#and astrid is his knight

[neytui]

Oh I completely forgot I was doing this

not finishing it so

[chimeric-art]

teach me what it means to be desired

[illumi-nati-png]

Death

Maura said, “That’s your card.”

On the card on the table was a black knight astride a white horse. The knight’s helmet was lifted so that it was obvious that his face was a bare skull dominated by eyeless sockets. The sun set beyond him, and below his horse’s hooves lay a corpse.

Outside the windows behind them, a breeze hissed audibly through the trees.

“Death.” Gansey read the bottom of the card. He didn’t sound surprised or alarmed. He just read the word like he would read eggs or Cincinnati.

“I thought that psychics didn’t predict death,” Adam said quietly. “I read that the Death card was only symbolic.”

-Maggie Stiefvater

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Explict

Tags: ANGSTFEST, infidelity, Baratheon!reader, Targaryens always have a seat in the cuck chair, Sorry Aem you'll get big titty goth gf soon not big titty disloyal gf, pregnancy sex, WHO IS THE FATHER?, Criston’s delulu and the biggest baby in the world, tiddy sucking, lap riding, the chain and short hair is sexy, pnv!sex, crispy cremepie, crying, sad ending :(

Song in title - ‘Days Go By’, Sean Nicholas Savage

Taglist: @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk @bambitas @elaratyrell @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @peachysunrize @starogeorgina @sugarpoppss2 @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

“Was it worth it?”

Criston frowned. He thought you looked at home astride his lap. Your ringed fingers ran across the chilly golden hands clasped around his neck. He shivered— as if the sigil of his station were attached to his body. Everything felt wrong in this quiet moment.

Aegon was nearly dead and forced through one dreamless poppy sleep after another. The maesters were not sure he could survive the Dragonfire. The Green army made a clear statement and killed a formidable foe at Rook’s Rest. Aemond took on the title of Prince Regent, living out his dreams of ruling the kingdom.

Yet Aemond’s fiery Baratheon wife, you, were here in Criston’s arms. Your hand didn’t move from the chain, eyes locked onto his own. Criston swallowed, guilt rising in his throat. He knew you should be attending to your husband, the Prince who was the closest thing to a son he had. Instead, you sought him out.

“I asked was it worth it?”

Criston huffed, “I don’t know…yes. We still have Vhagar, the Hightower host with Daeron and Tessarion from the south. The Westermen are trying.”

You smiled without mirth, petting his shorn hair, hand on his bearded cheek. Criston looked agonized, weary, almost fearful. His wide brown eyes flicked away. Perhaps you should be attending to Aemond. You liked him too, but you’d long fallen for the marcher between your thighs.

A brief period with Criston as your sworn sword during the engagement had linked the pair of you on a frighteningly deep level. His presence was constantly at your side, a handsome man at your beck and call. You’d grown enamored with the knight— regardless of the strife at court, his oath, and the fact you were promised to another. There was a kinship in lacking a dragon, Crownland outsiders, and mutual feelings of bondage by station.

Aemond took many a trait from his mentor— imposing warrior, sharp of tongue, and never forgot a slight. Both men were regimented and pious, devoted to their faith, and their duties. Yet they’d play dirty, and crawl outside the lines of morality to get their way. Somehow that helped you bond with the serious prince.

You languished in the engagement period, Ser Criston informing you that the prince took your maidenhead seriously. At the time you were hoping enough complaining would drive Ser Cole to action.

Aemond had discarded you after a…heavy session of kissing and petting. He ended up gasping and holding a hand out, declaring he took his vows to the heart. On the other hand, Criston folded after a month or two, sturdy hands up your dress, fingers sliding into your neglected cunt. The kingsguard was guilty and mopey, yet desperately craved your touch, as much as you desired his.

It was a vicious cycle. Feeling guilty from deviance, fucking it out, coddling each other about said deviance then ending up fucking again.

You’d thought he’d break away once you were properly wedded to Aemond, discarding you out of shame and fear. The marcher was moody for a couple of days, eventually being seduced when you knelt and swallowed his cock in an alcove after your husband had upset you. Criston was a sight with his lean thighs trembling, sculpted lips hung open with soft noises, praising you helplessly.

Aemond’s guttural grunts and muffled curses had you satisfied in a vastly different way. He did the job, rough and thorough, the possible evidence laid between you and Criston. It was the subtle swell of life in your stomach. Alas, Aemond had begun filling your womb at the break of war. Likely before the horrid death of Prince Lucerys.

Criston’s dark expression softened as one of his gloved hands palmed your stomach, covered in regal yellow velvet. You stuck to your house colors, preferring shades of yellow to green. The Lord Commander asked, “Do you think…?”

You weren’t sure. He didn’t quite do a good job pulling out before the wedding. He was jealous and angry, especially if Aemond had spent some of his time with you. The kingsguard was reassigned back to Queen Alicent, now severed from constant contact. You remembered Criston’s hands bruising your hips as you barked for the man to ‘pull out, on my stomach!’ He made it about halfway, frantically painting half inside and out of your cunt.

“You’re mine, mine, mine,” he’d half-sobbed.

“You’re changing the subject. There is no telling. Likely anyone would know until they got older. Baratheons come out with black hair. The queen has brown eyes, and Borros is the same. It wouldn’t be shocking,” you looked down at his hand, “There’s more of a chance of my babe being yours if that is what you’re wondering.”

Criston’s eyes didn’t match his slight pout. The man was proud deep down, under all those layers of remorse and responsibility. You placed your hand over his and gritted, “I fear the outcome of this war. I’d more like to end up with a dead lover and husband. A child with no father.”

He snatched your chin, brown eyes shining with unshed tears. Criston growled lowly, “Don’t speak of things like that. We shall win this damnable war. Rhaenyra and that vile Daemon shall die,” the marcher added in a softer tone, “I will be there for the child.”

“Do you not think of absconding?”

His rough hand swept back to caress your inky hair, lips twisting uncomfortably. Criston bit out, “No. Not anymore. My fate relies upon the family that saved me.” His lips moved to your neck, kissing softly, battle-worn hands holding your neck.

“I think of absconding, ah, lest they send me to a black cell.”

Criston murmured angrily against your neck, “Then you ‘retreat’ to Storm’s End. I know your father has no love for Rhaenyra’s claim. Stop. You’re going to make yourself go insane.”

“You make me insane, Criston Cole.”

“I love you,” he pouted, that delicious pity filling his pretty head. You leaned forward to kiss him, soft tits and that slight bump pressing against his loose garments. He wasn't wearing his armor— a simple shirt and dark pants. Criston sighed, head tilting, one hand in your hair, the other sliding down your back.

He groaned soft and sweet, sharing innocent kisses that turned deeper and darker as desire grew. You readjusted on his lap, annoyed with the damn bump. Custom murmured, “When I return, I'll get to see my darling doe all buxom and glowing with my child.” You shivered, pressing your lips into his, lapping into a warm mouth.

Criston’s hands wandered freely, caressing your belly, moving up to grope your tits. He pulled away to breathe teasingly, “Mm- your tits will be gorgeous, you're already blessed as is. He pulled down the hem, exposing your sore chest. You couldn't help but moan and grind on his thigh, squirming with the lavish attention.

“What shall you name the child?” He hummed before sealing his lips around your nipple. Your hand grabbed his shoulder, heaving a soft breath at the flicking of the marcher’s tongue. You stammered, lashes flitting, “Some-thing Valyrian I, fucking smith’s balls, suppose. If it’s a girl, she shall have- Criston! Shall have my mother’s name.”

The man pulled off with a wet pop and smirked, moving to the other budded peak. You cursed and moaned as his fingers plucked at your slick nipple. You gripped at that damned chain of hands, arching into his eager mouth, rutting against his hard thigh. Your shift wedged between your legs was growing damper by the second, sticking uncomfortably to your folds.

Criston groaned and squeezed to the point of pleasure-pain. His soft brown eyes gazed up, mauve lips swollen. The knight still held your tits, thumbing idly. He croaked, “You’re beautiful. I love you,” tears welled up in his eyes, “We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

You knew Criston wasn’t wrong, thumbing a tear from his pretty face. It had been on your mind too. Exhaling softly, you kissed his other fallen tear, tasting the salt. You spoke in a low tone, fearful you may cry, “I know. We shan’t. I just want you to be there.”

Both of you knew Aemond’s pride would be shattered. He was erratic enough to have both of you beheaded and then fed to Vhagar. The prince’s wife fornicating with his surrogate father. It would be another blight next to his title of ‘kinslayer.’ This had to end before they marched to Harrenhal.

“I’ll be there, I promise.”

“Then let us enjoy ourselves a final time, hm?”

Criston inhaled sharply, nosing up along your throat, hands raking up your dress. He muttered, “I suppose if the bitch did it with no repercussions, you can too. To think how much I hated her bastards.” You let him ramble on, hands working off his loose shirt, eyeing the way his gold chain and necklace glimmered against olive skin and dark chest hair.

You shushed the man as your hands grabbed the strings of his breeches. In a soft voice, you replied, “Fate has a way of coming full circle. Do come back alive at the least.” He frowned again, nibbling on his lip when you eased his stiffened prick out. “I will miss this though, do you truly think we can stay away from one another?”

The knight moaned as you pumped him a few times, index finger swiping off his pre, your lips closing around the pearlescent drop. He blabbered, blinking dumbly, “I don't know. For now, this is the last time. C’mon love, you're all wet, need you.”

You smiled as he held up the dress— your hand guided the blunt head of the cock to your dripping entrance. It was an easy slide downward as your hands clasped his strong shoulders, gasping as his cock stretched and filled your cunt.

His dark lashes fluttered, thighs flexing underneath you as he groaned long and low. He held your waist, one hand periodically resting on your tummy. You took his swollen mouth, gently lifting and dropping your hips. The pair of you panted and desperately grabbed at each other, tongues intertwined, whines leaking out of tight throats.

Criston’s hips began to meet yours at a faster pace, fucking moans out of you. He grunted, “Gods— I fucking love you. Thinking about you, us, even if from afar. I shall crawl back if I have to.” You rolled up tight against his frame, forehead plastered to his cheek.

It was barely a whisper.

“I love you too. Very much.”

You realized you were wetting his skin, tears falling as you rode him harder. Criston gently moved your head up, hips stilled while peering in concern. It was an odd occurrence for you to shed tears. His face twisted in sympathetic pain as he asked ”Doe, what are you fretting for?”

Criston’s breath hitched as he took your lips again, both hands cupping your face, calloused thumbs swiping away tears. The chair creaked as you found leverage on your knees, riding him faster and faster— escaping the pain in your heart. He cried out, lips sliding against one another.

“J-Just, don't stop, make it feel real,” came the breathless beg.

The Hand, the Lord Commander, the Knight, the steward’s boy from Blackhaven. Criston Cole sorely missed being the young Knight from the Marches right now. He whimpered at the clenches around his pulsing cock, silky cunt gripping him as you bounced. He felt the hard bump of pregnancy, cock twitching at the visceral reaction it gave him.

You tossed back black hair as Criston pinched and squeezed at your nipple, wetly panting as you took the reins. The man’s eyes scrunched shut as he whined throatily, hand slinking under all that yellow velvet to circle your button. The electric stimulation and his swollen girth had you whining and choking out his name, arms locked around the tan neck.

“Fuck…jus’ like that, close Criston,” you mewled.

He was babbling lowly, likely sonnets of praise and devotion. The pair of you were much too gone to properly kiss— more panting and pressing messy lips wherever possible. Criston bucked up as he thumbed upward roughly on your pearl. You bit down on the meat of his shoulder to keep from howling.

Only the sound of heavy breath, the chair squeaking, and the tell-tale slaps of two bodies writhing filled the room. His free hand dug into your cheek, glossy dark eyes watching your furrowed brows and flushed face. You could feel his prick twitching and swelling more, Criston was close.

You were along with the knight on that razor-thin ledge, thighs and cunt quivering. His incessant touches to your bundle brought more pricks of hot tears to your eyes, mournfully whining, “I love you, fill me up this time, wan’ it.”

“Ah- nuh- love you- oh fuck yes,” he groaned.

He snapped first, hot breath fanning over your cheek as he curled forward, hips and chest following, thick ropes of spend filling your already stuffed pussy. The feeling had you shaking and clinging to your lover, thighs given out as he thumbed you over the edge.

You came apart in teary inhales and erotic little sobs on the exhale— sharp and whiny. Criston growled under his breath as your pussy milked him some more, balls forced to push out just a little more, toeing that painful pleasure. He felt ragged, bleak, spent. He wanted to carry you to bed.

You smoothed out his hair, eyes brimming with tears, a painful smile on your face. You needed to leave now and get cleaned up before bed. Before Aemond barged in here asking to discuss the battle. It would have been better if he carried you to bed or a bath.

He took your lips once more as his bigger hands eased your frame off of his softening dick. Your lover’s molten seed leaked from your sore cunt. Ever the protector, he fussed over your state, hands fixing your dress, asking little questions. It stung like a manticore when you pushed Criston’s lovely hands to get him away.

“No more sweet knight, I need to get going. We must refrain now. I can't go around looking like this.”

Criston frowned and repeated himself, “I will be back. I promise.”

