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#Noble roars
nobledragonflying · 16 hours
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forest-hashira · 1 month
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watching mugen train for the 4th time rn,,,,,,,,,, the temptation to abandon my other works and only work on my demon slayer novel that none of you will ever see is so strong and for WHAT
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west1rosi · 10 months
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HOUSE LANNISTER. DURING THE DANCE OF DRAG.ONS:
the head of the house lannister during the reing of viserys i and the dance of dragons was jason lannister, who had two twins, tyland lannister and jeyne. jeyne married into a branch and distant cousin house of house lanny and was widowed, having bore a son, jon lanny. jeyne is a lady of the court and spends her days around queen alicent, in hopes to place her son in a high position. maryia lannister was a bastard until recently, when they needed an alliance with the hightowers. legalized by her brother upon supposed papers of their father, maryia became a lannister and is meant to find herself a hightower to marry.
mutuals can like, reblog and comment!
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graycious-tea · 2 years
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Jegulus 20’s/burlesque au with Regulus as a performer (maybe the Blacks own the business idk) and as a “revenge” performance Reggie sings “back to black” by Amy Winehouse
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( Imani paces back and forth in the inn room she's in. Her Primarina, June, is out of his ball, watching his trainer pace around with a concerned look. )
( Today was tiring. Between having to explain herself in front of her friends,to learning more about Hauyne, then learning even more about Hauyne from Melia and Aelita. Suffice to say, she feels like a jerk after what she said earlier. For saying she was angry. Though, the more she thought about it, the more she felt like she had a right to be. Still, Melia and Aelita stating how Hauyne shrewd her own story to make her seem like a villain was eye opening. She frowned at the idea of viewing oneself as that. It's....kinda miss how much people care for you, doesn't it? Despite the countless mistakes people still care and want to be around you..maybe that's hypothetical, coming from her, but Arrow-)
' Arrow! What would Arrow do?'
( Imani thinks long and hard about this, going through the memories that she had with Arrow up to know. One finally comes to mind. The memory was right after the School of Nightmares, Imani locked herself into her room. It was immature, she knows, but she needed to be alone. And yet, when Arrow asked to come in, she let him)
' You're just a kid, you know,' they said that day, ' You have the whole world on your shoulders.'
( Imani looks at them quizzically, prompting Arrow to continue)
' There's people who care about you, and are more than glad to help you carry the burden. I'm more than willing. Please don't forget that,'
( Imani still frowns, looking off to the side)
' But....but all of this started because of my own existence. Maybe things would be better off if I -'
'Shut up'
'Huh?!'
( Imani looks to see Arrow with a genuine frown, their eyebrows furrowed. Were they- angry?!)
' There are people who care about you tremendously. People who you made their lives so much better. Do you really think we would be better off without you, Imani?'
' I-'
' We love you, Imani. Flaws and all. Never forget that'
( The memory fades, and Imani's heart is a brazen. She looks at her starter with great determination.)
" I know what to do now. But I don't know how,"
( She walks up to June, once again cupping his face)
" I think an apology would do it. Not about being angry, but being so quick to judge. And...hmmmm"
( Imani ponders a bit more. The banter between Hauyne and Kali. Specifically the one about her Alolan Ninetales.)
" You think Hauyne is up for a makeover during our downtime? She did mention her Ninetales enjoying fashion...."
( June's eyes light up and he barks happily. Imani grins ear to ear)
" Yeah! I knew you'd get it. So that's the plan for tomorrow! During our downtime we give Hauyne the best makeover ever!"
( June barks again and Imani never felt better. She returned him to his ball, and said her good nights to everyone. That night, she wouldn't wipe the smile off her face if she tried. )
[ooc: resend via ask! Also Imani makeover......2!!!!!]
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(Tonight was another one of those nights for Hauyne.)
(Not wanting to spend the rest of the hours tossing and turning, Hauyne quietly snuck out into the Zorrialyn Coast. As she didn’t want to wake anyone, she left her Pokemon in her room - including her first partner, Kali. God knows she needs her rest; a Mythical she may be, but she isn’t immune to the call of slumber like Hauyne is. Thus, she left the Zeraora to her rest.)
‘Nice weather tonight,’ she mused idly, feeling the sea breeze caressing her face. ‘The skies are clear, the moon is full, and not a trace of light pollution to be seen. The best time to stargaze...’
(She directed her gaze heavenward, allowing herself bask in the rhythmic crashes of the waves against the shore. Even when she’s worlds away, the sounds of the sea never failed to soothe her spirit. It’s only a pity that she could never know the joys of swimming ever again... even the mere thought of going for a dip sent lances of phantom pains searing through her chest.)
(She quashed down the memory of her nearly drowning, in the very beginning on her journey...)
(From deep within her very being, she felt the stirrings of a familiar song emerging. She didn’t fight it, instead letting it flow freely, allowing a poignant sorrow to bleed into her usually dispassionate voice.)
“For whom weeps the storm? Her tears on our skin~ The days of our years gone, Our souls soaked in sin~”
(Her eyes fluttered shut, allowing herself to be enveloped in the song. The rest of lyrics had faded away into the tranquil darkness, yet it mattered not; she was more than familiar with the song to know the exact words that had spilled from her lips. Before long, the final verse had been sung, and Hauyne moved on to a different song. As she sung, the weight pressing against her heart lessened and lessened, and eventually it lifted just enough to feel as if she could finally breathe freely...)
(Eventually, the final song came to a close, giving way to serene silence. Feeling much better than she had before, Hauyne opened her eyes once more. In the lonely coast illuminated only by the glow of the moon, it looked as if her brilliant blue eyes were shining with a preternatural light. Though it could be merely them reflecting the moonlight.)
(Well, anyhow, she felt calm enough to return to her room. Still, there’s one more thing she wanted to do before leaving...)
(A strange yet familiar energy pooled within her chest, building and growing until it felt as if it was going to burst at any moment. Then, she released it, unleashing it all in the form of a thunderous roar. One so powerful, she could practically feel the air ripple violently under its sheer volume and might. It echoed satisfyingly, gradually fading away towards the horizon.)
‘Here’s hoping no one figures this out,’ she snickered to herself at that thought. ‘Or maybe they did, but they’re too nice to point it out.’
(It didn’t matter, anyway. She had vented out everything that she had kept bottled up, and she honestly couldn’t care less if people knew that she was the source of the rumoured “dragon’s roar”. It was, quite honestly, rather cathartic. She could see why dragon Pokemon had loved to roar so much.)
(Dusting off the sand off her clothes, Hauyne spared the night horizon one last glance, before making her way back to Sashila Village.)
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Let me enjoy this moment.
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b0chelly · 2 months
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Here are some mule sounds here and here and here for what Bo’s brays sound like c: . Sometimes it’s more donkey but once I heard what mules sound like I think that makes a little more sense.
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deadsetobsessions · 2 months
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Hera stood, waiting for her turn at last. The Queen of the Greek Pantheon traced the lines of neon green, its light reflecting against her true form in a soothing way. She’s no stranger to patience, to waiting. But there were little of those that had the gall to make her wait, and even smaller of that number that she would tolerate such behavior. Regardless, this was the one being she could not afford to offend and so, she waits. Her many forms, her divine self, perceived the room and compared it to her own halls of residence.
Olympus was much more intricate, carved of noble marble and inlaid with countless of priceless metals and gems and divinity. Twelve seats of power atop an engineering wonder, halls adorned with the brightest of the original flames, an hearth that was roaring at Hesta’s skillful hands.
In comparison, this throne room had been changed much since she was last here. Gone were the spikes of terror and screams of the damned. Now… it looked like the most bare throne room she’d ever bore witness to.
And yet, as she waited for the Boy King, Hera could feel the subtle thrum of impossible power. The new king did not flare his will and might like the previous tyrant, and for that, Hera approved. She has had quite enough of living with and under tyrants who cared only for themselves… and their bed achievements whilst failing spectacularly in their marital roles. Zeus was not a good life partner and Hera regretted ever saying yes to him many times in her immortal life. And yet… she loved him still.
