#“only to then turn around and reveal that she IS his wife”

[hisfavegirl]

Haven Of Harmony - Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary : Your marriage with Daemon became more harmonious after the birth of your twin sons, Daemon also decided to bring his family to move to Dragonstone and settle there. Your happiness increases when you share the happy news.

You sat on a carved stone bench overlooking the vast expanse of Dragonstone, the cool breeze carrying with it the sound of roaring dragons and the laughter of your children. Your silver hair shimmered in the sunlight as you watched your five children soar through the skies on their dragons, their figures cutting against the blue heavens.

Your eldest, Maegon, led the group with his fierce determination, his bond with his dragon, Verathor, evident in every dive and turn. Vaelya followed close behind, her graceful dragon, Nyserion, matching her fiery spirit with elegant precision. Aerion, as daring as ever, performed daring maneuvers on his dragon, Aurion, his laughter echoing through the sky.

Below them flew Aelor and Vaegon, the youngest of the brood, though no less skilled. Their dragons, Elyrax and Thalaxion, moved in perfect harmony as they joined their older siblings in an impromptu mock battle against Daemon, who flew on Caraxes.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you saw your husband struggling to keep up with the coordinated attacks of his children. Caraxes let out an annoyed roar when Vaelya and Nyserion swooped low and nipped at his tail, causing Daemon to grumble in irritation.

“Is this how you treat your father, you little wretches?!” Daemon bellowed, though his voice carried no real anger.

Maegon grinned triumphantly from atop Verathor, pointing his blade toward Daemon in mock challenge. “You taught us too well, Father!”

Aerion joined in the teasing, circling Caraxes with a wide grin. “Looks like you’re getting old, Father! Maybe it’s time you retired to the ground!”

Daemon’s face twisted into a comically exaggerated scowl, making you laugh even harder. “Insolent brats,” he muttered, though his smirk betrayed his pride.

Just then, Vaelya swooped low beside Caraxes, her long silver braid whipping in the wind. “Leave Father alone!” she called to her brothers, her voice indignant. “He’s still the best dragonrider!”

Her brothers groaned in playful annoyance, teasing her for being their father’s favorite. “Of course, she’d say that,” Aerion quipped, rolling his eyes dramatically.

As you watched the exchange, your heart swelled with pride. Your children were not only strong and fearless but deeply bonded to one another. Despite their teasing, their love and respect for Daemon — and for each other — were undeniable.

When the battle ended and the dragons began their descent, your children landed one by one, their faces flushed with excitement. Daemon was the last to dismount, shaking his head as he approached you. “They’re insufferable,” he muttered, though his smirk revealed his amusement.

You chuckled, reaching out to smooth his windswept hair. “They’re just like you,” you said, smiling fondly.

Daemon grunted, pulling you closer as your children ran toward you, their laughter filling the air. Vaelya threw her arms around Daemon, while Maegon and Aerion excitedly recounted their victory. Aelor and Vaegon tugged at your sleeves, eager to tell you about their dragons’ latest feats.

Surrounded by your family, you felt a deep sense of contentment. These were the moments you cherished most — the laughter, the love, and the unbreakable bond that tied you all together.

You gazed at your family seated around the long, grand table in the hall of Dragonstone, the warm glow of the torches casting flickering light upon their faces. Daemon sat at the head of the table, his silver hair catching the firelight as he leaned back in his chair, laughing at something Maegon had said.

Maegon, ever the confident eldest, was recounting his latest dragonriding exploits, his hands gesturing animatedly as he described how Verathor had outmaneuvered Caraxes in the skies. Vaelya, seated beside him, rolled her eyes playfully, a smirk on her lips as she cut into her roasted lamb.

“You only won because Father let you,” she quipped, her silver braid swinging as she turned to Daemon for confirmation.

Daemon chuckled, raising his goblet. “I’d never let any of you win. If Maegon bested me, it’s because I trained him too well,” he said, winking at his eldest son.

Aerion, sitting next to Vaelya, grinned mischievously. “Maybe next time we’ll team up, Vaelya. Even Caraxes wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of us.”

Vaelya narrowed her eyes at him. “You’d just slow me down, Aerion.”

Across the table, Aelor and Vaegon were engrossed in their own conversation, their young faces alight with excitement as they talked about their dragons. Elyrax and Thalaxion were already developing distinct personalities, and their bond with the youngest twins was clear.

You watched them all with a soft smile, your hands resting on your belly. The babe within you kicked gently, as if sensing the joy in the room. Daemon caught your eye and raised his goblet toward you, his expression softening.

“To the Lady of Dragonstone,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection. “The one who holds us all together.”

The children joined in the toast, their voices overlapping as they cheered. You smiled, feeling a deep warmth in your chest as you looked around the table at the family you and Daemon had built together.

This was your sanctuary, your joy. The laughter, the teasing, the love—it was all you had ever hoped for. And as you listened to the lively chatter and felt the gentle movements of the babe you carried, you knew the future would hold even more of these cherished moments.

As the lively chatter at the table quieted, you cleared your throat softly, drawing everyone’s attention. All eyes turned toward you, and you suddenly felt the weight of your unspoken news. Daemon, seated beside you, tilted his head in curiosity, his sharp gaze locking onto yours.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his voice laced with concern and intrigue.

The children, scattered along the grand table, paused their conversations. Vaelya arched an eyebrow, Maegon leaned forward slightly, and Aerion exchanged a curious glance with the twins, Aelor and Vaegon.

You hesitated, your hands instinctively moving to rest on your stomach, hidden beneath the soft fabric of your gown. The secret you had kept for months felt heavier now that you were about to speak it aloud. But the love and trust of your family gave you strength.

“I have something important to share with all of you,” you began, your voice steady but soft. You glanced briefly at Daemon, who was now watching you intently, his expression unreadable. “It’s news I’ve kept to myself for a little while, but I think it’s time you all know.”

The children exchanged glances, their curiosity growing.

“What is it, Mother?” Vaelya asked, her tone eager yet calm.

Taking a deep breath, you finally said the words. “I’m expecting another child.”

For a moment, silence filled the hall as your words settled over them. Daemon blinked, his eyes widening in shock. “Another… child?” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper, as if trying to confirm what he had just heard.

“Yes,” you said with a small, nervous smile. “We’re going to have another baby.”

The children erupted into cheers and exclamations.

“A new sibling!” Aerion grinned. “That’s incredible!”

“We’ll have to prepare the nursery again!” Maegon added, his initial shock giving way to excitement. Even the twins, usually more reserved, looked genuinely thrilled, their identical smiles lighting up the room.

Vaelya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “If it’s another brother, I’ll have to teach him some manners. I’m already outnumbered as it is.”

Daemon, however, remained quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. Then, without a word, he rose from his seat and crossed the distance between you. Gently, he cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours before a wide grin spread across his lips. “You kept this from me?” he asked, his tone half-amused, half-incredulous.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you admitted sheepishly.

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’ve certainly done that, my love.”

As the children continued to celebrate, Daemon pulled you into a warm embrace, his hand resting protectively over your stomach. The warmth and joy that filled the hall were palpable, and for the first time in months, you felt completely at ease. This was your family, your strength, and your greatest happiness.

You stood by the window of your chamber, gazing out at the vast, dark sea stretching endlessly before you. The soft whisper of the waves blended with the cool night breeze, brushing gently against your face. The moonlight bathed the room in a silvery glow, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

Lost in thought, you barely noticed the sound of footsteps behind you until a familiar warmth enveloped you. Daemon’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His hand rested lightly on your growing belly, his touch both tender and protective.

He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his breath warm against your hair. “You shouldn’t be standing so long,” he murmured, his voice low and full of quiet affection.

You leaned back against his chest, finding solace in his steady presence. “I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice soft. “The sea… it calms me.”

He chuckled lightly, the vibration of his laugh rumbling in his chest. “And here I thought you might be admiring something else,” he teased, his tone playful but his embrace tightening ever so slightly.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Perhaps I was,” you replied, tilting your head to glance up at him. His silver hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his sharp features softened as he looked down at you with a rare, unguarded expression.

Daemon leaned down, his lips brushing your temple as his hand gently caressed the curve of your belly. “Our child grows strong,” he whispered, pride evident in his voice. “And you—you’re remarkable, carrying them.”

You closed your eyes, letting the moment sink in. The weight of his words, the warmth of his touch, and the rhythmic sound of the waves all melded into a perfect harmony. For a fleeting moment, it was just the two of you and the life you were bringing into the world, wrapped in the quiet serenity of the night.

You walked slowly through the garden, your hand resting gently on your growing belly. The warm sunlight bathed the blooming flowers around you, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of jasmine and roses.

Above, the thunderous roars of dragons echoed through the sky, mingling with the bright laughter of your five children. You stopped for a moment, tilting your head back to take in the breathtaking sight.

Their dragons darted through the clouds, weaving intricate patterns as they chased one another. Maegon led the playful pursuit, his determined shouts urging the others to keep up. Vaelya, ever the fierce competitor, followed closely, her dragon’s wings cutting through the air with precision. Aerion, with his clever tactics, swooped around to intercept them, his laughter carrying down to you.

Your youngest twins, on their slightly smaller dragons, joined the game with enthusiastic squeals, their dragons roaring proudly despite their size.

A soft smile spread across your face as you watched them, your heart swelling with pride and joy. They were so free, so full of life, their bond with their dragons and each other unbreakable.

Your hand moved gently over your belly, feeling the faint but certain movements of the new life within you. “They’ll be waiting for you,” you murmured softly. “And I’m sure you’ll join them up there one day.”

Lost in the moment, you barely noticed Daemon approaching until you felt his arm slide around your waist. He followed your gaze to the sky, his lips curving into a smirk.

“They’re a pack of wildlings,” he teased, though his voice was full of affection.

“And you love it,” you replied, leaning into him.

He chuckled, placing a protective hand over yours on your belly. “Maybe one day, there’ll be even more dragons up there.”

You smiled at the thought, your gaze still fixed on your children as their laughter and the roars of dragons filled the sky. It was a moment of pure peace, a reminder of everything you had built together.

You walked alongside Daemon toward the lair where Caraxes rested. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the stone path as the faint roar of dragons filled the air.

When Caraxes saw you approach, the great red dragon lifted his elongated neck and moved forward with surprising gentleness. His sharp, intelligent eyes locked onto you, and instead of focusing on Daemon, he lowered his head and began to sniff curiously at your belly.