“I love you.”

He watched your trembling form exit his chambers in the Hand’s tower. He got up, stepped to the door, then stopped. Criston stifled his sob, locking the door instead. The knight would drink and sit with his thoughts. It was only right for a sinner destined to fail and take others down with him. He grit his teeth and swallowed down the nearest spiced rum bottle, fingers curled around those damn gilded hands.

[ceilidho]

I am also sweating at the image of knight!Ghost putting a golden collar on his pretty little wife 😮‍💨 and that moment when she finally comes crawling to him, begging him to take her, she can’t take the sexual tension anymore and desperately needs him? I imagine Ghost would be just oh so gentle with her that first time, doesn’t want to break her 🥺 giving her little forehead kisses the whole time

Ghost would be so good to his princess when he finally takes her virginity :))) and the whole lead up to it would be so delicious.

You'd probably finally cave after he'd been away on a month long campaign, no way to contact him except for whenever a messenger returned from the battleground to bring news of any successes or losses. You spend the entire month absolutely petrified that Ghost won't come back from war, and for the first time since meeting him, you don't dread the sight of his black Friesian coming up the long path towards the manor house.

That's probably when he first puts the collar around your neck. One of the spoils of war that he brought back with him to adorn you with and remind himself what he went to fight for. And that would be just too much for you; you'd have to clutch his hand tight and whisper that you'd like a private moment with him (because he fit the collar around your neck while surrounded by his troops and the servants).

He'd be so gentle that first time, so conscious of his size compared to you. Ghost would lie down on the bed and drag you up over his mouth to make sure you were properly wet and stretched enough to take him.

Maybe he'd make you sit astride him so you could sink down onto his length the first time and set the pace, and it would come as a complete shock to you because you'd expected to have to grit your teeth and suffer through it (you trusted him enough to not hurt you too much, but you'd heard nothing but horror stories from your sisters and mother when they'd first married you off). You didn't even think ladies could sit on their husbands this way - it seems so crass and unseemly. But Ghost seems so content under you, your barrel-chested, hirsute husband, finally secure enough to let you see his face and trace over all the white scars across his skin.

[ixtaek]

They were all incredibly kind.

Zelda watched them as they helped the former residents of Skyloft—moving supplies, crafting tools, teaching the patrols how to defend themselves from the dangers of the surface.

The Hero of Hyrule demonstrated how to tell if water was safe to drink. “You want water that’s moving, and ideally deep.” He grinned as he ladled out of a bucket. “It’s best to boil the water and let it cool. That will get rid of any toxins and germs that might be lingering in it.” He tried to take a sip but the water poured out faster than he expected, pouring down his front as Kukiel giggled at him.

A vision flashed through Zelda’s mind, overlaying the scene. The Hero of Hyrule gripping a sword, blood dripping down his tunic as he struggled away from a monster clawing for his face. The beast cackled as the Hero tried to swipe at them while his shield arm hung limp, shield dragging—

She blinked, Hyrule’s laughter as he dumped a spoonful of water on Kukiel as well breaking through the vision. The girl squealed and shook her head to send droplets flying.

The Hero of Twilight and Time lifted a log into place, letting the builders work to secure it in the new cabin wall. The two seemed to have a bet going about who could hold it up longer. Their arms both shook from the effort of—

A boy, barely reaching her knee, breathing heavily as he shoved his shield forward to block a blow by an undead monster. The boy lowered his defense to fumble for his sword. The monster took the blow without flinching, long teeth slavering as it unhinged its jaw and screamed—

The scene dissolved into a long bridge. A snarling boar pawed at the other end, tusks stained with blood. The monster astride its back howled a battle cry, a small child held aloft on its spear. The hero to her left gasped in horror, his blue eyes locked on the child. He spurred his steed forward, sweat dripping down his face as—

“I yield, I yield!” Twilight yelped. The wall was already secured as the hero fell back, giggling. The Hero of the Wild accepted his ten rupee bribe from Time before continuing his tickle assault on his mentor.

A mere boy staggering as the lasers hit him in the chest, the side of his head gushing blood, arms still trying to hold up a shield to protect—

“Zel?”

She turned, almost falling against Link’s chest. Sky’s eyes were soft as they traced over her face. “Are you… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, ignoring the wetness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Link. Just a little out of sorts.”

The divine blood in her burned. Link smiled and pulled her closer, hugging gently.

Soft hands wielding a flaming sword, lighting crackling through his body. Fighting a demon that should have been slain ages ago by the gods, by— by—

“… By me…”

“What?” Link held her at arms length so he could look at her face. “Zelda, what are you talking about?”

“All of you… none of you should have had to go through what you did!” Zelda could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Hylia shouldn’t have put you through all of that. She—I—used all of you! It’s all my fault for not defeating Demise sooner, before you ever had to step in and clean up my mess!”

She pushed away. Many people were staring now, villagers and heroes alike.

Falling from the cliffs as a giant bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky, the screams of his sister like—

—hounds baying in the distance, knights brandishing swords as his short legs fled—

—waves of foes overwhelming their defenses, his brothers in arms falling around him, the weapons clattering as they fell from their limp hands—

—the blade his grandfather made going flying as the blow meant for Zelda hit him head on, the wind ripping at his tunic as he heard the curse strike his friend—

She couldn’t stand it. Her feet were moving before she knew where she was going.

“Zelda! Wait!”

She kept going, the visions buffering her every which way. A mask clamping—his body fracturing—a traitor’s blade in—the island fading into—the malice clinging to his—tentacles lurching forward—his own face rendered in dark—reaching for her as a tornado sucked her away—

Zelda blinked, looking up. The impassive face of the goddess stared down, without a trace of pity. Hylia. The divine protector of her people. The holy maiden. Her.

The one who had failed, who had sent them all to—

—dark magic suffocating his split mind—sparking a flame so they wouldn’t claim his blood—the magic of the woods stripping his flesh—the dark water—the endless fighting—the intrigue—the—

“Why?!” She screamed. “Why would you do it to them? Why make them suffer?! They are just boys, and you—I—we break them down and don’t even care that we do! They must hate us for—“

“Why should we hate you?”

The voice made her wince, spinning around, covering her mouth. The heroes, all of them, stood a careful distance away, Link at the head of the group. It wasn’t him who had spoken.

The Hero of Legend ambled forward, looking up at the statue. His sharp eyes scanned the goddess, and he sighed.

“I was 11 when my uncle was killed. He held my hand as he died.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “He wasn’t killed by Hylia, or the golden three. He was killed by a wizard called Agahnim.”

“When I was 12, my best friend got turned into stone.” Four shuffled his feet. “It wasn’t Hylia who did it. It was a sorcerer named Vaati.”

“When I was 10, I was trapped in a time loop trying to stop the apocalypse.” Time ignored the whispers by the others at this admission. “It wasn’t Hylia or the goddess of time who started that disaster. It was a demon named Majora.”

“And my sister got taken by the Helmaroc King!”

“My village children were taken by Zant.”

Legend looked at her sidelong. “And guess who was behind most of those threats?”

“Ganon.” whispered Hyrule, running a finger over his gauntlets. “It’s almost always Ganon.”

“But—“ Zelda scrubbed at her face. “But it’s my fault! Why didn’t I stop Demise before he could do that to you? What sort of goddess sends children to fight her battles?”

Time snorted, moving closer to her, careful not to invade her space till she nodded weakly. “Zelda, do you think we wouldn’t have done those things?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ya think I wouldn’t have gone after my sister? No one had to make me!” Wind grinned. “In fact, nothing would have stopped me!”

The others nodded.

“But I saw it, the terrible things you went through! Hylia watched, and you suffered!” She gestured at them all. “What you’re still suffering! This quest—“

“Sounds to me like we have a goddess literally lookin’ out for us, even now.” Twilight crossed his arms, smirking. “Probably wouldn’t have ended as good as it has without you protecting us.”

“As good as it—“

Smiling and blushing as the newly awakened princess kissed him on the cheek—gripping the rails as the new land swung into view over the horizon—watching the reflected world bloom back into life as Lorule’s Triforce was restored—hugging the children as they rode back into the village—fields of blue flowers blooming underfoot as he rode along and watched the reconstruction—the proud smile of his father as he worked with the squadron instead of going rogue—joining Zelda and Lana as they stood before the cheering troops, Hyrule free once more—Malon looking radiant as she walked down the aisle—clutching their daughter, the first Princess of the newly founded Hyrule—

Link took her hands gently. “If Hylia didn’t care, why would she—or you—have watched out for us the whole time? If you didn’t care, why would you be so upset by what we’re going through, if our own free will?” Zelda sniffled, letting him hold her. “We don’t blame you. It’s Demise’s fault, or Ganon’s. Not Hylia’s. And not yours.”

She squeezed him, looking up at the statue. Her smile was gentle, her wings spread overhead, sheltering them all. She swore she always would watch over them.

Till the very end.

[nebbyy]

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden. Pt3

(Cersei Lannister x Fem Reader x Jaime Lannister: SMUT threesome, voyerism, praise kink, oral (Male receiving) )

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

After the event with the mare, the queen saw fit that you would be given basic riding lessons.

"Right, now just do exactly as he says" Cersei emphasized. "No second guessing or backtalk. Treat him as you would me."

"Of course, Your Grace" You were wrapped in a thin wool cloak and worn leather boots, bracing against the chill of the coming autumn. The summer had to end sometime, you supposed.

"My brother is being very generous, offering to teach you." Cersei reminded you.

"I am very grateful for the help" You kept your eyes trained ahead, not wanted to see presumptuous by looking at the queen too much or talking too much.

It was bizarre, two high-borns taking such an interest in someone like you. It made you uneasy, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I certainly don't to embarrass myself more than I already have."

Jaime was waiting for you by the stables, dressed in sturdy riding leather. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes and was brushed back with a gloved hand before he spotted your approach and smiled charmingly.

"Sweet sister" he greeted Cersei before resting his pale green eyes on you "And your new plaything."

"Now Jaime" Cersei chided him, "Be nice, Y/N isn't used to your teasing like I am."

"She will be" Jaime smirked at you, watching the blush creep up your neck and across your face. "Come, let's get started."

"I'll be waiting with the party, my dear." Cersei touched your shoulder, quickening your pulse as you whipped around.

"Your Grace, you're leaving?"

"Rest assured, you are in good hands" The queen insisted, flashing you a cryptic smile. "Good luck"

"Charming, isn't she?" Jaime came from behind you, watching as his sister left you to your own devices. "Come now, the faster we start, the faster you can stop being bullied by Clegane and that rabid stallion of his."

Eager to stand (er, ride) on your own two feet, you followed him before realizing there was only one horse readied.

"Uh, Ser?"

"You didn't think I'd jump to letting you ride on your own that quickly, did you?" Jaime practically laughed in your face. "Here, you first."

"I..." you gawked at the saddle the horse was set with. "You mean riding astride?"

"Something wrong with it?"

You thought for a moment before embracing your mistress's request to trust the knight.

"No, not at all"

He hoisted you up onto the back of his sturdy mount before swinging his legs up behind you. You swallowed a gasp, suddenly finding yourself pressed between the pommel of the saddle and Ser Jaime's chest.

"Let's get into some open terrain so you have space to learn"

Before you could protest, the knight had set the beast off at a quick gallop, one hand gripping the reigns and the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you from falling off.

Once you were well away from the party and in a broad scope of field, Jaime stopped the horse.

"Now," He handed you the reigns and without preamble place two solid hands on your shoulders. "The first thing to know about proper horse riding is your posture. You want to guide the beast properly? You have to sit it properly."

He gently guided your shoulder back, straightening your spine in the process.

"Now there's a saying my riding master taught me as a boy. And while it may seem forward, I need you to trust me."

Your skin prickled at the near constant contact between your bodies but tried to push it down and focus on the lesson. "Her Grace insisted you were the best. You have my full trust, Ser."

"Good Girl" Jaime praised in a tone that almost melted into a purr. "Now the first thing you want to remember about riding a horse is; Shoulders like a Soldier..."His hands slid from your shoulders, down your arms, before coming to rest on your hips. "and Hips like a Whore."

"Ser!" You gasped but Jaime tutted you into submission.

"I warned you it was forward, but just trust me." He soothed, "Now I am going to drive the horse forward slowly, and I want you to just-" His grip on your hips tightened "Follow the motion."

The beast began to move forward at a gentle walk and as the they went; Jaime's hands slowly guided your hips to match the motion of the horse's gait.

"A little faster?" He asked and you nodded, growing in confidence.

The walk turned to a trot, and the trot to a brisk cantor, and finally to a full gallop which left you breathless, clinging to the horse with your thighs as if you might fall off at any moment.

"Very good" Jaime practically cooed in your ear, slowing the beast back down to a peaceful trop. "You are everything my sister promised."

You beamed at that, proud to have lived up to your mistress's praises.

As your breath returned to you, you began to notice something different. Something that hadn't been there when you started your ride.

A hardness pressed against your ass, brushing up against you with the motion of the beast below you.

"S-ser Jaime." You swallowed. "We should go-"

"Go back, so soon?" Jaime crooned, pulling you closer to him in the saddle and bringing the horse back to a quick trot. "It's a lovely day, we should take advantage of it"

The hardness grew, and you tried not to notice until you felt it twitch slightly and Jaime muffled a moan in his throat.

