#Pitcher with spout

[controld3vil]

𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞

pairing(s): young!rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader (can be read either as romantic/platonic) synopsis: Rhaenyra always seemed to like her position as the only dragon rider in King's Landing. Besides her uncle who rarely visits, she flys with Syrax whenever she can as proof of her imperial lineage. When word comes that you claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, Rhaenyra becomes strangely jealous of your newfound attention.

notes: this takes place closely timeline-wise to the first season. cw: reader experiences a near-death incident, slight angst

Rhaenyra always felt at ease after riding with her dragon, Syrax. She had a distinctive bond with Syrax that no one could replicate. No one could discourage the truth. Her ancestors rode dragons and conquered the Seven Kingdoms. And rightfully so, as she acknowledges its power on the world. They were fierce beasts, little in number, but ferocious and praised as Gods to the people. The Princess of Dragonstone understood that well when she climbed off of Syrax’s saddle. Her golden scales glisten gloriously from the sunshine. 

She gleams brighter than before. Switching into a rich blonde gown, Rhaenyra rushes to the Court Council. Hoping none of the Councilmen would be bothered by her disturbed presence, the princess fixates on flattening down her silvery hair with her fingers. Combining through her tangled locks, the princess enters, drawing attention to haste and bewildered looks. 

“I was visiting Mother,” The Realm’s Delight she was named, smiled at her father, the King when asked about her whereabouts. She knew he would be displeased by the fact that she was dragon riding incredibly early. But she told the truth wholly. Rhaenyra did visit her mother. 

“On dragonback?” Viserys asked after catching a whiff of his daughter’s distinctive scent. It smelled of smoke and sea, resembling the dragon’s nature and their fiery breath. His daughter returns with a cheeky smile when she goes about to collect the pitcher, full of wine. There was much pride in the princess of her ancestral lineage. It was clear as histories can be able to tell of Old Valyria. A dragon was considered a rare delicacy despite having an abundance around the world. King’s Landing, Dragonstone, and Driftmark. Yet people did not consider them to be flesh and blood. Surprisingly, most were wild and had never been bonded with a dragon rider.

“Haven’t you heard? There was a sighting of the wild dragon, Vermithor along the coastlines of The High Tide,” Coryls Velaryon spouts, in cautiousness and weary. His clenched fist was unmistakable to Rhaenyra as he leaned forward with agitation. “My men are terrified, Your Grace. Surely we can think of a way to return the dragon’s course to Dragonstone.”

The silvery-haired girl looks to her father, King Viserys who beams with fazed delight. He thinks in light of the Master of Ship’s concerns. A dragon flies as it pleases. It did not flee far from Dragonstone as her familial home was a mile away from Driftmark itself. Eventually, Vermithor would have to return to rest. “And I’m sure he will return to Dragonstone when he deems it appropriate.” 

The lighthearted remark sparked some casual laughter from the table. A few lords shamelessly coughed between their coats while Hand to the King, Otto Hightower could only contemplate silently how to move the conversation to something more time-consuming. Rhaenyra has witnessed enough Council meetings to know that her father is restless. He never wanted to stay in the room for far too long before becoming disinterested in every political matter. What a dull position, she thought, to be the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you must abide by everyone's opinion and request. 

Rhaenyra traces her thumb around the handle of the pitcher. It’s glass and gold melded together. Its purity reflects wonderfully when she’s shown it to the light. As she strides around every seat of the table, the princess notices the little nuances each lord has. The old and cold pin of the Hand on Otto’s chest. The chainmail rings around Maester Mellos. And the rustic bronze rings Lord Corlys carried on his right hand. She recognizes why they are so distinctive now. 

“Nyra!”

It was like a bell went off in her mind when the Princess of Dragonstone blinked again. Now the Council meeting was left in their final moments. The doors that connected the room to the passive hallways opened, and flooded with the lords, one by one exiting. Well-mannered and poised was she when Rhaenyra placed the pitcher back onto the tabletop. Greeted by her father with a brief smile, she heard the sound of sweet nectar. Did you expect she did not hear you?

“Princess,” Rhaenyra laughs, coming down the stairs. You appeared eager to be near her, as you wrapped your arms tightly around her waist. A warm ache grows in her chest as Dragonstone’s darling caresses your shoulders, pushing you aback to see your face. “My you are eager this morrow.”

Your cheeks were plastered in rosy plums. Pink and delicate. As you burst into unfathomable joy at her proximity, you couldn’t contain your giddy blubbering. “I missed you! Is it so wrong to miss you?” She’d imagined your energy and heart beating simultaneously in the rhythm of a hummingbird. You were such a lively spirit, it complimented well with her own. Can she say that? 

She peers at you, fondly. As you were the most precious being one could ask for. If she could, Rhaenyra would shield you from every inconvenience and proposal your way. Even when you would become of age and pursued by your parents, she still would protect you from anyone who deemed you accessible. She brought both of her hands around your small one. They were adorned with rose-colored jewelry. Each is a colored gemstone to match your House colors. Rhaenyra slowly traces the flesh of your palm, “Of course not, Princess! It’s- I haven‘t seen you in so long,”

Your name is hollered and echoed against the looming halls you both stood in. She was sure for a moment, you two would be alone. A pang of discomfort flourishes in her throat when Rhaenyra becomes mute to the person to grab your attention. You, however, were deemed unbothered by it all, and held onto her grip tighter, and firmly, radiating heat and sweat. 

“There you are,” Your father, Lord Corlys groans in relief. It was evitable to find you lost around the castle, King’s Landing was a vast place. However, for how long you have visited, Rhaenyra depicts you knew the structure of it all and simply faked being clueless around. She saw it once. When you vaguely asked a guard where the library was to distract him, knowing you would be off avoiding your lessons with the Septa. She wishes she could chuckle out loud for that memory. “Do not get yourself carried away with the Princess, we have important matters to discuss with the King.” Your father seemed adamant about separating you from Rhaenyra, she recognizes. Which offends her greatly. You were a good friend and cousin. But more importantly, you were the only person to enjoy her company and mischief. 

For the longest time, the eldest daughter of King Viserys was lonely, not having anyone to relate to with her ancestral blood. The ladies in waiting were shy and polite. They were not her forte, Rhaenyra disliked how courtship worked. The daughter of the Hand, Alicent Hightower was a pleasant fresh air and surprise. When she had arrived at King's Landing years ago, Rhaenyra was rather avoidant of her. Now, they were good friends, only ever to be in each other's presence. Daemon, her uncle, is rarely seen nowadays. His position to the City Watch had in truth bothered and encouraged him to wreak more havoc with the townsfolk. She dismisses everyone clearly, anyone closest to her Targaryen bloodline is old or distant. 

But you, and your siblings, Laenor and Laena were much needed in the capitol. Your brother and sister visit rarely, they listen to your father and mother. On the other hand, you weren’t as uptight. As the youngest member of the Velaryon family, you had fewer expected duties compared to her and Alicent. Rhaenyra envied it truly, forever longing for your freedom. 

“Yes father,” You mope, an obvious frown on your lips when you depart from Rhaenyra’s side to your father. He stares at you with amused eyes, much contrast when he turns to her direction with a cold glare. It brings a chill down her spine as she quickly bows her head at the Master of Ships. She meant no offense. You did not notice the demeaning tension between your father and cousin. Because childishly, you excitedly tugged on Rhaenyra’s golden sleeves. “We’ll meet again soon, alright?” 

God, she can only smile at you. You were so sweet, endearing, and innocent. All traits she could find in any other lady. But you were much lively, more genuine than the girls she watched by the courtyard. They were pretentious and fickle. Alicent was also sweet and innocent. Innocent in the ways of adventure and courage. She was attached to duty and for that, Rhaenyra could not blame her. But for how much it mattered to her, she believed it to be an outrage. Out of everyone, you were just right.

The next time you met Rhaenyra was unconventional. Somehow you managed to convince your father to journey beside him to King’s Landing once more to meet the King’s family. Corlys hardly shrugged, putting little effort to stop you from climbing aboard the Sea Snake. Under unfathomable moments, you were condemned to sail to the capitol to tell the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms the great news. The last islanders left behind were your mother, Rhaenys, and sister, Laena who waved at you, earnestly, honing her fond smile as your figure grew smaller and smaller. Your mother, the Queen who Never Was, stood warmly with her arms crossed, with a look of pride on her face. 

Yes, your mother was ecstatic about what you had accomplished. No other dragon rider besides The Old King, Jaehaerys could claim the beast, the Bronze Fury. Many attempted, and many failed. However, because of your efforts, create a sense of joy and relief in your mother’s eyes. Never would she imagine her youngest child to claim one of the largest dragons alive. Vermithor was an untamable beast with a feisty personality. Perhaps it takes likeness to your spirit and simply bonded. She would have to ask you again to recall how you did it. 

The walls of the grand castle were empty and welcoming. You felt adrenaline scorch through your veins when you climbed up the stairs of the grand hall. The exterior was glorious. You could holler and scream and it would echo throughout all the corridors like a never-ending chamber. You held a skittish smile, as you made your way up, placing one hand on the rails for support. You could hear your father’s voice echo behind. Careful, you mustn’t fall, my love!

Even if you dropped to the ground, you would immediately pull yourself up and climb the stairs again. It was how desperate you were to meet Rhaenyra. You desperately wanted to tell her! 

Across the royal chambers, Rhaenyra was lounging outside notably. She sat under the Weirwood tree at leisure with Alicent beside her with a book in hand. She read aloud one of its stories, a romantic tale of a Dornish princess. But the dragon princess barely paid mind to what the Hand’s daughter was reading, she was more in tune with the moving sky. The baby blue ocean from above and the fluffy clouds that looked like soft cushions. The Realm’s Delight longed to ride with Syrax, despite only returning from her morning ride. If she could live in the sky forever, Rhaenyra would want to. 

She spotted a few of the Kingsguards that patrolled stop in front of someone. It looked as though they were permitting passage but seconds later, she saw them nod in unison simultaneously. They cleared the path and there you were. Striding in happy and irregular steps with your flowy dress of blue seashells and gemstones. She is reminded each time of your wealth and beauty. Cool-toned colors were your style as there was no other pigment you dressed in confidently and proudly, Sometimes she wonders how you would look in crimson red and black. 

“Princess!” Alicent was the first to speak on your behavior. It was not every day to see you all of a sudden in King's Landing. After Lord Corlys’s many disagreements with the Council. he chose to be absent from court. This irritated King Viserys and the rest of the Council, knowing without their Master of Ships, their collaboration would be deemed incomplete. Nevertheless, your appearance would confirm that your father had once again returned to the capitol. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” The brown-haired princess gleams, shutting the book entirely, and rising to meet you in a short embrace. 

Your giddiness is affectionate. It makes Rhaenyra feel light and blissful of your unannounced arrival. “It is good to see you, my Lady!” You’re teasing, tightly wrapping your arms around Alicent before releasing with sweet laughter. Alicent snickers, as the highlights of her dimples flush in soft pales of the color rose. 

“I told you, Alicent is fine!” 

“I know!” The two of you seemed to be in your world whenever your visits happened. You would appear, and Alicent bursts excitement and jitteriness. Rhaenyra finds it amusing to watch it unfold. But for not witnessing your presence for so long, she rather feels a little hurt and apprehensive of your attachment to the Hand’s daughter. If your mere attendance brought such delight, then your words brought an abundance of warmth and tenderness. “Nyra!”

