As most who know me will know, my personality is nothing but chaos and love. So for that reason, I shall roll with the Goblin Queen name.
I write and create aesthetics for a few fandoms (I will take requests, at my discretion, for most characters).
The main fandoms are:
A Song of Ice and Fire (GoT, HotD & AKotSK)
The Last Kingdom
Interview With The Vampire
The Rings of Power
Other fandoms include:
Wednesday Series
Grishaverse Series
Baldur's Gate 3
Dragon Age Series
I will also branch out to any particular fixation I have, currently including:
GDT's Frankenstein
Fennell's Wuthering Heights
And as is the nature of chaos, I will reblog NSFW content so...MINORS DNI!!!
You have been warned!
And I shouldn't have to say this, but I DO NOT give permission for my works to be reposted anywhere (including other sites and being fed to AI) without my express permission.
Dividers, blog header, pinned post header and icon by me.
AO3 Profile here
If you use any of my work, please reblog, like and tag credit for me! Thanks!!
Below you will find the organisation of my chaos...
Lessons in Indulgence (Duncan x F!Reader x Daeron)
Summary: Duncan was nothing if not gentle and attentive. But even he knew there was more he could give you. More he knew you wanted. It was just a case of finding out what that was and how to give it you. Thankfully, he knew someone well versed in such pleasures.
(Not connected but runs in the same theme as my other two Lessons instalments, which are slowly becoming a series of their own!)
TW: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. Female reader, she/her pronouns, reader as a lady in waiting, slight au (Egg is put to squire for Duncan officially by Maekar), Daeron being a sex expert, Daeron playing teacher, Daeron as a Compère (someone who directs a sexual scene), fem receiving oral, fingering, penetrative sex (reader on top), Duncan being a gentle giant.
Words: 4139
Last fic for the countdown! Sorry it's late!!
Thank you to @legitalicat for being my sounding board!
The love Duncan held for you was something you had been sure only existed in the romance novels you'd hide under your pillows. The kind of romances that seemed almost unachievable, but Duncan somehow made them real.
There was nothing that was too much in his eyes. Where he couldn't shower you in expensive gifts like the ladies in your books, he didn't need to. He all but worshipped the ground you walked on. You were everything to him, and he was everything to you. He could have easily been crafted by the pages you read.
Yet Duncan felt like he wasn't enough.
Not that you didn't love him, or that he doubted his love for you. He just knew you deserved more, but he didn't quite know what that more was. You were, for all intents and purposes, above his station. He was a hedge knight and you were the daughter of a lesser but still noble House, serving as a lady in waiting.
Yet you chose him.
It had taken a while for you to convince him that taking your virtue wasn't some sinful crime. You had no intentions of spending your life with anyone but Duncan as it was. It had felt like the right step to take in your relationship. And when the night had finally come, it had been nothing short of perfect. A fact which you made sure Duncan had known.
Yet he still felt like there was something more he could give you.
He didn't know what, and he wasn't exactly surrounded by people he wanted to ask about it. But he knew there was no other option, it was just a case of who.
Word had come that your love was returning. Prince Maekar had sent word out for Duncan to return with his son, Aegon. The young prince had been squiring for your beloved knight and it had been a good while since the two had returned to Summerhall.
Nothing but anticipation consumed you as you counted down the days. And much the same could be said for Duncan. But there was more than anticipation that grew in the back of his mind. He wanted to give you more. He had done nothing but think on the subject whenever his head would hit his pillow. The question of who he should ask, how he should ask and what in the Seven Hells he should even be asking for.
He could see Summerhall in the distance. He could almost picture your face when you were told of his return. But he had a different stop to make first.
There were two place Prince Daeron would be, and Duncan could only hope he would in fact be in either of those. The whole situation was already making his insides squirm with excited nerves. He had his plan set. Speak to Daeron, then speak to you. He needed your full participation after all.
The moment Duncan crossed the threshold, he caught the attention of a nearby guard.
"Could you tell me where I would find Prince Daeron, ser?"
The guard thought for a moment, as though weighing up whether to answer or not. But thankfully, he chose the former.
"I believe he went to his chambers, Ser Duncan, follow me."
The walk was quick, but silent. But it gave Duncan the time to think over exactly how he wanted to pose his request to Daeron. The two were friends, as much as a knight and prince could be. Finding solace in the honesty they could provide each other, even when that honesty was not always kind.
The guard knocked once on the door and waited. Shuffling could be heard within and Duncan found himself breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn't going to have to wait much longer. The door opened with a gentle creak, revealing a half asleep and bleary eyed prince.
"What could you possibly need to bother me for?" Daeron grumbled, rubbing a hand across his face.
And then he saw Duncan.
"Ah, Ser Duncan, it is you who chooses to disturb my rest?"
Duncan bit his tongue, it was late afternoon and the prince was asleep? But he needed him on side if he was going to get the help he needed.
"I have a matter to discuss, my prince," was all he answered, hoping it was enough.