"I don't think Her Grace would-"

"Would what?" Jaime grinned knowingly at your confused tone. "Sweetling, why do you think she left you out here all alone with me?"

"Because she trusts you, you're her brother."

"Hm" Jaime's hands massaged your hips slowly, running over your soft thighs and even venturing around to the front to cup your sex through your skirt.

You gasped at the sudden touch, pulse pounding as his two fingers skillfully located your slit and began to rub gently through the fabric of your dress.

"Ser" You breathed, trying to organize your thoughts as Jaime pulled your hips back to him, your back flush against his chest, rubbing slow circles through your skirt with the tips of his fingers.

"Just relax, sweetling" He breathed into your ear, "If you get too excited, the horse will sense it. Then we're both in trouble."

"We shouldn't..."

"I don't see you stopping me." He pointed out, hips continuing to brush the length of his cock against your ass. "All I feel is your body heating up against mine. Are you getting excited?"

"Oh Gods." Without thinking, you scrambled off the horse, falling onto your back as you did so.

Jaime laughed out loud, dismounting skillfully and grabbing you by the ankle before you could run for camp.

"Easy, easy girl" He chuckled, batting off you attempts to kick him like they were nothing. "Just calm down."

"The Queen will know." You gasped, heart suddenly pounding. "Her Grace, she trusted me, she's done so much for me, and now I'm here with you and she'll be so angry."

Hot tears began to stream down your face as you began to panic. Jaime paled, not expecting this to go this badly as he attempted to shush your sobs.

"No, no, no, Darling. Just listen, just listen" He tried to grab your attention. "Look, we'll go back to camp. We'll see my sister. Everything will be okay; I swear to you."

Not quite believing him and half convinced your mistress would abandon you here in the wilderness as soon as she heard, you wiped your tears and nodded.

Jaime gathered you in his arms and guided you back to the horse and ferried you both back to the party. He did his best to hide your distress from everyone else as you approached the queen's royal caravan.

"Enter." Cersei turned eagerly as her brother entered, giddy to see how her plan unfolded before her face fell. "What happened?"

Jaime opened his mouth to explain but before he could, you fell to your knees and bowed lowly.

"Your Grace," You sobbed into the ground. "I'm so sorry, I have failed you and betrayed you. I am not worthy of your mercy, but I beg for it all the same."

"I-" Cersei starred at Jaime who shook his head, shrugging in a helpless fashion. "Jaime, what did you do?"

"Exactly what you told me to do, I swear." Jaime insisted,

"Oh" Cersei's mind clicked with understanding and an amused smile crept across her face. "Oh, Y/N. You stupid little thing. Get up."

You obeyed, wiping your tears as the Queen knelt down to look at you.

"Y/N, I sent you out with Jaime *hoping* he would seduce you."

"What?"

"Yes, sweetling." She laughed, "You've been so good for me these last few weeks, and I wanted to reward you. You foolish girl, look at you worked up over nothing. Don't you feel ridiculous?"

You did, ridiculous and embarrassed and ashamed.

"Ser Jaime, I owe you an apology." You couldn't meet his eye, "Her Grace told me to trust you and instead I took you for a villain. Please forgive me?"

"I suppose I can." The knight nodded. "Though you did leave me in quite the uncomfortable position."

"Oh" a blush flooded your face again. "I'm sorry."

"Sweetling" Cersei placed a hand on the top of your head, "You aren't thinking of denying my reward for you, are you?"

"I-" The words caught in your throated. "Your Grace, I-. But-"

"Jaime, come here." Cersei beckoned her brother closer, leaning in to whisper in your ear, "You haven't quite earned the privilege of my bed yet. Treat Ser Jaime as you would me."

Your instructions were clear, and if it pleased your mistress, you were more than happy to comply.

Cersei's nimble hands reached forward to undo the laces of Jaime's trousers, pushing you forward to do the rest as she returned to the chaise with an eager gleam in her eye.

"Have you ever bedded a man before?" Jaime asked and you nodded. It had only been once, but you remembered how everything worked.

Peeling through layers of fabric, you freed the knight's semi-hard cock from his small clothes and scooted closer to him on your knees. A deep rumble of a groan filled the caravan as you took the tip in your mouth, sucking gently before taking more and more length down your throat. Before long, the tip of your nose was buried in the patch of fine blond hair at the base.

"Gods" Jaime breathed, a hand reaching down to grasp at your hair. "Gently, darling gent-" His words caught in his throat as you drew your tongue up the length of him before swiftly taking it whole, gagging slightly to accommodate it. The taste of salty pre-cum coated your taste buds and you hummed with satisfaction.

"That's enough."

You paused your ministrations when your mistress cut in sharply.

"Jaime," she crooned lowly, "Don't be greedy."

Jaime sighed, his brow already shining with perspiration as he withdrew his cock from your throat, a thin strand of saliva hanging from your lips as you gazed up at him.

"The queen is right, sweetling." He sighed, guiding you up by the tip of your chin. "This is supposed to be your reward, not mine."

Eagerly, you allowed him to unlace your bodice and aided him in removing your skirt and small clothes.

"Excited little thing, aren't you?" He chuckled, pulling you in for a deep kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips pleadingly until you parted them, making sure to explore his mouth as much as he did yours. He growled at this, unaccustomed to not being the dominant one, but you responded by sharply nipping his lower lip and grinning. He pulled away with a challenged look, as if calculating his next move.

"Come here" He spat, spinning you around and pulling your back flush against his chest, one hand snaked to your throat as the other danced across your chest. His calloused fingers grazed over your nipples, which responded eagerly as he palmed the softness of your breasts.

"Look" He breathed in your ear, rubbing his hips against your ass as he had in the field. "If you'd been a good girl, we'd have had privacy. Now look at you, about to be fucked in front of your queen."

You moaned at this, biting your lower lip and closing your eyes as he chuckled against your shoulder.

"Or maybe you like this better? Tell me, how long has it been since you've been properly fucked, hm? Years, perhaps?" His hand wondered between your legs once more, locating the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew drove women wild.

"That's right sweet girl," He breathed, firmly pressing his fingers against your clit. Your body tensed and your hips didn't know if they should chase the pleasure of his fingers or flee the intensity of the electricity building between your legs. "Now now, you stay right there."

One hand tweaking your hard nipples and the other pressing your ass against the knight's cock as it circled your clit, you knew you wouldn't last long like this. Your thighs trembled and tried to tighten around his hand, which only made him tease you more.

"Look at this sister, only a few minutes and her body is begging for release. Is that what you want, sweetling? To cum in front of your mistress?"

"Gods, yes! Please, please, please." You begged, skin slick with sweat.

"What a sweet girl, begging so nicely for us." Jaime cooed, sucking on the crook of your neck with a humming laugh. "What do you think, sister?"

You looked up and saw your mistress's face alight with excitement, her own thighs squeezing together as she watched the show her brother put on for her.

"I think....not"

You whined when Jaime all at once withdrew his touch from your body.

"Take her to the bed. I want to watch her cum around you." Cersei requested and Jaime gladly obliged.

"Tell me, sweet sister," Jaime hummed, watching Cersei leave her chaise to meet him at the bed where he deposited your aching, desperate body. "How would you like your little slave fucked?"

"Bend her over" Cersei demanded without hesitation, cupping your face almost gently as Jaime flipped you on your stomach. "I want to watch your face when he fucks you."

Her words drove another spike of need between your legs as Jaime spread your thighs and thrust into your dripping cunt without preamble. The sudden intrusion made you instantly clench around him and claw at the bedding desperately as he drove into you over and over.

"Look at me." Cersei cooed, watching your eyes dart rapidly trying to find her, "Gods, you look so pretty like this. How does he feel inside of you? What I would give to fuck you like this." Her hands petted your hair, damp and clinging to your neck and forehead with sweat. When she spoke to you like this, it was like the whole world melted away and became an extension of her. Even Jaime, especially Jaime, was just an extension of her and her will. She was the one who was fucking you right now, and it was her who made the muscles in your core snap as waves of pleasure washed over you.

When your body began to spasm under him, Jaime could only hold back long enough to pull out as quickly as he possibly could, coating your ass and back with ropes of cum. His weight collapsed on top of you for a moment, both of you breathing heavy. Both of you feeling like you'd been fucked by someone who hadn't even touched you.

Cersei rose up off the bed and tossed a rag at Jaime before leaning over you again, peppering soft kisses over your still sensitive skin.

"Good girl, sweet girl, how wonderful you've been for me." she purred.

[raylasrightbraid]

S6 Predictions/Speculations

now that the trailer is out, its time. LETS GET TO IT

Possessed callum and rayla big fight sequence (my speculation? it doesn’t end well for rayla 😨)

Karim dies 🤷🏻‍♀️

Astrid and Kosmo are either siblings or best friends (or maybe just co-workers idk) but i love their vibe so we’ll see on the 26

a LOT of nightmares/illusion moments for all characters (poor things sm trauma)

Rayla catches callum by stealing Kosmo’s bracelets (i very much see it happening 😭)

i think the episode “moonless night” would have something to do with the disappearance of luna tenebris. but i have NO idea why rayla and callum are fighting the snow moon dragon thing 😗

Rayla finds out callum used dark magic again either by him telling her, OR when rayla talks? to the snow moon dragon thing and what im assuming is her asking for help, the dragon refuses because “i smell dark magic on human” and boom more drama 🥰😜

“The Frozen Ship”? rayllum heavy episode.

“Love, War, and Mushrooms”? sorvus heavy episode.

Queen Aanya and King Ezran bonding time (yes go child rulers!)

Super big rayllum argument 🙁 (idk i sense it)

viren is alive (somehow??) and he goes back to katolis, which is what ezran, the knights, and opeli are looking at in that one image. (my guess is that they lock him up on sight 😭)

TDP said a favorited character is going to die so heres my list of suspects (Amaya, Terry, Zubeia, SOREN 😭, )

moonfam is NOT going to be freed (either they tried and failed, or they couldnt at all)

snake boi callum. this time? he has a white streak in his hair

AND FINALLY. Aaravos is free on parole (Go starboy!)

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (14)

The Sapphire

Aemond struggles to adjust to Arianwyn’s absence. But on his nameday, Ser Gerold Royce arrives with a bronze-wrapped present.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Masturbation (M)

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Aemond woke at dawn each morning consumed by the knowledge that he would not see Aria that day.

It had been more than half a year since he saw her, and yet the pain was still as fresh as the day he had flown away from her.

At least he had her letters.

And at least he was finally able to read them himself and in his own room. Orwyle had only released him from the Maester’s Tower a few weeks ago. No more fevers that rattled his mind with hallucinations, no more additional procedures that whittled away at his flesh, and no more pain so intense it chained him to his bed.

There was still pain. Orwyle told him he would likely always have pain. But it was bearable now – mostly. Bearable enough that he could convince both the Maester and his mother that he no longer needed daily doses of milk of the poppy. He hated it nearly as much as he hated Daemon. The loss of his senses was something he could not accept.

On Driftmark, his fear and anger had overridden his senses, and because of it, he lost Aria. He would not allow such a thing to happen again. To himself or to her.

Aria thought he had healed long ago. She thought he had been well enough to ride Vhagar for months. She thought he was happy and well.

Aemond was anything but.

He missed her so much it ached; the pain sharpened by the fact that he knew it would be years before they saw each other again. It took all his strength to pull himself from his bed rather than sleep until she was at last free of her father. For in his dreams, they were still together.

But Aemond had made her a promise. The next time she saw him, he would be the fiercest of their line since Aegon the Conqueror. He could not accomplish that by lying despondently in bed.

So, he stood and faced the sunlight streaming in through an eastward-facing window, stretching his sore muscles. Each morning, he tried to gaze far enough into the sea to see Dragonstone and the castle and Aria’s tower. But all he ever saw was the distant horizon.

He dressed in the leathers he had ordered specially made to be suited for both fighting and flying. To be as fierce as the Conqueror, his skill on dragonback must be matched by an equal proficiency with the sword.

Cole had been so impressed by Aemond’s defense of Aria and his determination to adapt to the loss of his eye that the Kingsguard had gifted him with a real blade to replace the flimsy wood of his practice sword. It was simple and wrought of ordinary steel – the ancestral Valyrian Steel of House Targaryen was still wielded by the king and Daemon – but it was still a fine sword.

And Aemond was growing into a fine warrior. Every morning, without fail, he went directly to the training yard after a meager breakfast in his rooms. He usually had the yard to himself for at least an hour before the other guards and knights began to arrive.

Aemond cherished that time he spent alone. It allowed him privacy as he brutally attacked the practice dummy, imagining it was Daemon. If any others saw how he attacked then, viciously and mercilessly, they would no doubt ask questions. But this was one fight he had to wage alone, at least for the time being.

Perhaps one day, after the King was gone, he would have the chance to wield his blade against the real Daemon. He would make him suffer for all he had done to Aria.

For now, all he could do was imagine. As he did so often these days.

He imagined Aria standing on the ramparts, watching him with a proud smile.

