy my meal.’

You return the buckets to the side of the freezer before grabbing your notebook and take a seat at the pool’s edge, opening it and beginning to jot down notes.

6:05 am: One of the mers has made an appearance this morning. Based on what I was told by Professor Crewel last night, I believe this one is Floyd - one of the twin morays. It’s hard to differentiate between the two of them, but if I had to venture a guess - Floyd is far more playful than his brother -

Nails clicked against the edge of the pool, forcing you to look up to see Floyd leaning over the edge, studying the word on the notebook. He shifted his gaze from the words before looking at you and back again.

“What’s up?”

Floyd chirped at you, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them, eyes watching your every movement as he continued to click and coo.

He stayed like this for the next several hours, clicks and chirps echoing in the room as you shifted between taking notes and partially listening to him. You figured he was telling you something, but since you didn’t understand him, you could only nod and hum in his direction as if you did understand.

“Hungry,” he says eventually, the word throwing you off guard for a moment.

“Did you just.. Say ‘hungry’?” you asked, blink incredulously.

“Hungry,” Floyd said again, a grin spreading across his features, his eyes narrowing as he eyed you like a piece of shrimp.

“Alright, one moment Floyd,” you move to stand, only for your ankle to be caught by a webbed grip.

You turn, confused to see a look of surprise on the mer’s face.

“Name?” Floyd inquires.

“Are you asking if I know your name?” when the mer nods, you smile, “I was told your name. But, excuse me, I never introduced myself - I’m (Y/N). I’ve been tasked as your keeper.”

It was a white lie - a big one at that - but you weren’t sure if Floyd understood what ‘keeper’ meant nor if he understood that the three of them were under observation. However, you did want to be cautious in the event that in the case Floyd and the others did understand what was going on around them, you wouldn't be seen as a threat.

Floyd spoke your name softly, tasting the words on his tongue before grinning, baring sharp teeth as he shouted, “(Y/N)!”

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, murmuring behind a hand that covered your mouth, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Next thing you knew, Floyd launched himself from the edge of the pool and disappeared into the murky water, leaving you curious as to what he was up to. However, if he intended to splash you again, you weren’t going to stick around to find out.

You stood, stretching your back and legs before moving towards the freezer, with the intention of pulling out the three buckets for lunch when Floyd’s voice came again, “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”

You turned with bucket in hand as Floyd approached the edge, his brother in tow - though he stayed at least a foot away from the edge, but keeping a close eye on you and his twin. You reach the edge a squat down, offering a smile to the second moray mer and a hand outstretched in a non-threatening manner.

“Hello. You must be Jade, right?”

‘Jade’ lifts his head, allowing you to see his full face and neck, the water lapping at his shoulders, as surprise etched across his features. He blinks slowly, moving a little bit closer before his voice, soft and deep, speaks.

“Know name?”

‘So, Jade knows a few more words than Floyd,’ you think to yourself before nodding, “Yeah, I know your name. I told Floyd that I was told both of your names - I was assigned as your keeper for the time being.”

“Keeper?” Jade askes, head cocking to the side like a dog would.

“Yes, I’m in charge of taking care of you during the day. I’ll be here most of the time, except at night when I have to leave. But I’ll be here to feed you in the morning, afternoon, and evening, and spend time with you guys during the in between hours.”

The twins looked at each other, both clicking and chirping - eyes shifting between your crouched figure and themselves. The looks they shared during these few moments made you feel a bit uneasy, like they were sizing you up for a meal; it reminded you of the lewd glances you received from drunks at the bars you used to work when you first started working, hands sliding up your uniforms before one of the bartenders would step in and smack them away, reminding them the girls were not for touching. It made you shudder, goose pimples rising along your arms.

Jade seemed to notice, clicking softly at his brother as his features relaxed, heterochromia eyes softening on your figure.

“Hungry,” Jade’s voice brought you back, “We… are… hungry.”

***

It only took about a week for Jade to eventually warm up to you, the three of you getting along - even with Floyd’s continued antics.

From what you observed, Jade was the eldest of the two moray twins - he was courteous to you and most of the staff that had on more than one occasion popped in to check on you during your sessions with the two and often kept Floyd from getting too much out of hand; although he seemed to be the one that would antagonize his younger brother with a few clicks and chirps in his direction before Floyd would splash you with water or attempt to pull you in for a swim. Regardless, Jade was always there to pull his brother back while Floyd shrieked in mer - their native tongue that you supplied in your notes, thrashing about while the eldest cooed in delight at how quickly Floyd could be worked up.

Jade was also very intelligent, often poking at the books you had brought along with you and chirping with curiosity. Unlike his brother, who had the attention span of a three-year-old, Jade listened intently to each word and pronounced them back to you with a few stutters here and there before saying the word like he was born to speak. He couldn’t form coherent sentences without the occasional click or chirp, but then again - speaking your native tongue was like you learning to speak his, it would take time and practice before he could reach that point.