You couldn’t help but smile as Caraxes let out a low, rumbling growl of recognition, as if he understood the new life growing within you.

Daemon crossed his arms and let out an exaggerated huff. “Traitor,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at his dragon.

You laughed softly, reaching out to pat Caraxes’ snout. “It seems he knows before anyone else, my love,” you teased, your hand brushing over your belly. “Perhaps he’s just more in tune with me than you are.”

Caraxes nudged you gently, a surprising act of care for such a fearsome creature, and you giggled at his affectionate gesture.

Daemon rolled his eyes, though the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. “I’m the one who rides him, feeds him, and yet here he is, fawning over you.”

You turned to him with a playful smile. “Perhaps he’s simply acknowledging the mother of your children—and his future rider’s parent.”

Daemon smirked and stepped closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Or perhaps he’s just testing my patience,” he quipped, though his voice was filled with warmth.

Caraxes let out a low, satisfied rumble as though he had won some unspoken contest. Daemon shook his head but pulled you closer, his protective gaze shifting between you and his loyal dragon.

You turned your head toward a dark cave not far from where Caraxes rested. A strange feeling prickled at the back of your neck, and you tilted your head slightly, as though straining to catch a faint sound.

Daemon frowned, his brows furrowing as he noticed your sudden distraction. “What is it?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes scanning the mouth of the cave. “I… I thought I heard something,” you murmured, your hand unconsciously moving to your belly. “Like someone calling my name.”

Daemon’s gaze followed yours to the cave, his expression turning skeptical. “There’s no one there,” he said firmly, stepping protectively closer to you. “Are you certain it wasn’t just the wind?”

You shook your head slowly, unsure. “It didn’t sound like the wind. It was…” You paused, struggling to find the words. “It was faint, but… familiar.”

Caraxes let out a low growl, his head snapping toward the cave, as though he, too, sensed something.

Daemon’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword instinctively. “Stay here,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“No, Daemon,” you said quickly, grabbing his arm. “If it’s nothing, there’s no need for you to risk yourself.”

He hesitated, glancing back at you, then toward the cave. “You’ve been restless of late,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Perhaps it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

You nodded reluctantly, though you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling creeping through you. Daemon led you away from the cave, his arm wrapped protectively around you, but your gaze lingered on the dark entrance, wondering what—or who—you might have heard.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The quiet, soft whisper calling your name seemed to grow louder, more insistent, despite the absence of any visible source. You turned back towards the cave, your heart pounding in your chest. It was as if the very air around you had thickened, filled with a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t ignore. The wind had shifted, but it wasn’t the change in temperature or breeze that unsettled you. It was the call.

Daemon, still standing by your side, noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor. His sharp eyes followed your gaze towards the cave, then back at you, reading the unease in your posture. He knew you too well, and he could sense that something wasn’t right. But when he glanced back at the entrance to the cave, he saw nothing that could explain the anxiety that seemed to settle in your bones. “What is it?” he asked again, his voice tinged with concern but still a hint of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”

You swallowed hard, trying to push the mounting anxiety down, but it was no use. “Daemon,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, “do you hear it? The calling… it’s still there.”

Daemon furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything. It’s just the wind.”

But as you spoke, Caraxes, the great dragon, shifted his position. His massive body, usually so relaxed and calm, became tense, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. The dragon, a creature so in tune with his surroundings, seemed to sense something you couldn’t. The silence that hung in the air grew thicker, almost oppressive, and Caraxes let out a low, guttural growl, his massive head turning toward the cave, his wings flexing in readiness.

You instinctively took a step closer to Daemon, your breath shallow. “Caraxes… he’s acting strange,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the concern in your tone. The dragon had never acted like this before, his movements sharp and watchful, his attention fixed on the cave, as though waiting for something to emerge.

Daemon turned back to the dragon, his expression hardening. He was no stranger to the instincts of his dragon, but this felt different, more urgent. He glanced at you, eyes searching your face, trying to read the fear that had crept into your expression. “We should go back to the castle,” Daemon said firmly, his hand reaching out to guide you. There was no hesitation in his voice, no argument. He had seen enough to know that something was wrong. He didn’t need to be convinced.

“I don’t like this, Daemon,” you muttered, still unable to shake the unease in your chest. You could feel your heart racing, the thumping echoing in your ears, the voice still faintly calling your name, but growing more distant with every passing second. It felt like something was waiting, something watching from the depths of the cave.

Daemon’s grip on your arm tightened, pulling you back towards the path leading away from the cave. He wasn’t taking any chances. “We’ll deal with it later, if necessary. Let’s go back now, before anything happens,” he said, his tone firm, almost protective.

You didn’t argue. The last thing you wanted was to be close to that cave any longer. You felt the presence of something lurking, something ancient, that you couldn’t fully understand, and it was pulling at your very soul. Daemon’s protective instincts had already kicked in, and you couldn’t deny that you felt safer with him by your side.

As you turned to leave, you glanced one last time at Caraxes, still poised and alert, his eyes watching the cave as if he too were waiting for something, or someone. The dragon’s unease mirrored your own, and it made your pulse quicken. What was it that lingered in the shadows of that cave?

But Daemon urged you forward, guiding you back towards the castle. The call faded with each step, the heavy presence lifting from the air, though the feeling of something unresolved still weighed on you. You weren’t sure what had just happened, or if it would come to anything, but you knew that something was out there. You could feel it deep in your bones.

As you returned to the safety of the castle, you could only hope that the strange pull from the cave was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But in the back of your mind, something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you heard the whisper.

You sat with your daughter, Vaelya, in her room, gently brushing and braiding her silver hair. The soft glow of the afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm hue over the room. She sat quietly, her hands resting on her lap, but her eyes sparkled with excitement as she handed you a small piece of fabric.

“I finished this today,” she said proudly, showing off her neat stitching. The design was simple, but her careful work and attention to detail were evident.

You smiled warmly, running your fingers over the stitches. “This is beautiful, Vaelya. You’ve done such a wonderful job.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she beamed with pride. “I want to learn how to make clothes,” she said, turning to look at you with a determined expression. “So I can sew something for the new baby when they arrive.”

Your heart swelled at her words, and you placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “That’s very thoughtful of you, sweet girl. I’m sure your new sibling will cherish anything you make for them. And I’ll help you, if you’d like."

Vaelya nodded enthusiastically, her small hands gripping the fabric tightly. “I want it to be perfect. Something they can wear when they’re little and keep forever.”

You couldn’t help but smile, pride and love filling your chest as you looked at your daughter. She was growing up to be such a kind and caring soul, and moments like this reminded you of just how special she was. “It will be perfect, Vaelya, because it will be made with love.”

Vaelya looked up at you with her big, earnest eyes, her fingers toying with the edge of her fabric. “I hope the baby is a girl,” she said softly, almost shyly. “Sometimes, I feel lonely when my brothers go off to train with Father. They’re always together, and… it’s just me.”

You paused for a moment, your heart aching for your little girl. Setting down the comb, you leaned forward and cupped her face gently in your hands. “Oh, sweet one,” you said tenderly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I know it’s hard sometimes, but your brothers love you so much. And they’re never too far away.”

Vaelya nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I know. But it would be nice to have someone to stay with me—someone like me.”

You smiled warmly and pulled her into a comforting embrace, stroking her hair as you whispered, “Perhaps the gods will hear your wish, my love. If they will it, then you may just get the sister you dream of. But even if the baby is another brother, he’ll still be a part of our family and love you just as much.”

She rested her head against your shoulder, her small arms wrapping around you. “I’ll love them either way,” she murmured, her voice muffled. “But I hope the gods are listening.”

You chuckled softly, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll have to wait and see. But no matter what, you’ll never be alone, Vaelya. You have a family that loves you more than anything, and that will never change.”

You leaned back slightly, looking into Vaelya’s eyes with a playful smile. “You know, my sweet girl, there’s something special about being the only daughter in this family.”

She tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her silver eyes. “What’s that, Mother?”

You brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and said with a grin, “It means you’re the one who gets spoiled the most. Your father can never say no to you, can he? And your brothers? They’d move mountains just to see you smile.”

Vaelya giggled, her mood lifting. “That’s true! Father always lets me ride with him on Caraxes, even when my brothers have to wait.”

“Exactly,” you said, laughing along with her. “And when you want something, who’s the first to come running? It’s always your brothers, trying to outdo each other to make you happy. Don’t tell them, but I think you’ve got all of them wrapped around your little finger.”

She beamed, a spark of pride in her expression. “Maybe being the only girl isn’t so bad after all.”

You kissed her cheek and added, “It’s not bad at all. You’re their princess, Vaelya, and they’ll always treat you as such. No matter what, you’re cherished and loved beyond measure.”

Vaelya hugged you tightly, her arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you, Mother. I feel much better now.”

You stroked her hair and whispered, “Good. Never forget how special you are, my darling. You’re the heart of this family, and nothing will ever change that.”

You jolted awake, your breaths coming in uneven gasps. The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. You instinctively turned to your side, finding Daemon still deep in slumber, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looked so peaceful, oblivious to the torment that plagued your mind.

You ran a trembling hand over your face, trying to steady your breathing. The voice—no, the thing—had followed you even into your dreams. This time, it wasn’t just the echo of your name whispered in a way that sent chills down your spine. No, this time, it was accompanied by the piercing gaze of two glowing yellow eyes, their stare burning into you as if they saw through every layer of your being.

Your hand instinctively moved to your belly, seeking the comfort of the life growing within you. The faint fluttering movements of your unborn child eased you slightly but did little to dispel the unease that had taken root.

You exhaled slowly, trying not to wake Daemon as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The cold stone floor against your bare feet sent a jolt through your body, grounding you momentarily. You paced quietly, your mind racing. Was this a warning? A sign? Or simply your imagination conjuring something from the depths of your fear?

Your gaze flicked to the window, the same one you had stared through earlier that day. The ocean beyond looked endless, and for a moment, you thought you saw something moving just beneath the surface of the moonlit waves. You shook your head, dismissing it as a trick of your exhausted mind.

A soft sound from the bed startled you, and you turned to see Daemon stirring. His hand reached out, searching for you in his sleep. His brow furrowed when he found the space beside him empty.

“Love?” he mumbled groggily, his voice thick with sleep. He sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes before his gaze found you standing near the window. “What are you doing? Come back to bed.”

You hesitated, debating whether to tell him what you had seen—what you had felt. But the weight of it was too much to carry alone. Slowly, you crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, your back to him.