Finally, the Princess of Dragonstone looks up, feeling slightly closed off from your welcome. Yet when she lays her velvet eyes on you, she can’t help but feel you are forgiven. Your expression was gentle and serene. “Princess,” Your name feels light off her lips as it always did. You playfully roll your eyes before releasing your grip on Alicent to hold onto Rhaenyra’s hands. They were inviting and delicate. 

“I missed you,” You whine, dramatically, dragging out the last part as though you haven’t seen each other in months. When really, it has been less than a month. The most you have visited were a full three days, staying overnight in the guest's bedrooms. It was when your father had an important mission to relay with the lords he chose to stay longer. You, on the other hand, wanted a sleepover. And by now, you should have a bedroom, personalized for whenever you wish to come to visit. You have on many occasions to irk your father and mother’s minds.

“The last time we spoke you were whisked away by your father,” She scoffs lightly which earns a questionable raised brow from Alicent. Your expression does not falter at her offense. “even though you said we would meet again.” Petty and stubborn were the words you describe Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was rather protective and loyal to the people closest to her. You importantly, she greatly values you. And weeks ago, you promised her, however, things took a turn with your father and you had to abide. 

“And we have,” You grin, lovingly, holding her hands up to your chest. It was a subtle sign of an apology and care. You carried your promise, even if it had taken weeks to fulfill because of interpersonal matters. But you are here now, in front of her, your energetic personality never failing. “I have great news.” 

The silvery-haired princess seemed to take your understated gesture sincerely as she closed the gap between you two. Curiosity caught her gaze as her lavender orbs did not move away from your own. “Well, what is it?” Suddenly you’re aware you’ve kept a tight grip on Rhaenyra as she allowed you to trap both her hands. The close intimacy is acknowledged by you when you try not to break away your gaze from hers. Alicent seemed visibly bothered by it but you are not facing her to know. 

The wind whistles in anticipation, and the Weirwood tree heaves and blows the dead leaves off of its branches. The luscious green fields dance back and forth in little tiny unison. The scent of dirt and fresh mint is present. As you inhale deeply before revealing, “I claimed a dragon.” 

A moment of silence before a heaved gasp came from the Hightower princess. 

“Congratulations!” 

You can feel the butterflies float up to your chest when you see both of the girl's expressions in a state of happiness and revelation. You give an animated smile, “Thank you!”

“Are you joking?” You can see on Rhaenyra’s face, she is still in shock which morphs into pleasure and ecstasy. 

You shake your head enthusiastically, and repeatedly, shaking both you and the Princess in a hop. “No!”

“Oh thank the gods!” Your cousin blurts, embracing you in a well-deserved embrace. Her arms coil around your back with a squeeze. The encouragement both Rhaenyra and Alicent had given you was something you cherished dearly. For the longest time, you blame yourself for not being able to claim a dragon. No egg would hatch or a wild dragon would approach you. You studied and performed all the ways to encounter them. Yet none had prevailed and up until recently, you felt exasperated on the idea of bonding with a dragon. You were extremely jealous of Laenor and Rhaenyra for their impeccable bond. You and Laena longed for it for your entire lives, it made you moody and neglectful. 

Therefore their support had kept you least tolerable. Your mother and father were understanding and patient with your fits. Even King Viserys and Queen Aemma sometimes consoled you that one day you would claim a dragon. Whichever dragon you did not care for, you knew your companion was out there. 

“Which dragon did you claim?” The brunette girl comes to your side, eager and curious to know what of your new beast. 

“Yes, which one did you claim?” Your silver-haired cousin urges, shaking your hands back and forth. 

You felt like a bubble waiting to pop with excitement. You wanted all the streams and ribbons the castle could offer to be released for your accomplishment. You took a deep breath before letting out a slow exhale to calm your beating heart. “Vermithor.” 

In an instant, Rhaenyra’s face falls. “Vermithor.” 

“Yes, Vermithor!” You were blinded by the enthusiasm Alicent portrayed with her hands, clapping and squealing in awe at you. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Vermithor!” The Hand’s daughter takes your left hand and swirls her thumbs around your knuckles. “I’m so happy for you!” Again the call of your name is murmured frankly and in reverence. “One of the largest dragons alive in the world and you had claimed it!” 

Satisfaction filled your chest. Nothing could compare to the prideful looks your friends and family had for you on this day. It truly was something to celebrate something this spectacular. Not since Jaehaerys, your great grandfather rode the dragon. Your mother would surely want you to ride Vermithor immediately as he was still considered wild. But if Jaehaerys managed to tame the beast, you knew you could. 

She could not explain it. Rhaenyra had always thought highly of you. She would disparage you out of anything. You were too pure for her frustration. What is she angry about? The princess could not explain. But whenever she passed the corridors of the Keep or the chambers of her mother’s ladies in waiting, she would hear the praise and compliments for your achievement. My, haven't you heard? The youngest daughter of Corlys Velaryon claimed Vermithor! The dragon King Jaehaerys rode! It must be fate. 

To what end was it fated? Dragons chose their riders. It was unclear how the bonds between rider and dragon existed but it was something genuine. So it shouldn’t confuse her when she sees you when on Driftmark, practicing to fly with the Bronze Fury. You struggled the first few times. She recalls those moments well, laughing and teasing you to no end of the amount of times you fell into the mud. Mounting on a dragon was a gradual adjustment. As she stared into the view of the ocean shore and deep gray-blue waters, you and your dragon were by the shorelines, attempting to be in sync with one another. A few feet from you was Rhaenys. As commanding and benevolent she was to you and not to her. 

Rhaenys Targaryen was quick-witted. She never had a great relationship with the Queen who Never Was. But in contrast, she was soft to you and held untainted remorse for her youngest child. Meleys was beside her rider, cooing and staring at you and Vermithor in inquiry. Much similar to her companion, Rhaenys said something Rhaenyra could not understand before watching you shake your head in disbelief. Vermithor was a grueling and deadly creature. The fact that you were young did not change its attention. It croaks and cranes its neck down for you to climb on its upper back. 

A saddle was neatly strapped on the beast. It must take ages to put on. Vermithor was known for his savage behavior. Yet if you were present with him, she deems he would have been docile to take care of. 

“Why are you pouting?” 

It was the late evening on Driftmark when she proposed a walk with you along the beach line. It was the many hobbies you both enjoyed in your homeland. Salt and sea were everywhere as opposed to her home, King’s Landing filled with endless brick walls and dust. The island is peaceful and serene when there are no fishing ships in the water. Rhaenyra can never be tired of the view and the sea salt air Driftmark supplies. It’s refreshing and so calm. 

“I’m not pouting.” The Princess of Dragonstone argues, her off tone marks it remarkable that her fickle state of mind. She should know better. You know her well, more than most of her maids and sometimes father. 

“You are,” The corners of your lips curve as you kick a few clumps of sand off the ground. “I’ve noticed since coming here, you’ve been…distant.” A personality all of your siblings share is your tenderness. Laena had a graceful heart and Laenor a compassionate one. Yours was resilient. You held onto things for far too long and you’re incredibly devoted to the people you love. You become easily attached to things, people, and the attention. Can she blame you? For a long time, you felt ridiculed and ashamed for your lack of a dragon. Your sadness must be more out of sympathy than Laena’s. By the time your sister claimed Vhagar, you were left as an outcast. 

The Realm’s Delights huffs, crossing her arms behind her back. “Seasick I suppose,” In truth, she never was seasick. Rhaenyra had traveled to Driftmark many times to be immune to the sickness. She knew it was a weak lie, one you would catch easily. But she did not like being confronted on whatever was on your mind. 

“Nonsense,” You jest, before stomping both your feet firmly into the brown sugar sand. Your stance makes the princess stop. “I know you dislike Vermithor.” 

She looks at you, astonished. “What?” 

You push further into the dirt until your heels are engulfed. “I can see it, Rhaenyra. You do not like him.”  Your assumption makes her head spin. Because in what world would she have any disregard against a dragon? Rhaenyra adored all dragons the same. They were a part of her family’s legacy. But she figures you must’ve seen her sometimes glare in the direction of your dragon to believe she had no love for the Bronze Fury. 

The silver-haired girl shakes her head. “No, it’s not that.” She did not want to explain this to you. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed at her feelings, Rhaenyra deems you unfit to hear such nonsense. “It’s more childish than that.”

Your head quirks sideways. You looked confused as your eyebrows rose as well. She can feel the winds pick up as the tides come toward you both. Its cold water brushes past your feet but you ignore it completely. “How so?” 

Must she explain at such a time? “I must admit, for the past few days, I’ve been feeling remorseful.” She quipped, finding the freezing chill of the sea comforting for this kind of conversation. “I’m sure you’ve seen me grow bitter, even resentful towards you and Vermithor. For that I apologize but- it’s a small feeling.” 

“You feel resentful towards me and Verm?” She can see your eyes flicker, as you contemplate and allow your mind to take in her words. Your loose hair is down, you’re gorgeous. Even in your night clothes and were of the absence of jewelry and pretty colors. 

“Was,” She reaffirms, unable to look you in the eye. Rhaenyra feels ashamed for feeling this way. She does not want to hurt your feelings. “The attention, the people, they spoke of you for days about what you have done, claiming King Jaehaerys dragon. All everyone wanted to do was talk about you and how you proved yourself to become the greatest rider.” The more she rambles, the hot tears flood her vision. She does not seem weak to you. She was spilling her truth to you, she had to let it out. 

You held a calm expression. “But I’m not the greatest rider,” Yes, you were not. Your bond was still young. You still struggled with communicating with Vermithor sometimes daily. How can you be considered the greatest even when you struggled to mount your dragon? 

“That is what the people say,” Accidently your cousin snaps but quickly regains her composure. She looks at her feet and the sand below. It was as if she pleaded for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive, you’re angry. You’d say but she continues. “I was sick and tired of it all. Even my father spoke highly of you and it offended me. Why do I feel this way? I should be happy for you!” The mist around you clouds the floor. It’s sombrous and cool to touch. Everything Rhaenyra had held back was gone and it felt somewhat cathartic. She knows you must’ve felt hurt by her words, she was harsh.

She was afraid to touch you. But you did not care, gripping her forearm suddenly. Rhaenyra’s gaze finally breaks and stares at you, wide-eyed. Her tear-filled eyes shattered your heart, fully aware of her fragile condition. “I don’t blame you for what you feel, Rhaenyra. I too felt the same way when Laena claimed Vhagar, do you remember it? I was restless, unable to sleep at night - why couldn't I do what she had done.” The Princess of Dragonstone does not pull away from your grasp but simply gazes at your quivering lips. “I grew to be resentful of my sister. My heart grew dark and left people in danger. I regret feeling this way towards her now because of it. Do you understand?” 

The expression on your face said it all as she observed. The strained look flashed before you as you recounted the painful memories. In the days after Laena’s bond, you were cruel and cold. You spoke less to your family, ashamed and poisoned by jealousy. You would snap at the sailors more often and drive them into more dangerous scenarios to spite them. Your pettiness was revolting to watch, your father, Corlys growing instantly tired of your immature tantrums for something you could not control. He would cry out to you about how ignorant your actions were and then dismiss your privileges to sailing his ships. All while your mother felt she could do nothing to stop you in your frustration. She watched from a distance as her husband criticized you openly for your infuriating flaws, making it known to all you had gone too far. 

Slow but surely, when you stepped closer to her gave you the courage to tell her what needed to be heard. “I cannot change what you feel, but if you wish for me to leave, then please tell me.” You huffed in pain as your cold fingers traced along her arm and then moved to her hands. In some ways like this, you were fragile like porcelain. Sometimes Rhaenyra forgot you were younger than her. And now she felt like the childish one. 