The easiest words for Jade are your name, the word ‘pearl,’ and greetings. He always glowers when the time comes for you to leave before grumbling in the water, bubbles appearing around his face as he sinks under the surface with only the top of his head and eyes peering out from beneath the enclosure’s water surface. Floyd had picked up on this and began copying his brother, both of them looking like angry puffer fish each time you leave the enclosure and lock the door behind you.

Trein stops you one evening on your way out, a black and white cat in his arms, “How are things going, little keeper?”

“I think I’m making progress,” you answer, holding out your filled up notebook from the first month to him, “Crewel requested I give you this at the end of the first month.”

“I should hope so,” Trein took the notebook, shifting the lazy cat in his arms around to flip through the pages, “I saw that you’ve become quite comfortable around the twins - Floyd nearly drowned you in the pool the other day, yes?”

“Almost, though I think he was just playing around,” you answer, “he’s like a little kid - so energetic.”

“Perhaps… How's the research on our cecaelia?”

“The cecaelia?”

Trein raised one brow as the cat harrumphed at you, “Did you forget there are three of them?”

“I suppose I did,” you gulp before shrugging sheepishly.

“Do not forget that there is more than just the twins in that enclosure,” Trein warned, closing the notebook with a loud snap in one hand, “The sea is as dangerous as its mysteries that lurk beneath its surface. The twins may be comfortable around you, but the cecaelia is something no one has ever seen, much less interacted with. If it were to pull you under the waters tomorrow, we’d never know what happened, and I doubt the twins would do much to save you either.”

“I won’t let anything happen,” you answer with a strong resolve, brows creasing inward, “besides, if Crewel’s hunch is correct, I might be able to get the twins to persuade the mer out if I play my cards right.”

“You better. Remember, you only have two months left. I’d like to see some progress before the end of next month.”

***

As was expected, the twins were no help at all.

Each day for the next week, you attempted to discuss the octomer with the twins - you figured if you could get more information about the mer in question, you might be able to indicate something about him in your notes. Unfortunately, the twins couldn't completely understand you - even when you drew out a picture of what appeared to be an octopus and tapped a finger against the drawing. They did, thankfully, seem to understand you were curious about the third member of their trio, with Floyd chirping "Octo-chan" a few times before disappearing under the water.

The only piece of information you could gather was a word, spoken by Jade when you first asked about the mer.

Azul.

But, azul was a color - blue, to be precise. What does "azul" have to do with an octopus? You contemplated this for several hours after the twins left you to your devices one morning. They had greeted you in their usual fashion before taking their leave and disappearing under the water. It had been about two weeks since Jade had spoken the word and even when you asked about it, the clicking and chirping that came from both mers had you scratching your head in confusion.

Maybe "Azul" wasn't a color, but a name? Or code?

You scratch the back of your neck as you look at the chart you've drawn out - hoping that you might get some answers. "Okay, let's see," you push the notebook forward and roll to lay on your stomach as the bottom end of the pen traces through the drawn lines and words, "Floyd and Jade are twins - that much is straightforward - and are literal polar opposites of each other. Other than looks, both of them are connected by the octomer who may or may not be named Azul. However, how are the three of them connected? How did they meet?"

You circle the question before moving on to the next part, "As for Azul - he doesn't seem fond of humans as the morays seem to be his protectors. We know he is an octopus, based on eyewitnesses during their capture - however, we don't know much else about him."

You tap your pen against the notepad before flipping through the other notebook that sat beside you, rereading all of the notes you had gathered during the course of the week when discussing the octomer to the morays. You shifted to a kneeling position, your body getting tired of laying flat on your stomach when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

You turn your head toward the pool, eyes nearly popping out as a head dunks itself low, the top mop of white and lavender shaded hair falling across a set of unfamiliar sea blue eyes.

Dove gray skin glowed in the dimmed fluorescent lighting as the sea blue eyes peered at you curiously, pupils horizontal slits that expanded and constricted as the two of you locked eyes with each other. When he raised his head, the water revealed several long strands of silver that rested about chin length on the left side of his face - the rest of the starlight colored hair cut short with water dripping from the tips and creating little pointed tips on the ends. Full lips were slightly parted with surprise, a little beauty mark resting just below his bottom lip and nearly blocked by the long strand. Unlike Floyd and Jade, his ears matched that of a human - rounded and uncut by earrings many humans wore. Below him, you could only see blackness - a darkness that cut through the murky waters of the pool as multiple limbs shifted in the water.

Overall, the octomer was stunning.

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at him, holding out a hand to him, “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. Are you Azul?”

The octomer looks around cautiously before returning his gaze to you with a slow nod.

