Thanks to the group chat I learned what a midieval codpiece was today so
Imagine princess Reader, grinding desperately against your knight’s gleaming armor, your slick arousal coating the cold metal and spilling down in messy rivulets. The curve of his codpiece presses perfectly against your G spot, sending jolts of pleasure through you with every roll of your hips.
Beneath you, your loyal knight bucks up wildly, his voice a desperate whine as he begs, “Please, my lady, let me shed this cursed plate… let me feel your soft, warm cunt wrapped around my aching cock instead of this unyielding steel.”
Summery: A storm leads Valarr to show you how much he needs you
Disclaimer: sorry if anything inaccurate I have yet to watch AKOTSK
The storm had driven everyone inside, thunder shaking the stained glass of the Red Keep.
You found Valarr in the corridor overlooking the courtyard, rain lashing against the arches behind him. His light brown hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, and that striking white streak clung to his temple like a slash of moonlight.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” you said softly, though your voice lacked conviction.
He turned at the sound of you, violet eyes darker than the storm. “I needed air,” he replied. “Before I did something reckless.”
The way he looked at you made your pulse stumble. “And what would that be, my prince?”
He stepped closer, boots echoing against stone. “You know exactly what.”
The thunder cracked again, closer now, and in the flash of lightning you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands flexed at his sides as though holding himself back.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured.
“I’ve been trying to behave.”
A faint, dangerous smile curved his lips. “I have never been very good at that.”
He closed the distance between you, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The scent of rain and leather clung to him. Your back met cold stone, but his body was warm, solid, close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Say the word,” he said, voice rougher now. “And I’ll walk away.”
But your fingers were already in his hair, brushing over the white streak. He inhaled sharply at the contact.
“Don’t,” you whispered.
That was all the permission he needed.
His mouth crashed against yours — hot, urgent, nothing careful about it this time. The storm seemed to echo the kiss, wild and consuming. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him as your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging just enough to draw a low sound from his throat.
The kiss deepened, slow and heated, stealing the breath from your lungs. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw before tilting your chin, angling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.
When he finally broke away, both of you were breathless.
Rain misted through the archway, clinging to your skin. His forehead rested against yours, his white streak falling forward as he exhaled.
“If this ruins me,” he murmured, lips brushing yours once more, softer now but still burning, “I will not regret it.”
And judging by the way you pulled him back into another heated kiss, neither would you.
The kiss was not careful.
It was hunger.
Valarr’s restraint finally snapped, and you felt it in the way his hands gripped your waist firm, possessive lifting you just enough that your back pressed fully against the cold stone wall. The contrast made you gasp into his mouth.
He swallowed the sound.
His lips moved against yours with slow, deliberate heat now, like he was savoring the taste of you. One hand slid from your waist up along your side, fingers spreading over your ribs, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your chest in a way that made your breath hitch.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured against your lips, voice thick.
“Then tell me,” you whispered back, reckless.
His jaw tightened.
Instead of answering, he kissed down the corner of your mouth, along your jaw, until his lips hovered just beneath your ear. The scrape of his breath there made your knees weak.
“I think about you,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “In council meetings. In the training yard. In my chambers when I should be sleeping.”
Your fingers tightened in his damp hair, tugging lightly at the white streak.
His reaction was immediate.
A sharp inhale. His hand slid lower settling firmly at your hip, pulling you flush against him so there was no mistaking how much he meant those words.
The storm cracked again, lightning illuminating the tension in his face. His restraint was hanging by a thread.
“Say stop,” he said, but this time it sounded like a challenge.
Instead, you dragged your lips slowly down his throat, feeling the heat of his skin beneath rain cooled air. His head tipped back against the stone arch, and for a moment the prince the disciplined, controlled heir vanished.
What remained was just a man undone.
His hand threaded into your hair, guiding you back up to him. When he kissed you again, it was deeper slower, more consuming. His tongue brushed against your lower lip in a silent question, and when you parted for him, the kiss turned molten.
His grip tightened. Your fingers dug into his shoulders. The world blurred.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, lips barely apart.
“If I keep going,” he said hoarsely, “I won’t stop.”
Your pulse thundered louder than the storm.
“Then maybe,” you whispered, tracing the white streak at his temple, “you shouldn’t.”
His eyes darkened not reckless, but certain.
And when he kissed you again, slower this time but impossibly deeper, it wasn’t just heat.
There are a number of guesses as to why there is this hole in the wall at this 12th century castle in Óbidos. They range from earthquake damage in 1755 to a lookout site. Another thought is that this was for attacking intruders below by dropping stones, known as a murder hole.
ask: i read the princess au and i LOVED it. i would love to see a oneshot or similar of alysa and reader having a really tense friendship after reader gets married where eventually they say fuck it and run away together or something, or they sneak around to see eachother.
author's note: hiiii! okay so i absolutely love writing fantasy au and got this request so like yes yes yes!!!!! here's the first part if you haven't read it already!! i hope you enjoy! also i am slowly putting out the fics i wrote while i was on a little hiatus and am going through my inbox now, i love all your ideas and i plan to write more tomorrow!!! reqs are open!
masterlist || wattpad || tiktok
✶ You see her from across the room, but her eyes don’t lock with yours- they can’t lock with yours. You know what could happen if someone even suspects you together. Quickly, you draw your attention back to the small radius around you.