“No, I—” She gulps, her fear evident. She didn't want to lose you as well. “Please don’t go.”

Your eye-opening conversation marked the beginning of a new chapter in your life. Connecting with the Bronze Fury required some time to adapt to both yourself and those around you. As the newest rider, you felt the world embracing you. However, what you cherished most was the experience of riding. You hailed from Old Valyria, with the blood of the Dragon in your veins. Riding with Vermithor became a daily routine, a privilege you savored. It was the most incredible gift you could have received.

Rhaenyra slowly became accepting of it as well. You can tell by the way her lips curl when you mount off of your dragon, that she was proud of you. You were a dragon rider! Now, you and she could soar through the skies for eternity if you wished. It was a dream come true, and you were overjoyed that she had forgiven you.

When you were above the skies, it was breathtaking. No view from below could compare to the ones over the clouds. You admit now why you found Rhaenyra’s obsession with flying to be so addicting. It was. When you’re up there, it feels as though nothing matters but you and the pale blue heavens. Vermithor would always groan in his grumpy way to show affection. He enjoyed riding above, you’ve felt his calm heartbeat and knew he too felt as relaxed as you did. When Rhaenyra joined you, which was a regular occurrence, you two would race. Up and down the clouds, like both of you danced in between the midst.

She looked dashing in her rider’s uniform. Black leather, plastered to resemble dragon scales alongside matching gloves. You resembled a familiar approach, having bronze leather strapped all over to stimulate Vermithor’s charming scales. You reminisced that he even once nudged at you from behind as a sign of appreciation for it.

Vermithor, the ruthless wid dragon growing soft because of you. You always had your chance to mention it to him before riding as a reminder of your sincere relationship. As a rider and dragon, the two of you bonded over adventure and tricks. You loved exploring the faraway lands to only encourage the Bronze Fury more driven to fly. 

But there were also moments when you were reminded of how reckless you could be with him. On the morning of your uncle’s name day, you convinced Rhaenyra to fly out to the Estermount Sea, close to the Triarchy of Essos. At first, the princess urged you of the danger, the Triarchy were pirates who paraded in raiding others for fun. Additionally, they had been targets of your father’s ships, disrupting trade. Yet you dismissed her pleas and pursued with an eager grin. 

The first few moments entering the sea territory were quiet. Both of you were mindful of the harsh waves there and how foggy it was similar to the Stormlands. But Rhaenyra persisted with her worries when you wanted to challenge her to dive down close to the sea. 

“We shouldn’t be here!” Her lilac eyes were defined with anxiousness as the princess held her dragon’s reins tightly. However you were indifferent, all too casual in uncharted areas. 

“We’re fine! We’re high enough in the sky!” you shout, a broad grin stretching across your face as you gaze at the small islands of Essos below. They look both foreign and beautiful. You’ve never ventured this far from home before.

But that was the last moment of calm you experienced. Suddenly, a harpoon appeared out of nowhere, narrowly missing you and Vermithor by the shoulder. The weapon moved with such speed and force that you had no time to process what was happening. Rhaenyra saw it clearly—she watched as the massive arrow zipped past you, inches away from your body, before plunging into the sea below. Someone had attempted to attack you. The worst followed: the harpoon's impact sent you and Vermithor into a chaotic frenzy. You leaped as your dragon swerved violently, causing you to be thrown from your saddle. For a moment, your body was there, and then it wasn’t.

The princess screamed in desperation, urgently commanding Syrax to dive into the water in an attempt to catch your falling body. Your dragon was beside hers, plummeting and speeding towards the sea floor as you descended. With a whoosh, Vermithor swooped in at the last moment, grabbing you from a fatal plunge. His claws, though sharp, gripped you with surprising gentleness, and you stared in terror as he held you safely.

The memory was deeply distressing. Your hair was now disheveled and tangled from the fall. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving your skin glistening and drenched. Rhaenyra could only sob with relief, feeling utterly exhausted and wishing it were all just a nightmare. Yet it was all too real. She felt Syrax’s comforting purr in response to her discomfort. Her father and yours would have been shouting endlessly about this.

Despite everything, all she could remember was the devastated look on your face.

It was madness. Jacaerys would tell her, her son parading around her room as they waited for all of the Targaryen bastards to arrive. Here she was, Rhaenyra Targaryen, in Dragonstone, pursuing the inevitable. The idea of recruiting Dragon Seeds was bizarre but what choice did she have? There was no one left in her family who could claim one. Distant Houses with the blood of Valyria were risky. She had to sacrifice one of her knights to do it. Perhaps this was the only way to win the war. 

Years without your presence brought Rhaenyra sorrow and time to reflect on herself. It had been long since she was gifted to speak your name so openly. Everyone knew of her relationship with you. The princess cherished you deeply and with your absence, left the Realm soulfully longing. Rhaenys despises her because of it. She wondered if part of the princess's resentment was directly tied towards you or the fact she was given the title of heir or both. Yet after Alicent’s son had taken her throne, Rhaenys stood by her side, as did her husband. 

Meeting all of the Targaryen bastards was daunting at first. Rhaenyra knew many infidelities were common for any lord to allow their seed to spread. To witness so many of them in a room made her all the more encouraged to believe her plan would succeed. It must, it should. She could feel all of their eyes focus entirely on her like a beacon of hope. They believed what they were doing was right to protect the realm. And for that, she will use it to attain. 

The Dragonpit had never felt so cold or so secure. It was secluded within a murky cave, miles tall and wide. It’s humid, water drips everywhere as the Black Queen strides down onto the platform where the dragon would be summoned. Forty or so Dragon Seeds followed her, paranoid and trembling about what was to come. She would have to believe in the gods, Rhaenyra sighed. If there is a strategy better than this, she would take it. But Alicent’s son had taken something from her by force and for that, she could not comply. 

“Come forward, Vermithor.” Her accent revealed her fluency in the High Vayrlian language. Rhaenyra readied herself for the beast. Seconds of silence loomed over all those in the Dragonpit like a neverending time bomb. The wait was excruciating yet the inevitable was daunting to witness. Out of the shadows comes a growl, which causes a few of the Dragon seeds to slightly panic. But the Queen knew better. And Vermithor as well.

He looms, towering over the cockpit like a living nightmare. His crooked teeth glowed an intimidating appearance for all, and the simmer of his bronze scales shined. “Obey! Stay calm, Vermithor!” Commanded by Rhaenyra as she stares up at the beast, unafraid. She holds an imposing scowl before witnessing the Bronze Fury lower his snout. The Black Queen reaches out of her hand, cautiously and slowly. 

Her hand makes contact with his snout and calmly Rhaenyra recognizes the sense of calm Vermithor had with her whenever you were around. It felt as though he resembled your presence and familiarity. This intuition puts a warm smile on her face. 

[ameliathornromance]

“(Y/N), I’m back.” The familiar voice echoed through the encampment.

You bolted out of your tent. He’s back, finally. The last few days had been tough on you.

With a swollen belly, sore feet, and a ferocious hunger, you had begged your Orc Boyfriend to bring you some Deer.

The initial months of your pregnancy were good. You weren’t having morning sickness; you were happy and comfortable.

Your Orc Boyfriend could not stop talking about it from the moment you found out you were pregnant.

“Yes, of course I’d like extra food. Anything for the baby.”

“Of course I’ll take those furs. My pregnant partner needs all the comfort she can get.”

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t go out for the hunt today. My love needs me to help her pick out names for our baby.”

You worried that the other members of the camp would deck your boyfriend if he continued on with it. “I know you’re happy,” you had told him as he draped another fur blanket over your head. “But if you keep this up, I’m worried that the others will sew your mouth shut.”

“Even then, they wouldn’t be able to keep me quiet.” Your Orc grinned as he tucked you into your shared bed. “I’d still find a way to tell them.”

At that, you rolled your eyes and sighed, settling into the covers.

Now you were around the 6 month mark of your pregnancy, your cravings had shot up. You wanted Deer meat. Deer consumed your every thought. Deer, Deer, Deer. Sometimes, the situation became unbearable and tears would flow uncontrollably. Your Orc did his best to comfort you: “there’ll be some more later, don’t worry my love.” He’d sooth you.

Deer were very difficult to catch. They’re quick, light on their feet, skittish. Especially if there’s an Orc approaching. You need someone who was good with a bow and arrows to kill one.

But somehow, your Orc Boyfriend had done it. He was no good with a bow and arrow, but he had done it. Your eyes raked the camp, other Orcs who spotted you chuckling at your expression.

“He’s over there, lass.” Said one, who pointed towards the dining area. “Wanted to make you something nice because you’d been suffering.”

You didn’t even thank him. You charged towards the food preparation area and found him, skinning the animal that you fiercely hungered for.

Your Orc Boyfriend spotted you walking towards him and chuckled. “Be patient,” he said to you as you leaned over his arm. “I don’t want to give you raw meat. It won’t be good for you or the baby.”

You’d take anything you could. Even if the meat was raw. But at your Orc’s gentle hand, caressing your stomach, you grumbled. But stepped back so he could cook.

Sitting on a tree stump, other Orcs passed by. Some offering you Berrys and other fruits to stave off your growling belly while you waited. Gratefully, you took the fruit from them, thanked them.

The camp was incredibly accommodating for you. Female Orcs were rare to come by. Seeing how they clashed with their male counterparts, Orc children were rare. Naturally, everyone was eager to see the baby.

Finally, the Deer was ready. Cooked on an open fire, salted and peppered, you and your Orc Boyfriend sat down together.

As soon as the meat touched your lips, it disappeared in an instant. The craving had settled as you finished your last bite. You let out a satisfied sigh as your Orc’s eyes widened at your empty plate. “Did you inhale it?” He asked, shocked.

You burst out laughing and hit him hard on the shoulder. “No! It just tasted great.” You said.

Your Orc chuckled as he caressed your shoulder.

There was a water pitcher on the opposite side of your boyfriend. You reached for it, doing your best to reach across from him. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I was worried I’d shocked the thing. I practically had to body tackle it.” He said, taking the water pitcher and handing it to you.

As you gulped down the water from the spout, you choked. “’Body tackle it’!?”

Your boyfriend patted you on the back. Once he was sure you were alright, he replied, “yes. I had to climb into a tree and wait for one to come by the lake nearby. It was lucky the branches snapped when the deer was directly beneath me.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You gave a quick glance over his form. If your boyfriend had got hurt while trying to capture a Deer, you’d feel awful. The last thing you wanted was the father of your baby to get hurt.

Your Orc chuckled again and reassured, “I’m fine, don’t worry. Orcs possess of stronger endurance than humans.” He thumped his chest with a fist.

Relief washed over you. You knew he wasn’t human, but that wouldn’t stop you from worrying for his safety. “Thank you for getting the Deer. You’re the best partner anyone could wish for.” Tracing his muscular arms, you leaned against him.

Your Orc smiled back, leaning down and pecking you on the lips. “I know.” Rolling your eyes, and looked out to the rest of the camp as they went about their day, the sun setting over the surrounding forest.

Hello everyone! I just wanted to say thank you for helping me pass 100 followers. It makes me really happy that people are enjoying my work.