“You have a beautiful name, Azul. I’m (Y/N) - though I’m sure the twins told you about me.”

Azul nods, slowly reaching a hand out towards yours open one.

“(Y/N)?” the voice of Crewel comes from the entrance of the enclosure.

Startled, Azul disappears under the waves as the twins appear, a heavy wave of water dousing the two of you - causing the two of you to sputter in surprise. Jade growls at Crewel, snapping his jaws in a threatening manner while Floyd leans over the edge of the pool, getting into a protective stance in front of you and snarling at the professor before shifting his gaze at you with worry.

The only thing you can think of as you watch the scene before you unfold is, ‘Did I manage to become a part of Jade and Floyd’s group? If so, what happens now?’

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #twstファンアート #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere #yandere jade x reader #yandere floyd x reader #twst jade #twst floyd #twst azul #twst wonderland #fanfic #yandere x reader

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ashleyfableblack · 10 days

Text

A li'l bit of love for y'all needing it today and a reminder- from DR4, Mukluk, Chapeau, La Brea, Peso and Kelly. Don't dim your light for people who don't appreciate it anyways. Shine on, just like the wonderful weirdo that you are and the weirdos who love you will shine with you. Big Love, from The Eternal Courtship.

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babyblue711 · 7 months

Text

Devotion

Osferth (The Last Kingdom) x Reader - Part 3 (Final) Read Part 2 Here Chapter Summary: Before the men head off to war yet again, Osferth and Reader share a romantic night to themselves. Words: 5.9K

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Fingering and overall shenanigans

A/N: Word of the wise - Osferth takes his time with his sweet little virgin. Strap in for the long haul kiddos 🔥

💙 Beta read by the wonderful: @sylasthegrim

💙 Beautiful gif by the one and only: @myfandomprompts

In the aftermath of the battle, you and Osferth take Finan’s horse in search of your brother and sister. The tension in the air is palpable as you scour the forest, calling their names, hoping to find them unharmed. After what feels like an eternity, you stumble upon a small clearing deep in the woods and discover them safe and sound.

Your sister sobs the whole way home, overwhelmed by the terrifying ordeal and you gather her in your arms, whispering reassurances in her ear as she rides in front of you in the saddle on Osferth’s white horse. Your brother sits stoically in front of Osferth, a vision of bravery for getting his sister to safety. Even though you are exhausted and weary from battle, you finally feel complete as the four of you make your way back home.

The atmosphere in Rumcofa is somber and heavy with grief. The massacre of innocent Danes has shaken the town to its core, and a sense of fear and uncertainty hangs in the air. The place that once felt like home, a sanctuary, no longer seems safe. Worry grips your heart; you are unsure how long Uhtred and his men will call this town “home” and you feel safest being wherever they are. The uncertainty makes you feel insecure about your immediate future.

A few days go by and Lord Athelhelm’s evil plot finally starts to unravel. Osferth and Finan rush to Uhtred’s side as the Saxon and Dane armies converge to straighten out the misunderstanding that had pitted them against one another in the first place. It had not been Danes that had killed Lord Athelhelm’s daughter like he wanted everyone to believe but rather his own scheme gone awry; she sacrificed herself to save the visionary he had intended to kill in order to sow discord between Saxon and Dane. But in the chaos of the battle that followed, he escaped to Bebbanburg.

The men briefly return to Rumcofa, mainly to gather their remaining strength before marching on Bebbanburg to bring Lord Athelhelm to justice. You know Uhtred has longed to liberate Bebbanburg from his cousin, Lord Wihtgar, for many years and with the King’s assistance he is finally getting the chance to reclaim his birthright.

Will it ever stop? you wonder to yourself as you help Ingrith prepare dinner for them that evening. Will war ever stop for these men? All you wanted was peace and for them all to be safe at home in the arms of their loved ones and families.

Upon their arrival back home, Osferth had officially asked Lord Uhtred for your hand in courtship and Uhtred, as wise as ever, had smiled and said, “I will leave that for the lady to decide.” Of course, you had happily accepted, finally being able to declare your love for each other and be an official couple, filling a void that had been in your hearts for a long time. You can tell Osferth feels the same.

The evening before their departure to Bebbanburg is bittersweet. Knowing that Osferth will be leaving on the morrow for battle once more, you've resolved to savor this precious evening with him, cherishing the moments you have together. Curled on the gray fur blanket next to the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, you listen intently as he reads verses of The Holy Book to you.

You watch him read, admiring the sharp shadows on his face from the firelight. Your eyes trace the length of his nose and the shape of his strong jaw and chin; he licks his thumb to turn a page, reading aloud all the while, oblivious to your adoring gaze, and you suddenly feel something stir deep within when you see his pink tongue dart from between his lips.

You crawl over to him on the fur rug, and gently place your hand on top of the page, causing him to stop at your distraction. He looks up at you questioningly.