The doors opened, and a small figure floated in, flanked by the previous King’s Knight. Perhaps that is what makes this Boy King so dangerous, Hera thought as she dipped into a bow, because he can turn the loyalest to his side.
“Your Majesty,” she greeted, in ghost speak.
“Heya, Hera!” The Boy King greeted her back, before waving the Knight away. Hera marveled, a bit, at the sheer confidence he had to dismiss his knight in her presence. Even the last king kept the knights around to ensure his power was always in display, always unchallengeable. The Boy King could destroy her with a snap of a finger and he knows it. He knows that she knows it.
“What did you need?” The Boy King asked, grin still on place as he floated to her instead of seating himself on his throne. Hera masked the bit of confusion she felt in pursuit of her goal.
“I have come here to ask of you a favor,” she began. “I am aware that… you are fond of this, the earth in which I reside in?”
Hera carefully picked her word. Everybody knows that the new King Phantom had laid claim to not only the Infinite Realms as is normal of his station, but an entire Earth as his haunt. He had the power to do so, she could finally see, now that she was standing before him. It would not do for Hera to get her strings cut because she claimed what is his.
“Sure. Why?” The Boy King tilted his head, narrowing that predator green upon her true form.
“Do you know of the Justice League, my lord?”
“Phantom’s fine,” he waved a hand. “And yeah, sure do! Why?”
Hera tilted her many forms in acknowledgement of the command. She bowed.
“My daughter, of a sort, is Diana Prince. Wonder Woman. She is… in grave danger. We can not exert our influence over a land that does not have our history. I can not interfere and aid her.”
“Oh, you want me to help her?” His tone was exasperated, and Hera spoke even more carefully in fear of offending him.
“Yes, if it pleases you. And it would be most gracious of you should Your Majesty have time to watch over her. I fear the danger will not leave her so quickly.”
There was a brief period of silence before King Phantom sighed. “And if it does not please me to do so?”
Hera looked up and locked gazes with evaluating green. “Then I am afraid I will be breaking a fair bit of cosmic law, King Phantom.”
He laughed. “Okay, yeah, I’ll check up on Wonder Woman.”
Hera blinked her many eyes, peacock feathers spreading in shock at how easily he allowed her favors. She did not even have to beg.
King Phantom turned to leave before pausing. “Hera, if you need help, just ask. Preferably without beating around the bushes next time. Also, Pandora misses you. You might want to hang around for tea later.”
Hera regarded him with the might of her divinity, which was but hardly a spec of his own kindness. The last one had not had her respect. Fear, yes. But never respect But this one…
“Yes, my King.”
“It’s just Phantom.” He shot back as he left, the Knight returning to his side once more.
Hera transformed into a more mortal form. She had not seen Pandora in a long time, the young woman had made quite an impression on her. Perhaps her old friend could be convinced in helping her punch Zeus and ruin her beloved husband’s day. Hera hummed, the green that used to flicker acidly against her divine form now only soothed. A reflection of its owner.
King Phantom is worthy of her regard.
——
Holy shit, a goddess asked him to check on the Justice League! She was super weird about it and talked in a really old way of speaking, but Danny hadn’t had anything to do for the past few days while entering the zone for his annual check up.
Danny waved away Fright Knight and dived into the portal that would take him directly to the Justice League and Diana!
He floated down from the portal, blinking at group of disheveled and injured superheroes surrounded by a group of demons. Belial?
“King Phantom.” Belial rumbled. Danny waved, not noticing the standstill his presence forced.
“Shite.” The British man cursed, drawing on his magic once more.
“King Phantom?” Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, said quizzically.
“Who?” Batman, Batman! That’s actually Batman, rumbled.
“High King of the Infinite Realms. We’re buggered if he decides to help Belial.”
“Wait, like the god of gods, that King Phantom?” Captain Marvel asked. Ancients, why are all of them electrical based? Danny hates electricity.
Danny floated closer to them, grinning in a friendly way before frowning as they tensed up.
“King Phantom. May I ask why you have graced us with your presence, my King?”
“Hey, Wonder Woman! Your mom asked me to babysit you!” He grinned, sharp and mischievous.
“What…?” The Flash asked, zipping to their side. “Her mom? Queen Hippolyta?”
“No, Hera,” Danny said, and watched Wonder Woman straighten at his words.
“The Goddess Hera.”
“Yep!” Danny rocked back on his suddenly formed legs instead of the whisp of a tail he usually kept in the Zone. He was also still floating. Danny sent a wave of ice and froze the rest of the demons in one fell swoop.
“The rest of you can take care of clean up, yes? Diana has to get some snacks, dinner, and then go to bed.” He pushed gently at Diana’s shoulders, nudging her towards the plane. She went willingly, respectful but amused.
——
Bruce, intellectually knowing that’s a king but only seeing a superhero teenager: *fills out mental adoption paperwork*
——
Hera, a goddess, terrified of misspeaking and dying as a result: he’s so strong even though he’s young omg powerful and could end my immortal existence
Danny, an unserious king: golly gee why is she speaking like a Shakespeare novel
——
Hera, thinking Danny’s gonna be dignified: pls watch over my daughter
Danny, who has a clone he sees as a daughter and therefore has no issues babysitting a grown woman: lol snacks, dinner, bedtime
Diana:… usually I’m on the other spectrum of this but it’s from a higher up so… okay?
——
Danny, terrifying gods and ancients: they’re my friends! The power of friendship!
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comfortless · 9 days
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I already sent you an ask today so hiiii
(Alright so now I hopefully have your attention, imagine: ancient settling, mercenary könig is made prisoner and enslaved and reader, a cute noble girl, buys him to ☆have fun☆. He doesn't mind at all.)
Have a good day!
anon whoever you are… every message that you have sent has been like you putting a clawing animal in my brain. all of these concepts are so good. sorry it took me a bit to get around to this one. <:•)
captured mercenary! König x noblewoman! reader
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. medieval au (so: gender role nonsense), slightly mean slightly pathetic König, very brief mentions of violence/beheading, masturbation.
“That one.”
You hear yourself speak without thought. Your voice is shy, almost. It’s unbecoming of your station to seem so meek… even as you eye the men lined up before you like cattle prepped for slaughter.
Prisoners, they were. All apart from the one you had chosen would be little more than toys for the executioner after what they’ve done: to think that such a little band of mercenaries would even be planning for a siege… ridiculous. Most of the men have already had their hair cut cleanly away from their necks in preparation for the blade that would be slicing past each vertebrae and layer of muscle to chop away their heads.
This one is saved only because he’s been stripped of his armors, and though his face is rather rugged… there’s strength beneath his skin and such a deep misery in his eyes it sets your chest ablaze with pity. He could be useful, a willing servant if you could only save him from what terrible thing haunts him.
Maybe it’s the old wounds that flare his skin with the raised flesh of scar tissue, perhaps it’s the harelip or the wild thing set between his thighs where he’s forced to kneel. It catches your eye, that last one…
The prisoner’s jaw sets when your finger does point his way, blue eyes narrow just a fraction as realization settles in the pit of his stomach. No freedom to be garnered here, no love, nothing but that blade he had intended to use against you sworn to you instead. If the giant spit at your feet then, it would be expected, welcomed almost with the way your chest roars with sympathy.
He only stares.
You pay off his captors with a few silver coins and watch as they lead him bound to your side. His arms are tied too tightly before him, muscles slack with exertion after trying to fight the ropes for what must have been hours. Whether he sees you as savior or something revolting remains unknown. He doesn’t speak, not even as a servant leads him into the back of your carriage and you step inside after him, holding up the middle of your gown as to not sully it with the dirt and old blood splattered over the stones layered for street.