With a non-committal shrug, Daeron opened the door wider. Waving Duncan in without a word and dismissing the guard. As the door shut, Daeron flopped back onto his bed, while Duncan remained stood. Albeit awkwardly.
"Then discuss away, ser," Daeron huffed, voice muffled by his bed and face hidden by the pile of blankets and pillows.
Yet Duncan remained where he was, hands wringing awkwardly in front of him as the words seemed to escape him. Daeron was not one to shy from such talk, even when it was not appropriate for the setting, but something seemed to keep the words dying on Duncan's tongue.
The silence dragged long enough that Daeron rolled over and rested back on his elbows.
"Have you come to discuss silence?"
When Duncan only stammered through the beginnings of an answer, Daeron hauled himself from his bed and towards a well used pitcher of wine. Silently pouring to cups and holding one out to the still silent knight. Duncan looked down at the cup, and with only a single moment of hesitation, he emptied its contents.
"I have not, my prince," he managed as the wine burned its way down.
He set the cup down, which Daeron instinctively filled again.
"But it is a matter that is quite…personal."
That made the prince raise a brow, his own cup paused on its way to his mouth. Both curiosity and surprise painting his expression.
"Personal?" Daeron asked, gesturing for Duncan to take a seat.
The prince tried to think up any possible reason Duncan would wish to speak about something personal with him, and look so impossibly nervous about it. As he opened his mouth to prompt a further answer, Duncan finally seemed to find the words he needed.
"I wish for your…knowledge," his words were measured, as though he was trying to ask his question yet not embarass himself or offend the prince at the same time.
Daeron remained silent, settling into a chair and against gesturing for Duncan to do the same. Which thankfully, he did. Taking a slow breath, he continued.
"I need your knowledge of…pleasure."
When Daeron made no move to speak, not even a change in his expression this time, Duncan immediately began to regret his decision. Maybe everything would be fine as it was, he should just leave and forget this happened. He moved to stand from his seat when Daeron held up a hand.
"Ask what you wish to know."
His voice sounded sincere, serious even. Not an ounce of mocking or discomfort in his gaze. Duncan settled back into his seat, taking a moment before asking his first question on the matter.
"I…I worry that I do not give her enough," Duncan began, hoping Daeron would understand where he was going with as few words as possible.
"It is not that I think I do not satisfy her but…"
His words trailed off, but if the gods could have blessed him, they did now.
"You feel like she needs more? Or you wish to give her more?" Daeron asked, filling his cup once more.
Duncan nodded, saying a quiet prayer that he wasn't going to need to give much more detail. And it seemed Daeron already had his answer.
"Do you believe she wants more from you?"
Duncan nodded again, though he realised more than that was likely needed. It wasn't that you had ever said as such, but it was just something he felt.
"I want to give her more. She reads these stories…though she thinks I don't know of it."
His words faded to nothing again, embarassment filling his chest once more.
"Not that I know what the stories tell, but I just…know."
It was Daeron's turn to nod. He knew what kind of books Duncan meant, and he knew where Duncan felt like he was failing. Daeron began to list all the ways he would fix such an issue. Each one added to the list began to make Duncan's head spin. How was he to remember all of that?
"Alright…I get the picture," Duncan said suddenly, running a hand over his face.
Daeron stopped mid description of how he would use his mouth to bring pleasure. It was then he could see the stress behind Duncan's eyes. And an idea popped into his head.
"How about we try something?" the prince asked, filling both of their cups once more, which Duncan drank gladly, "With your lady's permission of course."
"Mayhaps what you need is a teacher, someone there to…guide you?"
You dropped everything, almost literally, the moment you heard Duncan's footsteps. You were collecting some dresses for the princesses when you heard him. Those heavy footfalls unmistakable every time.
He caught you easily as you jumped into his embrace, holding you tight for just a moment before setting you back down on the ground. As you pulled away, you could already see that he wanted to ask you something.
"Your face will stick that way if you frown any harder," you laughed, poking the deep creases between his brows.
Duncan let out a huffed laugh. He knew if he didn't bring it up now, he might never do so.
"I want to ask your permission for something…unusual."
He sounded so serious, it made worry begin to swirl in your belly. But before you could ask he continued. His hand wrapping around yours, knowing that you were likely thinking of every possibly question he could ask.
Duncan found himself rambling the moment he opened his mouth again. The words spilling out in what could have been nothing more than a string of nonsense you couldn't understand.
Thankfully, for his sake, you had long since become used to those panicked rambles.
"Yes."
He had expected more questions. He had actually expected you to say no. He realised he had never anticipated you agreeing. But you could see so easily how important it was to him. Which made it all important to you as well.
Though the conversations you'd had with some of your closest friends on the topic would remain a secret for now. But you imagined they were not much different to the conversation Duncan had had with Prince Daeron. You could only assume your permission was all that remained necessary.
Never before had Duncan felt this nervous. He was sure he hadn't felt this nervous the first time he had taken you to bed. Or maybe he had and better memories had simply replaced it. Or maybe he was nervous to have an audience. Even if that audience was a single person. Even if that person had assured him he would only look when necessary.