“Perhaps that’s enough reading for tonight?” you ask lightly, giving him a sweet smile.

“Of course, my lady,” Osferth marks his page and closes the book, stretching to put it on a nearby table. He returns his attention to you.

“Well, we have the night to ourselves, what would you like to do next?” he asks you innocently with bright eyes. Both of your siblings are staying at Astrid’s tonight. She promised them lots of fun and games, a needed reprieve for the children after a hard couple of weeks, while giving you a knowing wink.

“I think I have something in mind,” you try to say in your best sultry voice, feeling more confident than you really are. You reach out and grab Osferth by the collar, bringing his lips to your own. He immediately understands your intentions and, after a moment, gently pulls back.

“My lady, please, there is no rush…,” he starts to say but you stop him by putting a finger to his lips.

“Please, Osferth?” you ask, eyes wide, begging him with your gaze. “Truly, I want you…before you have to leave again.”

He sighs and considers you, torn by his feelings and sense of responsibility. “I want you too,” he confesses with longing in his voice. “I have wanted you for a very long time, but I would never pressure you. There will be plenty of time for that.”

“Will there be?” you question sharply, “Nobody knows what the future holds, Osferth, not even the gods. Mine or yours.”

He takes a deep breath, leveling you with a steady stare and you feel compelled to confess to him.

“Osferth, I… I have not been with anyone else in that way,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “Please, I am yours.”

You see his breathing pick up as the weight of your words settle upon him, his eyes searching yours.

“You are still a maiden?” He swallows as you nod, confirming what he had suspected but didn’t know for certain. He blinks rapidly as he absorbs your words.

“My lady…what you offer me, you can only offer once. You cannot take it back once it is done. I am honored, but are you sure?”

You nod, having never been more sure about anything in your life. “Osferth, you have held a treasured place in my heart since I was a girl. I cherish you above everyone else,” you pause to take a deep breath, laying your emotions bare, “Please….I belong to you and have for a long time.”

His face softens with affection at the sincerity of your words, warmth seeping out of his blue eyes and he responds with a confession of his own.

“And my heart belongs to you, for longer than you know,” he says softly, surprising you by the duration of his affection and depth of his devotion. His words flow freely now, as if he has been waiting for this moment. “I have watched you struggle and bear the weight of womanhood long before your years. You have always triumphed in anything you set your mind to. I admire you more than you know and have for a long time.”

He leans towards you, gently cupping the side of your face with his hand, his thumb tracing your cheekbone and the faint scar left behind from Bresal’s blade. Your heartbeat picks up wildly as you stare with adoration into each other’s eyes. He rests his forehead against yours and you breathe each other in; time seems to stand still as you share this intimate moment together, lost in the confessions of love.

You lose track of how much time has passed, deciding to prompt him further by leaning up and whispering against his lips, “Please, allow me to truly be yours.”

Whether from your words or actions, you finally seem to break his resolve as he returns your kiss, his mouth opening under yours.

“I promise to be gentle,” he breathes, finally verbally acquiescing before resuming your kiss. For a moment, you enjoy languidly the taste of each other’s tongues as he pulls you into his lap, straddling him, and you immediately run your fingers through his hair, kissing deeply.

Your heartbeat picks up in this new position, never having been so intimately wrapped around a man before; it is all so new to you. Although you have imagined this scenario for so long, it seems to have come upon you so suddenly. You realize you felt braver going into battle than you do at this moment, intertwined around Osferth.

You spend some time exploring each other’s mouths, moaning lightly as he shifts his position, bringing you down to lay under him on top of the furs. He hovers above you, using his arms to support his weight as you spread your legs to allow him to settle within the cradle of your hips.

His smell surrounds you as he continues kissing you for a while more, taking his time. Decidedly more impatient than he is, you reach for the cinch of his alb, eager to undress him. He allows you to untie it, and then removes it with your help, left only in his breeches. He lowers himself back onto you, and you can feel the heat radiate from his bare torso through your simple dress. You start to explore his body with your hands, running them up his sides and down over his strong back muscles, repeating the pattern.

Osferth suddenly rolls you over until you are on top, and you sit on him tentatively, unable to ignore the bulge you feel in his pants that's pressing against your center.

“I cannot be the only one undressed,” Osferth says easily, a smile tugs at his lips as he reaches for the ties at the front of your dress. Slowly, sensually, you help Osferth remove your dress, the intricate laces and extra layers adding an additional step of difficulty. Finally, you pull your dress and shift up over your head, baring yourself before him, nipples hardening in the cool air, left only in your smallclothes on your bottom half.

Your heartbeat races as his eyes devour your body and you desperately try not to feel self-conscious. His big, hot hands run up your hips, over your ribs and across your back. You arch into his embrace, reveling in the warmth of his hands, feeling the calluses on his palms, knowing those same hands have dealt death to many men in battle yet are being so gentle on your soft skin now.

