i miss drogo


Our first ever meeting in the lobby of a Belfast hotel did start by him rugby tackling me to the floor yelling “WIFEY!” We like to call him Tigger – he has more energy than I do after 3 bags of Pick ‘N’ Mix, and he is a good foot taller than me and can also bench press me with one hand. But he is also very talented and very kind. You can’t get much better than Momoa. It was brilliant to have him as my on-screen hubbie! – Emilia Clarke

She is Mine - Khal Drogo
  • Hello! I was scrolling through my newsfeed thinking, “Holy shit I miss Khal Drogo. I need some Drogo. There isn’t any on these blogs at all!” I’d be honored to request something about him to satisfy my quench. Something like seeing countless of his men eyeing Y/N, him getting pissed off and making an announcement that the Khaleesi is off limits and will kill anyone who dares disrespect the honorable queen. If you feel up to this request, I’d be grateful, moon of my life. I changed it a bit, I hope you don’t mind. Enjoy!

You had been riding with the khalasar for some time now, after they had found you on the great grass sea. You had run away from Westeros, away from the annoyances and hardships of being a woman in King’s Landing. Khal Drogo had, for some unknown reason, taken a liking to you shortly after the group of Dothraki had found you, and had made it a point to keep you protected. Normally, you understood, his bloodriders would have raped you and left you where they found you, but the Khal had prevented that.

But Drogo was not the only one to have noticed you. Some of the other members of the khalasar, men with shorter or non-existent braids, had been getting chummy with you as of late. You didn’t understand much of the Dothraki language, but from what you could tell, they were very interested in you. The way they looked at you made you feel uncomfortable, like you were just a piece of meat to them, and the fact that you knew that you were made it worse. 

Drogo, had apparently noticed their gazes as well, because when the khalasar had stopped for the day to rest the horses and make camp, he shouted for quiet. “You disrespect me by looking at her,” he said in Dothraki. “You disrespect yourselves by disrespecting me.” He smiled darkly. “You will leave the khaleesi alone. She is mine. Anyone who thinks otherwise, well,” Drogo laughed deeply. “That would be a mistake.” He sat back down, and that, it appeared ended that.

You spent that night in the Great Grass Sea with Drogo, his hands melding with your body, your sighs and moans floating to the heavens for all to hear. 

After, when you returned to the khalasar, the men didn’t look at you like they did before. Instead of lust, respect filled their eyes as you passed. 


date: 26 december 2016
time: 18:45
location: twelfth night museum (open bar)

He had to admit, the witches knew how to throw a party. This was the perfect venue, the perfect occasion, and it came equipped with the perfect outfits. Anonymity was always a mistress he’d courted, enjoying the power and freedom that obscurity afforded, revelling in the way it enabled him to dance in the shadows whilst those standing in the ‘light’ could hardly move due to their shackles. He wanted to be known, but not famous, wanted his face to be recognised only by those who needed to know it. As for the rest of the world, well… If they had his name, that was enough.

Whispers and rumours were the most powerful engines of fear and admiration, and Orpheus wanted both.

There was so much tension in the room that he could almost taste it, as the museum vibrated with nervous anticipation and countless masked fools tried to obfuscate their mounting fear behind painted smiles and ringing (hollow) laughter. They were dancing on a knife edge, the lot of them, and even a stray breath could send them all hurtling into the abyss below, taking down Capulet, Montague, all.

What a sight that would be.

Orpheus leaned an elbow on the bar, his body an exercise in carefully studied grace, knowing that he wouldn’t look at all out of place amongst the carved marble statues in the museum’s halls and feeling every inch the king. He would get to mingling with the masses later; for now, he was content to observe, amusement dancing about his lips and glass of whiskey held so loosely that you might be forgiven for thinking he’d drop it at any moment (a fitting metaphor, then, for the nervous energy filling the room).

He felt a presence to his right, then, and turned, face twisting into an expression of subtly alluring charm (he almost didn’t need the mask that sat atop his face, for he’d come wearing one of his own design) and lips sliding into a smile that was either entrancing or enticing depending on how the light fell on his face (he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be Orpheus or the Pied Piper that night, so he became both). Taking another sip of his drink, he looked the person who had joined him up and down, and the embers in his eyes suddenly flared up and glowed red hot.

Time to play.

“And who are you supposed to be dressed up as?”

Winter is Coming - Smut - Nerdgasm Part 3

Originally posted by biancappter

Author: @dumbass-stilinski

Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 2,214
A/N: Part 3 of the Nerdgasm series! Some GOT and more Star Wars nerd stuff here. Enjoy! Also the gif has nothing to do with the story I just really miss Kahl Drogo okay?

Part 1
Part 2

If someone would have told you that you’d be spending your Saturday lying naked on Stiles Stilinski’s bed telling him how good his mouth feels on your neck in High Valyrian (aōha relgos feels sȳz), you would have told them they were insane. But here you were, and he was using that beautiful tongue of his to draw patterns on your flesh.

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