Everything was prepared. Daeron had set the time, when no one would really be wandering the halls. Duncan had his own quarters in Summerhall, while you had your own more modest surroundings, his were the choice for tonight's adventures.
You arrived first, slipping through the doorway as quickly as you could. Thankfully no one had passed you, considering you were hiding your nightdress between the heavier robe you wore. Duncan was sat at the edge of the bed, in nothing but his breeches and undershirt. You had barely crossed the room toward him before he was asking the same question he had already asked near a hundred times, you wagered.
"Are you sure about this?" his voice barely a mumble as you approached.
And for the hundredth time you answered, "I am sure, but are you?"
But for the first time, he seemed to answer without the same hesitation as he had the last time.
"Yes, you deserve more than what I give you."
You wanted to argue against his apparent self-depracation, but a soft knock came to the door. Duncan crossed the room quickly, pulling the door open just enough to see who it was.
As expected, it was Daeron. Duncan stepped aside to let him in and the prince made a beeline for the armchair near the fire. The soft scrape of wood against stone was all that filled the room as he turned the chair slightly to face the bed. But he didn't sit.
"I will see as much as you both allow and instruct where I think you need it," Daeron explained, his voice far more serious than you were ever used to hearing it. Maybe he was trying to help the nervous energy that was certainly filling the room.
Duncan only nodded, holding out his hand to you. Daeron sat as he led you across to the bed. With one last look back at Daeron, who was sat down yet slightly turned away from the bed, you followed.
You concentrated on Duncan's hands on your shoulders, sliding the robe off you and letting the heavier fabric simply hit the ground. You let yourself focus on the slight rough feeling of his hands, the press of him against your back as he leaned in. None of this was new, but it felt different given the situation. Like every touch meant so much more.
Daeron, however, remained silent. To the point you almost forgot he was there.
Duncan moved as he always did, holding you tight as he lifted you onto his bed. Letting you lay back as he pulled his shirt over his head. Your hands instinctively sliding up his chest to lace around the back of his neck.
His lips soon finding yours, his kiss grounding you. Any nerves left inside you melting away. It was only when he shifted you both further up the bed, did Daeron remind you of his presence.
"Do not forget, the build up is as important as the act itself."
You didn't react, imagining there had been a conversation between the two men that you hadn't been part of. Duncan had never failed in the intimate prelude, but it had been something that it had taken time for him to focus on. Well, that applied to the both of you, if you were honest.
But Duncan followed the vague instruction in a way you had not excpected. You could only begin to imagine what Daeron had told him about.
His taller form moved down your body, unlacing your nightdress as he went, with a sensuality you were sure you'd not experienced before. Peppering kisses over every inch of bare skin he exposed, his free hand following the same path of caresses. Your skin soon felt flush with desire, and you wondered if Duncan could feel the heat radiating off you.
You could only lay back, letting yourself get lost in the sensations. The way the bed dipped every time he moved, the way the cooler night air made you skin prickle as it was exposed.
"If you think yourself dextrous enough, use your mouth and fingers at the same time."
Daeron allowed himself one look. Duncan's form was large enough to shield you from view regardless. The two of you were more in the centre of the bed, though Duncan's feet could still touch the ground if he wasn't half knelt above you. He could see your legs instinctively fall to the sides as Duncan settled between them. To his surprise, desire was already settling in his stomach, though he pushed the feeling away.
He waited in silence for Duncan to make his choice. He knew from their conversation that he had performed those acts on you before, but he needed to see exactly how much instruction Duncan needed.
The bed shifted again, dropping only for a second before Duncan completely knelt on the floor. Tall enough to still be leaning over you from that position. Your eyes met for just a moment, like a silent request to continue. You nodded softly, willing to take whatever Duncan chose to do now.
Your legs were quickly slung over his shoulders, a little rougher than you were used to but you found yourself enjoying it. Duncan was always so gentle when he touched you, knowing just how much larger and stronger he was. But there was something in the way he held your thighs apart now, that told you something different was coming.
His lips were warm as they kissed over your hips and stomach, following a path from one side to the other. Passing over the place you needed him most, and yet the anticipation was just as enjoyable.
"Fingers first, tongue second," Daeron called out, the smirk in his tone evident.
"Anticipation is key, for the both of you."
Duncan made one more pass of his path of kisses, before letting himself pull back. The hands on your thighs lifting you up just a little to push you further up the bed. You couldn't help the soft gasp that left you, the reminder of his natural strength sending a flutter through your body.
And that same flutter became a shiver as his fingers slide against your pearl. Just enough pressure, as he always did, to sent a spark up your spine. But when his lips met your inner thigh, you had to fight not to arch from the bed immediately. His touch was gentle, simply stirring the beginnings of pleasure in your veins.
"Take it slow, watch how she reacts," Daeron instructed, the chair creaking as he shifted a little for a better view.
"Listen to her, that is better than any instruction I could give."