Patreon

[muddiedfoxglove]

redd's fic rec list

I'm always sending my friends good fic recs, so I thought I'd do that here for once! Under the cut are some of the fics I have really liked over the last month or so, in no particular order.

crossed the borderline of weightless by dykeries e | 4.2k | oneshot

“Buck,” he says cautiously, and Buck is about to say sorry, about to sprint out of Eddie’s house and drive his Jeep into the Pacific, but instead Eddie speaks before he can do anything. “Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he says, and Eddie digs his fingers more deeply into Buck’s hair and pulls. __________________________ Buck needs to clear his head. It turns out Eddie is willing to help with that.

on my last strength against you by markofalover e | 9k | oneshot

Buck has self-control. He hasn’t always used it, but he likes to think he’s gotten a lot better at it, throughout the years. Evidence: He’s clenching his jaw to the point of pain and very pointedly looking at the TV, like the local weatherman spouting off about a heat wave is capable of holding this much of his attention. If this were—before, they would not be watching the news. - ...or, Eddie could just use his words, but where’s the fun in that?

slide into homebase by sybilsleaves e | 5k | oneshot

Eddie's the star pitcher of the 118's intramural softball team. Buck is the assistant coach who has a few pointers for him.

Flash Mobs and Jumbo Trons by glorious_spoon e | 10k | part 3 of a series

"Sorry," Buck says, with an exaggerated wince. "Sorry, sorry, that's not—that's not a proposal, for the record, don't freak out. I was just wondering." Something about the way he says it makes Eddie wonder if maybe it would be a proposal, if he'd reacted differently just now. He dismisses the thought immediately. Buck is a grand romantic gestures kind of guy. He wouldn't ask Eddie to marry him out of the blue, on the couch, halfway through a Lakers game. Eddie is sure of it. Mostly sure of it. - Or: Buck asks a question. Eddie dithers.

symbiosis by mandolare e | 8k | oneshot

When Buck turns to the side to step into the shower he freezes, suddenly and shockingly wide-awake, because there’s something very, very abnormal in his periphery, so out of place he almost can’t make himself look straight at it in the mirror. But then he does, and for a moment forgets how to work his lungs. Because there’s the blue-black shadow of fresh ink under his skin, ugly cursive script, about three inches wide right on his ass. Eddie, it says, high on the curve of his right cheek. - Buck and Eddie get blackout drunk, and then learn something new about themselves. And each other.

lover, be good to me by midnights e | 7k | oneshot

in which oranges are picked, muffins are made, and lazy morning sex is had.

i know you need it by midnights e | 12k | oneshot

to say Buck is pent up would be an understatement. so Eddie gives him what he needs.

been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire m | 17k | oneshote (....for now?)

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later. — A story, in many ways, about holding hands

drown in good intentions (never quench the fire) by windmillsofmymind e | 87k | 7/7 chapters

“I thought you were ready to start dating,” Bobby says, which. Eddie doesn’t think that’s remotely close to the point. “Yeah, Eddie,” Buck echoes, all narrowed eyes and petulance, aggressively attempting to spear a tomato on his plate while maintaining eye contact. “I…I don’t think the blind dates were really working out.” “So you’re trying to get out of your aunt’s setups, again. And this is what you’re going with?” Hen says, eyebrows raised. “I did not say that. I hadn’t even thought about telling Pepa I’m seeing Felisa, to be honest.” But isn’t that a thought. “I just thought a break would be nice, you know? I can find someone at my own pace, organically.” A chorus of protests and objections, to the tune of “how are you going to meet someone organically when everybody thinks you’re dating someone else”, breaks out across the table. “Oh, he’s gonna find someone organically, alright,” Chimney interrupts. “Obviously, he’s gonna fall in love with Felisa.” Buck promptly begins to choke on his salad. - Or: Eddie pretends to date Felisa Valdez, a normal thing to do, for normal reasons. Buck acts normal about it.

king of the castle by organyx e | 12k | oneshot

Buck scoffs. “You really think you could go longer than I could without--” Eddie shakes his head in amusement. “Making a ‘deposit’?” he teases sarcastically, finishing Buck’s sentence when he awkwardly clams up. “Yes, with one hundred percent certainty.” Buck’s eyebrows raise, his bright grin showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. “Oh, you wanna bet? Since you’re so confident.” ----- Buck and Eddie challenge each other to see who can go the longest without an orgasm. Eddie’s pretty confident he can win.

forever in a day by organyx e | 29k | oneshot

“Eddie, you’re scaring me,” Buck says in the quiet of the room. “Do you-- do you know what day it is?” “Friday,” Eddie answers, tongue thick like his throat is stuffed with cotton. “Yeah,” Buck confirms. “And-- do you know my full name?” Eddie swallows. “Evan Buckley,” he says definitively, but-- He finally turns to look at Buck’s face, and it’s like he’s waiting for Eddie to keep going. Like Eddie had gotten it wrong. Buck’s face melts, his brows pinched together, and Eddie-- He doesn’t know what the hell is going on. ----- Eddie loves every version of Buck. And Buck? Well, he’s starting to realize every version of Buck loves him right back. If only Eddie could get back home to tell him that.

tangled in the willows by organyx e | 9k | oneshot

“Eddie,” Buck whines, hips squirming off the seat as far as his seatbelt will allow, pumping into the air with a grunt. He needs friction, needs a hole to fuck into, needs to fill and claim and satisfy a wet, shivering body below him. He sucks in a trembling breath, but all he can smell is Eddie. His distressed scent is coming off of him in waves, sharp and acidic, chemical in nature. It should be disgusting, should have Buck wrinkling his nose and backing away as far as he can, but he finds it intoxicating, instead. Buck lets go of the safety handle to fumble with his belt buckle. ----- Buck knows he's the jealous type. He just never thought it could affect him like this.

good things come for those who wait by ithilien22 e | 2k | oneshot

Turns out, Buck likes when Eddie makes him wait for it. (And they're embarrassingly in love about it.)

i wanna be tied tied tied to your apron strings by sybilsleaves e | 3k | oneshot

He’s chosen his attire fittingly: the light pink Kiss the Cook apron Eddie had gotten him last Christmas. And nothing else. Buck knows, okay. He doesn’t quite understand it, but he knows. Something about him in an apron turns Eddie into some kind of crazed sex fiend, desperate for Buck’s attention the way Buck usually feels desperate for his. Usually, it’s kind of a problem. Like when Buck’s trying to cook dinner at the station and Eddie keeps trying to convince him to sneak up to the roof. Or when Buck has thirty-six cupcakes to bake for the Robotics Club spring fundraiser and Eddie starts tugging at his apron strings and kissing his neck until Buck is forced to banish him from the kitchen until he can behave. or, the Apron Buck fic

honey, you're familiar by cranberrymoons e | 1k | oneshot

Seeing him like this: Buck on top of him, mile-long legs splayed out over his lap. Straddling him with his hands planted on Eddie’s shoulders, sweat shining on his face, sheets bunching up around both of them. At some point in the watching, sitting up, hand pressed low on Buck’s back to keep him held close, mesmerized.

call it fate, call it karma by sungodlou e | 6k | oneshot

He honestly can’t tell if Buck is doing it on purpose, anymore. He’s thwarted all of Eddie’s attempts at flirtation—and most of his attempts at fun—and Eddie’s eye is honestly starting to twitch; he somehow always manages to forget how quickly this type of thing goes from endearing to irritating. In the last half hour, Buck has dialled the brat factor up to about a ten, like he knows he can only get away with being this exacting for so much longer before Eddie snaps and puts him in his place a little. And Eddie is officially done resisting the urge to bend him over and do just that. or; Someone has got to get Buck away from that damn clipboard

[ltwilliammowett]

Pitcher, New Bedford, early 20th century

Sepia transfer decoration of "Sperm Whaling; 'The Capture'." on one side and "The Niger -The Last of the Famous Full Rigged Ships Formerly Engaged in Whaling" on the other side. Panoramic view of New Bedford Harbor on the inner rim and "The Whaling City Souvenir of New Bedford Mass" inside spout. Marked "Buffalo Pottery 1908 made expressly for Bliss & Nye, New Bedford, Mass." on underside.

[hasufin]

Human history

My spouse and I went antiquing this past weekend. I picked up an odd little item - a tiny copper-plated steel pitcher. My immediate thought was, it's really thick metal - it'll have really great thermal mass and might yield interesting results when steaming milk. Haven't tested that yet. It's about 7.5 cm tall, and the rim is 5cm in diameter, but it bulges out a bit bigger.

But I was taking a look and realized something...

Imagine that without the handle, without the spout, but coming up to more of a point...

No wonder it's seriously heavy for a little metal pitcher! I think someone took an old artillery shell casing and turned it into a useful little pitcher. I wouldn't be surprised if they intended to steam milk with it, too - it's just the right size and shape!

The bottom has an inscription which says "sambonet", "®" and either "1840 Italy" or "18-10 Italy"

Now, Sambonet is an Italian flatware manufacturer. They were founded in 1858 and continue to operate now. Given they were doing metal-plating, and operating in Italy in WWII, I'd say it's a near-certainty they were manufacturing munitions; I can't readily find any resource which confirms that, but I'd put money on it.

The handle is an interesting part, too - close inspection suggests to me that it might have been welded on later, supporting the hypothesis that this was originally a shell casing.

I've emailed the Sambonet company, but I'm expecting they'll ignore my question. I understand that's likely a bit of history from which they'd like to distance themselves, but personally I'd like to know the provenance of this little piece. Even though I'm still going to use it to steam milk.

[blueiscoool]

Rare 16th-Century Shipwreck Discovered at Record Depth in French Waters

The wreck was laden with hundreds of ceramic pitchers and plates.

French archaeologists have discovered the remains of a 16th-century merchant vessel 1.6 miles below the surface of the Mediterranean Sea, the deepest such find ever made in French waters.

Back in March, the French Navy was carrying out a routine mission off the southeastern coast to explore and monitor the country’s resources, ranging from deep-sea minerals to subsea cables, when an unusually large shape appeared on sonar. It sent an underwater drone fitted with a camera to investigate which soon revealed high-resolution images of a shipwreck laden with hundreds of ceramic pots. The sunken vessel has initially been named Camarat 4 in reference to the nearby Cap Camarat headland which lies less than 10 miles south of Saint Tropez.

Next, the Navy forwarded the images to France’s Department of Underwater and Submarine Archaeological Research (DRASSM), the branch of the French Ministry of Culture which is responsible for underwater archaeology. DRASSM sent its own remotely operated vehicle to explore the site further and announced in early June that Camarat 4 is a 98-foot-long and 23-foot-wide merchant ship that sank nearly 500 years ago.

“Time has stood still here in the deep sea since the 16th century,” DRASSM said in a statement. “The wreck was beyond the reach of salvaging operations and at this depth the vessel has been preserved from all forms of degradation, most notably looting. It represents a unique research opportunity.”

High-quality images allowed experts to closely analyze the cargo of the ship which is comprised of roughly 200 polychrome earthenware pitchers and 100 plates. The pitchers sport pinched spouts and ribbon-shaped handles. Some boast geometric or botanical designs, and others bear the letters “HIS,” representing the first three letters of Jesus Christ’s name in Greek. Together, these elements are characteristic of 16th-century ceramic production in Liguria, a coastal region in northwest Italy near to the French border. DRASSM also identified an anchor, iron bars, six cannons, and two cauldrons.

For centuries, this stretch of the Mediterranean was a heavily travelled maritime route and Camarat 4 joins Lomellina, a Genoese ship that sank in 1516, and the Sainte-Dorothéa, a 50-gun Danish frigate that sank in 1693, that have been discovered in the area.