“The voice,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It was in my dreams tonight. But this time, it wasn’t just a voice. There were eyes—yellow eyes—staring at me. Watching me.”

Daemon sat up fully now, his concern evident in the way he placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Yellow eyes?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “What else?”

You shook your head, clutching his hand for strength. “That’s all. But it felt so… real, Daemon. I can still feel them, as if they’re watching me even now.”

Daemon’s grip tightened protectively. “Whatever it is, I won’t let it come near you or our children,” he said firmly, his voice laced with determination. “I’ll find out what’s behind this, I swear it.”

You nodded, leaning into his embrace. Yet, even as his arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the world, the memory of those yellow eyes lingered, a haunting reminder that something—or someone—was waiting in the shadows.

You woke up to the warmth of sunlight streaming into your chamber, bathing the room in golden hues. Your hand instinctively reached out to the space beside you, only to find it empty. Daemon’s absence was unusual. You turned your gaze to the window, noting that the sun was already high in the sky—a clear sign you had slept in later than usual.

Quickly, you rose from the bed, your movements a little slower due to the weight of your pregnancy. After a moment of washing and dressing with the help of your maidservants, you made your way toward the Great Hall, curious as to where your husband might be.

As you approached, the lively chatter of your children reached your ears, bringing a small smile to your face. Entering the hall, you saw all five of them gathered together, their silver hair gleaming in the sunlight as they talked animatedly. Each of them was full of life, their bond as siblings evident in their laughter and shared smiles.

“Good morning, my darlings,” you greeted, your voice warm. They all turned toward you, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. Vaelya was the first to rush over, wrapping her small arms around you as she glanced at your growing belly.

“Good morning, Mother,” she said sweetly. “We were just talking about dragons.”

“Of course you were,” you replied with a chuckle, brushing her hair back affectionately. The boys approached next, all of them brimming with energy as they greeted you.

Despite the joy of seeing your children, your eyes scanned the hall for Daemon. “And where is your father this morning?” you asked.

The children exchanged glances before Maegon, the eldest of your triplets, answered, “He left early. He said he had something to handle with Caraxes.”

“Something important,” Vaelya added, frowning slightly. “But he wouldn’t tell us what.”

You nodded, trying to hide your concern. It wasn’t unusual for Daemon to disappear for a time, especially when it came to matters involving Caraxes, but his absence felt different today. Something about it unsettled you.

“Did he say when he’d return?” you pressed gently.

Aerion shrugged. “No, but he told us to take care of you.”

Your heart warmed at their father’s thoughtfulness. “Well, I suppose we’ll see him when he returns,” you said, smoothing over your worry with a smile. “Now, tell me more about these dragons you’ve been discussing.”

For the moment, you decided to focus on your children, listening as they excitedly shared their thoughts on dragon lore and their dreams of flying. But in the back of your mind, the question lingered: where had Daemon gone, and why hadn’t he told you?

You watching your older triplets—Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion—engaged in their Valyrian lessons. Their voices rose and fell rhythmically, perfectly mimicking the fluid cadence of the ancient tongue. They had taken to the language naturally, their silver-haired heads bent over their scrolls as they recited lines of poetry and prose with pride and precision. You couldn’t help but smile, a deep sense of pride swelling within you.

Not far away, your two youngest children sat on a soft rug, their giggles and cheerful chatter filling the room. They weren’t yet old enough for formal lessons like their elder siblings, but their curiosity had already begun to bloom. The maester patiently read to them from a large tome, recounting tales of your family’s storied history, while they listened with wide, fascinated eyes. Occasionally, their little hands darted out to point at the illustrations, followed by an excited string of questions.

You leaned against the wall, your hand instinctively resting on your growing belly. The faint movements within reminded you of the life you were nurturing, the next addition to your family. Your children, your legacy, were everything to you. Watching them thrive—both in their studies and their play—filled you with an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Turning, you found one of your trusted handmaidens waiting. “My lady, everything is ready for your midday meal,” she said with a bow.

You nodded, glancing back at your children one last time before you stepped into the room. “Come now, my little dragons,” you said warmly, your voice drawing their attention. “It’s time to eat.”

Your older children exchanged a quick look before closing their scrolls, standing to join you with polite smiles. The younger two bounded toward you, their excitement spilling into laughter as they took your hands. The maester rose as well, bowing respectfully before excusing himself.

As you walked with your children, you felt a deep sense of contentment. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you had built something truly special—a family bound not only by blood but by love, trust, and the indomitable strength of your shared lineage.

You sat at the head of the table, your five children surrounding you, their laughter and lively chatter filling the room. Maegon, as usual, was up to his tricks, teasing Aerion by slipping a piece of fruit onto his plate when he wasn’t looking. Aerion caught on quickly, retaliating with a playful shove that almost knocked over a goblet.

“Careful, boys,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head. Vaelya rolled her eyes dramatically at her brothers, muttering something about how they were always so loud during meals, which only made the twins laugh harder. The younger two watched with wide, amused eyes, their small hands clutching at their cups as they giggled at their older siblings’ antics.

Despite the warmth and joy around you, your eyes kept drifting toward the door. Daemon had been gone since early morning, and his absence weighed heavily on you. He was rarely away from meals, especially when the whole family was gathered. A seed of worry had taken root in your chest, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the feeling lingered.

“Mother, are you all right?” Vaelya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Her sharp, observant gaze was fixed on you, her silver brows slightly furrowed in concern.

You smiled softly and reached out to squeeze her hand. “I’m fine, my love. Just a little distracted.”

Maegon leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Father’s probably off somewhere brooding over his sword. Or maybe Caraxes is keeping him company.”

Aerion snorted, but it was Vaelya who scolded her brother. “You shouldn’t say such things. Father will be here soon.”

Her words, though confident, didn’t entirely reassure you. You forced yourself to smile again, hoping it was enough to ease their concerns. “I’m sure he’ll join us shortly,” you said, though you weren’t entirely convinced yourself.

As the meal continued, you did your best to focus on your children, laughing at their jokes and encouraging their conversations. But every so often, your gaze would flicker back to the door, your heart silently willing Daemon to walk through it and ease the growing unease within you.

The soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet echoed through the serene garden, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze offering a soothing accompaniment. Yet, despite the tranquil surroundings, your thoughts were anything but calm. Daemon’s prolonged absence gnawed at your mind, an unwelcome companion to the unease that had lingered since the strange dream.

You stopped by the edge of the fountain, its crystal-clear water reflecting the late afternoon sun. Your hand instinctively rested on your growing belly, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of life stirring within you. The memory of those piercing yellow eyes from your dream resurfaced, sending a shiver down your spine.

Was it just a dream? Or something more?

You tried to push the thought aside, telling yourself it was nothing more than your imagination playing tricks on you. Yet, the way Caraxes had reacted near the caves, the whispers you’d heard… it all felt too coincidental.

The garden, usually a place of peace and joy, now felt slightly different—like the air itself was heavier, the shadows longer. You glanced around, your sharp instincts picking up on the faintest rustling in the bushes nearby.

“Daemon,” you murmured under your breath, your voice filled with a mixture of longing and worry.

But no one answered.

You continued to walk, your hands tracing the blooms of the roses you passed, their soft petals grounding you for the moment. Yet, your mind remained restless, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something just beyond your understanding.

For now, all you could do was wait—and hope that Daemon returned soon to ease the storm inside your heart.

The dim light of the late afternoon barely penetrated the entrance of the cave as you stood there, frozen in a mix of awe and apprehension. The cool, damp air from the cave brushed against your skin, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of earth and something more—something ancient, something powerful.

Your heartbeat quickened, a steady drum in your chest, as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. You took a tentative step forward, then another, the sound of your soft footfalls echoing faintly against the stone walls.

And then, you saw them.

Two glowing yellow eyes pierced the shadows, the very same eyes that had haunted your dreams. They watched you, unblinking, radiating an intelligence and intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

A low, rumbling growl filled the cavern, deep and resonant, reverberating through your bones. It wasn’t a sound of anger, but one of acknowledgement—a call, an answer, a connection.

As you stepped closer, the massive form of the dragon began to take shape in the dim light. Its scales were a deep shade of black, glistening faintly like polished obsidian, with streaks of gold running along its massive body. Its wings were folded close to its sides, but even so, you could sense the sheer power they held.

This was the creature that had been calling you. The voice you’d heard in your dreams, the presence you’d felt lingering in your thoughts—it was this dragon.

You took another step forward, your hand instinctively resting on your belly as if to shield the life growing within you. The dragon’s eyes shifted briefly to your hand, and you could feel a strange, almost protective energy emanating from it.

It lowered its massive head, bringing its snout closer to you, and let out a soft huff of warm air. The gesture felt like a test, as if it were gauging your courage, your resolve.

You reached out with trembling fingers, your heart pounding in your chest. As your hand made contact with the dragon’s scaled snout, a surge of warmth and energy coursed through you. It wasn’t just the touch of a dragon—it was a bond forming, a connection being forged.

This dragon had been waiting for you.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you whispered softly, “You’ve been calling me, haven’t you?”

The dragon let out a low rumble in response, its eyes closing briefly as if in agreement. This was no ordinary creature—it was a dragon of destiny, one that had chosen you, not just as its rider, but as its equal.

For the first time in days, the unease that had plagued you lifted. In its place was a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging. Whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you wouldn’t face them alone.

You stepped out of the dark cave, the sunlight momentarily blinding you as the dragon followed closely behind. The ground beneath you vibrated faintly with each heavy step the massive creature took. Its obsidian scales glinted in the light, making it appear both menacing and magnificent.

As you lifted your gaze, your eyes met Daemon’s. He stood a short distance away, his sword still sheathed, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run to find you. His expression was a mixture of shock, concern, and something else—awe.

His sharp eyes left yours and shifted to the beast that loomed behind you, its golden eyes meeting his for a moment before it let out a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the air. Caraxes, perched on a ridge not far away, responded with a hiss, his long neck stretching out as if to assert his dominance.

“Gods,” Daemon finally breathed, his voice rough with emotion. He took a step toward you, his eyes darting between you and the dragon. “You’ve bonded with it.”

You nodded, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your swollen belly. “It has been calling me, Daemon,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “In my dreams, in my thoughts. It was waiting for me.”

Daemon’s gaze flicked to the dragon again, his jaw tightening. “You entered the cave alone?” His voice held a hint of reproach, but it was overshadowed by the amazement in his tone.

“I had to,” you replied firmly. “This bond… it was meant to be.”