So Duncan did. Noting every little gasp or roll, savouring the growing warmth against his fingers. When he could barely wait any longer, his tongue replaced his fingers. Circling your pearl as gently as his fingers had. Your hand immediately moving to tangle in his hair. Your body quickly telling him he was doing everything right.
You stopped holding back your moans. Letting your eyes drift closed as you focused on nothing but Duncan's touch. Fingers and tongue moving in sync, soft grunts falling from him as he savoured the taste of you. Duncan knew your body better than you did, but he had never touched you like this. Almost desperate in the way he pushed deeper and deeper.
His rhythm began to pick up, but not quite fast enough for you. A spark of confidence finding you as you whined out.
"Faster, faster, please…"
Before instruction could come from Daeron as well, Duncan complied. His free hand hooking around your thigh and pulling you as close to his face as he could. Your hand tightening in his hair at the sudden increase in speed and pressure. Your gasps turning to moans of Duncan's name, nails scraping against his scalp as your release seemed to barrel its way through you.
A sudden squeal leaving you as you quickly reached your peak. Legs tightening around Duncan's head as it washed over you in delicious waves.
Yet he didn't stop. Even Daeron let out an impressed huff when Duncan didn't relent. Holding you tight against him without reprieve. Only his mouth on you now, both arms hooked around your thighs giving you no chance to escape.
It was only after your second peak that he freed you. Taking a slow breath as he wiped away the evidence with his hand. All you could do was sit up and stare. The muscles in your legs slowly relaxing from how much you had tensed. You would have to thank Daeron later…
For the first time since he had sat down, Duncan turned around to look at Daeron, who only gave him an approving nod. And as though you had both given him a surge of confidence, Duncan stripped away the rest of his clothes, climbing onto the bed beside you and pulling you with him.
His lips found yours, settling you to sit on his lap as he gave into the kiss. Taking that moment to collect himself. Then, for the first time that night, Daeron addressed you.
"Have you every ridden your knight?"
He asked the question so candidly, he may as have been asking about the weather. The silence that followed was enough to have Daeron asking again.
"No…no I have not."
You almost sounded disappointed, but Daeron was quick to move on. A soft laugh escaping him that replaced your disappointment with surprise.
"I imagine it is a daunting task, you have quite the…impressive steed."
Duncan shot him a glare, but said nothing. His offence quickly replaced by curiosity. What would it be like to have you ride him?
Daeron moved to face you both completely, any awkwardness out of the room completely.
"Hold her waist, Duncan, gentle enough that she can move at her own rhythm, but firm enough to keep her steady."
Duncan did as he was bid. Keeping you steady as you hovered above him. The intimidating length of him already twitching in anticipation beneath you. You had thought yourself used to his size, but this position was entirely new. Duncan lined himself up, one hand at your waist as you lowered yourself onto him.
"Start slow," Daeron instructed, and you could feel his gaze on you.
"Only…take as much as you can."
You could hear him try and contain a laugh, but it somehow made you less nervous. Duncan's gentle touch helped. Guiding you with a gentle touch until you felt more full than you ever had before. But it was the groan from Duncan that almost sent you over the edge. Feeling the heat of you around him, the new pressure of having you above him. He could do nothing except focus on not immediately spilling inside you.
"Keep your hands on her back, or…lower…if she allows you."
Duncan moved to hold you. Finding a middle ground with a hand on your waist as another slid lower to squeeze at the flesh of your backside. It made you shift in surprise, sending a spark of pleasure up your spine as you rolled.
"Seems you already know how to move," Daeron praised, leaning forward in his chair and ignoring the growing pressure in his own body. This was not about his pleasure.
"Whatever rhythm you choose, keep it steady. Build it up, let his hands help you."
You didn't answer with words, only a tentative roll of your body. Something telling you how to move like an instinct. Duncan's hold easily helping you keep steady. The thick slide of him against your inner walls already pulling your release forward. The position letting him reach places you were certain you hadn't felt before.
All Daeron could do now was watch. The rest was about instinct, about feeling and responding to each others bodies. But he had to say he was impressed, he hadn't expected either of you to heed his instructions so quickly.
The only sounds that filled the room now were the steady creak of the bed, the mixture of sighs and groans from the couple atop it. Your sighs quickly turning into high pitched moans, Duncan's hands squeezing at your body in pleasure.
"Match her rhythm, Duncan," Daeron suddenly demanded, noticing how you were tiring despite the pleasure in your veins.
The prince opened his mouth to instruct further, but Duncan didn't seem to need it. Planting his feet and thrusting up against you. The creaks becoming steadier thumps as he took over the rhythm.
And all you could do was give in. Head thrown back as you moaned out his name, mixed with whined praises. Hands planted against his chest as you let your pleasure wash over you. Letting Duncan take full control of the rhythm as he chased his own end. Which soon came with a growl of your name that made your cheeks flush.
You fell against him, face buried in the crook of his neck as you caught your breath. There was not a thought other than the feel of Duncan beneath and inside you in your head. But Duncan turned to Daeron. A silent thank you moving between his eyes and Daeron's.