His thumb skims down over your nipples briefly, getting you used to his touch. His hands make another circuit down your ribs and up your back before sliding down to your breasts once more; his large hands cover them completely as he gives them a gentle squeeze, kneading softly. You whimper, closing your eyes to his touch, unable to help grinding on top of his covered length as his attention to your breasts builds your arousal, an ache forming between your thighs.

He lets out a soft grunt as you continue to rub yourself upon his growing bulge. Suddenly, he flips you back over, the naked skin of your back now laying upon the soft fur blanket and kneels between your thighs.

“Have you ever seen a naked man before?” he asks and you shake your head no.

He seems to have expected this, shifting to take off his breeches and bare himself to you. Your eyes widen when you look upon his impressive length and your brain suddenly jumpstarts, that’s supposed to fit inside me? Hard and heavy, his cock stands erect between his legs and it draws your eye; you can’t help but stare at the veins and the way the head seems to weep. Your gaze flits over his moderate patch of hair and finally his balls; they look taunt from the strain of his standing cock and you wonder what they feel like to touch.

Your trepidation must have shown clearly on your face, for Osferth no longer kneels between your legs but lies at your side.

He grabs your chin and looks you in the eyes, “We’ll go slow,” he promises as he places a soft kiss on your lips.

You nestle into the soft fur of the blanket, the heat of the fire and of Osferth’s skin keeping you plenty warm. You continue to kiss for a few more moments, the kisses becoming deeper and more heated and you try to ignore the way his heavy cock presses against your thigh. Suddenly, his hand comes up and rests on your leg and you immediately tense at the sensation. You know what is coming and it both terrifies and exhilarates you.

For a couple of strokes, Osferth simply rubs your outer thigh, getting you used to the sensation of him touching you more than he ever has before. As you relax under his touch, you arch your back, sighing into his mouth as you press your chest into his, enveloped in his warm embrace. The heat of his skin settles you, calms you. He continues for a few more moments, hand moving from your thigh, sliding up and over your ribs and down your back before finally caressing your breasts again.

The ache between your legs continues to grow, but it’s not an entirely new sensation, you had felt desire before. You find yourself craving his touch and wanting more.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he starts to trail kisses down your neck and over your collarbone, finally putting your nipple in his mouth and sucking, kneading the other breast with his hand. You push your breasts into his face and moan, delighted at these new sensations. You rub your thighs together, hoping for some friction as Osferth still has yet to touch you there.

He works his way back up your body, kissing your lips and you revel in his touch, running your fingers through his hair, pulling at the back of it a bit, urging him on. Osferth had promised to go slow and slow he was going. You decide to help him pick up the pace a bit.

You are still far too intimidated to touch his length but you take his hand and lead it between your thighs, feeling bold. He breaks the kiss and gives you a small smirk.

“So impatient,” he whispers, hand stilling on your center, not giving you the friction you crave. “Lie back for me.”

You roll from your side onto your back as Osferth easily removes your smallclothes and your naked body lies on the fur on full display. Osferth shifts closer to you, propped up on one arm as his hand trails down your stomach and up one thigh. You mewl pathetically, begging him with your sounds where you want him to touch you.

A smug smile lifts the corners of his sensuous mouth; he knows exactly what he is doing and how to tease you as he trails his fingers along the inside of your other thigh. You squirm and begin kneading your breasts, his eyes flicking up to watch you touch yourself and finally he relents from his torturous teasing as his fingers come to lightly trail over your silky slit.

Your breath hitches at his touch, as he parts your lips with his fingertips and explores your folds, dipping down to your entrance, gathering wetness onto his fingers. You close your eyes, unable to meet his gaze, bashful now as he touches your most intimate parts.

“Is this what you want, my lady?” Osferth asks playfully in a deep voice.

You bite your lip and nod, focusing on the sensation of his fingertips as he begins to circle your bud expertly with the pads of his fingers. You mewl, spreading your legs wider for him to access your core.

“Have you ever touched yourself before?” Osferth whispers in your ear. You keep your eyes closed and nod again, too shy to see his expression when you admit to pleasuring yourself. You had even brought yourself to orgasm from time to time. But no man has ever made you feel as good as this.

“Good, then you are at least familiar with this,” he mutters, mostly to himself and you relax at his approval.

After a few moments, you start to pant as his adept fingers increase the pace on your bundle of nerves. You moan as Osferth shifts his fingers down to your entrance and he tentatively pushes one inside of your tight velvet walls, slowly working you open.