The next stage will see DRASSM build a multidisciplinary team including historians, geologists, and archaeologists and work to create a 3D model of the ship using photogrammetry, the process of stitching together hundreds of images. Some of the questions experts hope to answer include: is there more undiscovered cargo, how did ship sink, and why does it only have one anchor?

Beyond exploring Camarat 4 for historical interest, DRASSM also intends to use the upcoming project to raise awareness about the ills of sea pollution. Tellingly, alongside the 500-year-old ceramics were plastic bottles and yogurt pots.

By Richard Whiddington.

[pursuitseternal]

Spend “A Night with the Ascendant:” the Dark Lord Astarion and his concubine spawn

Ascended Astarion x His Spawn (Lumina) | 🪦Dead Dove | 7k of harem/concubine smut

Summary: The Vampire Ascendant of the Crimson Palace takes an interest in his newest spawn and prize. She is a radiant young woman who defies his expectations of servitude among the throng of beautiful concubines, all the rest who await his attention in their gilded cage.

CW: Dub!Con, Harem dynamics, consorts/concubines, public sex, degradation, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, Oral sex male recieving, somnophilia if you squint, shared love of books, a hint of a softer side to the exalted master, and an Ascended Vampire Lord who finds himself far too comfortable around his obedient spawn.

A/n: assumes no “in game romance” No Tav… no one.

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥

“The little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means “light…”

Some silken voice woke her. The ghost of his laughter swirled in her ear through her sleep. Her dreams were harsh and restless. Her body was sore, as if knit back together after being torn asunder.

Head spinning, body wracked in the ebb of pain, but she stirred. Alive.

Lumina woke on a little bed, the scent of perfume cloyed in her throat. Her very parched, very thirsty throat. Her belly gnawed, unspeakably hungry. Her eyes flew open to the strong environs— a small freshly made bed beneath her, a chest in the corner, wash basin and a vast array of bottles beside it. Each was brightly colored and brimming with oils and soaps and fragrances.

Her nose could smell them through the glass. Her eyes could read the labels, even at this distance. Her head swam with all the input, all of her senses sharp and overloaded as she struggled from her bed.

Three of her walls were a smooth, white stone, but the fourth…. Bars, inlaid with gold and etched with filigree and filament.

A gilded cage.

Rising quickly, she took the pitcher in her washstand, trying to slake that thirst at last. But after even a single drop of water hit her tongue, she knew for certain it wasn’t water for which we thirsted.

Blood.

She had read enough books, sold enough copies of The Curse of the Vampyr to know full well what she was. She vaguely remembered being hooded and whisked away from her Keeper’s back room. His gruff voice happy to have her gone and his debts paid all at once.

He would burn in the hells for this and everything he had done. His little shop of spells and scrolls and books wouldn’t keep him from the recompense coming to him. She had been one of a long list of indentures who suffered from his greed.

Thirst, hunger, pain… it was no different now. At least her cage was gilded and her bed was stuffed with feathers.

But there was the bloodlust. The agony. The need to feed.

Even as her hand started to claw at her throat, she heard the sounds of movement from the hall.

She heard whimpering, pleading. Some musical feminine voice just near her cell spouted out such pretty words. “Please my lord… I’ll do anything my lord… take me, fuck me, drink me near to dry… I’ll be good this time…”

“Shut up!” A voice sliced through her hissing and whining. And instantly she was silenced.

Lumina heard the swing of metal on hinges, the click of the lock once it closed. “Now,” that same voice purred. And instantly, Lumina’s gut twisted. She had heard it. In her head. In the darkness. In her fitful dreams. “As my first consort has left me so…” he huffed, “…unsatisfied, I guess I’ll just have to select another for tonight.”

Footsteps echoed on the floor. That velvet voice slunk closer with each word. Until he stood before her.

His head cocked as he looked her up and down, bright scarlet eyes that glowed just a touch, a combed and coiffed tousle of silver hair. Manicured to look mussy. He stared at her, unmoving.

And Lumina stared back. He was tall, lithe and strong, his jacket embroidered to perfection, a mix of golds and silvers and beads that wound around his shoulders and chest. His breeches…

Fuck.

They gaped at the waistband, the smooth pink head of a cock peeking from the dark material. She could watch it twitch as her eyes undoubtedly widened to see it staring back.

Unbothered that she should see it, he grinned at her reaction. He wanted her… everyone to see him. Unsatisfied, requiring more.

“You’re awake at last, my newest little spawn,” he smirked as he closed in on her barred cell. “How do you feel?”

She froze. Keeping her mouth silent as she often had before. Handsy shop goers, clients in the back rooms. She would stare them off; it worked before. Most of the time. And then if not she had other recourses and tricks.

But even as her mind began to spin ideas of how to reply, she could feel him in there. A pressure, a poke. A command to reply. So she shut her lips tighter.

His presence swelled, that poke became a chokehold, throttling her mind as her lips opened. “I feel new… pained… different, my Lord Astarion.”

“Good girl,” he replied, a bit of praise that accompanied a bit of a smile.

And it made something in her gut warm all over to receive it.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t take the time to make you… acquainted… with your new lodgings here at the Crimson Palace.” His lips sneered back, voracious and delighted. “And we can tend to educating you in your duties as well. Two birds, one stone sort of thing, darling.”

Lumina still held still, her body growing hot at his plans. “You mean sex, my lord…” It wasn’t a question.

“Well… you’re my lowest, newest concubine, but a concubine nonetheless.” He gave her a dramatic sigh. “Hopefully you fare better than the most experienced one here did tonight.” He turned, looking over his shoulder to shake his head and tut his tongue. “So disappointing.”

Lumina stepped to the side to catch a glance at the consort in question. She was tall, elegant and regal in bearing. Tiefling. Unfamiliar. And her dark eyes that matched her dark skin settled back on her with vitriol and loathing.

Minutes awake, newly vampiric, and she already had an enemy. Lumina’s eyes scanned back to the Master as he returned that assessing gaze on her once more. His pleasure… his approval would be weathervane at best, it seemed. She could already tell from the way his deep set eyes narrowed, how his legs spread with the stance of confidence and power. But it was what she needed— what she would seek to survive.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” she kept her voice soft, submissive, tilting her head down to look at him through her lashes. A trick she had learned in her twenty-some years of indentured servitude.

“A promising beginning.” His lips twisted to one side, that left brow arching rakishly. Suddenly the gate released, and he beckoned her out, crooking a single, long-nailed finger in her direction. “Perhaps you can show your betters what to do for me, hmm?” She obeyed, treading on her bare feet across the bright marble floor until she stood before him. She had always been shorter, but there was something about his bearing, his demeanor and power that made her curl in, feel small.

“Well, I didn’t even have to compel you, curious…” he cast his condescending gaze back at the towering and fuming Tiefling consort behind her bars.

Lumina glanced carefully down the hall—rows of similar cells stretched on… a dozen eyes, all glowing red, locked on her.

His chosen for the night.

She could feel his breath before his touch. His fingers gripped firmly around her jaw, turning her head, angling her up so she had nowhere to look but those piercing, enticing red eyes. “You are one of many, little spawn, but you are untested, and that makes you… interesting. Shall we taste but a sample of what you have to offer?”

His lips consumed her before she could suck down air, that hand at her jaw spun her, shoved her back against the bars. His taste was of fire and wine, burning and sweet. And entirely intoxicating.

A tug at the skirt of her flimsy little shift, and she knew what was coming. Unavoidable. Not unwanted either now that his taste was on her tongue, and not when his tongue was thrust so tantalizing between her lips. Her hands pulled the fabric faster, making his lips smirk as he worked them against her mouth.

Three fingers swept quickly between her legs, his thumb pushing past the soft curls on her mound. And he sneered a bit. “I’ll forgive you this once,” he growled, disapprovingly. “I keep my concubines clean shaven. A pity for you human ones, but you’ll just have to obey me, my pet.”

“Yes, my lord.” The words flew from her mouth before they even passed her brain.

“Given how wet you are already, however, I’m sure you’ll more than make it up to me. So new and willing and obedient…” his voice failed, those fingers drawing deeper inside her, back and forth. His fingers crooked hard and fast, making the wettest, most obscene noises he could from between her legs.

“Doesn’t she just sound eager and ripe?” He lifted his head from hers, cocking his chin at the closest one watching.

The first consort hovered behind her, her breath was cold against Lumina’s neck. It was her cage he had pressed her against, her punishment enacted where Lumina was but a weapon to use.

“Want to see if I’ll fit?” hegrowled, again over her shoulder. “Shall we test it… and see?”

“Whatever pleases you, my lord…” the Tiefling hissed, her deep and sultry voice was so close behind Lumina’s head that it tickled her ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed delightedly and darkly, one hand moving between their bellies. “Seems you’ve remembered your place, at least a little…” Then his head returned to glare down at her. “But this one is adorably short. Assist her, Morana.”

His command tingled in the air pulling at both their bodies, she could tell. The Tiefling panted and hissed as her clawed hands slid under Lumina’s armpits to hoist her higher up the bars. She held on for but a moment, until she dropped quickly.

His cock waiting to catch her, his thigh braced her fall. He roared in her ear, hands gripped into her hips so he could fuck. Split apart, so full, her body cried out in blissful agony. It had been awhile since she had a lover… and none was like this. His shaft pumped hard and fast, his breath tingling and hot in the crook of her neck.

“Why…” he panted, loud enough for the others to hear. “You’re perfect, wet and tight as if never taken, you sweet little spawn.”

That silken voice, those honeyed praises, they settled right in her belly, pooling just where the head of his cock had rammed her already senseless.

“But I would hate to debase you completely before your peers. Hate to spoil in public… what I will have in the comforts of my chambers.”

With a groan, he pulled out. His cock, pale and veined, twitched to be denied. Her feet slammed on the floor, her body thrown forward until she almost crashed into him. But she caught one hand on a golden jail bar behind her. Just in time.

“They’ve seen enough, little Lumina,” he purred again, his fingers smelled of her slick as he clutched at her chin again. “And I, why, I have just begun to have my fill of you.”

Lumina shuddered under the intensity of his gaze, his sharp face twisted in that sensual smirk, his hand still pulling at her jaw. Bringing her in for one more biting kiss. One more that made her head spin and her legs shake.

Voices called from down the hall, a mixed chorus of male and female.

“Be sure to bite him…”

“He loves it when you swallow, dear…”

“Use just a little teeth, he will thank you for it…”

“Hush, the lot of you,” he hissed, a snarl on his lips, those pointed fangs now in her sight as she trembled. “Stop toying with the precious, little thing,” he turned down to kiss her once more. Almost a chaste little peck. “That is my right as your maker, dear.” He let her go, her flesh suddenly ice cold without his burning touch. “Come, Lumina.”

There it was again, that push in her mind, like tendrils of him woven into her nerves, making her feet follow him from the dungeons.

Halls stretched before them, stair after stair, winding up higher into the palace. All was gilded with creams and scarlets and sable. All was decadent. Magnificent and mouthwatering.

Not unlike its Master.

He was quiet, turning an infrequent smile down on her from time to time. Certainly every time her thighs squelched with wetness.

Of course, as they reached the topmost landing he turned, flashing some wicked smile as he caught her hand from her side. His cock still poked from the top of his waistband, barely contained and leaking as he brought her hand to his lips. “Tonight I bring you to my rooms myself, make you acquainted with your new living situation, but from now on, you’ll come when I summon you…” He paused sweeping her hand from his lips face to press it hard against that raging erection.

She gasped and swallowed the sound quickly.