Daeron stood, nodding to Duncan with a smile.
"It seems you picked the right teacher," he laughed, moving towards the door.
You felt Duncan's chest move beneath you as he chuckled but you didn't care. Nothing but bliss filled you, your body limp atop Duncan. The soft click of the door signalled Daeron's exit, just as Duncan rolled you onto your back, lips finding your bare skin again.
You certainly would have to thank the prince in the morning.
My thoughts on Infold deciding to not move forward with Valko. As well as what my intentions are moving forward
I apologize this took all day — though I doubt any of you were looking for a proper comment from me lol. I had a busy day at work and the free moment I did get was when I made the posts I did — aka when I found out and genuinely had to excuse myself. This post is a tad bit long so if you take the time to read, thank you.
Bring Valko Back!
It’s been hours and I am still genuinely at a loss for words over this outcome. I applaud everyone who has rallied together so quickly with petitions, hashtags, emails, and more in effort to try and stop Infold from going through with this decision because I am still sitting here stunned to a degree of silence.
The only word I can think of to describe how I feel about this entire thing is disgust.
Disgust at Infold, disgust at fans who threatened to sue them, disgust at fans who made racial comments regarding his appearance that ultimately led to their added dislike for him. Disgust for international fans who are attacking the Asian fanbase as a whole and using this as an opportunity to be racist. Regardless if they were prejudice or racist first. Two wrongs will never make a right.
Infold made one of the worst decisions I have ever seen a company make. I genuinely cannot understand where this came from so suddenly, what the hell happened that made them crack under the pressure? That they’re willing to bend to the whims of their home base and do as they wish?
That they’d throw away weeks, if not months or maybe even years worth of planning, designing, animation, storylines, voice acting… because their home fan base didn’t enjoy the character?? Not to say it was just Asia either, because I saw a hefty amount of international dislike too, but we all know who infold’s main priority is when it comes to this game.
And we know how intense the CN fanbase can get… spending tens of thousands on 30 second ad slots for billboards of their main and shit like… Jesus fuck
The amount of people that got fucked over by Infold because they’re canceling Valko’s release?? The amount of people who are actually overjoyed by it?? It’s fucking sickening, like some of you are seriously un-fucking-well and need to go get a job or a hobby or at least touch some fucking grass.
I’d be more understanding if Infold decided to step forward and say they were going to delay Valko’s launch so they could address the issues within the game first. Like, shit, I don’t know?? Fix the skin color and shadow issues with darker MCs?? Add the missing content for Caleb and Sylus?? Add levels to their existing battle fields like UNICORNS? The fucking laundry list worth of things that players have been bugging you guys about for like… ever now??
I’d be even more understanding if they just said they were delaying his launch to rework the issues that the CN fanbase had concerns with. Such as the “A-0731” experiment linked to the Nanjing massacre during WWII?? And maybe rework the lines they had voiced where it’s essentially poking fun at DV?? These are things that were not translated over to the international fanbase, these were concerns some CN fans had.
It doesn’t, however, excuse the racial comments about Valko being “too tan” or “too American looking” and other uncomfortable comments made. Most likely, some of these probably had zero correlation but I’m not on Red Note to know for sure.
But, no. We’re deleting him completely, cowering on our knees promising to not add any more love interest beside the current 5, and still adding the stupid ass addition to the house feature that nobody wants. Instead of owning up, correcting mistakes, pushing forward with things we initially planned?? Hello??
What the fuck???
I genuinely pray that somehow, some way, infold’s mind is changed and Valko is brought back. But my hopes are not high, and depending on how things go over the next few days will really dictate what I do with this blog going forward.
I love and adore Sylus, he has become one of my favorite characters of all time over the last two years of me playing this game. Well, almost, the end of July would be my 2 year anniversary. But I just don’t think I can go forward with supporting a company that is so… shallow? I don’t even know how to describe it.
I mean I can continue to write for the boys without supporting Infold because obviously my fanfic comes from my brain lol but like… what the fuck man I’m just at a fucking loss for works still even after saying all that above…
Despite me saying this is fic writing week, real life has kicked my butt. So I should have the promised Lyonel fic posted tonight and the Dunk and Daeron Lessons instalment posted tomorrow.
I'll continue to write and post what I listed on my plan, but likely won't tag them as countdown works.
Lets all pray for a less stressful week incoming so I can keep writing!
anon in my inbox said fanfic writers who wrote about dark and taboo topics were not “real writers” because of what they wrote about.
reblog if you believe anon is wrong and writers are writers, no matter what they write about. no matter how they portray these taboo topics.
reblog if you believe art can be about topics that are controversial, taboo or outright disturbing, and artists who create controversial, taboo or outright disturbing art are as valid as artists who create art of conservative values.
Summary: There are no lengths to which Lyonel won't go to impress you, his lady love. And you are always more than happy to indulge whatever he chooses.