The dragon behind you lowered its massive head, releasing a deep, resonating growl as if to agree. Daemon’s lips parted slightly, and he shook his head in disbelief. He took another step closer, now standing directly in front of you.

“You never cease to surprise me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek briefly before sliding down to rest on your belly. His other hand gestured toward the dragon. “What do you plan to name this beast?”

You turned, looking back at the dragon whose glowing golden eyes still watched you intently. A name formed in your mind, as if it had been waiting there all along.

“Aryx,” you said softly, the name feeling like a perfect match for the creature’s power and grace.

Daemon tilted his head, considering the name before nodding approvingly. “Aryx,” he echoed. “Fitting for one as formidable as this.”

You smiled faintly and looked back at him. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Daemon smirked faintly, his usual arrogance returning to his expression. “Worry me? You’ll be the death of me one day, woman.” His tone was teasing, but the way his hand lingered on you spoke volumes of his relief.

With one last glance at Aryx, Daemon turned back to you. “Come. You’ll have to explain all of this to the children. And I suppose you’ll want them to meet your new companion.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders as he led you back toward the keep. Behind you, Aryx released a mighty roar, the sound echoing across the cliffs, declaring its presence to the world.

As you walked alongside Daemon toward the training grounds, you could already hear the excited chatter of your children and the occasional roars of their dragons. The sight before you warmed your heart: Maegon, Vaelya, Aerion, and the twins were bustling around, preparing their saddles and checking their dragons. The bond they shared with their mighty companions was unbreakable, and it showed in every gesture and movement.

Daemon glanced at you with a knowing smirk. “They’ve grown so much,” he said, pride lacing his tone. “Soon they’ll rival even the best riders in the Seven Kingdoms.”

You nodded, your gaze never leaving your children. “They are remarkable,” you said softly. “But that is no surprise—they take after their father."

Daemon chuckled, his arm brushing against yours. “And their mother, who seems determined to keep surprising me.”

As the children mounted their dragons, Daemon turned to you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Come, let us join them. You shouldn’t just watch from the ground.”

You shook your head with a smile, placing a hand on his arm. “Not yet. Go with them, Daemon. I’ll follow soon enough.”

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued, but he didn’t press further. “As you wish,” he said with a shrug, leaning in to kiss your temple before walking toward Caraxes.

You watched as your family took to the skies, their dragons soaring into the clouds with powerful wingbeats. Their laughter and cheers echoed down to you, filling the air with a sense of joy and freedom.

Once they were high above, you turned back toward the path leading to Aryx’s cave. The dragon waited for you, his golden eyes watching your every move. With steady determination, you approached and climbed onto his back, feeling the surge of power beneath you as he rose to his full height.

“Let’s give them a surprise,” you murmured to Aryx, and with a mighty roar, he took off.

The wind rushed past you, and the exhilaration of flying filled your chest. As you ascended higher, you spotted your family in the distance. Your children were the first to notice, their astonished faces turning toward you. Vaelya’s delighted laugh rang out, and Maegon pointed, shouting something to Aerion.

Daemon turned, his eyes widening in disbelief as Aryx flew closer. His smirk grew into a full grin as he shook his head, clearly impressed.

You and Aryx joined the formation, gliding gracefully alongside your family. The children circled you, cheering and calling out to Aryx, who responded with a roar of his own. Daemon guided Caraxes closer, his voice carrying over the wind.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, my love!” he shouted, his grin unrelenting.

You laughed, your heart swelling with pride and happiness. For a moment, as you soared through the skies with your family, all was perfect, and the world felt entirely yours.

As the wind rushed past your face, you couldn’t help but feel a familiar exhilaration coursing through your veins. This wasn’t your first time in the skies; you had flown before, though on Caraxes, with Daemon close behind to guide you. Those moments had been thrilling but restrained, as you were a guest on his dragon, not its rider.

But this—this was different. Sitting atop Aryx, feeling the immense power beneath you, was a completely new sensation. His every movement responded to your unspoken commands, the bond between you forming as if it had always been there.

You recalled Daemon’s words from years ago, the first time you’d mounted Caraxes. “You have the blood of the dragon in your veins,” he’d said, his voice steady with confidence. “It’s time you learned what that means.”

At the time, you’d been nervous but determined. Riding Caraxes had been a test, one that you had passed. Even then, you had felt the connection, the sense of belonging that came with being a Targaryen, a child of fire and blood. But riding another’s dragon, no matter how trusted, was nothing like this.

Aryx was yours. His golden eyes mirrored the fire that burned within you, and his roars seemed to echo the strength you had always carried. It was as if he had been waiting for you all along, waiting for the right moment to be claimed.

Now, as you soared alongside your family, you understood what it truly meant to be a dragonrider. Your mother’s legacy, the Targaryen blood that coursed through your veins, had made this moment possible.

Your children’s cheers and laughter brought you back to the present. Vaelya waved enthusiastically, her silver hair whipping in the wind. “Mother, you look magnificent!” she called out, her voice brimming with excitement.

Daemon, ever the watchful husband, guided Caraxes closer. His eyes gleamed with pride as he glanced at Aryx, then back at you. “I should have known you wouldn’t settle for anything less than your own dragon,” he teased, his voice warm.

You smirked, feeling more confident than ever. “I am a Targaryen, after all,” you replied, your tone playful but resolute.

The skies were alive with the sound of dragons and laughter, and for the first time in a long while, you felt utterly complete. This was your family, your legacy, and your destiny. The dragon within you had awakened, and there was no turning back.

As your feet touched the ground, the adrenaline of the flight still coursing through you, your children came running toward you with wide smiles and eyes alight with excitement.

“Mother, you were incredible!” Maegon exclaimed, his face flushed with admiration. Vaelya nodded vigorously, her silver hair shimmering in the sunlight. “You looked so powerful, flying alongside us!”

Aerion smirked, crossing his arms. “I think Aryx suits you better than Caraxes ever did,” he teased, earning a chuckle from his siblings.

You smiled warmly at them, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It seems I’ve made the right choice,” you said, glancing back at Aryx, who settled on the ground behind you with a proud huff.

Daemon approached you then, his expression softer than usual, though his eyes still carried that glint of mischief. He placed a hand gently on your stomach, his touch warm and familiar. “The blood of the dragon runs strong in you,” he murmured, his voice laced with pride.

You chuckled softly, resting your hand over his. “And in them too,” you replied, glancing at your children, who were now animatedly talking about your flight.

Daemon leaned closer, his voice low so only you could hear. “You continue to surprise me, my love. First, you claim a dragon, and now you carry another part of our legacy.”

You met his gaze, your smile softening. “This is only the beginning, Daemon,” you whispered, a sense of quiet determination in your tone.

The moment was filled with the warmth of family, the strength of your bond, and the unyielding pride of being part of the Targaryen legacy. Together, as the dragons roared softly in the background, you felt unstoppable.

Time seemed to move swiftly, and now you were in the final months of your pregnancy. Your growing belly made every movement more deliberate, yet you couldn’t help but feel restless under the watchful eyes of Daemon, Maegon, and Aerion.

They had practically barricaded you in your chambers, determined to ensure you rested properly. “Mother, you need to think of the babies,” Maegon would say, his tone a perfect echo of Daemon’s sternness. Aerion, equally protective, would add, “You promised to stay in bed. Don’t make us get Father involved.”

Even Vaelya, your usually gentle daughter, seemed to side with her brothers, albeit with a softer touch. “It’s only a few more weeks, Mother,” she’d plead, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders as she helped adjust your pillows. “You’ll see your dragon again soon.”

The restriction stung most when you thought of Aryx. The bond you had formed with your dragon was unlike anything else, and the thought of not visiting him made your heart ache. Yet every time you mentioned it, Daemon would shoot you a look that left no room for argument.

“I’ll not risk you or our children,” he declared one evening as he sat beside you, his hand resting protectively on your swollen belly. “Aryx will wait, but these little dragons need you here.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m surrounded by dragons,” you teased lightly, though the frustration lingered in your voice.

Daemon smirked, leaning closer. “Indeed, and they all take after me,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Despite their protectiveness, you couldn’t deny the love and care surrounding you. Even if it meant enduring the confinement for a while longer, you knew it was born of their devotion to you and the new life growing inside you.

Despite the strict orders from Daemon and your sons, you rarely followed them to the letter. You valued your moments of freedom, however small, and the garden became your secret escape.

Whenever Daemon and the children flew together with their dragons, you took the opportunity to slip away from your chambers. With the help of your most trusted handmaidens and guards, you ensured no word of your little excursions ever reached your overprotective family.

Clad in a simple cloak to conceal yourself, you carefully made your way to the garden. The fresh air and the vibrant colors of the flowers felt like a reprieve from the monotony of your confinement. You would sit beneath the shade of a tree, your hand gently resting on your swollen belly as you gazed up at the sky.

Above, the sight of your children soaring through the air on their dragons filled you with pride and joy. You could hear their laughter echoing through the clouds as they raced one another or practiced aerial maneuvers. Aryx’s occasional roar would mix with the sounds of the other dragons, a reminder of the bond you had with him, even if you couldn’t be by his side.

You often whispered to the babies in your belly, “One day, you’ll fly too. Your siblings will teach you everything.”

When their flights ended and they descended back to the ground, you made sure to return to your chambers before anyone noticed your absence. The guards and servants who had kept your secret offered you subtle smiles, understanding the importance of these small moments of peace.

But you knew it was only a matter of time before Daemon or one of your children caught on to your little rebellion. And when that day came, you were sure there would be a lecture—likely from all of them. Until then, you relished these fleeting moments of freedom under the open sky.

As you sat beneath your favorite tree, the soothing breeze ruffling your hair, a familiar voice broke the peaceful silence.

“Mother!” Maegon’s voice echoed through the garden, firm and laced with disapproval. “Why are you not in bed?”

You flinched slightly and turned to see your eldest son striding toward you, his silver hair shining under the sunlight. Aerion followed close behind, his arms crossed, wearing an expression that mirrored his brother’s irritation. Vaelya trailed behind them, her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly torn between supporting her brothers and sympathizing with you.

“I needed some fresh air,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you adjusted your position under the tree. “I promise I’m being careful.”

“That’s not the point, Mother,” Aerion said, his tone exasperated. “You’re supposed to be resting. Father specifically said—”

“Oh, your father,” you interrupted with a soft laugh. “He’ll scold me enough when he finds out. Do you really have to add to it?”