When the horses begin to move you give the man a proper once over, hiding your smile beneath a handkerchief, free hand curled into the lap of your skirts. He’s not just tall and broad, but incredibly well endowed. Not just sad and downtrodden, but pissed, though the only tell remains his shaking fists. His gaze never meets yours for longer than a moment before it settles back to gaze at the passing tall grass and sheep prancing about the fields, but each time that it does… there is no denying the mixture of confusion, maybe even attraction upon his face.
Your home was something this giant had never had a taste of prior to you: a castle atop a hill, charming and stone with its high ramparts and blunt roof. You didn’t need his confirmation in words, though you do ask and get nothing in turn.
The carriage pulls you right through the gate and it is almost cute the way that this man’s eyes seem to wander as he takes it all in. There are other servants tending to the sheep and horses, the smell of fire and the chiming of blade meeting blade ringing out as men spar, there are cats to keep away pests and modest but cozy homes, a tavern, an inn all beyond the wall. A small city of your own: all for the perfect little noblewoman that you were.
The only thing that you lacked was the trained sword of a man to ensure your safety, and now you had that, too.
You explain to him his place here, the role that he would take for the price you paid as you both disembark from the wooden carriage. He would be fitted for armor donning your family’s crest come the morning, whipped into obedience should he dare raise a hand toward any one here. You even think to warn him of the executioner’s sloppy work, how he may even live with his head chopped only halfway off should you request it…. some horror you had heard one of the travelers speak of.
As the weeks pass, König does begin to settle immensely. His speech is disjointed and parsed, his mother tongue muddled with your own language in a way that is cute… terribly, horribly cute.
He’s intelligent and strong: spends much of his time out amongst the lower men aiding with the animals and teaching them the deft way he swings his blade. It is an art form in its own right, the way that he paints the air with swift strokes… For a woman to fawn over a man’s swordplay was absurd, but it was impossible not to enjoy when he taunts and jabs the way that he does.
He rarely wears that armor the blacksmith crafted for him, both a flattery and an insult. You don’t mind watching him best smaller men in solely his trousers, pressing their faces into the muck while he barks his insults to them in words they can not understand. To you, now, when he flashes the most beastly of grins in your direction and utters the words, “Verpiss dich.”
You aren’t even certain why you stand there rather than hissing out orders to have him taken away. Your stupid corset feels too tight, gown too small, and your chest aches. There's not been a thing you could do to have this man do more than simply tolerate you. He sleeps within his own room in the castle, eats his fill and then some, you talk to him and layer your words with praise. He has not once been punished for anything. Not even now.
“Come here,” you demand without thought, walking down the staircase to cross the yard with your hands balled into delicate fists at your sides.
Your giant only looks confused for a moment as he clambers off of the man he’s just wrestled to the earth and rights himself. His eyebrows raise, his nostrils flare… and then he laughs. At you like you’re the most puny of rabbits, hardly a threat. Your betters would have laughed too at just how fragile you sound, on the cusp of tears over what? Some ridiculous little crush on a captive soldier??
He eventually does as you ask, stomping over to stand before you- not kneel, he never knelt. If his height and stature were meant to intimidate… your god would have to forgive the thoughts that muddle your head then, like filthy water as you drink him in.
“Was…?”
So you explain to him as best you can just how insolent he’s being, how horribly he repays your kindness, how he would be dead on some shrouded mountain pass or have his body tossed into the river if not for you. You explain your heart out when tears come to your eyes and spring forth as your chittering continues, and you don’t even know if the moron can understand; he only stands there with the wildest grin on his face when he sees you beginning to sniffle and sob.
“Was?,” he demands again, blunt even as he takes your face into one of his large hands, turns your head to brush a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Why are you crying?”
“You need to learn your place!” And you know you’re being a hypocrite, that a proper lady should never allow a man to touch her like this, look at her the way that König does. You should call for a servant to have him dragged through the yard and whipped… or worse, but your voice only comes in a crestfallen whisper.
He shrugs those massive shoulders, rolls his neck and huffs a breath as he gazes down at you before his hand falls to his side and he merely walks away. That’s it.
Though you had the hopes that your warning had been taken seriously, the days following seem even worse.
König abandons his duties and takes up the most horrendous idea of courtship that he can muster. If courtship is even what it could be considered. It is more like a direct taunt, a jab now that he’s been made perfectly aware just how fragile the maiden he was sold to guard is.
He takes liberties once you’ve bedded down each night, your dresses stripped away to be replaced with a plain linen gown with nothing beneath: your only protection in the form of the wooden door between you two because König is no protector.
It always starts with the sound of spitting into his palm, then a drawn out sigh that rises to a near-animalistic groan. Sometimes he speaks, other times the soft, wet sounds rise in tempo until all that comes from his mouth are sharp hisses and whines.
This night proves to be the worst.
The wood creaks under his weight as he leans back against the door, stroking himself to the thought of you behind it. He makes it apparent when he breathes your name, low and shaky as you squeeze your eyes closed and pretend to not hear the words that follow.
“Scheiße… bet you’re tight,” he hisses between his depraved whimpers, the slick sounds increasing even as he rights himself to stand proper. You can almost hear the way he salivates, can almost imagine the way his jaw must fall slack and his eyes go dazed as he pleasures himself… you squeeze your thighs shut.
“Ja… you want it too, huh…” The bastard is most assuredly imagining you, knelt before him with the most helpless, reverent gaze as you plead for him. It should make you ill, yet it only stokes a fire in your belly, one that bridges between rage and need. “Ich will dich ficken…”
Your breath comes to a halt when your hand drifts beneath your thin gown, forcing yourself to listen as he brings himself to ruin in the halls as your finger presses to the spot that demands attention most of all. A fragile, shaking circle before your breath already begins to catch.
“Bitte…”
The brute sounds so helpless now, no longer the horrid thing that ordered you to “piss off” or scowled in your direction. He doesn’t know a thing about love… about how one should yearn for a maiden, only of spilling blood and seed. It’s only in the quiet of the night when the rest of the castle sleeps does he allow himself to be even this vulnerable… only his vulnerability seems even more terrifying.
His groans morph into pitiful sighs as he no doubt slows his motions, drawing out an impending orgasm in the hope that you will crawl to your door to let him in and fuck you rough on your bed.
“Just let me…”
Your thighs tremble as you weep between them in longing. The sooner it’s over the sooner you can close your eyes and drift back to sleep, no longer needing him the way he seems to need you now.
Your motions grow more heady, the patterns traced quicker and more deliberate as the heat rushes down further like the most vast wave of pure fire… When you tense, when your lips part to allow a low murmur of pleasure to slip from them, you’re met with laughter from the other side of the door.
“Ja… my lady… you do want it,” he hums as you draw your covers up and over your head in shame. You hadn’t been that loud, surely… but the way that he follows after, coming undone himself with a loud grunt as though it were some ridiculous competition…
“Let me fuck you next time,” he rasps, panting soft as he leans back. Depraved as he was, you were certain he was probably admiring the pearly paint he left along the stones. “That is my place, hm?”
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luminnara · 15 days
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Unheavenly Creatures Part Two | Feyd-Rautha x reader (NSFW)
PART ONE
Summary: in the wake of an arena victory on his name day, Feyd rautha blows off some steam with his darlings.
MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
Read this fic on AO3 under the same account name, luminnara!
Warnings: group sex/foursome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mentions of cannibalism, canon typical violence, it’s Feyd-Rautha it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, bloodplay, biting, marking, possessiveness, the whole shebang
Word count: 4.6k
Note: I have been desperately trying to find any info I can on the harpies, and I have not managed much 🥲 so pls enjoy my headcanons and made up names ily bye
Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty @belovedbastardremus @the-dark-dreamer25
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It was a day of celebration, and the entire palace—no, city—was abuzz. Inside, a feast was nearly finished, a kitchen full of cooks working day and night for a week to prepare the na-Baron’s favorite dishes. Outside, beneath a black sun, the citizens of Giedi Prime sat cheering in the arena, drinking in the sight of their beloved Feyd-Rautha as he gutted the last of the Atreides warriors. Even as you made your way back to the palace, the roar of the crowd was deafening, their penchant for bloodshed seemingly increased tenfold on this special day.
