Masterlist One night (or two, or three) in Ashford, and the world's your oyster
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
You've arrived at Ashford, and the day before the tourney begins, you encounter a gorgeous man.
Notes:
Chapter 1 is tame but smut starts halfway chapter 2 and I don't intend to stop. Dunk will join the party in chapter 4.
Reader is AFAB and Ironborn or foreign coded. Reader wears armour and pants. Minimal but not absent descriptions, hair long enough to put a braid in, has some stature.
No betas; we ride like Baelor
Chapter 1 Where you Dunk (hah) the Stormlord in the river.
Chapter 2 You get to the tent
Chapter 3 You tried to leave, but you are met with some resistance
Chapter 3 of One night (or two, or three) in Ashford, and the world's your oyster
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Lyonel and you are trying, and both miserably failing, and succeeding, to have a conversation.
Notes:
I was going to let them have some fluff. They didn't let me.
(Smut be here)
But I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
ou pushed your arm under him, and cradled his head, your fingers absentmindely stroking his hair, caressing his scalp. He was putting kisses on your neck, the side of your face.
You could smell what you’ve just done everywhere. It was a moment of respite in the sea of chaos you were in. He seemed at peace, for now, but you had a feeling it wouldn’t last long.
“You left that pendant for me, didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “Can’t a man misplace something without accusations flying?” He pretended to have suffered an indignity.
He lifted himself up onto his underarm and elbow, so you could have an actual conversation. You guessed you had to at some point. Not that he made it easy, his hand slowly going over your collarbone, your breasts, your sternum, and back up again. His leg hadn’t moved.
He seemed to be studying you. For what reason, you didn’t know.
“Lord Baratheon” you started, but got interrupted.
“Lyonel”
You weighed your options. What were you to do with this beautiful man, who was almost purring in your hands, but had more power than you thought was good for him?
“… Lor”
“Lyonel. I told you”. His expression suddenly serious, almost angry. “You were just screaming for the gods with me inside you. Seems to me that I, not the gods, did that. You can at least call me by my name”. He was right, and it scared you.
“Even though I might rather hear you moan it”. Ah, better. That you could handle. He brushed your hair from your face, so it was back to breaking point. You had to find your resolve. This was different from your other paramours. He was different. Something told you he would not accept ‘I’ll see you when I see you’ so easily. He seemed to be able to not just undress your body, but also break your defenses down without trying, and know your core. He saw you, stripped bare. He also didn’t let you escape.
You weren’t going to try his patience another time. “Lyonel. Thank you. That was wonderful”.
“Oh Seven Hells woman, no, you don’t get to do that”. You felt his hand go down your stomach, over your mound, then stroking your folds. He put his leg back, and pushed his arm through the space left by your waist, and before you knew it, he had your wrists in his hand, pulling them, crossed, to your chest, and holding them there tightly. His free hand stroked your ass, but then his strong fingers were on the inside of your thigh, lifting it just enough.
He pushed back inside you. Oh, oh no. A storm indeed. The kind every sailor feared, and yet, you knew, when you steered yourself right in.
“You came to me willingly”. He was fucking you so slowly. Your body was a traitor. You leaned back into him, giving him more access. You wanted him. All of him.
“You showed up, knowing you wanted to be in my bed from the moment you saw me. You wanted my hands, and I gave them to you. No questions asked. I fully handed myself over to you”. By now, he was growling. He was stroking your nipple with his free hand.
Were you giving in? You would have to admit he had you completely undone. Did you dare?
When he bit your neck, hard, you understood. His was the fury.
At least you weren’t facing him. “I did, Lyonel. I wanted you. I want you”. He groaned as he roughly pulled your ass to him.
“I want to drive you as insane, as you’re doing me. You’re a vision, when unraveled. I want to hear you beg. I want to see your face when everything becomes entirely too much”. He kept fucking you, long, slow strokes.
You breathed in. You turned your head towards him.
“I’m just afraid I will not be able to step away from you, when it is time for me to leave. It would have been so much easier if we had our fun, I kissed you on the cheek, and would be able to say goodbye for possibly ever. Then some day, looking out over the water, I would remember you fondly. But I can’t do that now, can I?”
There. You’ve said it. Now it existed in the world, and hiding was over. Fully over.
Your turn to step up, now, too. You rolled away from him, to give yourself some space to move. The sound he made was almost a yelp.
He wouldn’t have to wait too long, though, so you let it sit between you. You sat up, pulled your legs in, and pulled on his arm. You wanted him to move your way, so you could get your leg over him once more.
When you could, you did not waste time. He was holding your hips, but you took his hands. You seated yourself on him, pushing his wrists down over his head. You kept his pace, rolling your hips. You found your spot, riding him, looking down on his tortured expression. You tried to burn it into your memory.