Vaelya stepped forward, her expression softening as she knelt beside you. “Mother, we’re just worried. You’re in your last months, and we don’t want anything to happen to you or the babies.”

Her gentle words tugged at your heart, and you reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, my darling. But I promise I’m not doing anything reckless.”

Maegon knelt in front of you, his hands resting on his knees. “At least let us bring you back to your chambers,” he insisted, his voice softer now but still firm.

“And what of your flight practice?” you asked, tilting your head playfully.

Aerion shook his head. “We’ll return to it after we make sure you’re safely back where you belong.”

You sighed, knowing there was no arguing with them. “Fine,” you relented with a small smile. “But you’ll have to help me up. Your little siblings are making it quite difficult for me to move around these days.”

All three of them immediately moved to assist you, their concern evident in their careful movements. As Maegon and Aerion supported you on either side, Vaelya stayed close, keeping an eye on you as if to ensure you didn’t try to escape their watchful care again.

As you walked back toward the castle, you chuckled softly to yourself. “You’re all so much like your father,” you murmured, earning a collective groan from your children.

“Someone has to be,” Maegon replied with a smirk, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

As you walked back to your chambers with Maegon, Aerion, and Vaelya, you felt the sharp pangs of contraction intensify. Your hand instinctively went to your swollen belly, your breathing becoming shallow as you tried to hide the pain from your children.

“Mother, are you alright?” Vaelya asked, her brows furrowing in concern as she stayed close to you.

“I’m fine, sweet girl,” you replied, offering her a reassuring smile despite the discomfort. “Just help me get to my chambers.”

Once inside, you eased yourself onto the bed, your breaths coming heavier. “Maegon, Aerion,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Go find your father and bring him here. Tell him it’s urgent.”

Both boys nodded, though worry was evident in their expressions. “We’ll bring him right away,” Maegon assured you before he and Aerion quickly left the room.

Vaelya stayed by your side, her small hands reaching out to hold yours. “Is it time, Mother?” she asked softly, her voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.

“It seems so,” you said, stroking her silver hair to calm her. “But don’t worry, my darling. Everything will be alright.”

She nodded, though her grip on your hand tightened as another contraction hit you. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

“Shall I fetch the maester?” Vaelya offered, her tone eager to help.

“Not yet,” you said, squeezing her hand gently. “Stay with me for a moment. Your brothers and father will be back soon.”

The two of you sat together, the room filled with a quiet tension as you braced yourself for what was to come. Despite the pain, you found comfort in Vaelya’s presence, her strength reminding you of how much she was growing into her own.

You exhaled shakily, gripping Vaelya’s hand as another wave of contractions rippled through you. “Vaelya,” you said softly but firmly, “go now and fetch the maester—”

Before she could respond, the door swung open. Daemon strode in, his expression a mix of worry and urgency, followed closely by Maegon, Aerion, and your younger sons, each looking equally anxious. Behind them came the maester and a group of midwives, already prepared for what lay ahead.

Daemon’s violet eyes locked onto you immediately as he crossed the room in quick strides. “I told you to rest,” he said, though his tone was less scolding and more laced with concern. He knelt beside the bed, gently taking your free hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you managed, though your voice wavered. “It’s time, Daemon.”

Vaelya stepped aside as the maester and midwives moved to your side, their practiced hands beginning preparations. Your sons stood awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to stay or leave, until Daemon turned to them with a commanding but gentle tone.

“Take your sister to the other chamber,” he said, glancing back at Vaelya, who hesitated for a moment. “Stay together and wait for news. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”

Vaelya nodded, her lip trembling slightly as she cast one last glance at you. “Be strong, Mother,” she whispered before Maegon gently guided her out, his arm protectively around her shoulders.

Once the door closed behind them, Daemon turned back to you, his hands moving to steady you as another contraction surged through your body. “You’ll be alright,” he said softly, his voice steady and reassuring. “I’m here. We’re doing this together.”

You gripped his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence as the maester gave quiet instructions to the midwives. The room filled with focused energy, and despite the pain, you felt a surge of determination. Soon, your family would grow once more.

You screamed as another wave of pain tore through you, your grip on Daemon’s hand tightening until your knuckles turned white. The maester and midwives moved swiftly around you, preparing for the imminent birth, but your focus was entirely on the searing discomfort and the man at your side.

Daemon leaned in closer, his voice low and soothing as he murmured, “You’re strong, my love. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again. Breathe with me—”

You shot him a glare sharp enough to rival the edge of Dark Sister. “Easy for you to say,” you snapped through gritted teeth, your tone biting despite the exhaustion. “You’re not the one pushing out your insufferable offspring.”

Daemon smirked faintly, though there was a flicker of guilt in his violet eyes. “Fair enough,” he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair away from your face. “But you’ve always been stronger than me. You’ll survive this, as you always do, and I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Another contraction tore through you, cutting off any retort you might have had. Instead, you groaned loudly, your head falling back against the pillows. Daemon tightened his hold on your hand, his face now entirely serious. “You’re almost there,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. “Focus. You can do this.”

Despite your irritation, his presence grounded you. As much as you wanted to yell at him for being infuriatingly calm, his unwavering support gave you a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos.

With a guttural scream, you pushed with every ounce of strength you had, your cries echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down your face as the pain overwhelmed you, but you didn’t stop. The maester’s voice was a distant murmur, urging you to keep going, but all you could focus on was the burning pressure and the sound of your own labored breathing.

From outside, a deep, resonant roar cut through the night—a sound that sent shivers down the spine of everyone in the castle. Your dragon’s call was filled with raw emotion, almost as if it mirrored your pain, your struggle. It was a bond deeper than words, one that transcended distance.

Daemon’s hand was in yours, his grip firm yet reassuring. His voice, usually so confident and commanding, was filled with worry as he whispered, “Almost there, my love. Just a little more. You’ve got this.”

The roar of your dragon grew louder, shaking the very walls, as if demanding your triumph. It was a primal connection—beast and rider, enduring the agony together. The sound gave you strength, a reminder of the power that ran through your veins.

You cried out, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as the maester urged you to push once more. The pain was overwhelming, your body strained beyond its limits, but you knew you were close. Tears streamed down your face as you screamed again, the sound of your agony echoing through the room.

Outside, the roar of your dragon reverberated through the castle walls, a deep, mournful sound that seemed to resonate with your very soul. It was as if the creature could feel every ounce of your pain, sharing in your struggle even from a distance.

“One more push, my lady,” the maester’s voice broke through the haze. “You can do this.”

With every ounce of strength left in you, you pushed, your cries blending with the primal roar of your dragon. And then, suddenly, the tension broke, and the room filled with the sound of a baby’s cry.

Tears of relief and joy blurred your vision as you collapsed back onto the bed, trembling and breathless. Daemon’s grip on your hand tightened, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.

“It’s a girl,” the maester announced with a small smile, carefully wrapping your daughter in a soft cloth before placing her in your arms.

You gazed down at the tiny, wriggling bundle, her silver hair already glinting faintly in the dim candlelight. Her cries quieted as she felt your warmth, her little fists opening and closing as if reaching for you.

Daemon leaned closer, his hand brushing gently against the baby’s head. “A daughter,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s perfect.”

Outside, your dragon’s roar softened, almost as if it, too, was calming down now that the ordeal was over. You smiled weakly, kissing your daughter’s forehead as you whispered, “Welcome to the world, little one.”

You cradled your newborn daughter gently in your arms, her tiny fingers curling around your thumb. Her soft cries had subsided, and now she rested peacefully against your chest. A smile spread across your face as you admired her delicate features. She was perfect in every way.

The door creaked open, and you turned your head to see Vaelya standing there, her silver hair glinting in the candlelight and her violet eyes wide with joy. Her small hands were clasped together, trembling slightly as if she couldn’t contain her excitement.

“She’s here,” Vaelya whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “My sister…”

You beckoned her closer, and she hesitated only a moment before rushing to your side. She gazed down at the baby in awe, her eyes shimmering with tears. “She’s so small,” she murmured, brushing a finger gently across her sister’s tiny hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Before you could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Moments later, the door burst open, and your four sons came rushing in, their laughter and voices filling the room.

“Where is she?” Maegon demanded, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on the bundle in your arms. Aerion followed closely behind, shushing his younger brothers even though his own excitement was barely contained.

Vaelya stepped aside reluctantly to give them room, though her protective stance didn’t go unnoticed. Each of the boys took turns peering at their new sister, their expressions a mixture of fascination and pride.

“She’s tiny,” Aerion observed with a grin, his tone teasing. “Like a hatchling."

“She’s a princess,” Maegon corrected him, his voice firm. “And she’ll grow into a dragon, just like us.”

“She already has,” Vaelya interjected, her voice soft but unwavering. “She’s my sister.”

You watched the scene with tears in your eyes, your heart swelling as your children gathered around you. They bickered playfully over who would protect her the most, but their love for their new sibling was already evident.

As the noise subsided, Daemon stepped back into the room, his gaze falling on the six of you. He didn’t say a word but crossed the room to stand by your side, his hand resting on your shoulder.

“She’s ours,” you whispered, looking up at him with a smile. “All of them are.”

“And they’re perfect,” Daemon replied, his voice low with pride as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple.

Vaelya turned to Daemon with wide, pleading eyes, her excitement almost tangible. “May I name her, Father? Please?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with hope.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, glancing at you with a small smirk. “Do you think you’re ready for such a responsibility, little dragon?” he teased, though his tone was warm.

Vaelya straightened her shoulders, her expression determined. “I am. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

He chuckled, nodding. “Very well, then. Let’s hear it.”

Vaelya hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer to you, her gaze fixed on her baby sister. “Her name is Nyelarys,” she announced proudly, her voice steady. “It means ‘radiant one’ in High Valyrian. She will shine brighter than the stars, and her fire will be as strong as any dragon.”

The room fell silent as everyone absorbed the name. Daemon tilted his head, a rare softness in his expression as he repeated the name quietly to himself. “Nyelarys,” he said, testing the sound. Then, he nodded in approval. “A fitting name. You’ve done well, Vaelya.”

Your sons, standing nearby, each murmured their agreement, though they couldn’t resist throwing in a few playful comments about who would teach Nyelarys to ride a dragon or wield a sword.

You smiled at Vaelya, your heart swelling with pride. “It’s perfect,” you said softly, stroking her hair. “Just like you.”

Vaelya’s cheeks flushed with happiness, and she looked down at her sister with a radiant smile. “Welcome to the family, Nyelarys,” she whispered.