“Come,” one of the women next to you said, her voice a high, breathy hiss.
“Feyd will want us,” the other smiled, her black teeth contrasting dramatically against her near-white skin.
Feyd-Rautha’s darlings had been quick to accept you as one of them. You suspected it was partly because they didn’t dare question him, though you had seen occasional instances of what could be considered mild defiance from them in your short time on Giedi Prime. They, and you, were permitted to act out on occasion, though none of you were foolish enough to do so in a way that would cast an ill light on your beloved na-Baron. And he was your beloved—with each passing day, you grew more and more comfortable with the Harkonnen heir, and more and more certain that he adored you.
“We will feast on Atreides tonight,” Issa sighed.
“Feyd will reward us,” Yarina said, looking down at you with a grin.
You returned it.
As the three of you walked down the hall, moving as a single, predatory unit, Harkonnen and guests alike were quick to move out of the way. You heard the whispers, caught the curious, sometimes shocked stares as you passed. Feyd’s darlings were rarely seen wandering, and as such, even members of the Harkonnen nobility found themselves stunned by the sighting.
You kept pace with the others as you walked, mindful of the carefully curated air they liked to keep about them. They were both exquisite examples of Harkonnen beauty, equally as dangerous as they were lovely, and though you still did not know much about who they had been before Feyd chose them as concubines, you enjoyed their company. It was a good thing, too; now, you spent nearly every moment with them, and when you weren’t with them, it was because you were alone with Feyd-Rautha.
Some nights, he called you to his bed, having his way with you, whispering things in your ear that he would never say during the daylight hours. Things he reserved only for you. At night, Feyd-Rautha could be almost kind, and you came to suspect that he loved his darlings, in his own way; otherwise, why would you all be allowed to touch him, to pleasure him, to feast with him?
You had never expected that you might become a concubine for the heir of one of the Houses. As a child, you had often dreamt of becoming a princess and being swept away through the stars to wed your handsome prince. But you were no noble; your parents bore no titles, and the closest you were ever meant to come to greatness was when you served your former masters. Was it luck that had brought you where you were today, freely roaming the Harkonnen palace while you awaited your beloved Feyd-Rautha? Or had fate played a trick on you, giving you close to what you had always wanted while still refusing you any title or noble birth? Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps you would enjoy your life as a concubine far more than you would if you had been a lady of the court.
Perhaps the universe had known you would one day commit violent acts, and planned a fitting role for you. If you hadn’t killed your father all those years ago, would you even be on Giedi Prime now? Would Feyd-Rautha had cared at all about the handmaiden who had wandered too far? Perhaps he would have killed you, seeing you as expendable. He would have slit your throat, and his uncle the Baron would have pretended he cared enough to apologize to the Lord and Lady you had served. They would have gotten someone new, and you would have been easily and quickly disposed of.
Perhaps Feyd would have fed you to his darlings.
How strange the wheel of fate was.
“What are you thinking about?” Issa asked you, tilting her head as she looked at you curiously. Her voice was always breathy and alien, a dreamlike quality within it. It matched her appearance and yet it didn’t, making her seem even less human than her black teeth and eyes did.
“Yes, you seem so far away,” Yarina agreed, her accent more akin to the na-Baron’s than Issa’s. You had been on Giedi Prime long enough now to recognize differences in accent and dialect, and had begun trying your best to imitate Feyd’s in an attempt to better fit in. You had no idea if it was working or not, but no one had commented on it yet, which you took to be a good sign.
“My House allied with House Harkonnen,” you said as the three of you neared Feyd-Rautha’s chambers.
“Your former House,” Issa corrected, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. “You are Harkonnen now.”
“I do not look Harkonnen.”
“You do.” Yarina pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
This was normal with them, you had come to learn; they touched casually and constantly, always in contact with each other and now you by default.
“There is no doubt my former Mistress, or at least her husband, is visiting for the celebration.” You said.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will kill them for you,” Yarina offered.
“Perhaps our lovely Feyd-Rautha will allow us to kill them,” Issa grinned.
You did not know if you wanted that to happen.
You followed them through the door and into Feyd’s living quarters, settling on the large bed while you waited for him. You could imagine him stalking through the halls, bright red Atreides blood painting his chest and face as he hurried back to you. He would kill or maim anyone who stood in his way or tried to slow him down. He was always wild after a fight in the arena, and he always came to you hot and hard and ravenous.
You hoped today would be no exception.
“He must hurry,” Issa pouted as she lounged next to you. “I’m growing hungry.”
“He will come,” Yarina sighed. “He would never let us starve.”
You weren’t sure if they were talking about sex, or food, or both, but you always marveled at the way they spoke of Feyd. They knew how dangerous and callous he could be, but to the harpies, that was normal. If he was a lion, then they were the lionesses; just as cunning, just as regal, just as hungry. Whenever you walked alongside them, you learned more of how to be like them. You learned how to keep your head held high in a room of Harkonnen men, confident that none but Feyd-Rautha would dare to touch you lest they lose a limb or their life. You learned how to stomach the violence that the na-Baron enacted so frequently, and even how to anticipate it eagerly. You had changed in your time on Giedi Prime, and you were becoming more and more like your fellow concubines by the minute.
When you finally heard heavy, determined footfalls outside, you perked up. The door opened not a moment later, revealing a bloodied Feyd-Rautha, his chest heaving and his gaze dark as he crossed the room, eyes glued to you. There was no time to be scared before he was upon you, cupping your face in both hands as he kissed you hungrily, greedily, sharply biting at your lip. You gasped involuntarily and he was quick to force his tongue past your teeth, exploring your mouth while a hand moved to squeeze at your breast.
You felt a soft hand press against the back of your neck as one of the other harpies held you, her body supporting you as Feyd-Rautha pushed you down. The other moved onto her knees, undressing him quickly before leaning in to lick blood off the side of his face.
He moved to catch her lips in his and you gasped for air, heart racing as hands pulled at your dress. Craning your neck, you saw that Issa was behind you, her hands now massaging your breasts as she leaned over you.
Feyd easily threw Yarina down next to you, the bed rocking slightly. He paused, panting as he stood and looked down at his three darlings, all still clothed while he was bare. His full lips curled into a smirk, eyes raking over your bodies as he crawled over you once more.
“This must go,” he said simply, taking a fistful of your dress and pulling.
One of the others sucked in an excited breath, quickly taking the torn scraps and tossing them to the floor.
Feyd-Rautha dove for your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses against the soft flesh as his strong arms caged you in. Someone’s hand slipped between your thighs and you opened your legs obediently, feeling slender fingers stroking you as you were prepared to take the na-Baron.
It wasn’t the first time you had all been together like this. After you had settled in and grown more comfortable with the others, Feyd had permitted them to watch as he bedded you. They had both been fascinated by the small amount of body hair Feyd chose to let you keep, and you had been fascinated by the way no one, not even Feyd-Rautha, had touched you intimately without permission, or at least without being expressly told not to.
This wasn’t the first time you had felt those fingers inside you. When the three of you were alone, the others taught you how to please Feyd-Rautha. They had perfected it to a science, and it reminded you of some of the rumored Bene Gesserit teachings you had heard of; secretive, calculated, confident. Always in control, even when it seemed that they were not. You had been surprised to learn that the na-Baron was vulnerable in front of his concubines, shocked, even, by what you had seen when he took them to bed; for he was not always demanding and petulant, but also subservient. The others knew how to give him what he truly wanted and needed, and that was sometimes the permission to be a different man while behind closed doors.
Today, though, that was not what he wanted nor needed. Today was a day for chaos, for Bacchanalia. Today, Feyd-Rautha’s feral energy was driving him into a frenzy, teeth sinking into whatever he could find as he marked you with his bites over and over.