You gasp a little, eyes snapping open, fingers gripping the back of his hair, holding him close, his lips on your neck. His finger is much longer and thicker than your own and your back arches off the floor at the sensation of him inside of you. His intrusion doesn’t hurt, your pussy is well soaked by now as he moves his middle finger in and out of you gently. Your breathing picks up as lewd squelching noises mix with the crackling of the fire, sounding loud in the quiet room.

He manages to lift his face from your neck, a feat considering how hard you are clinging to him, and watches your face as he explores the inside of your pussy with his finger, his heavy-lidded eyes dark with lust.

You pant, eyes glazed, staring up at him as he watches your face. After a few more gentle pumps you feel him withdraw only to feel a slight stretch this time as he pushes two fingers into you. Eyes widening, your breath quickens at the unfamiliar sensation, hands moving down to grip his shoulders, eyebrows knitting together as you adjust to this new feeling.

He immediately stops when he sees your slight frown. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice soft. You shake your head and bring your lips up to his, and he gives a satisfied groan into your mouth as you continue to feel him moving inside of you, feeling your walls, as if he is searching for something.

It isn’t until electricity explodes from your core and straight into your heart that you realize he found whatever it was that he had been searching for. You are unable to maintain your kiss, panting and moaning and he crooks his fingers repeatedly against a sweet spot deep inside of you, a spot you didn’t even know existed. Somewhere in the far recesses of your mind, you wonder how he already knows your body better than you do.

He sets a steady rhythm, pumping his fingers while curling them slightly, consistently hitting your spot of pleasure, overwhelming you by the intense sensations he is pulling from your body.

After a minute, he pauses his ministrations, giving you a small reprieve and you moan loudly, breathing heavily.

“My lady, close your eyes and focus on the pleasure,” Osferth instructs in a whisper and you do as he bids, letting him consume you as he begins again, picking up the pace. His palm constantly rubs your pearl and soon you start to feel something intense building deep inside of you, stronger than you’ve ever known before. You focus on the pleasure, your breath starting to come in quick gasps as the tension builds. Suddenly you find yourself babbling uncontrollably, begging Osferth to continue his pace, willing him not to stop.

Ecstasy explodes from your core, traveling to the tips of your fingers and toes as you cry aloud, legs trembling as your cunt clenches down on Osferth’s fingers, reaching a level of pleasure you have never known. Osferth continues to work you through your peak until you are on the brink of overstimulation, finally withdrawing his hand, leaving you panting on the floor next to him. As you try to regain your composure, you open your eyes, mind blissfully blank, and stare at the wooden ceiling of your cozy cabin.

You turn your head to look at Osferth next to you and he raises his eyebrows.

“… what was that?” you ask breathlessly.

“Did you like it?” he asks innocently with a cocky smirk as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious that he had just given you the greatest pleasure of your life.

All you can manage is a giggle; you’re at a loss for words. You hear him chuckle too, low under his breath beside you as he shifts. Looking down, your heartbeat picks up again as you notice that he has grasped himself in hand, using your slick from his fingers to coat his thick length.

“Are you ready?” he asks softly and a tingle goes up your spine as adrenaline spikes in your veins again. You find yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.

You find that you can not speak, only nod as you finally realize what is coming. His fingers were one thing but his length still looks just as alarmingly large. You know you want him inside of you but you are apprehensive of the pain you are sure to feel, even after your incredible peak.

Osferth moves to hover above you once more, his slim hips resting on yours. He gives you a deep kiss as he lines himself up with your entrance and you break the kiss once you feel him pressing there; you can’t seem to concentrate on doing two things at once as you tense, wondering how on earth he is supposed to fit. Osferth pushes the head of his cock into your opening, stretching you fully for the first time.

You immediately suck in a sharp breath at the pain and he instantly withdraws, looking down at you with concerned eyes.

Shivering a little underneath him, you whimper, “Osferth, how is it supposed to fit?” a note of worry in your voice.

His eyes soften as he understands the source of your concern. Leaning down, he gives you a sweet kiss while shifting his weight to one elbow, his hand comes up to smooth your hair away from your face in a reassuring gesture.

“My lady, you have to relax,” he says in a soothing whisper. “There will be some stretching but most women seem to enjoy it. A sharp pain means you are too tense or not wet enough and I do not think we have to be concerned with the latter,” he chuckles a little at his joke as he guides you through this.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks gently, giving you a way out.

You shake your head quickly, you have come this far and you aren't stopping now.

“Breathe deeply for me,” Osferth counsels wisely and you do as he says. He leans down and kisses your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he tries to distract you again as he guides the head of his cock into your pussy once more.

This time he doesn’t stop as the head of his cock spears you open and he continues pushing in, sliding slowly, inch by savory inch. Again you can’t maintain the kiss, focusing on the stretch, his eyes scan your face, watching for any signs of pain. The stretch is intense, more so than what you were expecting. You close your eyes, eyebrows knitting together, focusing on allowing him deep inside of you, panting and trying to breathe through the new sensation. Above you, Osferth gives a small groan as he tries to push in as slowly and gently as possible without causing you undue pain.