You smiled warmly at Vaelya as she gazed at her baby sister, her silver hair shining in the soft light of the chamber. “Would you like to hold her?” you asked gently.

Vaelya’s eyes widened, and she looked at you, almost hesitant. “May I?” she asked softly, her voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, adjusting Nyelarys in your arms before carefully passing her to Vaelya. “Of course. Just be gentle.”

Vaelya sat on the edge of the bed, her movements careful and precise. She cradled Nyelarys in her arms, her hands supporting the baby’s head the way you had shown her. For a moment, she simply stared at her little sister, her expression a mixture of awe and adoration.

“She’s so tiny,” Vaelya whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “And beautiful.”

You watched the tender moment, your heart swelling with pride. “She’s lucky to have a sister like you, Vaelya,” you said softly.

Vaelya looked up at you, her eyes shining. “I’ll protect her. Always. Just like you and Father protect us.”

Your throat tightened at her words, and you leaned forward to kiss her temple. “I know you will,” you murmured.

Nyelarys let out a soft coo, and Vaelya laughed quietly, brushing a finger against the baby’s cheek. “I’ll teach her everything I know,” she said, her voice filled with determination.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, and you both turned toward the door just as Daemon and your sons returned. Each of them held a cloth-covered bundle, their faces alight with excitement.

“We’ve chosen the perfect egg,” Maegon announced proudly, his voice echoing in the room. Aerion added with a grin, “Father made us climb the hardest path to find it.”

Daemon smirked, holding up the egg he’d chosen. “Only the best for our little princess,” he said, his tone teasing as he walked over to you and Vaelya.

Vaelya glanced down at her sister, then back at the egg. “It will hatch,” she said with confidence. “It has to. She’s one of us.”

You exchanged a knowing look with Daemon as the boys gathered around, their excitement filling the room. It was a moment that reminded you of the strength and love within your family, one that would endure for generations.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

[taradactyls]

Sneak Peak of Chapter Forty-Two of Trying to Tread Water

As promised, because I didn't get the chapter finished before Christmas busyness kicked in, and I didn't want to leave you all with nothing over the holidays. Hopefully this will keep you going until I get the chance to write the rest of the chapter!

~

Chapter Forty-Two

When seeing that the direction was in his aunt’s hand, Mr Darcy scowled at the letter a moment, before returning it, unopened, to the silver platter with the other mail.

“What is it?” enquired Elizabeth softly from the sofa, noting his expression.

“Lady Catherine has written,” replied he. Elizabeth looked as though she might stand, and he gestured for her to remain seated as he instead moved to sit beside her. “I was not expecting it. Georgiana had heard nothing from our aunt about such a step as of her last letter.”

“A response from Lady Catherine! Do you not want to read it now?”

“Not in the least.”

Elizabeth took his hand into both of her own. “Surely there is nothing to dread? At worst, even if she does scold you and denigrate me, we are exactly where we were before.”

“It is not that I dread anything Lady Catherine has to say,” he said frankly, meeting Elizabeth’s sympathetic eyes. “Instead, I simply refuse to have our morning disturbed by her. I am looking forward to going around the park with you in the curricle far too much to allow the contents of her letter – whatever that may be – to intrude. There is time to read it and think about any ramifications or responses later.”

“Well,” his wife smiled, “I cannot pretend a morning seeing Pemberley with you is not an infinitely more appealing prospect.”

He pulled one of her hands up to give it a kiss, and kept holding it as they fine-tuned the details of their outing. Yes, this was a far greater priority than his aunt.

Mr Collins would be aghast if he could see Pemberley over the course of that day, for as it happened, there was much that its occupants deemed more important than Lady Catherine, and so the ‘later’ designated as the time to open her missive did not come until long after nightfall. But as he could not see, there was not one person displeased by this and peace was allowed to reign on English shores. Mr and Mrs Darcy were settled comfortably in nightclothes and robes in her room, on the lounge before the fire, when Elizabeth, feet tucked upon the seat as she leant against an arm rest, finally watched her husband pensively open the letter. He perused it briefly, his expression revealing little.

“Lady Catherine does not insult you, so here,” he said, offering Elizabeth the letter, “you may read it for yourself.”

Though too respecting of the privacy of correspondence to have ever asked to see it, Elizabeth could not hide her eagerness to read the words of the infamous Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Mr Darcy gave her a brief summary as she took it from him. “Though there is a little resistance, it does seem her resentment is giving way. You were right, Mrs Darcy, to prevail upon me to overlook the offence and seek a reconciliation.”

“I am too glad for your and Miss Darcy’s sake to even be vain about my unparalleled wisdom,” she smiled.

“Clearly,” he replied, arching an amused brow.

She only smiled again and turned to the letter, which did show promising signs that the breach may be mended. Yet not even that relief, nor the seriousness of the topic, could negate how diverted Elizabeth was by reading some of Lady Catherine’s highhanded phrases.

Mr Darcy observed her silently as she read, sitting sideways with one knee on the seat and an arm propped on the back of the lounge, head half-leaning against that hand. “What part are you reading?” asked he, after she could not withhold a brief laugh.

Putting on her best imperious – and only slightly comical – voice, Elizabeth grandly reread the sentence. “‘I am pleased to discover from your petition to me that you have not entirely forgotten that sense of familial duty which was always so admirable in you.’”

The gentleman groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. “How I hate to feel I am supplicating before her.”

“You do not appreciate being told ‘I know how distressing my displeasure must be to you, for you could not but feel it keenly, and as I am more compassionate than most I cannot but be touched by your agony’?” replied Elizabeth, reading again from the letter in the same tone.

That did draw a smile from Mr Darcy.

“But of course, how could you mind it,” Elizabeth said archly, poking his leg with her foot for emphasis, “when you are the wayward nephew being so generously welcomed back into the fold.”

He seized her foot before she could poke him again, and smiled fully at her surprised response. “I mind it significantly less when you are the one reading it to me,” said he as he lay her foot across his lap, his hand resting gently atop her ankle, skin separated only by her nightgown. “I might even be able to hear it without a shade of resentment and thus formulate a more measured response.”

“Well then,” replied Elizabeth, ignoring the heat in her face, “allow me to get comfortable and resume.”

Impulsively propping her other foot up next to the first on his lap, Elizabeth read on. She felt most of the letter seemed a superfluous demonstration to appease Lady Catherine’s own pride, and allow her ladyship to ignore the fact that the aunt benefitted far more from amicability with her nephew than the reverse. But, as that made for good material to read in an irreverent fashion, Elizabeth would hardly complain that the letter could be reduced to a third of its actual size without losing any crucial content. Especially when Mr Darcy was so often smiling at her delivery of the lines, the warm glow from the fire softening the lines of his aspect even further.

A little bit swept up in it, Elizabeth was not always aware exactly of what she was saying. One moment it was a condescending “If you wish to honour that unique trust that is placed in yourself and your cousin, the Colonel, to aiding the maintenance and proper management of Rosings Park, I should not object to allowing you the opportunity to regain my esteem by seeing you again in that capacity.’” The next, it was “‘Very well, Fitzwilliam, I will recognise you again, and even allow your marriage to stand,’” before Elizabeth suddenly realised what she just uttered.

Halting suddenly, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to Fitzwilliam Darcy, and was horrified to see him grimacing. Before she could apologize for the unintended causal liberty, for their situation, though married, was unique, he spoke.

“I had imagined my name from your lips would sound sweet,” he said, gaze fixed upon the fire, “yet when it is as you recite the words of my aunt, I cannot enjoy it at all.”

Though eased of her apprehension, she still explained “I was not thinking – I had not – I would never presume the right to address you so intimately. I only ever hear my mother use my father’s name when they are alone and she is so cross her voice travels through the walls.”

“That is also a far stray from my imaginings,” he said ruefully. His glance towards her was gentle, and his thumb brushing her ankle even more so, when he added “Do not fret, you have more than earnt the right to address me without ceremony in private. Plus, I have been calling you Elizabeth when we are alone for months now – I do not even know when I begun.”

Elizabeth smiled slightly at this, before her mind caught on what else he had first said. “How did you imagine it?” she enquired with a frown.

Mr Darcy blushed a deep crimson. “Mostly, mere casual use.”

“Well, in that case, what are our plans for tomorrow, Fitzwilliam?”       

It felt strange on her tongue, but only from newness. The taste of the name, the answering restrained happiness in Mr Darcy’s expression, was perfect. “Exactly as sweet as I thought,” said he.

Elizabeth herself blushed, and did not for a moment know where to look. “I hope not so sweet that you expect me to call you thus in public – I could hardly throw off decorum so blatantly,” she teased. Even her mother, as vulgar as she could be, would never be so crass as to incorrectly address her husband before others. The formality of a wife was part of upholding her husband’s honour and respectability, and showed her own gentility. It was simply good-breeding.

“No – such intimacy is not for their ears. Only you.”

“Then when we are alone, I shall consider you Fitzwilliam.” My Fitzwilliam, she wanted to say. Rising instead to levity, she added “Except for when I am very cross, apparently. What should I call you then?” she mused.

In an amused tone, he replied “I imagine the name you use will be of less import to me than your displeasure itself.”

“Perhaps I shall be so incensed that ‘Mr Darcy’ feels like a courtesy I do not want to give, and though ‘Darcy’ alone does roll off the tongue – and very easy to give that added emphasis to the first syllable, when venting my frustrations – perhaps I ought to go with the full name. Although an irritated ‘Fitzwilliam Darcy’ does rather sound like scolding a wayward child, and I am not sure that is the tone I want to capture when mad at you. I certainly cannot say ‘Mr D.’ or any other sort of abbreviation! And ‘husband’ seems so formal and cold when angry – although,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head in consideration, “I suppose that might have its uses –”

“Enough, Elizabeth,” Mr Darcy cut in with a smile. “I doubt this is a matter that needs to be pre-considered.”

“You are right,” she replied archly. “I should just go with the name that feels right in the moment.”

“Not exactly what I meant –”

“Unless that name is Fitzwilliam. Which I am to reserve only for sweet moments and never at all use when arguing.”

She smiled at his long-suffering sigh, the gentle stroke of his thumb over her ankle taking any negative associations from the sound. “I would retract my statement, that I do not want you to use it when cross, but I do not believe I ever asserted such. It is certainly not as bad as some of the names you might choose to call me during a quarrel.”

Elizabeth laughed at that. “And I suppose every name will sound sweeter when said happily.”

“Just so,” he said, looking at her.