“Yes,” you gasped as fingers pushed deeper into you. “Oh, yes…”
Feyd tore himself away from your neck to devour another’s lips, his hips grinding against yours as a pair of hands wrapped themselves around his cock and began stroking. The bed was a tangle of limbs and the air was heavy with breathy moans, no one quite sure of where anyone ended and anyone else began.
When you felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, you moaned, and it came out almost choked. There, surrounded by so many bodies, you felt hot and slick all over, already sweating before the real work had even begun. Your voice was thick in your throat as you begged for him, pleading with him to please fuck you, please use you…and he obliged, because you were saying exactly the right things to make him drunk with lust.
“Feyd,” you whispered, hands searching for him.
“M’darling,” he groaned as he pressed his face into Issa’s neck, the sound guttural and primal.
“Please,” you whimpered as Yarina ran her hands over your front. Your thighs tensed in an attempt to soothe the needy ache between them, but Feyd-Rautha was in the way, like a solid tower of muscle and flesh that refused to give. “Feyd please!”
He was faring no better than you. His cock ached and wept as it slid over your lips, now wet with your own arousal and throbbing with need as blood pooled in your groin. With each teasing thrust of his hips you grew more desperate, breaths coming in whiny pants as you huffed and begged, chest heaving as your back arched up off of the bed.
As Feyd-Rautha allowed himself to be guided into you, he groaned that deep, heady groan, the one that always had you melting and turning to putty in his hands. You gasped at the feeling of his cock sinking deeper and deeper, slowly, until his skin brushed yours and you swore you could feel him in your womb.
When his hips rocked back you let out a strangled moan, and when he pushed into you once more you made a noise that would be considered filthy back on your home planet. Feyd-Rautha had a tendency to bring those noises out of you, and fill your head with thoughts that some would be disgusted by. As he fucked into you with ever-increasing brutality, though, he reminded you why you were so happy living with him now. Looking up into his dark eyes that watched you while his lips brushed over another woman’s shoulder as she held him, you felt nothing but lust and glee and adoration. Sharing him was easy when you were part of a set like this, and when you were all together as one moving, breathing creature.
His gaze was intense. You knew he loved watching you as he pleasured himself with you. Sex was like war for him, each bedding a conquest, each fuck a battle. You were never his enemy, though; you were his prey.
And you enjoyed being caught.
“Feyd,” the harpy behind you called in her hissing voice.
He tore his lips from Yarina’s flesh, leaning over you as his hips continued thrusting, meeting Issa above you. He attacked her hungrily, hands gripping her roughly as his speed movements grew more erratic. You knew he was becoming more and more frenzied by the sighs and moans, his kisses turning to bites. You watched, enraptured, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, a bead of dark blood running down her breasts and dripping onto your cheek.
Yarina made an excited sound and dove around Feyd-Rautha, intent on licking it up. Before she could, he released Issa, shoving her aside as he snarled at Yarina, hands coming down on other side of your head as he caged you in once more.
She hissed at him, jealous and hungry, moving instead to suck at the wound the blood had oozed from. The na-Baron huffed a ragged laugh, baring his black and bloody teeth as he grinned at them, then down at you.
“You will have your turn,” he said to them while looking at you. “You will never go hungry.”
You knew he was speaking of both literal and sexual appetites, and that he meant it; there was plenty of blood and plenty of him to go around, and he was incredibly good at balancing his attentions between all three of you. Though his concubines were meant to serve him, at times it seemed as though that was achieved by him serving you—ensuring that all of you were happy, proving that you were well cared for in all ways. When his darlings were happy, Feyd-Rautha was happy. You could almost call it love.
His love was harsh, though; as he gazed down at you, you felt as if you were the only one in the universe, drawn in to those dark eyes, and you obediently turned your head and bared your throat to him. He relished the sight, and the willingness, and the vulnerability. He could kill you so easily like this, with his cock buried inside you and his teeth in your flesh. A part of him longed to spill your blood everywhere; you knew because he had said so before.
But he wouldn’t kill you.
You were his.
And he was shockingly gentle with his things, reverent when it came to their care. His knives, lovingly and proudly displayed on the wall, another hidden in the bed in case of emergency, were always sharpened. His favorites were sharpened by him, because he trusted no one else with them, much they same as how he trusted no one else with you.
As his teeth sank into you, he moaned, relishing the feeling of having you there in his jaws. He could crush you if he really tried, if not with his teeth then with his hands. But as he held you close and swept his tongue over the sore mark he had left, you knew he never would. You were safe with him, as odd as that felt.
“You are so beautiful like this,” he breathed as you gazed up at him.
“You are as well,” you replied, smiling at the admission.
He kissed you, deeply and seriously, not a hint of those teeth. It was pure, in a way, just like his care for you was; not pure in the innocent sense, nor the good sense, but pure in that it was simple and primal. It wasn’t evil. It wasn’t overtly just. It simply was.
Then, he nipped at your lower lip, sharply enough to draw blood, and he sucked at it greedily. You felt a tingle in your core, something uncoiling within you. When you brought your legs up and hooked your heels around him, he pushed into you even further, as if he wanted to force himself inside your very skin. When he dropped his head next to yours, you knew he was close—and when he bit into you again, you shrieked, and you knew you were close as well.
“Fuck,” he growled against you. “Move.”
You immediately unlatched your ankles and he pulled out, painting your front in his seed. Marking you as his once more.
He tilted his head as he looked at you. You writhed beneath him, hips bucking as you searched for him, so close to your own end and yet now feeling devoid and empty.
“Shh, pet,” he cooed, reaching between your legs. “I will care for you.”
You were nearly in tears as you watched him, far beyond the ability to speak coherently as he toyed with your swollen clit. His mouth moved to your inner thigh and he bit, drawing blood, leaving a trail of marks. The sounds that left your throat were desperate and wanton, echoing off the high ceiling of his chambers as Feyd-Rautha made quick work of you. Your pleasure was agony and beauty, and as he dragged you down over the edge, your voice felt hoarse from your cries and moans.
Anyone passing by in the corridor would hear.
You did not care.
You would never be ashamed of the sounds you made when Feyd-Rautha pleasured you, and as he bent down to swipe his tongue over you and lap at your wetness, you felt a smug sense of achievement. There was the na-Baron, on his knees, tending to his low-birth, off-planet concubine.
He pressed a kiss to the deepest bite mark. “Exquisite.”
Then, you were gently moved aside, and he began anew with one of the others. Though he was selfish, your pleasure was his, and he worked through the three of you however he pleased, always ensuring you were sated. You watched in fascination as he made them writhe, and when he allowed his own skin to be broken, you sucked at the wound, tasting the strange Harkonnen blood on your tongue and appreciating the fact that you were probably the only person from your home planet to have ever been given the chance.
How strange, the things you appreciated now.
-0-
“Something troubles you tonight,” a rough voice commented.
You turned your head to look at its owner. “Why do you say that?”
“You aren’t in bed with the others.” Feyd-Rautha approached you, coming to stand behind you.
He was right; you had initially found sleep to come easily after a long day of celebrations and feasting, your aching body in desperate need of rest. But after some time you had awoken, and it was impossible to close your eyes again. So you had dressed yourself in a black robe and slipped away, escaping to the balcony window down the corridor.
“My apologies,” you mumbled, looking down at the railing.
His chest brushed your back as his hands gripped your elbows. “You shouldn’t be out alone.”
“I know, but—“
“I was worried.”
His admission made you pause. When you glanced up at him, you saw that he was serious, jaw tense as he looked down at you.
“You were?” You asked, staring at him with wide, black eyes.
“I was.” His voice was stern. “It is not safe.”
“I’ve wandered these halls before,” you said, a hint of amusement in your tone. “Even before I joined you.”
“You were a guest.” He said. “I was your greatest threat then.”
“I wasn’t afraid of you.” You jutted your chin up towards him.