He imagined her across the table from him in the library, reading to him with her sweet voice until he fell asleep.

He imagined her astride Emrys, flying beside him through the skies and laughing as the wind whipped through their hair.

He imagined her everywhere.

But she was never really there.

For the first time in his life, Aemond dreaded his nameday. It had never been in his nature to enjoy the interminable celebrations and massive crowds, but the festivities meant he could spend several days with Aria by his side from dawn to dusk.

She would talk for him when he was too shy, encourage him to try the strange new creations from visiting foreign chefs, and squeal with delight at every present he received. Her presence was always his most favorite gift.

Now, he would have to endure it without her.

Getting through the tourney was relatively easy. He simply refused to leave the royal box, and he didn’t have to engage with anyone he didn’t already know. When he tired of talking with even them, most of the jousts and duels were impressive enough to hold his attention. Still, he would rather be riding Vhagar. But he had sent her to the Kingswood to roam and hunt while the tourney took place.

The feast was far more difficult. He was forced to endure hours of constant interruptions to his meal, only able to take four bites of his food before the whole plate went cold.

Lowborn knights aiming to elevate their status boasted to him, hoping to tempt him into accompanying them on their travels. Second sons from every house in Westeros tried to strike up a conversation, hoping to secure their place at court through him. And shy young ladies, both noble and wealthy, were paraded before him by their social climbing fathers.

Aemond was sure his brain would rot from the monotony of it all.

He had hoped the angry red scar still covering half his face would have scared at least some of them off, but he had no such luck. By the time he lost count of how many people had spoken to him, he was tempted to rip his eyepatch off and expose the gaping, gruesome hole where his eye had once been, just to try and get rid of them.

But that would only fuel the whispers.

Since the first day he emerged from Orwyle’s tower, he’d heard people whispering about him – about his wound and what happened on Driftmark. According to his mother, the king had forbidden all talk of the ‘incident’ in the court, but even the king could not suppress rumors and gossip. No matter how many tongues he cuts out or how many men he sends to the Wall.

Though the king had not made such threats on his son’s behalf – had not made any threats. It was a toothless order. He only made threats to protect Rhaenyra and her bastards.

Few of the whispers surrounding Aemond even mentioned that it was one of those bastards that took his eye. Fewer still acknowledged that he had been the one attacked. No, most cast him as the villain in that narrative, a devious thief who could only claim a dragon by stealing it in the night.

He wanted to scream at them. To tell them how foolish and stupid they were, all of them. He even wanted to him some of them – those that had spread the worst of the lies.

Before he could act on the impulse, a friendly face finally appeared before him.

“Prince Aemond, the people of Runestone wish you all the happiness of the world on your fifteenth nameday,” said Ser Gerold Royce. He held out a small wooden box wrapped with gleaming bronze ribbon and smiled at the Prince. “As does their lady.”

For the first time that night, Aemond found himself smiling as well. He took the box from Ser Gerold and began to carefully unwrap the ribbon.

“Aria deeply regrets that she could not be here to give this to you herself,” the knight explained. “But rest assured, she sends this gift with all her love.”

Aemond’s hands froze over the lid of the box. He knew Ser Gerold was expecting a response but did not know what to say. There was too much he wanted to say. But those words were only for Aria.

His mother saved him from having to say anything. “It is very kind of you to bring this yourself, Ser Gerold,” the Queen said with a sad smile. “We all miss Aria very much and pray that we will be able to see her again soon.”

Indeed, Aemond prayed for it every night. But that prayer had yet to be answered.

Alicent placed a hand on her son’s shoulder, sensing the cloud of gloom coming over him. “Go on, Aemond,” she said, “Open it.”

Taking a deep breath, Aemond lifted the lid from the box. His heart immediately lightened when he saw a folded note written in a familiar, messy hand.

Aemond, Happy nameday! I’m so sorry I can’t be there. Is the party miserable without me? You will just have to imagine all the brilliantly witty remarks I would have made if I were with you. And be sure to tell me everything that happened in your next letter—I want to feel as if I were really there! Oh, how I wish I could see your face when you open this gift. It took me a long time to figure out how I could possibly match the book you sent me months ago, but I think I’ve done it with this. I hope it works, and that you think of me every time you look in the mirror. I miss you beyond words. Your dearest friend, Arianwyn

If she only knew how often he imagined her by his side.

Her words intrigued him. Why would he see the gift in the mirror? The box was far too small to be any kind of clothing, armor, or anything else he could imagine wearing. Desperate to sate his curiosity, he hastily refolded the note, turned back to the box, and withdrew the contents.

The gift was wrapped in a small silk cloth, the color somewhere between a bright violet and the gentle blue of a winter sky. Aemond’s eagerness to see what was held within nearly vanished when he beheld the embroidery on the cloth.

Runes. Tiny, delicate runic incantations in bronze, silver, and black thread.

As Aemond tugged on it to better see one of the smaller symbols, the whole cloth came loose, and something small and round fell into his hand.

A sapphire.

With the cloth still held in one hand, Aemond lifted the gemstone with the other, holding it to the candlelight to examine it. It was not round – it had dozens of small facets on the surface. And engraved on each facet were the same runes embroidered in the cloth.

It was perhaps the most beautiful thing Aemond had ever seen.

“Aria wanted the stone to match,” Ser Gerold said, gesturing to the cloth, “but this was the closest we could find with such limited time.”

The prince lifted the cloth back to the gem. Indeed, the colors were quite different, though he could find a tinge of purple within the blue stone. But why was the color of the silk significant?

Oh.

When he truly looked at the color of the silk, he found it familiar. It was the same shade as his eyes – his eye.

He knew what the gift was. It had been over a month since he wrote to Aria about Orwyle’s plan to replace his eye. He had nearly forgotten. But she had not.

She had made something beautiful for him. Something that, if he were reading the runes correctly, would grant him strength, bravery, wisdom, and protection. Things he felt he was missing since she had been taken from him. She was giving them back to him in the only way she knew how – through the ancient magic of her ancestors.

Suddenly, Aemond was all too aware of Ser Gerold and his mother’s presence. They were waiting for him to say something. But there were no words, in any language that he knew, that could express what he was feeling in that moment.

“I…” he stammered, eyes darting between the stone and the cloth. “I miss her so much.”

Alicent wrapped a protective arm around her son, pulling him into her chest. “I know, my darling. I miss her as well.” As she spoke, Ser Gerold bowed and retreated back into the party, sensing his continued presence was unnecessary.

Aemond’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “There has to be something we can do to bring her home!”

“Believe me,” Alicent said, rubbing her hand across his back, “I wish there were. But, according to your father, until she is of age or married, Daemon has every right to keep her on Dragonstone.”

The sapphire flashed in the candlelight as Aemond turned it in his hand. “Then I will marry her,” he declared. “I am a man grown. I will marry her and rescue her from Daemon.” He felt something blossom in his chest as he said the words, a warmth that quickly spread throughout his body.

Yes, he wanted to save Aria. To get her away from her horrid father. But as he let his imagination take flight, picturing Aria in a white gown, smiling sweetly as she placed her hand on his, he realized that was not all he wanted.

He wanted her.

He loved her.

He had once read that love was pain. An unbearable, agonizing pain that could only be soothed when the object of your affection loved you back.

That was why his very soul ached every day, every hour, every minute she was gone – he loved her, and she was not here to love him back. If she ever did.

The startling realization faded when he felt his mother cupping his cheek. She turned him away from the presents in his hands and toward her. “Aemond,” she said, “nothing would make me happier than to see you and Aria wed.”

But her dark eyes did not look happy. No, they held an overwhelming sadness. “That night on Driftmark,” she continued, “I offered to betroth you to her. To prevent Daemon from taking her away. And while your father thought it a wonderful solution to mend the broken bonds within our family, Daemon refused.”

“Then he will wed her to someone else, and she will be taken far from me,” Aemond whispered, giving voice to his newest and greatest fear.

“No!” the queen assured, “I do not believe he will. If that were his plan, he would have done it by now, or at least made a betrothal. No, he wants to keep her on Dragonstone, where he has full control of her, for as long as he can.”

Aemond laughed sadly, his lip shaking as he spoke, “So we just leave her there, not knowing what he may one day do?”

“That is all we can do, my love.” Alicent dropped her hand to the table, where she grabbed the note Aria had sent with her wonderful gifts. “We wait, we pray, and we offer her as much comfort as we can from afar.”

With a sigh, Aemond looked down at the sapphire and the silk. He would not stop praying, would not stop writing to her every day. He would not give up hope that he would see her one day. And when he did, he would never allow himself to be parted from her again.

Whispers followed him everywhere he went.

They spoke of him like he was something dangerous to be avoided.

They said that a hateful god of Old Valyria had granted him dark powers at the cost of his eye and heart.

They called him a villain.

His father did nothing.

The whispers continued. They would not stop.

To the world, save his dear Aria, he was the fearsome, loathsome Prince Aemond “One-Eye.”

When nearly all believed it, what good would it do to fight against it?

What did he care what those beneath him thought, so long as Aria still cared for him?

He didn’t.

But Aria was gone. Unreachable. He was no longer sure he would ever see her again.

So, if the world believed him to be Aemond One-Eye, that is what he would be.

Only with Aria would he ever again be just Aemond.

Years later, Aemond once more pulled himself from bed to face the morning sun in the window, relishing the warmth on his face before looking down at the mirror he had placed on the windowsill so that his sapphire would be the first thing he saw each morning. Aria was right. Every time he glimpsed his reflection, he thought of her.

But he could not spend all day gazing into a mirror.

He sat back down at the edge of the bed, slipping his hand beneath his pillow. He smiled when he found what he sought and brought the small silk cloth to his face.

Though it had been years since she held it, Aemond could still find her scent in the fabric. Smoke and cold air filled his mind as he breathed in deeply.

He pictured her, not as the girl she had been when he last saw her, but how he imagined her now, as a beautiful young woman. Whenever a nobleman returned from a visit to Dragonstone, he pressed them for a description of her.

The image was so clear in his mind. Her long white hair that curled down to her waist, and those silver eyes that still held her characteristic sparkle. He imagined the slight upturn of her button nose and the deep lines in her cheeks when she smiled.

Oh, that smile. It could brighten the darkest night and warm the coldest winter.

He needed that smile once more. He needed Aria.

Aemond closed his eyes, keeping the soft silk pressed to his lips with one hand as he sank into the bed and his already hardened length in the other. He inhaled Aria’s delicious scent again and began to pump slowly, wanting to savor this ritual – one of the few sources of pleasure he still had.

He returned to his imagination, to Aria. He imagined running his fingers through her hair, tangling those perfect curls. He imagined wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her flush against him. He imagined dragging his fingers down the soft skin of her cheeks to her full, pink lips, lingering there before he pounced.

How would it feel to kiss her? Would she lean back into him or let him take control? Would she wrap her arms around his neck? His waist? Or would she gently caress the sides of his face? Aemond’s breath hiked as he imagined the feel of her soft fingers on his skin.

He stroked himself harder and faster, practically hearing the way she would sigh and moan when he pulled himself away from her and moved to her neck. He would brush aside her hair and kiss her gently, playfully, hoping to draw more of those delectable noises from her. She would arch into him, as desperate for her touch as he was for hers. Then, when she could take no more of his teasing, she would seize his collar and bring him back to her lips. He would devour her then, showing her exactly how much he craved her.

Release came when he imagined her pressing her forehead to his, at last ending their kiss as she whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

Laying back on the bed, Aemond’s breath came heavy as he finally lowered the silk from his face. The relief from his release was short-lived, for he knew that this was all he had: his hand and his imagination.

With a great sigh, he raised himself again from the bed and began to dress for the day. As he left his bedchamber, he strapped his sword and dagger to his belt and tucked the purple silk into his breast pocket.

It had been more than eight years since Aria was taken from him, and still, he clung to every scrap of her that remained. And though the waiting was torture, he took comfort that it would soon end. Aria had celebrated her nineteenth nameday only weeks before. She would soon come of age and be free of her father.

If, on that day, Daemon did not release her, Aemond would take Vhagar to the Dragonstone and rescue her himself. Consequences be damned. He would be the noble prince to save the girl in the tower.

Then, they would have their happy ending.

[ravenousrampage]

My lovely lovely friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) wrote me an amazing little snippet for Knight, and has given me permission to share! Please enjoy, I certainly did! Enjoy Knight eating some Goblins and being very unsettling to people!

Could it even be called a knight?

Nothing about the being that stood before Lord Kelvin struck him as particularly human. However, the details were trivial, and the innkeeper claimed that the "Knight's" bravery was unparalleled. He wasn't sure what that meant in this case, but he knew he was desperate and the mission was simple enough.

"Your pay will be ten gold pieces."

The helmeted head of the creature creaked in his direction, but otherwise made no sound. It was unnerving. Statue still but emanating an aura that made a cold sweat prickle at the back of his neck.

It stared at him - into him.

"And five silver, as well."

He tacked on, barely able to stop the tremble in his voice as the Knight grunted.

"My duties begin now?"

The lord nodded and Knight turned heel, walking from the room with no sense of urgency. This was a simple mission. Miss Innkeeper would be happy to get paid and he would be happy with a free meal.