Finally, he bottoms out inside of you, bodies fully flush together and he stills, allowing your walls to adjust to his girth.

“There,” he breathes, nose brushing against yours, “the hardest part is over.”

You nod, hanging on to every word as he kisses you again and begins thrusting very softly in small, rocking movements.

In a few moments, you find yourself relaxing as you get accustomed to the stretch and it starts to feel quite nice. You find you quite like the feeling of his thick cock dragging along inside your walls, filling you up, completing you, making you feel whole, joined together as one at last.

Your hands move to explore his shoulders, sliding down along his back muscles and over his toned arse and you boldly push his butt down, causing him to sink a little deeper inside of you and causing you to gasp. Osferth smirks, seeming to enjoy your little noises as you experience everything for the first time. The feeling of fullness is heavenly as he slides back and forth, slowly increasing his pace.

You start to meet his thrusts as you relax into his rhythm. Encouraged by your movements, he picks up the pace, increasing both your pleasure and his.

You pant and mewl underneath him as tension builds deep in your core, radiating from your pussy through your whole body. Encouraged from your lusty moans, Osferth starts to pump in and out of you in strong, smooth strokes, the sound of your skin slaps together erotically.

“My lady, you are so perfect,” Osferth grunts as his own release starts to build and consume him, “I am sorry but I will not last very long.”

Having not known how long it was going to last anyway, you don’t respond, continuing to meet his thrusts and whine underneath him.

He rolls his hips into you a few more times, both of you breathing hard, consumed by the pleasure, when suddenly he withdraws, taking himself in hand and pumping quickly until thick pearly ropes of spend shoot out and coat your stomach.

You lay panting, instantly missing the loss of the fullness you felt when he had been inside of you. As the warmth of his spend seeps into the tender skin of your belly, Osferth leans back over you and gives you a sultry, deep kiss, one of love, adoration, and passion.

“You did so well,” he praises before moving away to get a wet washcloth.

As you wait for him to return, a million thoughts start racing through your mind. You were finding the ending rather anticlimactic. It was over fairly quickly, you think. Is it always so fast? Wasn’t he supposed to spill his seed inside of you?

You hear Osferth’s footsteps pad quietly back over to you on the worn wooden floors and lay still as he wipes his spend from your stomach. You watch as his eyes, at first focused on his task, flit from your belly to your breasts and then shift downward where you’ve brought your knees up, thighs together. He gently touches your thigh and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“Sweet one, it is normal for ladies to bleed a little after their first time,” Osferth says with a little trepidation but ever so tenderly. “I do not want you to be alarmed if you did not know. Would you allow me to clean you up?” he asks sincerely, holding up the wet linen cloth.

You hesitate, this gesture somehow seems much more intimate than what you had just done together. You did, in fact, know that bleeding can occur when the maidenhead tears but you weren’t sure if you had bled. He had been so gentle, aside from the stretching, you hardly had felt any pain.

Slowly, you nod and open your legs a little, feeling self conscious. Will he care if there’s blood? What will he think if there is? You didn’t want him to think less of you or be disgusted by something you couldn’t control. What if you didn’t bleed? Will he think you lied to him about being a virgin?

Osferth folds the cloth over to a clean side and wipes your still sensitive folds, being much more gentle than you would have been. The coolness from the wet cloth feels nice on your slightly sore skin and you allow your knees to fall to the side more, giving him easier access. You watch his face, admiring the profile of his sharp nose and strong jaw while his eyes focus on cleaning your most intimate parts.

You find that you can’t help but ask. “Did I bleed?” you say in barely a whisper, feeling afraid of the answer.

“A little,” Osferth replies, seeming totally unphased.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry,” fear colors your voice and you attempt to close your legs, to hide the embarrassing sight but Osferth stops you, a frown in between his eyebrows as he looks up at your face and pushes your legs apart again.

“My lady, it is completely natural, please do not be ashamed,” he finishes wiping and then suddenly spreads your legs much wider. Before you can stop him, he leans down and places a kiss right onto your sensitive folds. Your breath catches at the sensation of his lips on your pussy, your eyes widen at the thought of his face down there. Head still between your thighs he looks up at you smugly.

“We will practice with my mouth another time,” he gives you a sly grin and your eyes pop. Laying the cloth to dry by the fire, he comes back up to snuggle you close, both of you still completely bare.

You lay in his arms, fingers running through his chest hair as your brain whirls. Your heart feels full; you feel contented, relaxed, and exhilarated that you just had sex for the first time and you feel more connected to Osferth than ever before. You had heard so many horror stories growing up and had been so sure that sex was a horrible and painful experience for all women. But you couldn’t have been more pleased with having the opposite experience. Aside from the little bit of pain as your body welcomed him inside of you for the first time, the stretching quickly grew quite pleasurable and you decided you had enjoyed your first time immensely.