“I know,” he grinned. “When you told how best to spill your guts so as not to ruin the meat, I knew.” Then, he grew serious once more. “I also knew I must have you, and no one else would touch you.”
“No one here would dare.” You said haughtily. “They know better than to play us.”
“That is not what I worry about, my darling.” Feyd-Rautha placed his hands on the railing in front of you, leaning his chin on the top of your head as he looked out over Giedi Prime. “I am the heir to the Harkonnen throne.”
“You’re an important man,” you furrowed your brow. “What of it? Does that not guarantee me protection?”
“You are a target.”
“…na-Baron, I am a concubine, not a bride.” You scoffed. “There would be no reason for any political adversary to—“
“Feyd.” He growled.
“Wh-what?”
“Call. Me. Feyd.”
You gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Feyd.”
“Don’t…” he heaved a sigh, steadying himself. “Don’t apologize, darling.”
He was silent for a moment, and you weren’t sure whether to feel safe or uncomfortable.
“All of Giedi Prime knows how important my darlings are.” He continued. “You are safe when you are with me. But I cannot guarantee that safety when you are alone.”
Feyd-Rautha turned his head, leaning his cheek against you. It was an oddly intimate movement; in fact, the entire situation felt more akin to one that should take place with husband and wife, not murderous na-Baron and concubine.
“I am only a concubine,” you said again, voice small.
He barked a cruel laugh. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
You winced at the harsh sound. “It is the truth.”
“My darlings,” he began, his voice low, anger simmering just below its surface, “are much more to me than simple concubines.” He turned you in his arms, forcing you to lean back against the railing. “Surely you know this…or do you turn your nose up at me?”
You recognized the glint of anger in his eyes and felt panic rising. He couldn’t really think you hated him, could he? “Feyd, no…”
He gritted his teeth as he glared down at you. “The little off-world pet, too good for the likes of the barbarian prince…I know what the Great Houses say about me.”
His hands drifted down to grab at the thin fabric of your robe, grabbing it in bunches as he hiked it up. He paused for a moment and you realized he was listening, for your quickening breaths and heartbeat, and you watched as something in his eyes shifted.
“They call me psychotic.” He nosed at one of the bite marks on your neck. “What do you think, darling? Are they correct?”
“Y-yes, Feyd.” You stammered, both frightened and excited by the game you now realized he was playing.
He made a thoughtful noise as a hand slipped past your robe, fingers finding your swollen, used folds and plunging inside. “What else?”
“Th-they say you are bloodthirsty,” your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your clitoris.
“Am I?”
“Yes, Feyd,” you gasped at the addition of another finger.
A sick smile twisted itself onto his face. “What do they say about me on your home planet, darlin?”
“That you are v-violent,” you steadied yourself with a hand on his bare chest as your thighs trembled. “That you kill without second thought. That you are cruel and crave violence with every breath.”
Some of it you had made up; truly, you had never heard anyone on your planet speak in great length about the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. In fact, most people on most planets probably didn’t even know who he was. But for the sake of his ego, and for the hand between your thighs to continue its work, you exaggerated, and it worked. Despite a long day of fighting and fucking and enjoying spice, Feyd-Rautha was awake, attentive, and ravenous.
“And what does my darling think?” He asked, rubbing your clit as he twisted his fingers inside you.
“I-I think—!” You gasped, eyes wide at the sensation, wetness pooling around his hand, “Feyd—!”
“Answer me,” he purred, amused.
“I think that you are all that and more!” You blurted, tears pricking the edges of your modified eyes.
“Good pet,” he caught your lips in a kiss and focused his efforts on your clitoris, allowing and encouraging you to reach your peak on his hand.
And you did, of course you did. You always finished with Feyd, oftentimes before him. As your orgasm overtook you, he breathed you in, devouring you in his adoration.
As you came down, he leaned back, pulling his hand away and watching your flushed face as he licked the taste of you off of his fingers.
“Delicious,” he rumbled, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes.
Then, he placed his hands on your shaky hips and turned you, and before you had even caught your breath, his cock was inside you for the second time that day. He squeezed your breast as he fucked you, pressing kisses along your spine that seemed far too gentle for the na-Baron, and again, you marveled at the way he treated his darlings.
“Do you see now?” He panted in your ear. “Do you see your importance? Only my darlings do this to me.”
Only his darlings made him so feral and so tame at the same time, because while he bit and tore and raged with you, he refused to truly break his favorite things.
“And you take me so well,” he growled, spending himself inside of you with a grunt.
Feyd leaned against you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You felt comfortable there, within the safety of his body. Nothing could harm you when you were with him; you were one of his darlings, and now, you were certain that he adored you.
“Come,” he said, pulling himself out of you and straightening up.
“Bed?” You asked as he easily swept you into his arms, carrying you back to his chambers.
“A bath,” he decided. “Then bed, with the others.”
And you smiled as he held you, so secure against his chest. Feyd-Rautha was everything you had said and more—he was a lover, as well, in his own way.
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darksilvania · 9 months
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After finishing the Pokemon Type Challege I decided to add a third half lion pokemon to my Duo and make them a Trio.
CRYOSFINX [Cryo-Criosphinx] -Ice -The Frozen Horns Pokemon -Ability: Snow Cloack - Refrigerate(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the very top of Kroel mountains where snow never melts. Its horns and wings are always frozen at sub zero temperatures, getting touched by them can cause instantaneous frostbite..“     -Megahorn     -Ice Fang     -Avalanche     -Noble Roar
MANTIQUORTZ [Manticore-Quartz] -Rock -The Rocky Stinger Pokemon -Ability: Strong Jaw - Rock Head(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the lower rocky sides of the mountains, living inside the caves and tunnels. A powerful blow from is stinger can incapacitate any prey, but even at a distance it can shoot sharp shards from the tip, as strong and fast as a bullet.“     -Head Smash     -Crunch     -Rock Blast     -Stealth Rock
GAJASILICA [Gajasimha-Silicate] -Ground -The Sandy Tusk Pokemon -Ability: Sand Rush - Sand Force(HA) -Dex: “It inhabits the sandy dunes at the base of the mountain. It's body is always covered in sand, to the point where one cant tell where the sand ends and the pokemon begins. It has a gentle nature, but can become really violent when provoked. “     -Earth Power     -Scorching Sands     -Mud Bomb     -Sandstorm
This three pokemon are mortal enemies of each other, they keep themselves to their territories to avoid any conflict, but if they cross paths they will figh until only one remains standing.
While CRYOSFINX is based on the egyptian Criosphinx and MANTIQUORTZ is based on the persian Manticore, GJASILICA is based on the indian Gajasimha, a creature with the body of a lion and the head of an elephant
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nobledragonflying · 14 days
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happy stab a roman senator day
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barbiedragon · 2 months
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Lupus Draconis
HoTD: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Stark!reader
Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)
WC: 2 k 
For @targaryen-dynasty Sleepover Challenge using prompts: I love it when you scream my name and Why don’t we move this to the bed?
Warnings: WLW content, fingering, oral, brief mention of thigh riding, canon divergence 
A/N: Cregan doesn’t exist, Rickon had daughters instead and reader is Lady of Winterfell
At your behest, Rhaenyra makes the journey to Winterfell
*comments/reblogs are appreciated
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Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, had not been blessed with sons; instead, his wife brought forth two strong, healthy daughters into the word. When he swore fealty to Rhaenyra Targaryen after King Viserys had named her heir and summoned the lords of noble houses to the Red Keep, he did so with his own daughters in mind. His wife would not likely provide him with a son, so Winterfell would pass to his eldest daughter. So why not a Queen to rule and unite Westeros? He meant his words, for a Stark never breaks his oath. 
As the good King’s health failed and with your father long in the ground, you invited Princess Rhaenyra to Winterfell. You were taught it was wise to make moves and strengthen alliances before a problem arose. You had heard rumors of the Green plotting behind the princess’s back. You upheld your father's sworn oath and wished to remind Rhaenyra that House of Stark stood behind her claim. 