-----‐---------‐

The woman he accompanied was vibrant and oddly chatty with Knight, it was similar to how Miss Innkeeper treated him, and he liked that much better than the screaming that often followed his appearance.

"Such a willowy, waifish fellow. What court do you hail from?"

She mused, hiding a chuckle behind her hand while astride her steed. Just at eye level, Knight failed to notice the cheeky curvy to her lips. Even if he had, he held no interest in that sort of thing.

What an interesting question though.

Knight wasn't particularly sure himself.

One day, his eyes opened and his empty stomach grumbled - he had been on the move ever since.

This plating that covered his appendages seemed to earn him a lot of undeserved perks, but it also usually roped him into situations that did not interest him.

Had it not been for the pay, and, more importantly, the promise of a meal, he didn't think he would have taken this mission.

"What?"

"Your court, dear fellow!"

That answered none of his questions, but he was saved from having to answer as a small creature tore into the path.

"Oh, my! A goblin! Slay it, knight!"

The goblin looked unsurprised to see them there, drawing a dagger to brandish at the two with a bored air.

"Surrend the woman to us. Tell your lord to pay our ransom and she will be returned promptly."

A few more goblins appeared from the brush, each had daggers and bore the same expression as the presumed leader.

Knight's charge shrieked and squawked, calling the goblins 'vermin' and 'monsters' from the back of her Palomino. It all felt very staged… because it was.

Lord Kelvin had made a deal with the local goblins. Once in awhile, when his wife started to drive him batty with her nagging, he would send her on a little outing with a knight. They encountered goblins at some point in the trip, the knight would defeat them, and the lady would be back in her husband's arms grateful that she was alive and that he had spent a pretty penny to keep his wife safe.

The longer the charade went on, the harder it was to find knights who would take such a task and to appease the goblins who demanded more and more each time.

Knight was here to eliminate the problem.

He strode forward, feeling his stomach rumbled in approval when he unceremoniously grabbed one goblin, not the ringleader, and, without warning, scarfed it down.

His helm tipped back, revealing to only the goblin about to enter his maw while lie beneath, and shoved the monster in. There was some scrabbling and clawing - nothing he wasn't expecting from alarmed prey.

Gulp

Completely ensconced within Knight's elastic throat.

GULP

The squirming goblin settled in his stomach, fighting for an exit that would never appear. Another groan from his belly. Knight leaned down and repeated the process, savoring the heaviness of gut when the second goblin was down.

Only then did everyone start screaming.

Knight sighed.

Before the group had time to disperse, Knight grabbed a goblin in each hand, tucking one under his arm and lifting the other over his head.

"What kind of knight are you?"

One screeched, Knight's tongue wrapping around the creature's waist and began to drag the stuggling goblin closer.

"A hungry one."

This one, although it writhed and wriggled, he tried to take a moment to appreciate the flavor. Miss Innkeeper was always getting on his case for eating too quickly.

Rot and earth. Smoky and musty. Putrid in a way that deterred all other predators with olfactory senses, but not Knight.

He took his time, taking a few shallow gulps and feeling his throat bulge as his muscles worked hard to drawn his prey deeper into his belly.

The sharp plate that usually protected his abdomen was digging into him uncomfortably. Although elastic inside and out, Knight could still feel the discomfort and he took a second to stop swallowing his prey and pry his chest plate off.

Stomach bulging and writhing, Knight lifted a hand and covered his helm with a fist, so much movement was making him burpy.

For a moment, he debated if he could even fit another goblin. He felt quite full and he didn't have the luxury to sit down and digest. No Miss Innkeeper to soothe his swollen stomach with calloused, but kind hands (she would probably wait anyway, she didn't like when he came back with a stomach full of a fresh meal).

However, he had a job, and the last goblin he caught was the ringleader. There was no pointing waiting for the goblin to begin bargaining, Knight wasn't interested in whatever sob story the creature constructed. The goblin's head was in his mouth and the creature disappeared into the tight confines of his already full stomach.

He stood there, swaying on the spot with his hands soothing over taut flesh. Ah, he could really go for a nap. Unfortunately, he had to slosh to their next destination - there he could sit back and digest.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Knight's hopes were dashed. His dream of capturing and consuming a whole dragon seemed so out of reach if a few goblins had him second guessing his capacity (physically and mentally).

Stomach lurching and small noises of discomfort puncturing each step, Knight returned to Lady Kelvin's side.

Horrified did not begin to describe her expression.

[chimeric-art]

Needs a little coaxing

[lefaystrent]

As The Prophecy Foretold

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Prinxiety

Summary: Climbing towers was easy in comparison to shattering prophetic expectations.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There once was a tower in the middle of an enchanted forest. It stood several stories high and had several stories more to tell. This story, however, was the story of how Prince Roman ventured into the thick of it on a journey of true love.

Astride a snow-white horse, he road gallantly into the courtyard. No door marred the stonework. The only entry point sat high up on the top floor of the tower, an arched window. Roman came to a halt below it.

This would not bar him from his destiny.

Roman cleared his throat and belted his voice out from the diaphragm. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!"

"Who the fuck is Rapunzel?" someone asked from above. A dark-headed figure peered out the window, annoyed. "And why are you yelling?"

Taken aback and nearly falling off his horse, Roman fired back, "Rapunzel! The princess who lives in this tower! Surely you must know her."

"Uh, no, this is my tower. No Rapunzels here."

"Surely you jest!"

"I've never jested in my life, and would you stop yelling! I can hear you just fine."

Puzzled, Roman slid off his horse. Like a good boy, Maximillian lingered by his side. Roman called beseechingly. "I don't know who you are sir, or how you've come to be here, but this is most certainly Rapunzel's tower."

"Like I already said, no golden girls here. This is my tower, so I would know. Someone gave you some shitty directions."

"I- no, that cannot be," Roman stammered. "The prophecy was very specific."

"Prophecies are overrated," the man grunted. He leaned over the edge, one hand under his chin and the other dangling off the side. Even from here, Roman could see prominent bags under his eyes. "Have you tried checking other towers? Or did you just harass the first one you came across?"

"This is the only tower in these woods!" Roman stamped his foot. "It was foretold that I would find Rapunzel's tower here, rescue her from her evil hag of a mother, and then ride away into the sunset together where we would live happily ever after and continue the royal line."

"Do you do everything you're told to? You're just a cog in the system for The Man, aren't you? I hate The Man."

"I am the man!"

"I hate you."

Roman ran his hands through his perfect hair and perfectly messed up his winsome swoop trying to rattle his brain to make sense of it all. "You just met me! You don't even know me!"

"So how would it make it any better for you to decide to marry some chick you haven't even met yet? And decide that you'll be her knight in shining armor without asking? That's very presumptuous of you."

"But the prophecy!"

The stranger groaned and threw up his hands. "Look, if a prophecy told you to jump off a bridge, would you?"

Roman paused. "Is everyone else jumping?"

Deadpanned, the other responded, "No, you're alone. Forever alone."

"Aha! Lies, for I will always have my dear companion, Maximillion."

Maximillion neighed.

"You've got a horse, look at you. Not that I'm not loving this conversation, but are we done yet? I'd like to get back to my peace and quiet."

"But-"

"If you say 'prophecy' one more time, I will come down there, so help me. Just think outside the box for once in your life, yeah? Did anyone even bother to ask before pushing what you're 'supposed' to do on you? Do you want to become involved with some stranger's implied family drama? Do you even want to get married? Do you want to marry a woman, for that matter?"

"Wait, that part's optional?" Roman asked, astounded.

The guy was also astounded, but for other reasons. "This should not be some profound revelation for you. You can love and marry who you want, dude, regardless of gender. Now I just feel sorry for you."

"Like... I could marry a man instead?"

"Of everything that I've said, I think it says something about you that the new potential reality for gayness is what strikes a chord in you."

"I've never thought about it. I thought... Well, I'm the prince! I'm supposed to carry on the family line!"

"You could adopt. Just throwing that out there. Or just don't have kids. That's my solution to everything."

"What's wrong with kids?"

"They grow up and become adults, and adults are the worst thing you could be."

Roman waved his hand up at him. "You are an adult, are you not?"

"Yeah, it's the worst."

Roman harrumphed. He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the courtyard. "Well, this was an eye-opening experience. What are you doing anyway, living in a doorless tower in the middle of the woods, Not-Rapunzel?"

"My name's Virgil," the man pointed out. Then he caught himself, "Uh, not that it matters. What my name is. You don't need to know that. Or why I live where I do."

"Why do you live in a tower in the woods, Virgil?"

"Because I want to be left alone!" Virgil hissed back. "Obviously, it's not working out as picture-perfect as you'd think."

"I um, like your rose bushes," Roman complimented. "So I think it's still a fairly picturesque locale."

"Those are gardenias, but thanks."

"Gardenias," Roman nodded and rubbed his foot in the dirt. "You have very nice taste in gardenias..."

"...thanks."

Roman coughed into his fist, awkward as a prince ever could be. "So uh, Virgil. In your opinionated wisdom, what should I do now? How do I go back home to my family without a betrothed?"

Virgil sighed and took pity. "If you're that afraid of what they'll think, you don't have to go back."

"I have a duty to uphold. I have sworn it to kin and country."

"Did you swear to be miserable too?"

The prince faltered.

In that sunlit afternoon, standing surrounded by flowers at the foot of an aging tower, he felt small.

Did anyone ever ask him what he wanted? Truly?

What did he want?

"I... I don't want to be miserable."

Virgil nodded, patient as he had been through this whole encounter. "That's a start."

Bolstered, Roman continued, "And I don't want to marry a woman."

"I had a sneaking suspicion on that one."

"I would very much like to marry a man!"

"Ah, we're back to the yelling, okay."

"And I don't want to lead a country! I want to go on adventures with Maximillion and save dames and damsels in distress! I want to fight villains and see magic! I want to swim in the ocean and fly on a dragon!"

"Let it out, just let it all out."

"And- and-" Roman wavered. He slowed and he stared up at Virgil uncertainly. The shadowed eyes, the small indulging smirk, the fire in his soul. "And I would very much like to join you for tea in your tower."

Virgil startled. He reared back, eyes wide, and he was too far to confirm, but Roman would like to think his cheeks pinkened.

"And why the hell would I want to invite you in?" Virgil shot back.

Roman gave a dazzling smile that he felt from his heart. "You don't have to. I know you don't know me and I know I showed up here uninvited. It's just what I would want to happen."

Prophecy or not, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. Golden girls wouldn't have compared anyway, to the sight above him.

Virgil disappeared from the window. Roman's heart sank in disappointment.

He would cherish the memory, at least.

Moments later, a very flustered Virgil returned to the window. "Okay, I'll allow it. With the condition that you have to find your own way in here. I'm not helping you!"

Overcome with delight, Roman jumped and whooped for joy.

Climbing towers was easy in comparison to shattering prophetic expectations.

[otherworlds-inside-my-mind]

Xenofiction (& similar) Media Masterpost

Editable Google Doc Link here

PS. This list is for keeping track only. This is not a recommendation list and I won't be advocating for any Work, Author or Company listed. There will be footnotes about a work/author for undesirable behaviour or themes if necessary.

This is a WIP and will be updated whenever I have the time to. Feel free to recommend works or inform me about an author so I can update the post. Be Aware works on this list might have been cancelled or on indifinitive Hiatus and not all works are available on English.

Sections:

Literature

Comic Books & Graphics Novels

Picture Books

Indie Written Works

Webcomics

Manga

Animated Series

Live-Action & Hybrid shows

Webseries

Short Films

Animated Films

Live Action & CGI Assisted Movies

Documentary

Theather

Videogames

Online Browser Games

Table Top Games

Music

Other Online Projects

Youtubers

Gen. Videos

Worlds

Franchises

To search is Ctrl + F (Windows) or Command-F (MacOS), on phone browser you have "Find in page" (Drop menu at top right)

Literature

A

Age of Fire - E. E. Knight

Adventure Lit their Star - Kenneth Allsop

Alien in a Small Town - Jim Cleaveland

Alien Chronicles (Literature) - Deborah Chester

Animal Farm - George Orwell

Animorphs - K. A. Applegate

Am an Owl - Martin Hocke

At Winters End - Robert Silverberg

Avonoa - H.R.B. Collotzi

Astrid and Cerulean: A Parrot Fantasy - Parasol Marshall-Crowley

A Wolf for a Spell - Karah Sutton

The African Painted Wolf Novels - Alexander Kendziorski

The Alchemist's Cat - Robin Jarvis

The Amazing Maurice and his educated rodents - Terry Pratchet

The Amity Incident - C. M. Weller

The Ancient Solitary Reign - Martin Hocke

The Animals of Farthing Wood series - Colin Dann

The Art of Racing in the Rain - Garth Stein

The Author of Acacia Seeds and Other Extracts from the Journal of Therolinguistics - Ursula K. Le Guin

A Magical Cat Named Kayla: Whiskers of Enchantment -Carlos Juárez [AI Cover]*

The Animal Story Book - Various Authors [Editor: Andrew Lang]

Abenteuer im Korallenriff - Antonia Michaelis [DE]

B

Bambi: A life in the forest & Bambi Children - Felix Salten

Bamboo Kingdom series - Erin Hunter

Bazil Broketail - Christopher Rowley

Beak of the Moon & Dark of the Moon - Philip Temple

Bears of the Ice series - Kathryn Lasky

Beasts of New York - Jon Evans

Beautiful Joe - Margaret Marshall Saunders

Beyond Acacia Ridge - Amy Clare Fontaine

Birddom - Clive Woodall

Bird Brain - Guy Kennaway

Black Beauty - Anna Sewell

Blitzcat - Robert Westall

Blizzard Winds - Paul Koch

Books of the Raksura - Martha Wells

Braver: A Wombat's Tale - Suzanne Selfors & Walker Ranson

Bravelands series- Erin Hunter

Broken Fang - Rutherford Montgomery

Bunnicula series - Deborah Howe & James Howe

Burning Stars - Rurik Redwolf

A Black Fox Running - Brian Carter

A Blue So Loud - Tuesday

The Ballard of The Belstone Fox - David Rook

The Bear - James Curwood

The Bees - Laline Paull

The Biography of a Silver Fox - Ernest Thompson Seton

The Blue Cat of Castle Town - Catherine Cate Coblentz

The Book Of Chameleons - José Eduardo Agualusa

The Book of the Dun Cow - Walter Wangerin Jr.