You muse on all of this as Osferth holds you in his arms and now you feel like you can focus on his bare form. Your fingers slide over his toned pecks, tracing down his abs. Your gaze is level with Osferth’s neck muscles and collarbone and, unable to help yourself, you lean in and kiss his neck, licking at the salty skin and enjoying his taste. Surprised, he pulls away and looks down at you.

“Can we do it again?” you ask, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

He smirks and makes a humming noise deep in his chest.

“There is much for us to explore…as long as you are sure you do not feel sore, yes, my lady, we can do it as many times as you like,” he places a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Osferth?” you ask again, unable to help yourself.

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you, showing he is listening.

“Why did you not spill inside of me?”

He blinks in surprise. “I would have thought it obvious,” he shifts to look better at you. “My lady, you are so young and already have two small children to care for. I could not bring myself to add the burden of another, especially since we are off to battle again soon,” he states simply and the thought of war momentarily chills the warm air, an icy reminder of what is soon to come.

He continues, “But when you are ready and we are more settled, then I will happily give you my seed, and watch your belly swell with my child, if that is what you wish.” He runs his hand over your flat stomach as if imagining it.

You nod, complex emotions running through your mind. He is trying to save you from raising another child alone, yet you want nothing more than to possess a piece of him. Should things go badly in battle, you cannot help but feel he should leave a part of himself behind. You lay quietly as he begins gently rubbing your side, conflicted by this sudden intense desire while recognizing the logic behind his words.

Heat starts to build between your legs again as he continues to absentmindedly rub your back. You give him a sweet kiss on the lips, kissing along his jaw and he moans softly at your tender touch. You boldly nip at the skin of his neck, initiating the second round of lovemaking.

He obliges you, kissing you deeply as your bodies melt together as one again, moving much more quickly than before. He puts you on top this time, grasping your hips and rocking you upon his thick length as he thrusts up into you from below.

Your orgasm starts to build, spurred by the constant stimulation of your bud along his pubic bone. You can feel your muscles tense as the coiling tension builds within you, driving you higher and higher, filthy words escape from your lips, gone mad with passion or perhaps just crazed with lust; you almost don’t even recognize the sound of your own voice as you exclaim how much you love his cock inside you, how badly you want his seed, how you can’t wait to grow round with his child…As your peak crashes over you once more, your core clenches down on his length and you beg him to finish with you, to not pull out.

“Oh gods, yes….Osferth, please give it to me,” you scream in ecstasy as you come apart on top of him.

If he is surprised by the brazen words pouring from your mouth, he doesn’t let it show, instead seeming even more aroused by your emphatic display of passion. His breathing is harsh as he thrusts harder and rougher within you, forgetting to be gentle until he stills inside of you with a groan, his thick cock pulsing within your soft velvet walls.

Coming down from your high, you close your eyes and tilt your head back, moaning ever so softly, “Yes, Osferth, give it all to me,” as you continue to rock gently on top of him, milking his cock as your walls continue to flutter around him.

He groans again, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh of your hips and suddenly he flips you over while maintaining your connection, leaning down and capturing your mouth with his own, claiming you with his tongue as you wrap your arms and legs around him, holding him as close as you possibly can until his cock starts to soften inside of you.

You lose count how many times you make love that night and again in the morning before he departs. Your pussy feels deliciously sore, love bites and bruises mottle the skin of your neck and breasts from his lips and teeth. You love the marks he has left upon your body, feeling like they are a silent declaration of his possession, you belong to him now, just as he belongs to you.

In the doorway of your small cabin, you share a deep, passionate kiss with Osferth before he departs, the taste of him lingering on your lips. As you watch him walk down the frozen muddy lane where Finan waits for him with his horse (“My arse is freezing, Baby Monk!” he exclaims, playfully encouraging Osferth to hurry), your hand travels to your lower belly, cradling it, hoping your womb will quicken from his seed, wondering if new life will blossom from the love that you made repeatedly together. Your heart feels heavy, knowing that he faces the brutal uncertainties of battle. But such is the life of a warrior's future wife, a life marked by both love and the ever-present shadow of war. You hope, in time, there will be a place you can finally call “home” with Osferth by your side.

The End

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @cyeco13 @aemondsscar @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep @fan-goddess @pandemonium105 @megatardisbaby @gemini-mama @bcon24 @lexwolfhale @lauzy87 @arcielee @urmomsgirlfriend1 @iscocohere

#ewan mitchell #tlk osferth #osferth the last kingdom #osferth tlk #osferth x reader #osferth #baby monk #the last kingdom fanfic #aethelstan the last kingdom #usermyfandomprompts

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