A fresh coat of glistening snow coated the ground when Princess Rhaenyra arrived on the back of her golden dragon, Syrax. You marveled at the size and beauty of the beast as your direwolf, Nightshade, loomed nearby. Direwolves, like the dragons, seemed on the edge of extinction as fewer and fewer were found. The ground shook when Syrax landed; the dragon emitted a rumbling roar that cut through the chilly air. You watched as the princess dismounted gracefully from her dragon before approaching you.
“Princess Rhaenyra, it is an honor to host you at Winterfell. I hope your journey was pleasant,” you smiled, the black fur around your shoulders keeping you warm.
“Apart from the cold,” she teased, her silver hair glinting in the pale sunlight.
“Come then, we shall get you warmed inside,” you hummed. You waved your gloved hand, indicating your stewards should see to the princess’s entourage.
Her steps matched yours, the sound echoing off the stone walls as you led her into the Great Hall, where a bright fire roared in the hearth. You had two glasses of strong red wine poured for you each to partake in. The Targaryen Princess took small sips, savoring the taste as she warmed by the fire. Her shivers were quite apparent. Most were not used to the temperature of the North, lest it was already in their blood.
“I was hoping to present this to you at your welcome feast this evening, though I believe you would benefit from your gift now,” you said, waving one of your ladies forward.
Rhaenyra turned to face you, raising an eyebrow as your lady presented her with a long fur coat made of pristine white fur. Her purple eyes widened as a smile crossed her face.
“Your lady, Elinda, was most helpful in providing your measurements for our seamstress,” you explained as Rhaenyra was helped into the white fur coat.
“Oh, it’s so soft and fits perfectly. Thank you, Lady Stark,” she preened, smoothing her hands over the fur.
“It is my pleasure. I will allow you to settle, and we shall have a grand celebration to welcome you this evening,” you smiled, nodding before leaving her.
“And how fares the princess? Is she as beautiful as they say?” your sister, Mara, bristled when you entered the solar.
You gave a soft chuckle.  “Indeed, she is. Valyrians are of a different stock. I’ve never seen such hair or eyes before, and her skin is unblemished as fresh snow,” you explained, slipping off your moleskin gloves before examining your calloused hands. You may have been born a lady, but your father made sure you were trained in the skills of man, including how to wield a sword and aim a bow.
You settled in a chair, closing your eyes as Mara prattled on. “Oh, I wish she had traveled with Prince Daemon. I hear he is quite handsome!”
“Mara, might you go check in on the kitchens? Ensure that our feast will be grand this evening,” you murmured, eager to have peace, and your sister was always keen to oversee a task.
“Oh, indeed I shall!” She gathered her skirts and flitted out of the solar.
Before the feast, your hair was braided around the top of your head, and you donned a gown made of gray velvet with white Myrish lace sleeves. A cloak of white fox fur draped down your back, dragging against the stone floor as you entered the Great Hall. Pies heaped with venison, gravy, and peas, large bowls of thick venison stew, crusty brown bread, hard cheeses, pears poached in strong wine, salads made of spinach and turnip greens, and plates of honeycakes decorated the tables. Roaring applause filled the room when Princess Rhaenyra entered, her silver hair flowing down her shoulders; she donned the white fur coat over her ruby red dress. You felt your breath catch in your throat as your cheeks turned hot.
She sat beside you, enjoying the food and wine, her cheeks tinged with pink. Mara seemed happy to talk the princess’s ear off, enjoying the tales of Dragonstone. Rhaenyra’s knee brushed against yours, sending a spark through your belly. The musicians began to play, filling the hall with pleasing music. Your heart skipped in your chest when Rhaenyra pressed her hand into yours.
“Will you dance with me, Lady Stark?”
“It would be my pleasure, princess.”
“Please, I would like you to call me Rhaenyra during my time here.”
“Very well, Rhaenyra.” You enjoyed the way her name rolled off your tongue.
You were well-versed in dancing, having enjoyed your lessons greatly as a child. A smile threatened to split your face as you allowed Rhaenyra to lead you, easily matching her moves. You felt invigorated by the time the dance ended, and you were met with applause as you and Rhaenyra gave a curtsey in thanks. The evening wound down, the fire slowly fading as people retired for the evening. You bid Rhaenyra a good evening, squeezing her hands before you departed for your chambers.
You preferred the late hours of the night when all fell silent. Nightshade rested by the fire while you stitched, lost in your thoughts. You were quickly jolted from them by a knock upon your door.
“Come,” you called out, thinking it was Mara.
You were surprised to find Rhaenyra enter your chambers.
“Apologies, Lady Stark, but I could not find sleep.”
You gave her a warm smile, placing your stitching aside before standing. “Please refer to me by my first name.”
The warmth of her smile matched your own, and the way she spoke your name made it sound like a beautiful song. “How are the rooms so warm?” she asked, perching on the chaise.
“My ancestors had the forethought to build them over hot springs.”
“Ah, a sage decision on their part,” she smiled.
Nightshade lifted her head before huffing and rolling onto her side, not allowing you or the princess to disturb her sleep.
“I know we shall hold a formal discussion on the morrow with the small council of the North, but I wished to express my gratitude. I know not what the future will bring, but I’m happy to have you on my side,” Rhaenyra explained, her purple eyes sparkling in the glow of the firelight.
You rested your hand on top of hers, your thumb gently grazing across her knuckles as a warm spark ignited in your belly. “Starks are loyal, almost to a stubborn fault, some would say. You will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”
Rhaenyra scooted closer, her lips mere inches from your own, and by the fate of the Gods, she kissed you. Her mouth was warm and sweet, a bit of a sharpness hidden behind her kiss, reminding you of the tart raspberries you would stuff your mouth with as a child when the warmth of Spring overtook Winterfell. Your tongue curved against hers, savoring the taste of the future queen. Your fingers slipped through the silver strands of her hair, marveling at how soft it was as if it was made from the finest threads of silk.
“Shall we move this to the bed?” she whispered, her nose rubbing gently against yours.
“If that is your wish, princess,” you murmured.
“Indeed it is, and you have proven to be the most loyal subject,” she hummed, a bit of cheek behind her tone.
“Come, allow me to show you what a Stark is made of.”
Sturdy cotton and whisps of silk puddled on the floor until you both were bare, stroking each other’s flesh. The pad of your thumb brushed over her pebbled, rosy nipple, delighting in the raspy moan that fell from her parted lips. You pulled back the heavy fur blanket, drawing Rhaenyra into the soft sheets as one of your legs slipped between hers. A shiver ran through you when her warm, wet cunt pressed against the firm flesh of your thigh. Your mouth pressed to the tender skin of her neck, nipping gently to test the waters. Her nails raked down your naked back in response. It seemed she was made of Valyrian steel rather than delicate porcelain. 
It seemed the wolf and the dragon held a similar hunger as fingers, tongues, and claws claimed every inch of wanton flesh. Her thighs trembled against the sides of your head as you brought her to peak with swirls of your tongue. A delicious ambrosia coated your mouth before you lapped her clean.
“My, the wolf has a healthy appetite,” she purred, her pale skin flushed pink with arousal, pupils dilated so that inky black threatened to eclipse the vibrant violet.
“Insatiable, some would say,” you smirked, stroking her sides.
“Now, I believe it is my turn.”
She tucked you against her side, fingers teasing your slick cunt. Teasing touches that grazed your opening, just enough to keep you on edge and begging for more.
“Rhaenyra!” you moaned as two finally slipped inside, making pleasure blossom through your belly and throb deep in your cunt.
“Oh, I do love it when you scream my name. I shall never tire of it,” she whispered wickedly in your ear as her fingers thrust at a steady pace.
You mewled and moaned as her fingers danced you to the brink of pleasure. A wave crashed through you as you trembled with your release.
“Such a good girl, my sweet little pet,” she cooed, her thumb gently circling your swollen pearl.