“…if I summon you that is… much depends upon how you please me this evening.” He laughed, backing her into the open door behind him. She couldn’t take in the surroundings, not yet. Not when she lost herself in the scarlet glow of his eyes and perfect flash of his fangs. He was all sensuality and luxury set in ivory skin, his voice dripped in arousal, no matter what degrading things he purred down at her. “It is quite the coveted role, spending the night with the Ascendant. I’m sure you could feel all their jealousy, could cut their envy with a knife…”

He let out a giggle, pulling her hand from his cock to tug her flush against his body again. The room was dark. Soft little candles gave off flickering lights, lights that caught in his silver hair and refracted in his gaze. “But you’ll do your best to please me, I’m sure of it, little spawn,” he rasped right in her ear, allowing his lips to brush over the smooth, rounded edges letting his warm breath flow down her neck. “It is only your first day as my creation…”

He sat himself on the edge of his bed, a grand thing, four postered and canopied in scarlet silks and velvets. Hands pressed into the covers behind him, a little groan in his throat as he leaned back.

Letting his cock ease from his dark breeches a bit more, giving it a few strokes as he did so.

“My little spawn, come here,” he ordered, clear and concise. Direct enough to send a shudder down her spine at its snapping tone. “Kneel.”

Her body paused, eyes wide as she took in the sight of… him… his cock… his rooms. All of it.

And then those tendrils tugged at her thoughts again, ordering her body lower and lower. She had always been slightly smaller, but now, crouching on her knees, brought to kneel at his feet, she never felt so small. So insignificant. So lucky to have been chosen despite it.

“Lumina,” he breathed and slid his legs further from bed, until they crowded her in from either side. “A curious little name. I’m sure you were quite the brilliant light in your past life, like your name suggests.”

No, I wasn’t.

“Yes, my Lord Astarion,” the automatic reply sounded from her lips. And he hadn’t even compelled them. They just seemed safer.

He preened, a slight buck of his hips at the way her voice rolled out his name. She noticed. A gaping, fang-showing smile and he cocked his head. “You know why I chose you? Well… other than to pay off your master’s debts, of course….”

Lord Astarion grinned— something wicked and feral beneath that smile. “How could I pass up damning the little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means light to an eternity of darkness in my bed?” He sighed, deep and long and loud, from where he still perched at the edge. From where he held court before her at his bedside. His legs were so long, almost brushing her, where she knelt at his feet. The bed creaked as he arched back on his hands. Aroused. Pleased. “It’s too delicious an irony to pass up, wouldn’t you agree?”

The pressure in Lumina’s mind reinserted itself. His power, his presence made a smile come to her pressed lips as she heard her own voice give a sweet noise of assent. “Yes, my lord…”

“Such a good little girl,” he purred, leaning forward to pull her by her collar. “Now, open.”

She batted her eyes shut, slowly letting her mouth hang open, her pink tongue to just barely cover her lower lip. The second that salty, bitter tang on his cock brushed the tip, she lapped greedily, letting him slide deeper into her mouth.

And she earned herself a rumbling groan from above. “Gods,” he crooned, “you’ve done this before, haven’t you, little spawn?”

She just smiled, flicking a glance up, a bat of her lashes as she took him deeper, sucking on and off, up and down. He leaned further back into the bed, legs splayed out, long and lazy.

“And here I thought you some virginal thing, needing instruction and guidance. A pleasant surprise….” One had reached to brush back her bright golden locks, planting a firm grip at the back of her neck. Not pushing her rhythm, rather he rode it, savored it, as she worked with tongue and lips and cheeks.

It was warped praise, but it was enough to ignite a little boldness. Her cold fingers slipped past the base of his cock into the warmth of his trousers, reaching to cradle softly around his balls.

So smooth and taught. Almost ready to blow. She gave that smooth, soft pad of skin a gentle rub, a subtle tug. And all the while she kept her mouth busy, wet enough and loud enough to fix his gaze on her.

On where she knelt at his feet. Submitting. Sucking every little bit of that velvet skin, relishing the pulse that thrummed through its length. Swallowing every little eking drop of his seed as it leaked onto her tongue. Every little trick she had learned before, every move that made her handful of encounters and lovers pleasured, she used every one. It was easy with him, the way he began to groan out sweet little nothings. “Faster…. Deeper… yes.” His voice sent shivers right to her cunt, soaking down her thighs more the faster she bobbed back and forth.

Until he gripped into her hair and yanked her off. Holding her steady over his thighs, he rubbed himself in his tight fist all the faster. The wet beat increased in speed until he came, streams of cum dripping down her cheeks, her chin. His voice barely more than a groan as he sighed at the sight. Lumina’s little tongue lapped it from her lips, using one hand to gather it from her face, licking her fingers clean.

“Hells below,” he grinned, ever so rakish, ever so pleased. “You’re quite the slut aren’t you? Like the way I taste on your tongue, the way I dry on your skin, hmm?”

“Yes, my lord,” she simpered, sitting back on her heels.

“Incredible, little spawn. You’ve more than earned a reward, darling,” he stood, once again unbothered to clean his leaking cock or return it decently away. No, instead, he stood, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. Smirking all the wider as her dark eyes followed him across the room, darting between his face and the away his hardened cock bobbed up and down as he swayed.

A little cabinet opened in the wall across the room, and only then did Lumina take in the grandeur of his chambers. The far wall was entirely lined with books, big bright beautiful spines glowed in the light of the massive fireplace adjacent.

It stole her breath away, having spent years working in servitude to sell them… those and whatever other shit her old keeper had to peddle.

Seeing such a massive collection of books, so cared for and well-tended, she could almost catch a glimmer of who her new master was beneath that embroidered veneer of power and sex.

But it faded the second he grabbed a bottle from one shelf, a golden cup in the other, a red beverage pouring loudly. Lumina smelled it before she saw it. Blood. At last.

He seated himself in the large, plush wing-backed chair by the fire, crimson gaze burning her skin as he gave himself a long, slurping sip.

A small, scarlet line slipped from the corner of his lip as he offered the cup to her. “Drink, my pet. You earned it. Sate that bloodlust for the first time, little spawn.”

She fairly scrambled on all fours, stumbling and catching herself as she raced for that little cup. She knocked it back in one swig, her breathing ragged as it filled her stomach just a bit, just enough to take the sharpest pains away. But as she lowered the cup, her stomach sank, Astarion only smiled at her. Bemused. The glass bottle still sat on the shelf. “Something you wish to ask of me?” he crooned.

“Please, my lord,” her hand shook, holding out the golden offering. “I’m so… so thirsty.

“I know my pet,” he cajoled, a little shake of his head, brows furrowed and mouth frowning in pity. “But you’ll have to earn more.”

“Tell me anything,” the words raced off her tongue, her body sinking back to her knees. She begged, tears in her eyes as she caressed up his thighs. Those dark pants were so soft under her touch. But there was too heavy a scent in the air for her to appreciate anything more. She wanted to lick that dribble still on his chin, wanted to drink her fill straight from the neck of the bottle…

Wanted to drink right from the pulsing artery in his own neck.

But the second that thought crossed her mind, those dark tendrils were there to seize it. “Ah, ah,” he chided. “None of that. You don’t get to taste any more of me than what has already covered your tongue, my spawn.”

“Then what will you have me do, my lord?” she forced the words through her thick throat, trying to swallow to chase the parched feeling away.

“Disrobe,” he snipped, reaching for that bottle of blood, taking a swig right from the opening just as she wanted too. “You’re not clothed in much, but I appreciate a demonstration of beauty.” Another swallow, louder this time, loud enough to make her lick her dry and swollen lips. “And aren’t you beautiful, Lumina.”

She could feel her sallow, cold-fleshed cheeks blush at his words. One hand pulled the little shift from over her head, a single fluid motion as she tossed it into his lap.

Oh, the way that smirk widened enough to show his teeth… it made her stomach knot all funny, made her body hotter than she thought possible for the undead.

He reached for the cup from her hand, filling it a bit more. Another little reward for her display. “Good girl, Lumina, my little light I think I’ll keep close to me.”

She swallowed the fresh offering down, setting it down on the floor beside his chair. Those drinks in her belly made her all the bolder, all the more alive.

“What will you do to earn even more, I wonder?” he purred, wagging the bottle slowly, eyes skimming down her pale, little body, tongue tip licking his fang as he smirked.

“Suggestions to entertain you, my lord?” she smiled so sweetly, decided to follow his gaze with a featherlight touch down her own body. She started on her neck, where his cum still dampened her skin, trailing it down her collarbone, grazing between her full and swaying breasts.

That made his tongue dart and lap at his lip, a predator licking his chops. “Very good…” he growled, leaning back and sliding his ass lower in the chair. “Now, take my cum on your fingers and touch yourself, darling…”

Another loud swallow in his throat as she obeyed. Not even a tendril of compelling required. Lumina did as she was told, lowering her eyes to watch her own hands, gathering one more streak of his seed from her shoulder before she slid it inside her folds.

Her eyes fluttered shut to finally feel an iota of release. She burned, wanting more since he fucked her quickly against those bars. Like lighting, pleasure flashed down her nerves, her fingers working so quickly to chase that swell of satisfaction that flared inside her.

“Enough,” he growled.

But she... couldn’t. She needed something. Needed to either satisfy the gnaw of her stomach or the inferno between her thighs.

Not compelling in her brain this time, Astarion gripped her by the waist, dragging her between his legs before he ripped her hand from her fold. “Bad girl,” he tutted, bringing her sopping fingers into his mouth to suck them clean.

And then he bit. Fangs tore into the heel of her palm. She cried in pain, a deep, wicked laugh was her answer from him as he drank from her. It was brief, but painful. And now she was left all the hungrier for it. “Learn your place, little spawn. You do as I say… nothing more, nothing less.” His voice was sharp, wild. With all the arrogance of one who has been obeyed for a century, perhaps longer.

“Sorry, my lord,” Lumina quickly stammered. Give him what he wants, she reminded herself. “I will obey you.” Added for good measure.

That softened the razor lines of his cheeks, his jaw unclenching to hear such sweet submission. “I’ll allow you another chance, little light,” he purred once more, all honey and silk in his tone. “Undress me.”

Amused glint in his crimson eyes, conceited smirk on his lips, he reclined against his chair. A single hand gestured lavishly over the clasps and buttons of his luxurious jacket. Lumina did not hesitate, careful to keep her wounded hand from offending his clothing, already clotting as she healed quickly.

A reminder she was now Vampiric, as if she could forget her new form with that hunger in her belly. She eyed the bottle in his hand still, watching the blood dance and slosh inside its green clear walls.

“Look at me, little spawn,” he hissed, her hands almost done with the heavy meal clasps before beginning the inner buttons. She acquiesced, quickly lost in the way his eyes hungered. They brimmed with power, but that dulled light of boredom was gone— its crimson now bright with curiosity, fascination. And for a moment, she let herself feel a hint of pride that she was giving him that.

Once his perfect, ivory chest was in sight, she let her fingers just brush down that deep groove between his muscles. She pushed the heavy clothing apart, mouth salivating the more she saw. And she doubted it was just the bond of him as her creator that caused such a visceral reaction to the sight of him…

Of his body.

A rolling, rumbling chuckle in his chest shook under fingers. That cool glass bottle was thrust against her belly. She caught it, smiling as he ordered her to drink. But even as she downed swallow after swallow, she watched his every elegant movement. So sleek as he pulled himself free from his clothing, he tossed it in a rumpled mess on the floor. He even slid his breeches from under his ass, hand gripped around that pale, achingly hard cock.