The Book of Night with Moon - Diane Duane

The Books of the Named series - Clare Bell

The Bug Wars - Robert Asprin

The Builders - Daniel Polansky

C

Call of the wild - Jack London

Callanish - William Horwood

Catwings - Ursula K. Le Guin

Cat Diaries: Secret Writings of the MEOW Society - Betsy Byars, Betsy Duffey & Laurie Myers

Cat House - Michael Peak

Cat Pack - Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Cats in the city of Plague - A.L Marlow

Celestial Heir series - Chester Young

Charlotte's Web - E. B. White

Chet and Bernie mysteries - Spencer Quinn

Chia The Wildcat - Joyce stranger

Child of the Wolves - Elizabeth Hall

Clarice the Brave - Lisa McMann

Cry of the Wild - Charles Foster

Coyote's Wild Home - Barbara Kingsolver; Lily Kingsolver & Paul Mirocha

Coyote Series - Michael Bergey

Crocuta - Katelyn Rushe

Coorinna: A Novel of the Tasmanian Uplands - Erle Wilson

Cujo - Steven King

The Calatians Series - Tim Susman

The Cats of Roxville station - Jean Craighead Georde

The Chanur Novels - C. J. Cherryh

The Cold Moons - Aeron Clement

The Color of Distance || Through Alien Eyes - Amy Thomson

The Conquerors - Timothy Zahn

The Council of Cats - R. J. F.

The Cricket in Times Square - George Selden

The Crimson Torch - Angela Holder

The Crossbreed - Allan Eckert

The Crucible of Time - John Brunner

D

Darkeye series - Lydia West

Deadlands: The Hunted - Skye Melki-Wegner

Demon of Undoing - Andrea I. Alton

Desert Dog - Jim Kjelgaard

Dinotopia - James Gurney, Alan Dean Foster

Doglands - Tim Willocks

Dimwood Forest series - Avi

A Dog's Life: The Autobiography of a Stray - Ann M. Martin

A Dog's Porpoise Duology - M. C. Ross

Dogs of the Drowned City - Dayna Lorentz

A Dog's Purpose series - W. Bruce Cameron

Dolphin Way: Rise of the Guardians - Mark Caney

Domino - Kia Heavey

Douglas' Diary - Andrew John

DragonFire series - Lewis Jones Davies

Dragon Fires Rising - Marc Secchia

Dragon Hoard and Other Tales of Faerie - Cathleen Townsend

Dragons and Skylines series - Rowan Silver

Dragon Prayers - M.J. McPike

Dragons of Mother Stone series - Melissa McShane

Dragon Girls Series - Maddy Mara

The Deptford Mice series - Robin Jarvis

The Dogs of the Spires series - Ethan Summers

The Dragons of Solunas series - H. Leighton Dickson

The Duncton Chronicles - William Horwood

The Destiny of Dragons - J.F.R. Coates

The Diary Of A House Cat - Ileana Dorobantu

Dogtown - Katherine Applegate & Gennifer Choldenko

Die schwarze Tigerin - Peer Martin [DE]

Die weiße Wölfin - Vanessa Walder [DE]

Die Wilden Hunde Von Pompeii - Helmut Krausser [DE]

Das wilde Mäh - Vanessa Walder [DE]

E

The Eyes and the Impossible - Dave Eggers

Eclosión - Arturo Balseiro [ES]

Ein Seehund findet nach Hause - Antonia Michaelis [DE]

F

Fantastic Mr. Fox - Roald Dahl

Faithful Ruslan - Georgi Vladimov

Feather and Bone: The Crow Chronicles - Clem Martini

Feathers & Flames series - John Bailey

Felidae series (1) - Akif Pirinçci

Fifteen Rabbits - Felix Salten

Fire, Bed & Bone - Henrietta Branford

Fire of the Phoenix - Azariah Jade

Fluke - James Herbert

Firefall series - Peter Watts

Firebringer - David Clement-Davies

Flush: A Biography Book - Virginia Woolf

Fox - Glyn Frewer

Foxcraft series - Inbali Iserles

Frightful’s Mountain - Jeanie Craighead George

Frost dancers: A story of hares - Garry Kilworth

The Familiars series - Adam Jay Epstein

The Fifth - Saylor Ferguson

The Firebringer series - Meredith Ann Pierce

The Fox and The Hound - Daniel P. Mannix

The Forges of Dawn - E. Kinsey

Freundschaft im Regenwald - Peer Martin [DE]

(1) Felidae's Author - Akif Pirinçci - is known to be a Xenophobic, Anti-muslim, Anti-Lgbt and Extreme Right-Wing guy (A N4zi by his on words). Won't be going onto details just know he has a non-fiction work called "Germany Gone Mad: The Crazy Cult around Women, Homosexuals and Immigrants." His works has been out of print ever since.

G

Guardian Cats and the lost books of Alexandria - Rahma Krambo

Guardians of Ga'Hoole series - Kathryn Lasky

Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett

Griffin Quest - Sophie Torro

Gryphon Insurrection series - K. Vale Nagle

The Ghost and It's Shadow - Shaun Hick

The Golden Eagle - Robert Murphy

The Golem and the Jinni - Helene Wecker

The Good Dog - Newbery Medalist

The Guardian Herd series - Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

The Goodbye Cat - Hiro Arikawa

The Great Timbers - James A. Kane

H

Haunt Fox - Jim Kjelgaard

Haven: A Small Cat's Big Adventure - Megan Wagner Lloyd

Heavenly Horse series - Mary Stanton

Hive - Ischade Bradean

Horses of Dawn series - Kathryn Lasky

House of Tribes - Garry Kilworth

Hunter's Moon/Foxes of First dark - Garry Kilworth

Hunters Universe series - Abigail Hilton

A Hare at Dark Hollow - Joyce Stranger

The Hundred and One Dalmatians & The Starlight Barking - Dodie Smith

The Hunt for Elsewhere - Beatrice Vine

Hollow Kingdom Duology - Kira Jane Buxton

I

I am a Cat - Natsume Sōseki

I, Scheherezade: Memoirs of a Siamese Cat - Douglass Parhirst

In the Long Dark - Brian Carter

The Incredible Journey - Sheila Burnford

Im Reich der Geparde - Kira Gembri [DE]

J

Joe Grey series - Shirley Rousseau Murphy

Jonathan Livingston Seagull - Richard Bach & Russell Munson

Julie of the Wolves - Jeanie Craighead George

The Jungle Book - Rudyard Kipling

Journey to the West - Wu Cheng'en

K

Kävik the Wolf Dog - Walt Morey

Kazan duology - James Curwood

Kine Saga - Alan Lloyd

Kona's Song - Louise Searl

The Killers - Daniel P. Mannix

Kindred of the Wild - Charles G.D Roberts

König der Bären - Vanessa Walder [DE]

L

Lassie Come-Home - Eric Knight

Last of the Curlews - Fred Bodsworth

Lazy Scales - D.M. Gilmore

Legends of Blood series - Ethan Summers

A Legend of Wolf Song - George Stone

Luna the Lone Wolf - Forest Wells

Lupus Rex - John Carter Cash

Lutapolii: White Dragon of the South - Deryn Pittar

The Last Unicorn - Peter S. Beagle

The Labrador Pact & The Last Family in England - Matt Haig

The Last Dogs - Christopher Holt

The Last Eagle - Daniel P. Mannix

The Last Great Auk - Allan Eckert

The Last Monster on Earth - L.J. Davies

The Life Story of a Fox - J. C. Tregarthen

The Lost Rainforest series - Eliot Schrefer & Emilia Dziubak

The Lost Domain - Martin Hocke

The Last Whales: A Novel - Lloyd Abbey

M

Mammoth Trilogy - Stephen Baxter

Manxmouse: The Mouse Who Knew No Fear - Paul Gallico

Marney the Fox - Scott Goodall & John Stokes

Mattie: The story of a hedgehog - Norman Adams, & G.D. Griffiths

Matriarch: Elephant vs. T-Rex - Roz Gibson

Midnight's Sun - Garry Kilworth

Migon - P.C. Keeler

Minado The Devil - Dog - Erle Wilson

Monkey Wars - Richard Kurti

Mouseheart Series - Lisa Fiedler

The Mistmantle chronicles - M.I. McAllister

The Mountain Lion - Robert Murphy

The Mouse Butcher - Dick King-Smith

The Mouse Protectors Series - Olly Barrett

Maru - Die Reise der Elefanten - Kira Gembri [DE]

N

New Springtime series - Robert Silverberg

Nightshade Chronicles - Hilary Wagner

Nugly - M. C. Ross

Nuru und Lela - Das Wunder der Wildnis - Kira Gembri [DE]

O

Old One-Toe - Michel-Aimé Baudouy

Of Birds and Branches - Frances Pauli

Outlaw Red - Jim Kjelgaard

The Old Stag - Henry Williamson

The One and Only Ivan - Katherine Applegate

P

Painted Flowers - Caitlin Grizzle

Pax & Pax: Journey Home - Sara Pennypacker

Petrichor - C.E. Wright

The Plague Dogs - Richard Adams

The Pit - Elaine Ramsay

Pride Wars Series - Matt Laney

A Pup Called Trouble - Bobbie Pyron

The Peregryne Falcon - Robert Murphy

Pork and Others - Cris Freddi

Q

Queen in the Mud - Maari

Quill and Claw series - Kathryn Brown

R

Rak: The story of an Urban Fox - Jonathon Guy

Ramblefoot by Ken Kaufman

Rats of Nimh series - Robert C. O'Brien

Raven Quest - Sharon Stewart

Ravenspell Series - David Farland

Raptor Red - Robert T. Bakker

Red Fox - Charles G. D. Roberts

Redwall series - Brian Jacques

Rose in a Storm - Jon Katz

Rufus - Rutherford Montgomery

Run With the Wind series - Tom McCaughren

Runt - Marion Dane Baeur

Rustle in the Grass - Robin Hawdon

Rusty - Joyce Stranger

The Remembered War series - Robert Vane

The Rescuers series - Margery Sharp

The Red Stranger - David Stephen

The River Singers & The Rising - Tom Moorhouse

The Road Not Taken - Harry Turtledove,

The Running Foxes - Joyce Stranger

Revier der Raben - Vanessa Walder [DE]

S

Salar the Salmon - Henry Williamson

Scary Stories for Young Foxes Duology - Christian McKay Heidicker

Scaleshifter series - Shelby Hailstone Law

Shadow Walkers - Russ Chenoweth

Scream of the White Bears - David Clement-Davies

Seekers saga - Erin Hunter

Serpentia Series - Frances Pauli

Shadows in the Sky - Pete Cross

Shark Wars Series - EJ Altbacker

Silverwing series - Kenneth Oppel

Silver Brumby series - Elyne Mitchell

Sirius - Olaf Stapledon

SkyTalons Series - Sophie Torro

Solo's Journey - Joy Aiken Smith

Sky Hawk - Gill Lewis

Snow Dog - Jim Kjelgaard

Song of the River - Soinbhe Lally

Spirit of the West series - Kathleen Duey

Survivors series - Erin Hunter

Stray - A.N Wilson

String Lug the Fox - David Stephen

Swashbuckling Cats: Nine Lives on the Seven Seas - Rhonda Parrish & Co.