Your husband stands nearby, engaging in conversation with a duke, you primmley hold onto his arm, trying your best to look interested, smiling graciously at the man’s wife. She smiles grimly back, doing a terrible job at hiding her distaste. She doesn’t come from a very allied kingdom, so it’s hard for some wives to find common ground with others. Women like her are what make it hard for you to pretend.
Quickly after you got married, your father had died, leaving you and your husband the first in line for the throne. Being queen has come with its perks, as well as its duties. Specifically, baby duties. Ah, the long-overdue present the kingdom had been expecting for years now, but it’s something you’d been holding off on. Yes, you performed the proper marital ceremonies with your husband as often as he pleased, but it was certainly not enjoyable for you, and you’d gone through all measures to prevent any sort of offspring resulting from these duties. For one reason only.
Again, her eyes catch yours from across the crowd, but you can see the walls she puts up between you. Pretending is the only thing you can do to protect yourselves. It’s been years since you’d last seen Princess Alysa in public without having to act like she doesn’t know you deeper than anyone.
Your most recent conversation in front of people had been at the opening of an orphanage in town. The two of you had been seated next to each other on a podium, mere inches apart as you adequately engaged in a conversation like you hadn’t been under her skirts the night before.
It had been incredibly hard to hide your relationship. No one knew, not even your ladies-in-waiting had the slightest idea of any goings on between the castles.
✶ “Are you sure no one saw?” You giggle, whispering with your back pressed tightly against the huge wooden doors of the Princesses’ chambers.
She’s shorter than you, but still, her chest is heaving against your own, your faces inches apart with matching grins. “I don’t think,”
You can practically taste her already from the proximity, her scent engulfing you as she wraps her hands around your neck, her fingers falling into the little whisps of hair at the nape.
“You looked so pretty last night,” She breathes, her gaze moving from your eyes to your mouth and back up again.
A groan spills up as you recall her dress from the previous night. God, it was revealing. Her breasts looked so fucking amazing, all pushed up and out from the corset, with her cheeks tinted pink in the low lighting of your ballroom. “I beg to differ, you should’ve seen yourself,”
“It was really hard not being able to talk to you, like harder than most nights,”
“It was super hard not to stare at your boobs.”
A blush creeps onto her cheeks as she buries her face into your neck. “Shut up,”
With your hands on her shoulders, you pull her away, your eyes meeting now. Finally. “Well, you look pretty now, too.”
She brings her hand up to cup your cheek. “You look gorgeous,”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Have you ever thought about running away?” Bare, you lie sprawled out on her bed together, your chests heaving as you gaze at the ceiling.
“Together?” You glance to the side at her. You had thought about it, just not seriously.
“Yeah, like leaving our husbands,”
Snorting, you just shake your head. “The king would kill me,”
“We would probably be wanted,” She shrugs. “But it would just be us.”
“And we wouldn’t have to hide,”
Turning your heads, your eyes meet, looking deep into the other. “Alysa,”
“Yeah?”
“Are you serious?”
“I mean, I’ve thought about it.” Again, she shrugs, pretending to act nonchalant, but her racing heart says otherwise.
✶ “This feels like the first night meeting!” You giggle, your arms wrapped tightly around her torso as she urges the horse on, forcing it faster and faster until the trees are blurring past you.
“This feels illegal,”
Everything is funny right now, so again, you giggle, happy to have the freedom to giggle with her. “Well, it is,”
You made the plan weeks ago, tonight you executed it, and so far, so good. With your bags packed and slung across your back, you race through the trees on horseback, escaping the confinement.
Really, the only plans you made were to leave; the rest is to figure out, and that you plan to do. You know it won’t be as comfortable and lavish as your life at the castle was, but it’s together, and that’s honestly all that matters.
Eventually, you make it to a small clearing, days away from the castle, with small breaks to sleep. It’s bright with flowers and hedges surrounding the clearing, blocking it from view of any passersby. It’s perfect. Dropping off the horse, you center yourself in the middle, looking up to the sky, the trees parting just enough. It’s beautiful.
Throughout the next few weeks, the two of you will conceive a small cottage. Poorly built, yes, but home. It’s amazing how quick you went through with it, spending nights in a small tent and camp set up next to the small wooden structure.
✶ The years passed by long and plentiful, berries were harvested and meat collected, and slowly a garden bloomed to the right of your small kitchen window (with no glass lol). And of course, the cottage grew steadily, becoming far from the fragile structure you started with.
The pair of you fell into a steady rhythm of a routine, dinner at night, and the day spent crafting… or making love, whatever you preferred that morning. It’s simple and definitely the life you wanted.
Girdle books were small, portable books popular in the Middle Ages, designed to be carried by being suspended from a belt or girdle.
They were often made from parchment and bound in a distinctive style, with the binding extending beyond the bottom edge to form a knot or loop for attachment.