As he stroked himself, he watched her drink, watching the drips slink down her chin as she couldn’t help but drain that bottle dry. “Feel better?” he cooed, still absentmindedly stroking himself as he watched her clean her mouth on the back of her little hand.

Lumina sighed, the bottle dropping to the floor from her hand as it shook. She was finally fuller, finally more sated and happier and warmer. “Yes, my Lord Astarion,” she moaned in response. “Thank you.”

“So very polite you are. Oh, I like you. That genuine little sound in your voice as your small, curved body shakes to be near me. Yes,” he reached a hand towards her. Leaning forward, he clutched her in his own long fingers, “you’ll do very nicely, for quite awhile, I hope.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” she hummed, a little swivel to her hips, a slight stroke of her free hand over the crest of her mound. “Anything else I might do for you, Lord Astarion?”

He cocked his chin, face twisting and tweaking in flirtatious amusement. “I believe I can think of a thing or two… best send you back down to your quarters with enough cum to drip down your legs for days. That way they all know just how very much you’ve pleased me…”

She shivered, his words making her stomach drop to her toes, making her cunt twitch and ache to be filled. Her eyes grew wide watching him buck a little on the seat of his chair. “Finish your task, little spawn. Undress me completely.”

She knelt so quickly, hands pulling off the supple leather of his boots, unsheathing his legs one by one. His skin was so smooth, muscles bunched and taught under the little accidental brushes she made against his calves. Tossing it all to the side with his discarded jacket, she glanced up at him, the paragon of beauty, the image of power and sex she had fallen madly obsessed with.

It only took one night with him, one touch of his fingers, one taste of him on her tongue. She knelt happily and would obey.

His legs spread wide, a single slap of his hand on the top of his thigh. “Sit,” he commanded, and she flew to him, hovering over his cock just long enough for his sly hand to line that head just so. And sit, she did. His forehead pressed against her breasts, his breath hot as he sighed to fill her. Her body took command, hips riding that length that pushed and thrashed against the end of her channel. She looked at him, watching the soft curls of his silver hair tousling as she fucked him.

And then, she felt it. A warm sweep of his tongue on her full and rounded breast. He drew it into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard until he made her cry. Her hands braced carefully on his shoulders, the perfect height for her to grind up and down. Little buck after buck of his hips beneath her met every slap of her cunt on his thighs. But even that natural ride of her body on his grew harder with the way he swirled his tongue on her nipple. Hands wandered up and down her back, one finally stopped to cradle her other swinging breast.

A single brush of his razor-fangs on that perfect pink nipple, and she shattered. Writhing, twitching, there was no sensation in her body that wasn’t the pleasure he drew from her. It was blistering hot and all-consuming, her body going nearly limp to allow him to grab her by the waist and fuck up into her with abandon.

It was his turn. Those long nails scored into her back, drawing blood under his touch. Scraping lower, he clawed their sharp edges into the rippling flesh of her ass, making her moan so, so deliciously loudly. She was clay in his hands, knowing just how to respond to his touch, how to reply to his words.

More intoxicating than immortal life had been for decades.

Clenching, she shattered on his cock once more so soon. Lumina panted, starved of breath, unable to let her muscles relax and slow in post-coital bliss. He just gave her more, gave it to her harder. Until at last, he groaned. Practically lifting her with his strength to slam her back down with every thrust into her, until he finally let it all go. His voice hissed, growling and groaning as he came, filling up into her with spurts that stole even his undead breath.

Finally, she was allowed to soften in his arms. Cautious not to sprawl into him, to cuddle or savor the press of his body that had just given and taken so much. A few breaths, and he pressed his head against her shoulder for a moment.

As if he forgot for that moment he was the most powerful being in Faerûn.

“Get up,” he hissed, voice steeled over and sharp. Remembering himself.

Lumina did as she was told. Shaking and trembling, she reached for the bookcases to steady herself. Fingertips brushed the soft leather bindings, and it made her smile. Sweet little moments of comfort, the only ones she had all her life.

He was beside her in an instant. Gaze following where hers had been, his lips smiled faintly. “See one you like, little spawn?”

Lumina’s brow quirked in confusion. A delightful picture, he decided. A portrait of well-fucked surprise. “So many of them, my lord. I could hardly choose a single interesting star in the sky.”

“Choose one star for this evening, another for the next,” he turned away, a low throated chuckle as he left her. “One each time until I tire of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, his twisted gift making her smile as she pulled a simple, blue leather-bound book from its shelf.

The bed creaked. And as she turned her stomach fluttered again to see, to feel those eyes piercing into her. Even as her slick and his cum slipped down her thigh, she burned for more. He held out two more cups, a fresh bottle on the nightstand to replenish them both. “Come, Lumina,” he bid her, loudly and formally. But the way his smile widened as she clutched the little blue bloom against her breasts, slinking closer as if she were shy, she knew something may have shifted.

If only slightly.

Cautiously, she slid into the scarlet sheets on the opposite side. That book still pressed into her body. He didn’t look away, proffering her that cup of replenishment as she leaned against the pillows. One arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Closer, my little spawn.” He flashed his fangs, raising his own cup to those conceited, smirking lips. “I would say I don’t bite, but…” his voice trailed off as he drank deeply.

Lumina slid closer, sipping slowly this time, thumbing the vellum pages’ edge, lost in her thoughts.

Something warm and heavy pressing into her lap threw her right back into her surroundings. The rooms of the Ascendant. His face rested on her lap. His head turned toward her, his breath was warm on her belly, where her skin reached up above the covers. “Not going to read while I allow you some respite, Lumina?”

“I…” she trailed off.

“Don’t you worry, little light. I’ll let you know when I am ready and eager for more of your submission, darling.” His voice sounded softer to her ears than the silks and downs of his bed. “And after all, from here…” that voice turned hungry, edged with velvet seduction again, “I’ll be more than ready to eat you right up.”

Shuddering from his words, she obeyed his suggestion. One hand held her cup, the cool, sanguine drink filling her up and chasing away that pain inside her. The other hand carefully opened the book to the side of her lap, turning the delicate pages with reverence. After a while, words began to swim, her immortal human body growing tired after all. But even the comfort of a book in her hands and the fresh stories between its covers didn’t soothe her more than the weight of his head on her lap…

The slowing breath from his nose on her belly…

The growing heaviness of sleep that filled her frame from his.

He nestled there on her thighs, eyes shut in trance, breath steady and peaceful as he rested.

Carefully, she set the empty cup down on the end table. Laying back, she soon drifted as well, and as she dozed off, her fingers unknowingly wrapped in the unruly tendrils of his silver locks.

Her sleep swept her away, body aching, lips swollen… It was finally a rest that was hunger free and soft. Sleeping with the Vampire Ascendant, unheard of in all the realms. She dozed, she knew not how long…

Until the sheets were ripped from her body, heaviness crushing her as he rasped in her ear, “Wake up, little spawn. Surely you don’t think I would let you merely sleep the night away.”

Astarion knelt between her thighs, hands raising them, forcing her knees to bend. Her sleepy eyes forced themselves open, watching that self-conceited smirk leer down at her, his erection bobbing so rigid and pink as he lined himself up.

“Come, Lumina,” he groaned as he sheathed himself in. “Rouse yourself, make yourself useful for once.” She arched her back, and sleep did quickly leave her limb, blinking the haze from her eyes. Those long fingers dug into her knees, his hips slapping hard and rough and wild. She could feel her blood drip from where he clawed into her skin, that essence swallowed by the scarlet sheets.

Every thrust drew sweet little pants, whimpering cries from her tired mouth. She couldn’t help it, not as he had his way with her, still half asleep but also half eager for more. And totally, completely drenched for his cock again. This time, it was all for him, his eyes glued to the way her breasts swayed with every ride of her body, her lips bitten by her own newborn fangs as she took his fucking so well.

Not one complaint, not one iota of resistance. No, she lounged, arms sprawled into the pillow, thighs opened wide for his use. Music drawn from her throat that resounded in his rooms, he loved it.

Loved it so much, he wanted to feel that sweet little cunt milk him, clench around his cock to take his spend so deep inside her, it would take days to drip its way out. A little sweep of his thumb into the peak of her folds, and he circled that hardened clit. So swollen, she instantly writhed and grinded back at the new source of pleasure. Panting, keening, she shuddered into the bed, the sharp edge of his fingernail digging slightly into her flesh, scoring around her clit’s thickened hood. Pain sliced through her pleasure. And as her hands gripped into the downy pillow, she thrashed in her climax. Ribbons of her arousal poured out around him, fire scalding hot down her limbs and pouring through her as she shuddered.

Every clench of her walls sucked him in harder, making it nearly impossible to drag himself in and out. A beautiful little burning light, burning hot just for him.

And they all would see it. Every last one of his spawn he kept for pleasure… they would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she pleased him. The vision of her, walking back down the halls of his harem, smelling like him, trails of her slick and his cum running down her heel to puddle on the floor. That book in her hand, a treasured gift to his new favorite…

“Fuck,” he groaned, her voice matching his in volume as she mewled all the louder. He split her open, slamming against that end of her. Untethered, uncontrolled as he spilled hard and fast inside her. His breath was heavy and damp, almost as much as his body as he laid on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her folds. He crushed her, covered her. Lumina needed to crane her head just to fit in the space of his neck to breathe.

Did she even need to breathe anymore? But even such thoughts melted, as he rested there. Again. So warm and blanketing her in all of him.

The air was thick with their scents, wet with their sweat. But she didn’t care. She would let him sleep until dawn like this if he willed it. Beyond smitten, addicted as she was instantly for more of him. Her Master.

One more deep inhale, and he pulled from her body. A brush of his hand down her cheek, he whispered to her. “Go, Lumina.”

She paused for a moment, aching to have to leave. Her gut twisted at the thought of returning to them all… in that place. But she swallowed that feeling back down. “If it pleases you…”

He gave a breathy laugh, reaching for the small blue book before he tossed it into the bed beside her. “Here, take this too. You can return it when I summon you again tonight.”

She knew she must have looked like a foolish girl, face beaming for a second in hope. Knowing she would be back… knowing he would have her again.

“Thank you, my Lord Astarion,” she tried not to sound too giddy.

He just gave a deep, breathless chuckle, rolling that perfect body, hewn from ivory by the gods themselves, back under his covers. “Clean yourself up this time, my little light. I won’t have anything less than perfection from you.”

“Yes, of course, my Lord Astarion,” she preened. Preened from the edge of his bed as she shuffled her little shift back on. As she grabbed for that small leather book to hug against her beautiful breasts. He rolled his back to her, not caring to watch her journey back.

Resting his head in the pillow, he could smell her still. For the briefest flash of a moment, he wished it had been her yielding thighs again beneath his head… No, that was a transgression he had been sure to rectify. He fucked all sentimentality on his part out of her. That book was a boon, a sign of favor that would claim her as his… his favorite. For now.

But as he laid in those damp, silken sheets, he thought of her hair in his fist, her dark eyes at knee-level. And his hand stroked his length again.

Night couldn’t come soon enough once more.

[angelbby555]

Rocking cradles

word count: 1K

Summary: Building a baby cradles with your husband.

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

The excuse was that you were pregnant so you didn't have to do any chores. Not that Bradley would let you, he was extremely protective of you ever since you got pregnant. That meant sometimes not letting you hold a knife or take the grocery's out the car.