Swordbird series - Nancy Yi Fan

The Sheep-Pig - Dick King-Smith

The Sight & Fell - David Clement-Davies

The Silent Sky - Allan Eckert

The Silver Claw - Garry Kilworth

The Stoner Eagles - William Horwood

The Stink Files - Jennifer L. Holm & Jonathan Hamel

The Snowcat Prince - Dina Norlund

The Story Of A Seagull And The Cat Who Taught Her To Fly - Luis Sepúlveda

The Story of a Snail Who Discovered the Importance of Being Slow - Luis Sepúlveda

The Story of a dog called Leal - Luis Sepúlveda

The Story of a Red Deer - John Fortescue

The Summer King Chronicles - Jess E. Owen

Schogul, Rächer der Tiere - Birgit Laqua [DE]

Stadt der Füchse - Vanessa Walder [DE]

T

Tailchaser's Song - Tad Williams

Tarka the Otter - Henry Williamson

Three Bags Full - Leonnie Swann

Thy Servant a Dog - Rudyard Kipling

Tomorrow's Sphinx - Clare Bell

Torn Ear - Geoffrey Malone

Thor - Wayne Smith

Trickster -  Tom Moorhouse

Two Dogs and a Horse - Jim Kjelgaard

The Tale of Despereaux - Kate DiCamillo

The Travelling Cat Chronicles - Hiro Arikawa

The Trilogy of the Ants - Bernard Werber

The Trumpet of the Swan - E. B. White

The Tusk That Did the Damage - Tania James

The Tygrine cat - Inbali Iserles

U

Ultimate Dragon Saga - Graham Edwards

Under the Skin - Michel Faber

V

Varjak Paw duology - S.F Said

Vainqueur the Dragon series - Maxime J. Durand

W

War Bunny series - Christopher St. Jhon

War Horse - Michael Morpurgo

War Queen - Illthylian

Warrior Cats series - Erin Hunter

Watership Down/Tales of Watership Down - Richard Adams

Ways of Wood Folk - William J. Long

Welkin Weasels series - Garry Kilworth

West of Eden - Harry Harrison

Whalesong Trilogy - Robert Siegel

Whale - Jeremy Lucas

Whispers in the Forest - Barbara Coultry

White Wolf - Henrietta Branford

White Fang - Jack London

White Fox Series - Jiatong Chen

Wings trilogy - Don Conroy

Wild Lone - Denys Watkins-Pitchford

Wild Animals I Have Known - Ernest Thompson Seton

Willow Tree Wood Series - J. S. Betts

Wings of Fire series - Tui T. Sutherland

Winterset Hollow - Jonathan Edward Durham

Wolf: The Journey Home | Hungry for Home: A Wolf Odyssey - Asta Bowen

Wolf Brother series - Michelle Paver

Wolf Chronicles - Dorothy Hearst

Wolves of the Beyond Series - Kathryn Lasky

Woodstock Saga - Michael Tod

A Whale of the Wild - Rosanne Parry

A Wolf Called Wander - Rosanne Parry

The Waters of Nyra - Kelly Michelle Baker

The Wolves of Elementa series - Sophie Torro

The Wolves of Time - William Horwood

The Wolf Chronicles Series - Teng Rong

The Way of Kings - Louise Searl

The White Bone - Barbara Gowdy

The White Fox/Singing Tree - Brian Parvin

The White Puma - Ronald Lawrence

The Wild Road & The Golden Cat - Gabriel King

The Wildings & The Thousand names of darkness - Nilanjana Roy

The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

The Wind Protect You - Pat Murphy

The Wolves of Paris - Daniel P. Mannix

Y

Yellow eyes - Rutherford Montgomery

The Year Of The Dinosaur - Edwin H. Colbert

Z

Zones of Thought series - Vernor Vinge

Z-Verse series by R.H

Comic Books/Graphic Novels

Animosity - Marguerite Bennett

Age of Reptiles - Ricardo Delgado

Legend - Samuel Sattin Koehler

Mouse Guard - David Petersen

Pride of Baghdad - Brian K. Vaughan & Niko Henrichon

Rover Red Charlie - Garth Ennis & Michael Dipascale

Stray Dogs - Tony Fleecs & Trish Forstner

We3 - Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely

Beasts of Burden - Evan Dorkin & Jill Thompson

LOBO: Canine Crusader of the Metal Wasteland - Macs-World-Ent

The Sandman: Dream of a Thousand Cats - Neil Gaiman

Animal Castle - Xavier Dorison & Felix Delep

Blacksad Series - Juan Díaz Canales & Juanjo Guarnido

Scurry - Mac Smith

The Snowcat Prince - Dina Norlund

Rankless - Maggie Lightheart

Animal Pound - Tom King & Peter Gross

Animal Castle - Xavier Dorison & Felix Delep

BlackSad - Juan Díaz Canales & Juanjo Guarnido

Picture Books

Steve the Dung Beetle: On a Roll - Susan R. Stoltz & Melissa Bailey

Hot Dog - Doug Salati

The Rock from the Sky - Jon Klassen

Whoever Heard of a Flying Bird? - David Cunliffe & Ivan Barrera

A Cat Named Whiskers - Shana Gorian

Ocean Tales Children's Books Series - Sarah Cullen & Zuzana Sbodová

Jake the Growling Dog - Samantha Shannon

Indie Written Works

Fins Above Series - MIROYMON

Journey of Atlas - Journey of Atlas

Webcomics

A

Africa - Arven92

After Honour - genstaelens

Awka - Nothofagus-obliqua

Arax - Azany

Amarith - Eredhys

The Apple's Echo - Helianthanas

Alone - Magpeyes

B

The Blackblood Alliance - KayFedewa

The Betrothed - Kibisca

Black Tyrant - Zapp-BEAST

Blue - HunterBeingHunted

Beast Tags - TheRoomPet

Spy - Utahraptor93

Be Reflected in my Eyes - Aquene-lupetta

C

Carry your voice - TacoBella

Caelum Sky - ALRadeck

Crescent Wing - Mikaley

Crescent Moonlight - AnimalCrispy

City of Trees - SanjanaIndica

Corpse - doeprince/ratt

D

Darbi - Sherard Jackson

The Devils Demons - Therbis

Doe of Deadwood - Songdogx

Dyten - Therbis

Desperation - PracticelImagination

E

Equus Siderae - Dalgeor

Empyrean - Leonine-Skies

Enchantment - FeralWolf1234

F

Fox Fires - Pipilia

Forget me Not - Nitteh

Fjeld - Dachiia

Felinia - Rainy-bleu

G

Golden Shrike - doeprince/ratt

Ghost of the Gulag - David Derrick Jr.

H

Horse Age - BUGHS-22

Hiraeth - AFlameThatNeverDies

Half-Blood - majkaria

Horns of Light - ThatMoonySky

I

I Hope So - Detective Calico

The Ivory Walk - TacoBella

I'm not Ready - Wolfkingdom372

J

Jet and Harley - doeprince

K

Kestrel Island - Silverphoenix

Kin - Fienduredraws

KuroMonody - IrisBdz

Krystal - Nitteh

The King of Eyes - CloverTailedFox09

L

Legend of Murk - Azany

LouptaOmbra - Loupta Ombra (OngakuK, MlleNugget & joeypony)

Leopards bring rain - Kyriuar

M

Mazes of Filth - petitecanine

Minimal All You Are - mike-princeofstars

N

Nine Riders - SpiriMuse

No Man's Land - TacoBella

Never seen the Day - R3dk3y

Norra - shadowmirku

O

Obsidian Fire - SolinaBright

Oren's Forge - teagangavet

Off-White - Akreon

Out Of Time - IndiWolf

R

Rabbit on the Moon - Songdogx & Nitteh

The Rabbit Hole - Detrah

RunningWolf Mirari - Mirella Menciassi

Raptor - ElenPanter

Redriver - FireTheWolf777

Repeat - Songdogx

The Rabbit's Foot - riri_arts

S

Scurry - Mac Smith

Simbol - Zoba22

Spirit Lock - Animal Crispy

The Sylcoe - Denece-the-sylcoe

Sunder - Aurosoul

T

Tainted Hearts - Therbis

Taxicat - owlburrow

That's Freedom Guyra - Nothofagus-obliqua

Three Corners: A Kitten's Story - Lara Frizzell

Tofauti Sawa - TheCynicalHound

Two of a Kind - ProjectNao

To Catch a Star - SleepySundae

U

Under the Ash Tree - ChevreLune

Uninvited - Nothofagus-obliqua

W

Water Wolves - LuckyStarhun

What Lurks Beneath - ArualMeow

Water Wolves - LuckyStarhun

Wild Wolves - Lombarsi

White Tail - SleepySundae

What's your damage? - FrostedCanid

The Wolves of Chena - Yamis-Art

Waves Always Crash - Hellhunde

The Whale's Heart - Possumteeeth [Warriors Fancomic]

Manga

A Centaur's Life - Murayama Kei

Beastars - Paru Itagaki

Chi's Sweet Home - Kanata Konami

Ginga Series [Silverfang] - Yoshihiro Takahashi

Gon - Masashi Tanaka

Houseki no Kuni | Land of the Lustrous - Haruko Ichikawa

Inugami-Kai - Masaya Hokazono

The Jungle Emperor - Osamu Tezuka

My roommate is a cat - Minatsuki & Asu Futatsuya

Crimsons – The Scarlet Navigators of the Ocean - Kanno Takanori

Rooster Fighter - Shū Sakuratani

Simoun - Shō Aikawa

The Fox & Little Tanuki - Mi Tagawa

Yuria 100 Shiki - Nobuto Hagio

Massugu ni Ikou - Kira

Cat Soup

The Amazing 3

Cat + Gamer - Wataru Nadatani

Animated Series

#

101 Dalmatians: The series & 101 Dalmatian Street

A

A Polar Bear in Love

B

Baja no Studio

Bagi: Monster of Mighty Nature

Bannertail: The Story of Gray Squirrel

Bluey

C

Centaurworld (2021)

Chirin's Bell

Chironup no Kitsune

D

Dokkun Dokkun

E

F

G

Gamba no Bouken

H

Hazbin Hotel

I

Invader ZIM

Inu to Neko Docchi mo Katteru to Mainichi Tanoshii

J

K

King Fang

Koisuru Shirokuma

Kemushi no Boro

Kewang Lantian

Konglong Baobei: Shiluo De Wenming

L

Little Polar Bear

M

Manxmouse's Great Activity

Mitsubachi Maya no Bouken

Mikan Enikki

Massugu ni Ikou -

My Life as a Teenage Robot

Mikan Enikki

N

O

Ore, Tsushima

Okashi na Sabaku no Suna to Manu

P

Primal

Polar Bear Cafe

Q

R

Robotboy (2005)

S

Seton Doubutsuki: Risu no Banner

Simoun

T

The Amazing 3

Tottoko Hamtarou

The Adventure of Qiqi and Keke

Tama & Friends: Third Street Story

U

V

W

Watership Down (2018) & Watership Down (1999)

What's Michael?

Wolf's Rain

Wonder Pets

X

Y

Live-Action/Hybrid show

Fantasy High

A Crown of Candy 

Burrow's End

Good Omens

Webseries

Dinosauria - Dead Sound

My Pride - tribbleofdoom

Whitefall - Chylk

The Stolen Hope - Galemtido

Dragon's Blood - FluffyGinger

Helluva Boss -

Murder Drones -

Short Films

A

Alone a wolf's winter

B

Baja's Studio

Beautiful Name

Burrow

C

Cat Piano

Cat Soup

Chicken Little

D

E

F

Far From the Tree

Ferdinand the Bull

Frypan Jiisan

G

Genji Fantasy: The Cat Fell in Love With Hikaru Genji

Gaitou to Neko

H

Hao Mao Mimi

Houzi Dian Bianpao

I

J

Je T'aime

K

Kitbull

L

Lava

Lambert the sheepish lion

Laoshu Jia Nu

M

Mahoutsukai no Melody

Monmon the Water Spider

Mushroom - Nakagawa Sawako

N

O

Of Mice and Clockworks

Osaru no Tairyou

P

Piper

Q

R

Robin Robin

Rusuban

S

Sauria - Dead Sound

Smash and Grab

Street of Crocodiles

She and Her Cat

Space Neko Theater

Shiroi Zou | White Elephant

Shi | Food

Sugar, With a Story

Straw-saurus NEO

T

The Chair

The Blue Umbrella

The Shell Shocked Egg

The Dog Door

The Dog In The Alley

That's Why They Were Made

U

Ushigaeru

V

W

With a Dog AND a Cat, Every Day is Fun

X

Y

Z

Zhui Shu

Animated Films

#

101 Dalmatians duology

A

A Monkey's Tale (1999)

All Dogs go to Heaven

The Adventures of Lolo the Penguin

Alpha and Omega saga

An American Tail

The Aristocats

Antz

Animals United

Annabelle's Wish (1997)

Alakazam the great (1960)

B

Back Outback

Balto

Bambi / Bambi II

Bolt

Brother Bear / Brother Bear II

A Bug's Life

The Big Bad Fox and Other Tales

Bee Movie

The Brave Little Toaster

Birds of a Feather

Back to the Forest

C

Cars

Chance

Chicken Run

D

Dinosaur

Speckles: The Tarbosaurus || Dino King: Journey to Fire Mountain

Dumbo

DC League of Super-Pets

E

Elemental

F

Fantastic Mr. Fox

Fantastic Planet

Felidae

The Fox and the Hound

Finding Nemo/Finding Dory

Free Birds

The Fearless Four

G

The Good Dinosaur

Ghost in the Shell

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

H

Happy Feet/Happy Feet Two

Help! I'm a Fish

Home on the Range

Hoero! Bun Bun Movie

Hokkyoku no Muushika Miishika

I

Ice Age Franchise

Isle of Dogs

I Am T-Rex

J

Jungledyret Hugo

K

Koati

The King of Tibetan Antelope

Kuma no Gakkou trilogy

L

Lady and the Tramp

The Land Before time Franchise

The Last Unicorn

Leafy, A Hen in the wild

Little Big Panda

The Lion King Franchise

Lucky and Zorba

Lilo & Stitch

Luca

Last Day of the Dinosaurs

M

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

Marona's Fantastic Tale

Millionaire Dogs

My Friend Tyranno

Minuscule: Valley of the Lost Ants || Minuscule - Mandibles from Far Away

Mouse and His Child

N

Nezumi Monogatari: George to Gerald no Bouken

O

Oliver & Company

One Stormy Night

Over the Edge

P

Padak

The Plague Dogs

Pompoko

Pinocchio by Guillermo del Toro

Pipi Tobenai Hotaru

R

Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure

Rango

Ratatouille

Raven the Little Rascal

Reynard the Fox (1989)