CW: 18+, MINORS DNI. Female Reader, Reader is a Tyrell bastard (Flowers), Lyonel seducing like a male bird (dancing etc), dry humping, improper use of the stag crown, intimate touching, penetrative sex (reader on top), Lyonel being his sassy self, jealous Lyonel.
Words: 2641
Part of my Countdown to HOTD Season 3!
Being in the sights of Lyonel Baratheon was an experience in and of itself. Rarely a dull moment, especially in the current confines of his tent in Ashford Meadow. If there was an excuse to throw an obnoxiously loud party, Lyonel would grasp it with both hands.
You were a Flowers. A bastard but beloved to your father still, enough to be at his side during the tourney. And that had led to you spending many an evening in the Baratheon tent - as so many currently in Ashford did.
Not every night, though Lyonel would announce supper at the same time for all of the Meadow to hear. Many would heed the invitation, and you would be graced with all the details when morning came. Though more often than not, you would hear the music and shouting all the way over in your family's pavilions.
And every one of the nights you did spend within the black and gold walls, you would find yourself falling closer and closer into Lyonel's orbit.
Though he was known for many things, the riotous feasts held just as the sun began to set were something Lyonel revelled in being famous for. Or maybe, infamous would be the right term. Many a morning, a small handful of knights would sway their to the lists after a few too many under the gaze of the Laughing Storm himself.
And with the lists soon about to begin in Ashford, he had plans to throw a party worthy of such an occasion. He could only hope his favourite guest would attend.
As though the luck of the gods was on his side, he could almost sense you presence the moment you had entered the pavilion. His eyes finding you through the crowd, though you had yet to see him. Getting swept up in the crowd of dancers that passed you, which you fell into step with almost immediately. A hand you did not recognise taking yours, but it was nothing new. If you had only looked up as you span past the top table again, you would have seen the intensity of his stare.
Soon, the music quieted until it was barely audible over the chatter of the crowd. It was then you saw where every eye on the dancefloor had turned.
"I have had a profound thought, if anyone would care to listen?"
You barely bit back a smile, as the rest of the crowd finally acknowledged their host. The speech they all knew was coming, yet did not dare interrupt soon began. Praising the art of jousting, in a way on Lyonel could.
But it was the thud of a sack of gold that got the crowd cheering.
"A hundred gold to the man, beast or god who sticks me best!"
The music quickly started again, but you dodged them with practised ease as you continued on through the tent. Twisting your way through drunk revellers and the servers holding trays of food.
You were mere steps away from Lyonel's table when a familiar group swept you into their dance. Friends you had made in your love of dancing. And with little protest from you, they hoisted you onto a nearby table, joining one of their own dancers.
That was when your gaze finally met Lyonel's. Your skirts tied to your belt, as you quickly fell into step with the dance. And you felt your lover's eyes on you the entire time.
"He never looks from you, you know?" your fellow dancer laughed, hooking her arm with yours as you both jumped down from the table.
You didn't answer, but you didn't need to. Everyone within these walls knew of your relationship with Lyonel. It was one of the worst kept secrets you knew of.
As the song ended, yet another familiar tap found your shoulder. One of Lyonel's many aides, who stood smiling as you turned and unhooked your skirts.
"That's the fastest he's ever called for me," you quipped, bidding your friend goodbye and following the aide through the crowd.
The aide only laughed, shaking his head as though he knew something you did not.
Lyonel's eyes followed you for the short walk from the dancefloor to his table. But those same eyes also saw the looks of those around you. How they followed you the same his own did, how your eyes would sometimes meet the others and return a smile. Never before had he felt the soft burn in his chest that he did now.
He did not think himself a jealous man. He knew what his relationship was with you, the boundaries you had set for the both of you. But he couldn't help himself.
You were his. Even if he couldn't announce it to the world, the thought of even entertaining the affections of anyone else did not sit right with him.
"My lord," you smiled, allowing yourself a purposefully dramatic curtsy as you approached his table.
He waved away his aides, including those sat at his side. The men dispersed quickly and you were soon left to only focus on your lover. When he said nothing, you leaned forward, hands flat on the table as you met his gaze.
"Is there something the matter, you are awfully quiet?"
You could see the muscle in his eye tick, the way his jaw tightened. It sparked a little flame of mischief in you. Sliding a hand across the table to poke at Lyonel's arm. But he still said nothing.
"Well, if you are going to say nothing, I shall return to the dancefloor," you continued, moving to remove your hand and turn away.
But before you could, Lyonel moved to grab your wrist. A smile breaking on his face.
"You will only return to that dancefloor with me."
The music stayed at a fast pace. Mixing with the stomping of feet and clapping of hands as the crowd grew, with you and Lyonel at the centre. You had seen him dance before, but never like this. It was like he had something to prove. To you, to himself, to the crowd, you honestly didn't know. Nor did you mind.
Every move he made was purposeful. Designed to keep your eyes on him and him alone, and it was working. You had yet to turn your attention away. Just watching him move had a heat you did not expect simmering within. His antlered crown swinging from his hand as he danced around you.