"If you need me to sub in just tell me." You sat on the floor placing your hand over Bradley jean covered knee. Of course both of you had left putting the nursery together till the last minute.

"Just be the cheerleader we all know and love." Bradley leaned over to you pressing a delicate kiss on your forehead and the leaned down to press one to your pregnant belly making your heart melt.

"Okay daddy." A little sigh escaped your lips and Bradley gaze was off the manual for the crib and was on you now. His eyes darkened with lust and his lips tugged into a smirk.

"You're just begging for another one aren't you honey?" Bradley had to force his eyes off you and back to the crib at hand. There were so many wooden panels he had no idea, where they were supposed to go. Growing up he wasn't much of a Lego's kid, but if Bradley could fly a million dollar plane then he could build a crib.

Bradley's tongue poked out in concentration as he examined the pieces. There were four wooden walls for the crib and there was a big base where the bed was supposed to go. He figured if he leaned the base on the ground and drilled the first wall into the base he would get the rest done.

"Can I help now?" You said out of boredom pressing your palms to the floor boards. Bradley didn't answer just grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging it over his head. In that moment you didn't care if he responded now since his muscular upper half was on display for you. his shirt was coming off, the task at hand was getting serious now.

You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his biceps flex when he grabbed one of the walls from the crib. You sat there watching Bradley drill the wall into the base. Suddenly you shut your mouth just enjoying Bradley's muscular frame. A thought popped into your brain that maybe a few years later when the baby was older Bradley would rock a dad bod. It certainly was a delicious thought to you.

"Why are you smiling?" Your happiness was Bradley's happiness so he found himself smiling.

"Nothing don't worry about it. I'll go get some lemonade." You said with the same smile thinking about Bradley with a soft mid section. Bradley wiped the sweat off his forehead and then watched you struggle to get off the floor. "Shut up!" You laughed out followed with a pathetic whine.

"My poor baby can't get up. Don't worry daddy's got you." He chuckled getting up on his feet before offering you a hand and help you stand up. Bradley kissed your forehead and patted your butt as you waddled away.

-

By the time you came back with the glass pitcher Bradley had already gotten 2 more walls connected to the base. The crib was almost ready. It was crazy how easy Bradley's back was all sweaty and it was even more crazy how turned on that had you.

"I forgot the cups!" You threw your head back with a whine. As you were about to go retrieve the cups Bradley held on to you wrist preventing you to leave.

"I'm not fancy, we can drink from the pitcher." You giggled at his comment and he took the big condensation pitcher from your hands and put his lips on the side of the glass. You observed his adams apple bobed up and down as he chugged it down. When he put the glass down his mustache was all wet and a little whimper escaped your lips. "It's really good baby, try it."

His hand position switched to hold the handle of the pitcher and his other hand held it at the bottom. Your lips located on the little triangle spout and Bradley tilted the glass up for you to try the sweet lemonade. He made sure he didn't spill anything on you, focused on how cute you looked drinking out the pitcher. Once you had enough he lowered the pitcher down and was quick to lean down to capture your lips in a kiss.

His mouth tasted like sweet lemonade, and when he playfully bit at your lips you were moaning into his mouth. The cold pitcher pressed into your stomach, as his nose pumped into yours. Bradley pulled away from the kiss making another whine escape your lip.

"One more wall." His sweaty forehead was pressed against yours. "Then I'll take care of you." Bradley pecked you lips one more time before getting back on the floor.

You both took sips of the lemonade as you held the screws for him in you hand. That's all he would let you do. Before he could drill the last nail in you felt the baby kick your stomach. So you grabbed your husbands wrist and pressed his hand to the small leg pushing at your stomach. He smiled when He felt him kick against his hand.

"Yeah I know mommy looks really pretty holding the nails." You playfully pushed his temples when he said that to your baby bump.

Then the last wall was up. And the wooden crib was standing perfectly on its own. Both of you admired Bradley's hard work from the floor as Bradley finished the last of the lemonade.

"Good job daddy." You offered him a high five but Bradley playfully scoffed at the gesture. Hitting your hand before intertwining it with his.

"Yeah let take of you now baby." He cooed softly placing a hand on the back of your head and bring you into a kiss.

[meret118]

Spout is an intriguing water source alternative in a moment when questions about sustainability and water accessibility are pressing. With its minimalistic design, it looks deceptively low impact. The filtering tank envelopes a pitcher, and it plugs into an outlet just like any other appliance. It’s sized at a reasonable scale and takes up the same space as a large coffee machine. In reality, however, the device can produce anywhere between one to two and a half gallons of water daily, depending on temperature and humidity levels. And the mechanics of how that happens is where the magic truly lies.

[and-the-payoff]

Can people who call baseball boring as a bad thing shut up forever. It's like they have no real opinion and just spout "haha ur sport bad!" You get out of baseball what you put into it. If you have it in the background running and only look up when you hear a commotion, you get a few cool moments. If you know all of your lineup just by the way they stand at the plate and watch every single pitch, you get to be on the edge of your seat the whole time. It's the beauty of being what you want it to be. Art is what you make of it. Not to wax poetic. If you don't like baseball, yeah. It's gonna be boring. I don't like most contact sports. I find the constant commotion mind numbing, that doesn't mean they're all bad. People need to expand their horizons please. Just because there aren't a lot of hits/runs doesn't mean it's boring, it means that you need to be paying attention to the pitchers.

[friendswithclay]

“Young woman holding vase at left, a pitcher sitting on edge of fountain, with water flowing from two spouts” c.1932-34

[blondebrainpowered]

Zsolnay lustre ceramic figural water pitcher, ca. 1902-1904, Hungary

The water pitcher gradating from dark blue to orange with diaphanous dressed women emerging from the base and forming the handle, sides and spout. From Heritage Auctions

[dumbbitchhour]

Italian, Montelupo, Double-spouted pitcher with arms of the Antinori family, c. 1500-1505 x

[the-passenger-if]

We get to see Roach tease the MC about their romance insterests; how would Roach tease the ROs about being interested in or having a crush Newman? Roach's sense of humor is great and them embarrassing everyone around them is top tier friendship trolling.

Happy May!

And happy October to you, anon n_n”

I imagine Roach would tease Fiama while they're stuck in the cabin, maybe while Newman is cleaning themselves in the bathroom:

“Good for you,” Roach says, and Fiama looks at them.

“Are you talking to me?” She holds Bruno closer to her.

Roach chuckles. “No need to use the kid as a shield. You’re obviously taken.” They throw a pointed look at the bathroom, before looking at her again, “In more ways than one.” When Fiama's only answer is staring back at them, Roach stands up and stretches themself. “Hey, it's fine. To be honest, you duped me; I thought you would get up and leave, yet here you are.”

“And I should care about what you think because…?”

Roach grins. “Oh no, you shouldn’t.” They look like they want to add something else, but their amused expression turns softer little by little. “You’ll take care of them, won’t you?”

“I’m planning to,” Fiama replies, her chin high, and Roach realizes she doesn’t appreciate the sudden probing. It’s fine; they wouldn’t either.

“Good. Good for you,” they repeat. “Good for them.” And they mean it.

●○●○●○●○●

They would tease Jonny in the cabin too because Roach has no chill:

“How does it feel to be the latest obsession of a monstrosity from space?”

Jonny doesn’t look at them, but his eyes jump to the tiny bathroom before shooting elsewhere.

Roach sighs. Thinks about resting their head against his shoulder for half a second before just going for it. Jonny doesn’t shake them off, but he tenses up—more than he usually does, for a longer time than he usually does. “Jonny-boy…” It’s a plea but they don’t care.

“You two are laughing at me.” Not an accusation, just facts being stated, which is worse somehow.

Roach rests their forehead against his shoulder. “We so aren’t.” They nudge Jonny until their friend sighs. When they look up, he is watching them with a blank expression. “Maybe you’re just that enchanting?” Jonny clicks his tongue, and Roach hugs him. “They are into you, dumbass. They really are.” He says nothing; he just stares wide-eyed, so ready to believe them, and also so afraid. “Don’t chicken out now.”

“I… no, I won’t.” Jonny swallows down and makes to stand up so Roach lets go of him.

When both of them are on their feet, Roach gives his skinny ass a friendly slap. The unimpressed look Jonny throws them has them holding up their hands. “For good luck. Go get them, stud.”

●○●○●○●○●

Lastly, they would tease Horizon before shit hit the fan in CH7. They would invite themselves into the Domini’s cabin one evening receiving a vexed look for their trouble:

“So,” Roach begins, paying no mind to Horizon. “Domini, you are a smart cookie. Do you like crosswords?” When they blink in confusion, Roach holds up the magazine they brought along. “Been squeezing my brain for over ten minutes and I can’t find the right word.” They lie the magazine on the table, clear their throat. “Group of whales. And it’s a three letter word.”

Horizon thinks about it for a moment before saying, “A pod.”

Roach grins as they jot down the answer. “Hah, I knew asking you was a good idea. Alright, another one, a container for holding and pouring liquids that usually has a lip or spout and a handle.”

This time the reply is immediate. “Pitcher.” Horizon approaches the table as Roach counts the squares and lets out an impressed whistle. “You’re a walking thesaurus, Domini.”

“Well, I—”

“Third one: someone who is in love slash sexually aroused by their own deity.” They look up at Horizon forming a perfect o with their mouth. The shocked look on the Domini’s face almost makes Roach crack up then and there. “Well well well, this crossword is spicy.”

After that, Horizon isn’t in the mood for games anymore; they are quick to usher Roach out and close the door behind them. Roach is giggling to themself when Horizon reappears.

“And the word is theophile,” the Domini hurls at them.

Roach opens their mouth, reply at the ready, but Horizon shuts the door in their face. Of course, that doesn’t deter them in the slightest. “And you would know everything about that, wouldn’t you?”

[bigmammallama5]

Another long and busy day, and I’m feeling better about how much I’ve made. Started the day working in the studio reclaiming clay in the morning since wood prep was canceled due to no more wood to split lol. This afternoon and evening I finished the pitchers and jars and put them on the rack to fire, tested the teapot lids and set them to dry together (I’ll make spouts and trim/decide on handles next Tuesday), finished trimming the white mugs and put handles on everything (and will sneak back in tomorrow to do some slips). Then threw a large serving bowl, three pendant lights, a Patrick body, and then the main body of a hopeful low birdbath.

[hazelnut-u-out]

Progress on my Rick and Morty ceramic set below the cut!!

Morty base:

This was my first time throwing a jar/making lids, but I think I did okay! I wanted to make sure the jar was round enough to be head-shaped, and…. I’d say it worked!

Rick base:

I didn’t take as many photos of him, but he’s just a basic creamer pitcher with a pulled spout. His handle is a little thick, but it’ll do. (the belly is not that wonky irl lmao)

Then, it was time for faces!

I used slab-cutting for the eyes/brow after sketching them out, and did some molding for the noses.I was nervous, but everything is attached pretty securely!

Then… tragedy struck…

I dropped Morty’s lid and it shattered 😭

Thankfully, I was able to throw some new lids and pick the best fit. For now, Morty just has a big hat! I’m not too angry about it because his new lid has a much better knob, but maybe I’ll make him a new one. Who knows?!

Enjoy this dramatic shot of Morty looking on at the carnage in sheer terror:

I’m just hoping they make it out of the kiln. Fingers crossed!

Excited to glaze these guys. If they turn out well, they'll be a sugar/creamer set!

If you have any ideas about what to do with Morty's giant lid (as in, what should go on it) feel free to let me know! :)