They subsided into silence, gazes soft. Until Elizabeth suddenly remembered something: “But you know, Mr Dar- Fitzwilliam, that you never did answer my question as to what our plans are for the morrow.”

“Reply to that letter, for one,” he replied, nodding towards the letter Elizabeth she still held – completely forgotten in her distraction. “I ought to respond quickly, and propose that I visit this very month. Late March has ever been the tradition my cousin and I adhered to.”

“That will please Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he must attend then to supervise the planting is in order. No doubt he will appreciate the company if you are able to join him.”

“No less than I would appreciate his,” replied Mr Darcy. After a sombre pause, he added “I am uncertain of the likelihood of her granting permission for yourself to visit, however, so it may all be a moot point.”

Though growing curious about her new niece, Lady Catherine had not relented so entirely as to name Elizabeth as anything other than ‘your wife.’

Elizabeth could not help the smile that came to her face after a moment. “Well,” she said slowly, drawing out the word, “Charlotte keeps asking me to visit, so there is always the possibility we simply stay in different houses in the neighbourhood. That would not look odd at all!  I am certain it would inspire exactly zero gossip.”

“That might actually shame Lady Catherine into allowing you at Rosings.”

Elizabeth laughed, and by unspoken mutual agreement they left the topic there. There would be time enough to solve the dilemma of visiting Kent when Lady Catherine made her position on hosting her nephew and new niece clearer.

[darkpoisonouslove]

This scene is emotionally touching but narratively it's absolutely atrocious.

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

[tender-rosiey]

Your husband, sukuna AU, is driving me crazy. That's like my 1st time ever experiencing what a comfort fic was. I have been re-reading them like crazy 😭

If it's okay with you, can you do a husband sukuna AU but with whatever scene you want? I really love the way you write him,,, it's just so perfect 🥹

dry your tears — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: i am so glad you like them omg srsly you're too kind <33 i really hope you like this too 🥹🫶🫶

“my lord, her highness requests your presence in the garden.”

said man’s eyes open slowly, and he narrows them at the servant who instantly kneels to the ground. he scoffs, “requests? she sure has become impudent.”

the servant trembles, “that’s how she worded it, my lord. I swear I have no role in it.”

“I didn’t speak to you,” sukuna replies as he gets up as places his foot on the servant’s head, pressing into the ground a bit more.

the servant whimpers but tries to be as quiet as possible.

sukuna warns, “and you’re to address her as ‘her highness’ or ‘the queen’ only. do you understand?”

“but—but I did?” he splutters.

“ ’that’s how ‘she’ worded it?’ ” sukuna sneers.

“I didn’t mean it that way! I am sorry! I am sorry! my apologies, my lord!” the servants chokes out, and sukuna takes it as the cue to kick him out of his way.

he starts walking towards the garden, while stretching and examining his surroundings.

the palace hasn’t changed in the time he was gone which was good. at least the human servants are capable of doing one thing right.

the gates to the garden open, and they reveal you.

deep down, the sight brings a bit content to sukuna’s heart, seeing you alive and well. however, that is a vulnerability that he would never admit, so he gets closer to you.

you’re giving him your back despite, definitely, feeling his presence.

he groans, “what do you want?”

“where have you been?” you reply with the same tone.

he rolls his eyes, arms folded on his chest, “fighting, obviously. I was passing time.”

he hears you take a deep breath before you speak up, “and you couldn’t tell me in advance?”

he can tell that you’re trying to sound calm and collected. yet, he still can’t pinpoint whether you’re angry or sad. either way, he believes that your attitude is unacceptable.

he chides, “don’t blow it out of proportion, and you have the nerve to ‘request my—"

“you have been gone for a month.”

the edges of sukuna’s lips quirk up just a little as he starts to understand why you’re acting like this.

“not the first time,” he hums.

he sees your shoulders raise slightly, and they seem to get tenser by the second. you speak lowly, “but you usually tell me before you depart.”

he closes his eyes in annoyance.

this looks like it will drag out longer than he prefers. what he expected when he returned was him spending time with you, his wife, not you giving him your back and seemingly lecturing him.

“stop beating around the bush,” he commands, “what’s wrong with you?”

you grip your kimono tightly in your fist and squeeze your eyes shut as you exclaim, “you had me worried sick!” your voice is watery and is shaky, but you couldn’t help it.

you had spent the past month alone, nobody knew of sukuna’s whereabouts not even uraume. were you supposed to just calmly wait for his return?

he may be strong, but is it always guaranteed? especially considering how the sorcerers are always planning a way to lead him to his demise.

you bite your lip as you hold back a sob. meanwhile, your husband quirks a brow, “you crying?”

you open your eyes and stand up abruptly, “no, I am not!”

throwing the hood over your head, you turn towards the other entrance and announce, “I am going inside!”

you start your march with determination, but as you get close to the gate, you hear your husband sigh and stop you by the arm. he pulls you towards him, tearing off the hood to take a good look at you.

your tears are not plentiful, but he can see their traces.

you frown and try to pull back, “let go, sukuna!”

he raises a hand to cup your cheek and squishes your cheeks like a pufferfish. your eyes widen, and you furrow your eyebrows in frustration.

“stop this,” you shoot.

he looks silently at you for a few moments, and it starts making you nervous. you finally decide to ask, but then he starts wiping your tears.

you blink in confusion as he lightly scolds you, “foolish girl.”

you register the insult after a few seconds, and it makes you frown and look away while grumbling, “shut up.”

you sniffle lightly and pull away from him. he looks down at you, silently watching you. you try ignoring his gaze, but then you just snap your head at him and huff, “what are you staring for?”

you study his face for bit then falter, “if it’s about yelling at you then I am sorry, okay? I was frustrated and—”

he pinches your nose, making you yelp.

“your worrying is unnecessary,” he says slowly, “I will always come back.”

sukuna, you realize, is comforting you. he lays a hand on top of your head and commands you, albeit gently, “so stop crying.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will send my cat after you

[infictionalwonderland]

all the bau meeting spencer’s badass gf who drives a motorcycle, has tattoos, dresses like a mob wife!!!! pls pls pls i need to read their reactions to bby boy pulling us

i can definitely do that for you !!

“You have to be nice.” JJ stared imploringly at Derek who looked back at her in shock across their booth in the bar, falling dramatically back into his seat.

“Nic—I’ll be more than nice.” He assured with the beginnings of a mischievous grin, only for Emily to slap him across the back of the head. “Hey!”

“I bet she’ll be so cute! Like a mini female Spencer all bundled up in fluffy cardigans and—aww I bet she’ll have big adorable glasses.” Penelope gushed excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

The sound of a motorcycle roaring distracted them and they all looked out of the window in that general curiosity that people get upon hearing a motorcycle, who was the potential hottie driving it.

Penelope gasped loudly, her drink splashing as it clanked against the wooden surface. Emily and JJ’s mouths dropped open, eyes popping out of their skulls dramatically. Derek genuinely felt lightheaded as he watched the scene before him—grasping desperately at the edge of the booth. Rossi’s eyebrows arched and he shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself. Hotch merely stared, though a smirk was twitching at his lips.

“Absolutely not—“

“What? HOW—“

“It’s a clone. An alien!”

The team’s startled chatter broke off as Penelope shushed them all loudly: everyone watched as their Spencer, boy genius, Reid got off of the back of the motorcycle, removing his arms from around the waist of the breathtakingly gorgeous girl. He offered her his hand as he stood in front of her and she rolled her eyes fondly at him, taking it. When she stood, he unzipped her motorcycle jacket for her and eased it off her shoulders—revealing a silky black halter dress, her arms scattered in tattoos, as were her thighs. Hoops dangled from her ears, red bottoms on her feet, nails manicured and hands adorned in rings.

Derek literally flopped back into his seat, starstruck.

All of them watched, heads turned accordingly to never stop looking at the pair of you (mostly you), as Spencer folded your jacket over one arm before taking your hand in his other as you both walked to the entrance—they could see he was rambling and you stared up at him, a charmed smile on perfectly painted lips.

“I—“ Emily sucked in a breath, flustered, “they’re coming now—act natural.”

At her hiss, Penelope purposefully fell back into what she thought was a more relaxed position, fluffing her hair. JJ awkwardly straightened out her clothes, leg bouncing. Emily leaned over the table ‘casually’ swirling her drink and Derek positioned himself with a broad arm flexed on the windowsill, looking out the dirty screen of the bar window with a smoulder.

Hotch looked at them all and silently shook his head, Rossi chucked silently at his face of disappointment.

The team heard the click of your heels approaching and vague remnants of your conversation with him that led Spencer to giggling.

Shocked looks were exchanged and Penelope looked like she was going to melt into a gooey puddle of awwwww.

“Hello everyone!” Spencer chirped as he reached their table, happier and more relaxed than they’d ever seen him be. “It’s nice to see you all—this-this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” Your voice was silky smooth and Penelope eyed your immovable un-smudged lip-combo with admiration. “It really is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“The pleasure is absolutely all mi—“ Derek stopped, his sentence turning into a series of harsh wheezes as both Emily and JJ elbowed him in either side.

You blinked at them.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” He continued in a pained voice, collapsed dramatically into his seat.

JJ and Emily rolled their eyes.

“Hi! It is so so so cool to finally meet you—I’m Penelope and you are even prettier than Spencer described and, believe me, your doctor man used every ounce of this thick vocabulary to compliment you.”

You quirked a grin at the excited redhead in front on you, looking teasingly over at your boyfriend who was blushing bright red but he grinned shyly back at you.

“David Rossi.” The Italian introduced himself formally as you and Spencer sat down in the booth, opposite him. “I always knew Spencer was a man of good taste.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I would argue that we both have great taste.” You winked back, settling into your boyfriend’s side.

The team watched the easy way that Spencer allowed you into his space, the way in which he wrapped his arms around your waist with a comfortability they’d never seen before and the urge to smile was simply too much to ignore.

“I just want to say, If the genius ever messes up. .” Emily trailed off, making a phone with her hands and holding it against her ear, she mouthed ‘call me’ at you.

As laughter left your smirking lips, you looked up at your boyfriend who shook his head playfully down at you—you turned your head to kiss his cheek briefly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring.” You promised her as the laughter around the quietened slightly.

“And me!” Morgan piped up happily only to groan unhappily again as JJ slapped him over the head.

“Don’t call Morgan.” JJ advised, leaning across the table as though to confide a secret in you, voice lowering to a mock whisper, “he’s got an STD he refuses to get rid off.”