It was only when the music began to slow again that Lyonel moved closer. Hands circling your waist as he pulled you against him, crown clattering to your feet. Back hitting his chest with a soft thump. But he didn't stop moving, your body moving with him in a way you had never danced before. In a way you were sure was not appropriate for the setting or the audience.
But it didn't stop either of you. Those around you were too far into their cups to care what their host was doing. Fingers grasping at the fabric of your dress as his lips found the sliver of skin at your shoulder.
"You are in quite the mood tonight, aren't you?" you whispered, holding his wrists as you spun to face him.
You could see the slight glaze of wine over his eyes, but the same was likely on yours. Combined with the atmosphere and the press of his hands against your back, it only spurred you on.
"I am simply showing my appreciation for you, my love," his words mumbled against your lips as he leaned in.
The kiss slowly became more insistent. The hand on your back now gripping the fabric of your gown. The dancers around you entirely oblivious to it all. You could feel the heat rising on your cheeks, your body instinctively pressing closer to his.
When the kiss broke, Lyonel pressed his forehead against yours.
"Will you indulge me?"
How he managed to carry both you and his crown away from the feast tent, you would never know. Especially without causing you or himself some kind of antler related injury. But it was a feat either way.
His personal tent was always warm, though a different warmth from the feast. The kind of warmth that felt familiar every time. Your back hit the bed, the layers of blankets so easy to sink into. Pulling Lyonel down with you, the crown almost buried in the same blankets.
His lips finding yours again almost immediately. The kiss was intense and hungry, his tongue slipping in to tangle with yours in a familiar dance. Your fingers tangled in his curls, holding him to you as his free hand fisted at your skirts.
Lyonel's name fell from your lips as he trailed kisses from your lips to your throat. The same kisses made a path down your clothed body. A small sound of surprise leaving him when you stopped him moving further.
"You wished to appreciate me, did you not?"
Lyonel glanced up, a brow raised in silent confusion. But you took his pause as opportunity. Pulling him back to you and rolling him on to his back. It took no more than a second for him to realise what you were suggesting.
"How can you appreciate me, when your eyes are downward?"
His smirk gave you your answer, but his hum of approval confirmed it. One hand gripping your waist as the other pulled at the ties of your gown. Well trained movements quickly loosening the fabric from your body. Your own made easy work of his own clothes, as best you could without moving from on top of him.
"You are a sight worth appreciating, I will not argue that," Lyonel chuckled, pushing what he could of your gown away.
He sat up, letting you do the same with his shirt. Taking the chance to pepper more kisses across your now bare shoulders and chest. Your body relaxing under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders. Clothes soon fell from you both between kisses, hands roaming over every inch of bare skin they could find.
You could feel him beneath you, only his breeches keeping your bare flesh from him. But you could feel the heat of him, the slow swell as your hips dared to move atop him. Eyes closed as his hands found your hips again, steadying your movements until you were rolling against him.
The only sounds were your shared pants. His breath hot against your throat as he gave in to the feel of you against him. The damp heat of your undergarments, the softness of your skin beneath his rougher hands. Your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to move faster. Chasing what you knew would not be your only peak of the night.
"I should dance with you more often," Lyonel whispered, nipping at your throat as your head fell back in pleasure.
All you could answer with was a moan. A familiar tingle creeping up your spine as Lyonel helped you move. His grip moving from your hips to the flesh of your backside. His own hips jutting up against you. It wasn't long before you found what you were chasing. His name a soft sigh on your lips he slowed your movements.
Your head rested against his shoulder, head turned as you tried to slow down your breathing. Then your gaze fell on the crown, a wicked thought crossing your mind. Despite the lingering fire in your core, you wanted more.
"Would you indulge me in something?"
Lyonel shifted to look at you, only to see your eyes on his crown. Yet another chuckle leaving him. Apparently he was not the only one in a particular mood tonight.
"And what am I indulging?" he asked, letting you go and leaning back on his elbows.
You answered by placing the crown on his head, head tilted as you inspected his new look. You had pictured this exact scenario more times than you could count. Though you had never quite found the courage to ask. But who knows what had pushed you to tonight.
Your hands trailed over the antlers, and all Lyonel could do was watch. Watch your curious gaze. He could only imagine what was going on inside your head.
"Now what?" Lyonel asked, bringing your attention back to him.
He knew what you wanted to try. He had to admit, the thought was intriguing. When you hands moved to release the antlers, he grabbed them. Placing your hands back where they were, and not releasing you until he was sure you wouldn't let go.
"You wish to truly ride your stag?" his words were punctuated with kisses and bites to your skin, keeping the fire in your veins burning as embers.
You nodded, lip tugged between your teeth in anticipation.
"Then hold on tight, my love."
A hand slipped between you both, the other urging you to lift just a little for him to untie his breeches. It took everything in him to ignore the lingering dampness on your undergarments and persevere. And he didn't have the patience to have you both bare.
