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Is fucking an elf a kink. Would cuckraven like to fuck an elf. Pretend i’m on my curufin blog
It all comes back to that fucking elf or something like that
NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS
He would like an elf. Who would not like an elf.
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@deadwinterreign liked for a starter.
She had seen many riders in her long life, and though her bones had become heavy and her scales fleck off her tired flesh, her mind remained sharp. She could remember all of her past riders, her past bonded crystal clear within her sacred memories.
All were unique. All were special in their own ways. All had their strengths and weaknesses. But there is something about the One-Eyed boy that claimed her on a dark night on a beach that puts him apart from the rest.
He had the blood of the dragon in his veins, yes. But that was not what allow him to claim her. Perhaps it was his boldness that impressed her. A young child whom didn’t show her disrespect, as his brother might have. He handled her as she should have been handled; as something sacred. And of course, it was a double edged sword.
A rider could claim a dragon, but the dragon would claim them as well.
"Aemond." Her voice was sharp in his mind, not the withered, elderly voice one would expect from a dragon of her age. “Come to me.”
There was something utterly insistent and urgent in her tone.
@deadwinterreign continued from here
Violet eyes remained transfixed upon Aemond as he spoke, Auriel’s scowl deepening with every honeyed word that fell from his lips. He dressed his venom prettily, but poison remained poison, no matter how sweetly it was served. Once, she had thought they might have been friends. It had certainly not been for lack of trying on her part. For years, she had done what she could to foster goodwill between her siblings and his, even when none was returned. But this? Hearing him cast such blatant insults upon her brothers’ was more than she would tolerate. Even Alicent had seen fit to admonish him for it.
“You would do well to remember your place and hold your tongue, uncle,” Auriel warned, her voice low and cold. “Lest it be the next part of you to be cut out.”
She took a single step closer, refusing to look away from his stare.
“I have shown you goodwill for years, despite every slight and insult. Do not mistake that patience for weakness. I will not abide you speaking of my brothers in such a manner. Not now, nor ever again.”
[10.] finding yourself staring at their mouth and getting caught. // it’s not what it looks like he says
Was it only his imagination, or did Aemond's remaining lilac eye turn even sharper after the loss of its twin? Daemon observed him from the corner of his own eye, seemingly unaware of the intense stare Aemond subjected him to when in truth the watcher became the watched at this merry dinner.
It was hard to read his nephew's expression. Clearly Aemond had learned to guard his feelings under a mask of indifference, yet it was his remaining eye that betrayed him. No matter how apathetic his face or his voice was, his gaze spoke volumes and did not hide anything.
There was interest. Admiration even. A hint of envy and oh..something more. Desire. For Daemon's strength? His dragon riding skills? Tourney victories? Considering Aemond stared at his lips in particular, it might be a different kind of want altogether.
Daemon knew all about want and desire. He deciphered the message within Aemond's eye in no time. When the conversation at the table turned away from Daemon, he took the opportunity to get up from his chair and walk over to where Aemond was seated. The table was long and the guests were plenty, so they were afforded privacy when people distracted each other.
The conversation continued around them loudly, so Daemon had a good excuse to lean down and whisper into the younger's ear. Daemon's hand rested on top of the wooden backrest of Aemond's chair possessively. His lip accidentally brushed the shell of Aemond's ear. "If you have gotten your fill staring, we could go somewhere more quiet."
Continued from here @deadwinterreign At this Aemond chuckled, the briefest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. Ever has he held his youngest brother in his affections, and it seemed time away had not at all dulled his love. Daeron had always looked up to his elder siblings as an example, emulated them, praised them, and he saw no reason why (though he was the third child) his brother should not look up to him also. “I know,” he said, placing a gentle hand on Daeron’s shoulder. It lingered for a moment, before it returned again by its owner’s side. And beneath his front of ice and cold steel, something within him breathed in relief. Of course he was not a monster, he knew that, for his actions were only ever a consequence to the foolish actions of another. And yet, at times, in the dark of night and accompanied by no one save his ever-churning thoughts, he wondered if perhaps he was wrong. If, maybe, he had gone too far in pursuit of a throne he’ll never have.
In some unexpected reprieve, Daeron had been brought to the Keep to visit with family. Ormund, with his blatant distaste for all things Targaryen, had deigned to visit with his cousin and brought his squire along. Daeron had been cautioned not to spend too long among the savages, but how could he restrain himself? He had grieved the absence of his mother and siblings, and surely cousin Ormund would forgive that. He could hardly help himself, could he? He was tainted with Targaryen blood after all. While the boy chuckled quietly to himself at the thought of using his cousins own prejudice against him, he knew it would not end well if he gave in to the childish temptation.
Better to hope he did not notice.
Better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.
The warmth of his older brothers affection, rare as it had apparently become of late, if their sister was to be believed; was met with adoration. The younger boy beamed at Aemond, hands clasped behind his back as he had become accustomed to doing. He was a squire before he was a Prince, these days. A follower.
"I still cannot believe you claimed Vhaegar," he breathed, softly, as though afraid of his own enthusiasm. "That is most impressive, lēkia. I wish I had been there to witness it. Perhaps, perhaps one day we might fly together? Tessarion is... small compared to Vhaegar- as are most of them-" he almost giggled at that, though composed himself swiftly: "but it would be such fun."
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kink for cuckraven: voyeurism LMAO
A thousand eyes and one
NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS*
*do we think he still can get a boner as part of a weirwood tree?
does aure care to explain why sex in the forest is fine but sex in the bog is suddenly so horrific and weird
don’t question her | accepting! | @deadwinterreign
“Bogs are damp and wet. I do not like the idea of getting fucked somewhere so humid.”
🥃 everyone how large are your penises
Drinking Games
Alas, only one man is bold enough to answer. Baelor clears his throat and holds his hands to gesture about 5 and a half inches.
"Thereabouts."