If such words came from another, your fist would have broken their nose, but you enjoyed them as they poured from her like sweet, honeyed wine. You basked in the blissful aftermath with her, cupping her flushed cheek as silver tendrils clung to her damp cheeks. You had a dragon in your grasp and did not wish to let her go. She fell asleep in your arms, her head tucked under your chin as you breathed in the scent of sweat-drenched roses.
~~
A smirk curved across your lips as the guards allowed you entry into Rhaenyra’s chambers.
“You summoned me, Your Grace?” you smiled sweetly, folding your hands behind your back.
She turned to face you, the golden crown of her father and great-grandfather settled on top of her silver waves of hair.
“Indeed, I did.” She approached you, her thumb grazing over the golden hand pinned to your dark gray dress. “I required a private audience with my Hand.”
“I serve at the pleasure of my Queen,” you hummed.
“Your Queen requires assistance with a rather delicate matter.” She sat on the red velvet high-backed chair, lifting the skirts of her crimson gown before parting her legs. Sparse silver curls offered little coverage as the swollen, slick petals of her arousal were in perfect view. You knelt between her splayed thighs before your thumb stroked her delicate pearl.
“Allow me to offer my humble assistance, Your Grace. I shall make you scream my name this time.”
As your tongue delved between her folds, her fingers curled in your hair as her moans echoed off the walls of her chambers. A Stark never broke her oath.
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west1rosi · 10 months
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HOUSE LANNISTER DURING THE MAIN ICE AND FIRE:
Their   gold   mines   have   made   the   Lannisters   the   wealthiest   of   the   great   houses.   the   ladies   of   the   house   are   often   golden   haired   with   bright   or   big   eyes.   the   men   are   usually   seated   as   the   head   at   casterly   rock   and   are   known   for   being   cunning   and   scheming.   jaime   lannister   is   commander   of   the   kingsguard   but   eventually   in   life   he   would   retire   from   the   title   to   become   lord   of   casterly   rock   after   the   war   with   the   others.   myrcella   baratheon,   cersei's   daughter,   shares   her   looks   and   smart   wits,   the   dornish   people   adore   her,   even   if   her   marriage   has   yet   not   been   consumated   or   done.   alongside   myrcella   and   her   sworn   shield,   she   travelled   to   dorne   with   two   ladies:   rosamund   lannister,   a   cousin   who   is   mean   to   be   her   decoy   in   case   an   assasination   attempt   is   made   and   cerenna   lannister,   a   cousin   who   reports   back   to   her   distant   aunt   cersei   anything   that   happens   in   dorne.   cerenna   is   looking   for   a   high   profiled   marriage   from   a   dornish   house.
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maudeeloise · 8 months
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Do you think you could do a Jacaerys x reader where they are childhood enemies but get betrothed and when things are going well in their marriage Jace misinterprets a moment with reader and someone else and accuses the reader to be pregnant with a bastard until it’s born looking exactly like him and he must reconcile and win reader back.
Sworn Enemies || j.v
Pairing : Jacaerys Velaryon x reader
Warning : none
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You weren’t surprised. When your mother mentioned it and your sister ran into your room to check on you a few moments after your talked with your mother.
You were a noble and you had known since the very first that you would be bethrothed with another noble. Unfortunately, your family was being too close to the Targaryens that the first person they chose for you to marry was the last person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.
The marriage was rocky and was filled with arguments — even about the smallest things. Your marriage was built by loath instead of love. You couldn’t stand his arrogance and he couldn’t stand your stubborness. Your hatred towards each other was so deep in your blood that it became the reason you ended up with his child.
Just like any other night, there you stood in different sides of your shared chambers. The bed seperating you as you had argued since the past hour.
“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Jace’s voice roared, filling the room with his anger.
“How dare you accuse me of something I didn’t do?!” You matched his tone, firm and loud.
“I am not accusing you of anything!” His jaw clenched slightly. “That baby is a bastard and you know I’m right.”
You bit back your tongue once you processed his words. He called your son a bastard. He called his own son a bastard.
“You are insane.” You spat through gritted teeth. “You have no proof on what you believe in, however I do and you’re too terrified that I might be right.”
“Nonsense!” He shook his head. “I’m not terrified of anything because I know I’m right.”
“Then take a look at your own son!” You pointed at the crib which was placed beside your side of the bed. “You have refused to even take a peak of him since he was born. Do you despise him that much?”
“He is not my son!” His voice boomed through the room.
A sudden cry broke from the baby, stealing both your attentions. You rushed towards the crib and took the baby gently before rocking him in your arms. Whispers of sweet nothings followed by a humming of the first song which came to your mind, eventually died down the cries. It only took a while before the baby went back to his slumber.
Disgust written on Jace’s face as he watched the two of you. “We need to get rid of him as soon as possible.”
Your face fell in surprise at his suggestion. There was a long moment of a pause before you moved to place the baby back on his crib. A long sigh left your lips in disbelief.
You were tired of convincing him. If you had to be honest, it hurt you every time. You wouldn’t care if he was mocking you nor he was treating you as if you had betrayed his family, but it was his son he was hating. His own flesh and blood he planned to banish.
“Are you really that insisting?” Your voice broke. Your heart aching. But you forced yourself to keep a fierce look on your face and your posture straight.
Jace let out a scoff. “You were the one who betrayed this marriage.”
“I would never!” Your voice heightened, but it wasn’t anger. You were exhausted. “I may despise you with every inch of my body, but I would never do such. I love my family and I would do anything to keep our names clean, so don’t you ever start a rumor just because you got tired of me.”
“Got tired of you?” Jace taunted. “I had wished for your death since forever, but I have never started such rumours.”
“Then whoever did!” Your chest moved up and down. Your eyes were filled with desperation, silently pleading for him to believe you. “You may hate me for the rest of your life, but that is your son, Jacaerys! Just for this once, I am asking you to second your beliefs.”
“He is not my son!”
“Take a look for yourself!”
That was the last thing you said before you exit the room. It was starting to become too much for you. Your chest hurt from holding back tears. You didn’t want to seem weak in front of him, or else he would’ve thought he won the argument.
Once you found yourself in the middle of the empty hallway, you broke down. A hand covering your mouth to silent the cries as you fell down to your knees.
On the other side of the door, stood a hesitant Jacaerys. If he had to be honest, a part of him wanted to believe you, but he had to big of an ego and a habit of always wanting to be better than you, so he was persistance of his opinion.
His eyes stared at the crib for a long minute. He was arguing with his mind whether he should just leave the room or do as you ask. His hands were fisting the material of his coat.
“Fuck this.” He said before walking up towards the crib.
His angry expression was soon replaced by a soft one once his eyes caught a glimpse of the baby. His mouth fell open slightly. The baby was a carbon copy of him — brunette hair, brown eyes, his nose, his lips. Shame masked his face the longer he looked at the baby.
He stumbled back in surprise. His hands were holding at the crib to steady himself. Guilt rushed through him like a wave of tsunami. You weren’t lying. The baby was his heir, his firstborn, his own flesh and blood.
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raisinchallah · 11 months
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since i started reading moby dick ive started mentally narrating so many random daily tasks in that style like feeding my cat god hath not wrought a nobler creature than thee dear cat no finer beast in all of the creatures of the land and wise is the cat to ally itself so totally with man for from this proud partnership a creature possessing only the small fur bearing land dwelling body and endowed only with dainty grasping paws can feast upon the beasts of the sea salmon which grows in length far greater than this small noble creature cat and dwells in great rivers and oceans too deep for such a small beast to ford though cat resembles in nature a fish of the land be not mistaken dear reader the cat is a land creature all the same for soft small paws can paddle not the deep currents and churning deeps the great temple where tuna dwells where even man must fight against the roaring seas and be dragged a hundred leagues by such creatures to even chance catching one oh no feline could risk such a venture thats why they wisely warm themselves by the hearth and leave such toil for the creature known as man
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