With his breeches around his thighs, he pushed your undergarments aside. Taking that chance to brush a finger between your folds, spreading the gathered wetness over his length.
You had done as you were told, your grip on his crown firm as he pushed himself inside you. Slowly, letting you feel every inch of him until he was fully sheathed. Lyonel was sure he heard a creak in the antlers as you gripped as hard as you could.
His rhythm was slow. Much like a horse beginning a canter. Letting you ease into it, letting you anticipate what he would do next. His hand pressed against the space between your shoulder blades as the other held your waist. Urging you to move with him, in the limited movements you had. And much like your dances, you both fell into step almost instantly.
Lyonel couldn't ignore how sinful it felt to where his crown in bed. To beneath you as you held it, watching as he let you finally take over the rhythm. Using your purchase on the crown to move. Thanking the gods the antlers were anchored firmly to the metal.
Nothing but the sound of flesh and moans filled the room, the soft creak of the bed below mingled between. His name a chant on your tongue as you soon felt that familiar heat in your veins.
"You look divine," Lyonel mumbled against your lips, nipping at your lip as your rhythm began to falter, knowing just how close you were.
You let him take over, both hands wrapped around your waist as your own finally dropped from the crown. Overcome with pleasure as he thrust up into you, Lyonel falling against the bed and letting the crown slip from his head. Nothing but release on both of your minds.
You fell over the edge first. Hands flat against his chest and nails digging crescents into his skin as it hit you. Eyes scrunched closed, hair stuck to your forehead as you moaned out his name one last time. Lyonel was not far behind you. A single thrust before he spilled inside you. Holding you still as he slowed to a stop.
Your head fell against his shoulder, his hand sliding up and down your back as you relaxed. You both remained silent for a moment longer, breaths falling into rhythm as he rolled you to lay beside him. His lips pressed against your hair, inhaling your scent with his kiss.
Then he let out a low chuckle, making you glance up at him. A silent question in your eyes. He kissed your forehead before answering.
"I should indulge you more often."
Lyonel Taglist:
@multyfangirl @sylasthegrim
@dixie-elocin @tumblin-theworldaway
@schniiipsel @targaryen-dynasty
Please let me know if you wish to be added/removed.
Despite me saying this is fic writing week, real life has kicked my butt. So I should have the promised Lyonel fic posted tonight and the Dunk and Daeron Lessons instalment posted tomorrow.
I'll continue to write and post what I listed on my plan, but likely won't tag them as countdown works.
Lets all pray for a less stressful week incoming so I can keep writing!
WARNINGS: mentions of panty sniffing and masturbating
NOTES: hey, so, I saw this man sniff that flask like his life depended on it and just knew he'd coax his wife to wear some sort of medieval panties (lmao) just so he can take them with him to have something good to sniff on.
Ormund, who always asks you to leave him one of your linen undergarments before he departs, insisting that no scented flask could ever compare to the scent of you(r cunt).
Ormund, who insists that the scent lingers longer if you wear the linen for several days before his departure, though he never truly explains why.
Ormund, who refuses to leave unless he carries something that smells like you, considering it just as important as his sword and armor.
Ormund, who carefully folds the linen and tucks it beneath his breastplate or into his doublet before every ride or battle, where it rests close to his heart.
Ormund, who lifts the fabric to his nose whenever the stench of sweat, horses, and blood becomes unbearable.
Ormund, who absentmindedly reaches into his armor during difficult rides, taking comfort in the familiar scent that reminds him of you and his place between your thighs.
Ormund, who finds that one inhale of your familiar scent steadies his nerves before riding into battle better than any prayer ever could.
Ormund, who lies awake at night, clutching the linen to his face and breathing in your lingering scent as he strokes himself, surrendering to the ache of missing you.
Ormund, who treats the linen like a treasured keepsake, making certain no squire or servant ever touches the small pouch in which he keeps it.
Ormund, who always returns the carefully folded linen to you after he comes home, only to ask for another before his next departure.
Ormund, who would sooner forget his own cloak than leave behind the piece of linen you gave him.
Because Week 4 is going to include fics, I thought I'd give a little plan of what I intend to do...
Essentially, the week will be a mix of wips and fresh ideas. Any season 3 characters will likely be left until the first episode airs, though I'll continue to write at a slower pace in the weeks the season is airing.
Feel free to ask for any of these in particular!
Week 4 Plan!
A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms Options:
Lyonel x Flowers!Reader (WIP)
Duncan x F!Reader x Daeron (Lessons instalment WIP)
Baelor x F!Reader x Maekar
Valarr x Cousin!Reader
House of the Dragon Options:
Jacaerys x F!Reader x Aegon (Moot Request)
Aemond x F!Reader x Gwayne (Lessons Instalment)
Cregan x F!Reader (Old Milestone Request)
Aegon x Best Friend!Reader (Old Milestone Request)
Daemon x Niece!Reader
^ Now do I think I can write all of these in a week? No. But I want to lay out the options.
Post Season ideas below the cut...
I also have ideas set aside for after the season begins to air which include...