You wanted him bucking, screaming, begging for release, cursing all the gods. You knew he could, especially the latter. He would, gladly.
You bent your head down to kiss him. He let you chase his tongue this time.
“Lyonel, I’m lost. Let us get lost together. Today. Tomorrow. Until the bell tolls for me” You tucked your toes in under your shins, so you could manoeuvre. You let go of his wrists, so you could put your hands down at his sides. You’d need the support, for what you were going to do.
You gave yourself a tiny bit of lift, so you could roll your hips in full circles, squeezing the tip of his cock continously, from all sides. Then you went lower, and lower, keeping the circling motion up. From inside, there was nothing of his cock left untouched, and you kept moving. Slow. Relentless.
“Gaaah! Woman! You’re sending me straight to the Stranger!”
“No love. Hold. Not yet”.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Just a little more cursing from his lips, and you might let him come. He tried to grab you by the hips. You hit him hard on the fingers. “No”.
“I’m going to die in your cunt”.
It was hard, not giving him what he wanted. He looked exquisite; his eyes fluttering, face straining with effort, having lost track of the world.
You could feel his nails on your back. Oof. You grabbed the bars, since you were going to ride him hard, chasing release for yourself first.
“I’m going to come. You may too”. You hadn’t even said it yet, and hands were on your hips. He was bucking into you from below, desperate. As you felt your pleasure peak, and your muscles contract, you heard him groan. Two more hard deep thrusts hit your cervix. Pity he was ready, you wanted to feel that almost dull pain again. When he let go, you could feel him filling you up. Again.
He seemed exhausted, trying to catch his breath.
He put his hand, now free, flat against your sternum, strength behind it. “Stay”.
With your hands on his jaw, you kissed him. “I have to be at port in 4 days”. The silence that fell, hurt. You looked at each other, trying to will the world to change around you.
“I’ll give you everything I can, for the next few days. I’m yours”.
He did not seem resigned to your offer, not yet. “If that’s where we are, I intend to get every drop from you”.
You had never been a believer, but was this what they meant? When you got to meet the Drowned God? Fully under, not in control, yet you could want nothing but go back, again and again.
gwayne my pretty princess my skittish horse my frightened gazelle nobody's doing the medieval romantic knight renaissance painting serve like you are i love you
we are witnessing the gentrification of the term "tumblr sexyman" in real time and it is extremely disappointing. like no, live-action white boy #265 played by ryan gosling isn't a tumblr sexyman. i can't believe i have to say this but if it wouldn't get you shoved into a locker it probably isn't a sexyman
villain character who has a last minute change of heart and sacrifices their life to defeat an even bigger bad but it entirely does not land as a redemption with the heroes. the heroes are just like "oh hell yeah two birds with one stone. thank fucking god i really didnt wanna have to deal with that guy anymore. good riddance."
Ya'll remember how online games made specifically for children were programmed in a way that made it practically impossible to share your personal info?
When age, gender, location was censured like profanity in the name of protecting kids?
But suddenly the Only Way to keep children safe online is to make sure that they have 0 privacy?
they will just be dirty poisonous empty pipes in 20 years when oil inevitably becomes a stranded asset.
and the straw ban isn't the worst idea in the world. it's just pretty obviously not as consequential to the overall problem as fucking OIL.
but i do think single use plastic needs to go. if we had a different attitude about this shit, like, if we reused plastic straws instead of throwing them in the garbage, they wouldn't be so bad.
we don't really have plastic straws where i live anymore but any time we come across one we rinse it and hold onto it to be used again instead of landfilling it. not just cuz of plastic waste but because they've become rare lol. it'll usually be a vietnamese restaurant that's still using them and its a bit like finding gold.
the alternative to plastic straws of course is to make the straws out of the many types of bioplastic being developed that are compostable and often made from recycled organics. but that's more expensive and no (large) company wants to pay for that.
all single use plastic is bad though. not just straws. focusing only on straws is silly. i think if the plastic isn't or can't or is unlikely to be reused it should be banned unless there are very specific reasons not to. like sanitation or medical uses or whatever. we shouldn't be throwing plastic out after one use out of convenience. that's boomer age shit we need to get out of.
the amount of plastic packaging ending up in landfills and leeching toxic chemicals and microplastics into the water and ecosystems and ourselves is disturbing. fuck your need for convenience.
and we need to ban petroleum. leave the oil in the ground. leave the methane in the ground. transition society away from using this shit as inefficient fuel. (more boomer age shit to get out of.)
very inefficient fuel that puts the whole global economy under the boots of wealthy oil barons and petrostates.