Rio

Robots

Rock a Doodle

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1998)

The Rabbi’s Cat

S

Samson and Sally

Sahara

The Secret of Nihm

The Secret Life of Pets/The Secret Life of Pets II

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

Sheep & Wolves

The Seventh Brother

A Stork's Journey

Stowaways on the Ark

T

A Turtle's Tale

The One and Only Ivan

Toy Story

Twilight of the Cockroaches (1987)

The Trumpet of the Swan

The Enchanted Journey

U

Unico

Underdog

V

Vuk the Little Fox

W

WALL·E

Watership Down (1978)

White Fang

Wizards

The Wild

Wolf Children

Wolfwalkers

X

Y

You Are Umasou

Z

Zootopia

Live Action/CGI Assisted Movies

Au Hasard Balthazar

Beverly Hills Chihuahua franchise

Cats & Dogs franchise

Charlotte's Web

EO

Fluke (1995) - Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

Homeward Bound duology (1963 & 1996) - Disney

The Legend of Lobo (1962) - Disney

Strays (2023) - Universal Pictures

Pride (2024) - BBC

101 Dalmatians duology (1996 & 2000)

Documentary

March of the Penguins

Meerkat Manor

Lemur Street

Gangs of Lemur Island

Orangutan Island

Prairie Dog Dynasty

Chimp Empire

Monkey Thieves

Monkey Kingdom

Theather

Cats

Videogames

Animalia Survival - High Brazil Studio

Cattails - Falcon Development

Endling: Extinction is Forever

Gibbon: Beyond the trees - Broken Rules

The Lonesome Fog - Might and Delight

Meadow - Might and Delight

Niche - Stray Fawn Studio

Shelter / Shelter 2/ Shelter 3 - Might and Delight

Paws - Might and Delight

Stray - BlueTwelve Studio

The WILDS - Gluten Free Games

Wolf Quest - eduweb

Golden Treasure: The Great Green - Dreaming Door Studios

Spirit of the North - Infuse Studio

Ōkami - Clover Studio

Rain World - Videocult

Feather - Samurai Punk

Eagle Flight - Ubisoft Montreal Studio

Copoka - Inaccurate Interactive

Untitled Goose Game - House House

PaRappa - NanaOn-Sha

Night in the Woods - Infinite Fall & Secret Lab

Monster Prom - Beautiful Glitch

Them's Fightin' Herds - Mane6

Toontown

E.V.O.: Search for Eden - Givro Corporation

(Pretty much most of Might and Delight games)

Online Browser Games

Lioden

Wolvden

Flight Rising

Lorwolf

Table Top Games

Bunnies & Burrows

Chronicles of Darkness

Wanderhome

Mage: The Awakening

Werewolf: The Apocalypse

Pugmire

Three Raccoons in a Trench Coat

World Tree (RPG)

Pawpocalypse

Heckin' Good Doggos

Humblewood

Dungeons & Dragons (Depends on the GM)

Music

In My Eyes You're a Giant - Sonata Arctica

It Won't Fade - Unia

The Cage - Winterheart's Guild

Other Online Projects

Youtubers

Cardinal West

Xenofiction Reviews

Gen. Videos

Trope Talk: Small Mammal on a Big Adventure by Overly Sarcastic Productions

Worlds

Mirolapye - Varverine

Franchises

Sonic the Hedgehog

My little pony

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Hamtaro

Pokemon

Digimon

Kirby

Monter High

Tom & Jerry

Baldur’s Gate

Maya the Bee

The Little Polar Bear

[shadowqueenjude]

What's my Roman Empire? I'm so glad you asked. This is my Roman Empire: Lucien propped his chin on a fist and gave me a lazy half smile.

A moment later, Lucien’s barking laugh echoed into the halls.

Lucien paused, and I found him smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal.

His lazy, vicious grin was still there.

Lucien smirked.

I finally found Lucien astride a black gelding, grinning down at me with too-white teeth.

I tried to recall the words I’d come up with earlier, the words to win him, but he laughed-

Lucien said with a smirk.

Lucien huffed a laugh.

But Lucien grinned at me.

Lucien grinned, that scar stark and brutal.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling with feline delight.

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

Lucien smirked at my paint-splattered clothes;

Lucien laughed. Lucien chuckled. Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair.

Lucien chuckled, sensing it, and I glared sidelong at him. “You’ve been noticeably absent again.” He used the dagger to clean his nails. “I’ve been busy. So have you, I take it.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” “Don’t be an ass,” Tamlin said to him with a soft snarl, but Lucien continued laughing, and was still laughing when he left the room.

It wasn’t until late afternoon that I heard Tamlin’s deep voice and Lucien’s braying laugh echo through the halls all the way to my painting room. Lucien winked at me.

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin. Lucien had laughed himself sick He gave me a sly grin. “Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me. “Her name, Emissary?” Amarantha asked of Lucien. But Lucien only glanced at Tamlin before closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders. Lucien clicked his tongue, but his remaining russet eye shone. “I’m glad to see you didn’t sell your lively human spirit or stubbornness to Rhys.”

Tears shone in Lucien’s remaining eye as he raised his hands and removed the fox mask. a corner of Lucien’s mouth tugged upward. I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me.

I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien’s bowed form. A knight before his queen. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone. Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians.

My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Need I go on?

[jamdoughnutmagician]

These Bonds That Tie Us. (Prince!Eddie x Knight!Reader) Smut

Basically this fic was only meant to be a filthy little blurb based on this text post, but it kind of got out of hand and I made it a little mushy-gushy (so idk what really happened there??)

Word Count:1,477

Warnings:Smut, 18+, Bondage, Dominant/Submissive themes (Slight Dom!Reader and Sub!Eddie), Cowgirl position, size kink, Oral Sex (F!Receiving) Nothing else that I can think of, but feel free to shoot me a message incase I missed something.

Masterlist Eddie Munson Masterlist

Eddie finds himself tied up by delicate silk scarves that bind his wrists to the bed’s frame. He lies sprawled across the wine red blankets on the bed, naked and completely at the mercy of the very pretty lady who stalked around his bed eyeing him up like he was a prize to be won.

It wasn’t that he was spoiled, at least that’s what Eddie thought of himself. Sure, being a prince came with certain privileges that the average person could only dream of, that he would only have to mention wanting something before it would appear within reaching distance of him, but that didn’t make him spoiled, did it?

Well, whatever Eddie thought of himself in this moment didn’t matter to her in the slightest. His knight in shining armour, who had sworn an oath to protect him at all costs. His sworn protector who lifted up her silver helmet to reveal the face of the most beautiful maiden that Eddie had ever had the delight to lay his sights on. No, his royal title meant nothing to her, she wanted nothing more than to have the crown prince trembling under her touch. 

Her figure crawled up next to him on the bed, free of all her armour and under-garments as she leant closer to his body. Pecking her lips against the skin of his soft stomach, her tongue licks a stripe against the fuzzy trail that runs below his navel. He shivers under her touch.

“Look at you, such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” you chuckle, your eyes cast on his big brown ones. “All these people at your beck and call, ready to cater to your every last whim, if only they could see you now.” you smirk when you see how he tugs against the bonds that tie him, his hard cock laying stiff against stomach.

“Already so hard and I’ve barely touched you, my prince, you just can’t help it can you?” you tease him, watching as the scarlet flush rises up from his chest to his face, spreading out across his nose and cheeks in a rosy glow.

“Please..” he whines desperately, not even sure of what he was begging for, all he knew is that it wasn't enough. He longed for your touch, no matter how much had to beg for it.

“So nice of you to use your manners, my prince.” You purr, as your hand skates up his torso, your fingers tweaking each of his nipples with a gentle tug.

“Ah, please I just want to feel you…please I'll be good for you, I promise..” The plea falls from his pretty pink lips.

“I suppose I can indulge you this one time, your highness..” you quiet his pleas with a gentle kiss placed to his flushed cheek.

You settle yourself over his slim hips, each one of your thighs sat astride him whilst your hand reaches behind you to give a few firm tugs of his hard cock, swiping your thumb through the dripping pearl of pre-cum that threatened to spill from his tip.

Your slick hand glides up his cock once more, your thumb tracing the length of the prominent and pulsing vein that runs the length of him. You rise up on your knees just enough to tease the flushing head of his cock on your entrance, before slowly sinking down on him inch by inch until he’s as deep inside you as he can possibly be.

You look at him from underneath your lashes, looking at him where he lay so eager to place his hands on you, but the tugging of silk against his wrists forbids him.

He longed to take his hands and place them on to the soft curve of your hips, to feel your skin under his fingertips. 

But with the way your eyes locked on to him, there was an unspoken understanding that his hands were bound to the bedposts at your request, he was no way in charge tonight. You were calling the shots tonight, not him.

You roll your hips in deliberate movements, shifting in a way that has his thick cock nudging so deeply inside you. Riding him with very little regard for his pleasure, and far more concerned with your own.

His dark eyes are trained on your figure, looking at how you take his cock so perfectly. How your body rises and falls with every salacious movement of your hips.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you my prince?” your voice purrs out in a tease, your hand reaching out to brush away the loose strands of hair that obscure his face. “No, you’re just my little play-thing. No better than a common whore.” 

A heat blooms in his chest at your words. He wanted to protest, he wanted to deny it, but with the way your hips were circling him, he couldn’t help his shameless moans. He really was a common whore. Your common whore.

The way you were taking charge and just using him for your own pleasure had Eddie’s mind spinning, he was enjoying this more than he could ever imagine. 

Time and time again he had been the one who had been in charge, but now with the roles reversed, he found himself happily surrendering his power to the feeling of being submissive.

You continued to rock your hips down on to his length, shamelessly moaning at the stretch of him inside you.

“You’re so big..” you whine breathlessly, taking your hand and placing it on your lower stomach. “Feel you right here.” Feeling the nudge of his cock bulging its way into your guts.

Eddie didn’t think it was possible for him to be more turned on than he already was, but hearing you say that, had his brain going fuzzy. He feels the knot in stomach tying itself ever tighter with every move you make, his sensitive cock just throbbing inside you.

“Please, Miss, I’m so close…Please, you feel so warm and wet and so fucking perfect.” he moans desperately.

You decide to take pity on him. His big brown eyes are glassy with unshed tears, from holding back his pleasure for so long.

 It doesn’t take very much more than a few slow rolls of your hips before he’s spilling his release into you, pumping his hot load deep inside your warm cunt.

You untie his wrists, allowing him the time to come back down to earth, letting him come back to his senses as you pull yourself off him.

The steady flow of white drips from between your legs, as you eye him up once more. 

“You know, my prince, it’s very rude of you to not allow me to finish, how about you come a little closer” you beckon him with a slender finger. “Put that mouth to use. Clean up the mess you’ve made, and make me come.” your voice low and sultry ringing out into the otherwise quiet bedroom.

With his wrists no longer tied he wastes no time in making his way towards you, hooking his arms around your thighs and attaching his lips to your swollen clit. His tongue works in precise circles, teasing your sensitive button. He begins to lap at your folds, tasting the combined mixture of both his and your essences on his tongue, moaning as he nuzzles his mouth into your warm cunt and his nose’s button tip nudges against your clit so deliciously .

Your fingers weave their way into his long dark curls, tangling into the softness as you eagerly urge him to where you want him most.

He takes your lead and slips two of his thick fingers into your wet centre, curling them inside you as he suckles your clit once more. Sucking it between his plump lips and pleasuring you to the best of his ability.

“Your pussy tastes so fuckin’ sweet…” he mumbles against you, his tongue continuing it’s quest to please you.

Suddenly it all feels like too much all at once, the feeling of his strong hands on your thighs, his tongue on your pussy and his nose nudging so perfectly against your clit that it had your thighs quivering against his head. Almost crushing him between your thighs as your orgasm rushes over you in a pulsing gush.

You come down from your high as you release your poor prince from your thighs, with a shuddering breath. Both of you are sweaty and exhausted from the late evening’s activities.

He comes closer to snuggle your body to his. His lithe muscles embracing your frame before placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

If only for tonight it was just the two of you together, away from the prying eyes of the crowd, you couldn’t be more happy in the arms of your beloved prince.

@slutty-thevampireslayer @penguinsandpotterheads @xxhellfirebunnyxx @seatnights @onegirlmanytales @mrsjellymunson @reidsbtch