“LIES AND SLANDER.”

“Not on his good name.” Penelope joined in, giggling all the while.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—I’m Aaron Hotchner.” Your boyfriend’s boss introduced himself to you as everyone got sucked into taking the piss out of Derek.

“It’s lovely to meet you Hotch.” You replied kindly, taking the name you’d heard them all call him.

“Please,” Aaron paused briefly, glancing at Spencer with a minuscule smirk, “call me Aaron.”

You nodded with an unaware smile but Spencer’s mouth dropped as his boss to a sip of his drink to hide his smirk, not him too.

[paint-the-walls-white]

I don't share

Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader

Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..

Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!

König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,

"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.

"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.

"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"

König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."

Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.

"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.

"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"

He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.

"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.

He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.

The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.

You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.

König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.

He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.

"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"

The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.

"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"

You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.

"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.

"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.

"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.

"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.

König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.

He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.

"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"

"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."

König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.

"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."

You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.

"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.

"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."

He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.

You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.

He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin

"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"

"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."

You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.

"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."

You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.

König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.

A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.

"Braves Mädchen.."

You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.

"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."

Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.

He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.

"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.

You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.

He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."

He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.

König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.

"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."

He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.

"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."

König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.

"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.

He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus..

You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."

His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.

[baelarys]

𝙎𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

Aemond targaryen x Reader wife Velaryon

Word count: 3184

Warning: fluffy, Pregnancy.

Pt1 pt3 pt4

Autumn had arrived, bringing with it a cold wind that foretold the imminent arrival of winter. You felt the icy breeze cut through your cloak, forcing you to pull it tighter around your body. Unlike your previous two pregnancies, this one seemed to demand more of you; the weight of the life you carried within was beginning to take its toll. Your back constantly ached, your breasts were tense and sensitive, and your swollen feet barely supported the weight you had to bear.

As you walked through the castle halls, lost in thought, a sudden impact made you stagger. You barely had time to place a hand against the wall to avoid falling. As you looked down, you found Aerion on the ground, his small face lit up by a mischievous smile as he giggled. He quickly got to his feet, energetically brushing off his trousers, unconcerned by the slight reprimand he heard in the distance.

The septa approached hurriedly, a frown on her face and a look of evident disapproval. Her voice echoed through the hall as she called out to Aerion, but before she could reach him, the little prince ran toward you, clinging to your skirt for protection.

“Princess,” the septa greeted, bowing as she saw you. “The maester has insisted that you should return to your bed. Rest is the best thing for you in your condition.” Her stern gaze scrutinized the hallway, searching for the little prince who was now hiding behind you.

“That was just what I was thinking of doing,” you replied calmly, hearing Aerion’s faint laughter as he clung to your skirts.

You watched as the septa walked away down the hall, still calling out to the prince with a mix of patience and firmness. When the septa's figure disappeared from your sight, you slowly turned to Aerion. The boy looked up at you, his cheeks flushed red, still trying to contain the laughter that threatened to spill over.

You couldn’t help but smile at your son’s innocent mischief. Despite the worries weighing on you, Aerion’s joy had the power to dispel any cloud hanging over your day.

“You’re a little rascal,” you said softly, as you gently stroked his head. “But you need to be more careful, you almost made me fall.”

Aerion nodded, and his smile lit up his face, revealing that perfect blend of innocence and mischief that you loved so much in him. Still chuckling softly, he took your hand with his small fingers, his laughter fading into a sigh of contentment.

“I want to stay with you, mama,” he said softly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

His words filled you with a warm tenderness. You knew you needed to rest, but your son’s desire to stay by your side was a request you could hardly refuse. His company, so sincere and selfless, was a comfort amidst the demanding burden you carried.

You bent down slightly to meet his eyes, looking at him with a maternal smile.

"You can stay with me for a while, but only if you promise to be quiet and let Mama rest," you whispered.

Aerion nodded enthusiastically, squeezing your hand more tightly, as if his desire to be with you was enough to protect you from any discomfort or pain. As you walked together toward your chambers, Aerion began to talk with the spontaneity of childhood, telling you about his lessons and how much they bored him. His voice, full of innocent complaints, filled the hallway.

As you closed the doors of your room behind you, you created a small refuge of tranquility, a space where you could allow yourself a respite from the worries that surrounded you. Aerion, freed from the need to stay calm, released your hand and ran excitedly to the corner where the steaming dragon egg rested on its cradle of metal and glowing stones.

However, a sudden, sharp pain shot through your body, pulling you out of the peaceful moment. The pain radiated from your back to your belly, forcing you to instinctively place your hands on your swollen abdomen in a protective gesture. Reality hit hard when you felt a warm, wet burst, and in that moment, the world seemed to stop.

The sound of your water breaking echoed in the room, like a prolonged reverberation in the silence, as the liquid spilled onto the floor, soaking the ground beneath your feet. An indescribable chill ran down your spine, as if in that precise instant, your soul had tried to leave your body, leaving you momentarily paralyzed.

Aerion, unaware of what had just happened, continued admiring the egg while you tried to gather the strength to stay calm. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus on what you needed to do. You knew there was no time to waste; the birth was imminent.

"Aerion, come here," you called, keeping your voice firm yet gentle, not wanting to alarm him.

Your son turned his head toward you, sensing something unusual in your tone. The joy on his face faded, replaced by concern.

"Mama, what's wrong?" he asked as he walked toward you with small, cautious steps.

"I need you to find the septa and the maester, quickly," you said, caressing his cheek with a trembling hand. "The baby is ready to be born."

With effort, you began to walk slowly toward your bed, each step accompanied by the increasing pain that was becoming more insistent. When you reached the bed, you took a deep breath and called for your ladies, who, upon hearing the urgency in your voice, quickly came to your side. Without wasting a moment, they moved with the precision and skill that only experience could grant, helping you lie down and preparing you for childbirth.

Their hands worked carefully and swiftly, untying the laces and buttons of your dress, changing you into more comfortable garments that would ease the birth. Despite the storm of pain threatening to strip away your calm, their gestures were comforting.

"Take deep breaths, Princess," one of the ladies whispered as she helped you settle into the bed, her voice an anchor of calm amidst the whirlwind of sensations overwhelming you.

The doors to your room burst open, and the maester entered, followed by several midwives, all moving with the speed and efficiency the situation demanded. Aerion, his face full of concern, ran to you, taking your hand in a gesture of support.

"It seems the baby has decided to come early," the maester remarked as the midwives began preparing everything necessary for the birth.

One of the midwives approached with more pillows to support your back, lifting you carefully to relieve the pressure on your belly. But the movement triggered a new wave of pain, and before you could stop it, a cry escaped your lips.

Aerion reacted immediately, his protective instinct awakened by seeing your suffering. He lunged toward the midwife, trying to push her away with his small hand.

"You're hurting her!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling, his eyes filling with tears as he tried to come between you and the midwife.

The midwife, surprised by the child's reaction, paused and looked at you with a mix of respect and concern.

"Calm down, little prince," the midwife said softly, kneeling down to be at Aerion's eye level. "We don't want to hurt your mama. We're only trying to help her feel better."

"Aerion, sweetheart, everything is okay. They’re here to help us," you assured him, trying to calm his agitation.

The contractions came in waves, each one more intense than the last, leaving a trail of pain that spread through your entire body. You gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white under the tension as you fought to contain the screams of pain threatening to escape your throat. You didn’t want to scare Aerion, who stayed by your side, his small hand clutching yours.

Suddenly, in the midst of the chaos raging in your mind, a familiar voice broke through the torment.

“Y/N,” you heard Aemond call your name.

The sound of his voice was like a balm, a wave of relief that momentarily dispelled the pain. You turned your head, and seeing him, you felt something inside you calm down. Aemond, with an expression of concern tinged with love, quickly approached your side, taking your other hand with the security and firmness you had always known in him.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his eyes locked on yours as his thumb gently caressed your cheek.

Aemond leaned in a little closer, his voice low and reassuring.

“Everything will be alright, my love. I’m here with you.”

You nodded with gratitude, thankful for Aemond’s comforting presence by your side. With each passing contraction, the pain seemed to stretch out in time, as if the hours were elongating into an endless trial. However, the maester, in his firm yet encouraging tone, finally spoke the words you had been waiting for.

“It’s time to push, Princess.”

Those words were both a relief and a new source of fear. You knew the hardest moment was yet to come, and although Aemond had been your constant support, you understood that Aerion’s presence in the room might complicate the situation even further. You needed everything to go well, both for the baby about to be born and for the child who was already the center of your world.

Taking a breath with difficulty, you turned your head toward Aemond, your eyes reflecting the mix of emotions you felt at that moment.

“Aemond,” you whispered, your voice laden with effort, “please take Aerion outside. He needs to stay calm… and so do you.”

Although it was evident he didn’t want to leave you, Aemond understood your concern. With a look that spoke of his desire to stay with you, he leaned in close, brushing your lips with a gentle kiss.

“I’ll be right outside,” he murmured, his words an anchor for your spirit. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

With one last squeeze of your hand, he stood up and turned his attention to Aerion, who was still watching the scene with wide, worried eyes. Aemond walked over to his son and took his hand.

“Come, Aerion. Let’s wait outside for a moment,” he said gently.

Aerion hesitated, his eyes searching yours for confirmation. You forced a smile, despite the pain, and nodded, trying to convey confidence.

“Everything will be alright, sweetheart,” you assured him. “We’ll be together again soon.”

The little one, though still concerned, finally agreed, taking his father’s hand as they both headed toward the door. Aemond gave you one last look before leaving.

Once the door closed behind them, the atmosphere in the room changed. The seriousness and focus intensified as the midwives and the maester prepared for the birth. You felt a mix of emotions—fear, anticipation, and a deep determination—all fighting for control of your mind.

The maester leaned in toward you, with a calm expression that contrasted with the intensity of the moment.

“Princess, it’s time,” he said softly, his tone firm yet reassuring. “I need you to push with all your strength.”

You nodded, mentally preparing yourself for what you knew would be the greatest effort of your life. The pain, which had been constant, became even sharper, cutting through your breath as you struggled to follow the maester’s instructions. Your hands gripped the sheets, your muscles tensing in a supreme effort as you pushed with all your being.

The midwives, with quick and precise movements, offered you words of encouragement, their hands working diligently to assist you. You could feel the sweat beading on your forehead, every fiber of your being concentrated on bringing this new life into the world. The minutes stretched on in a succession of contractions and efforts, each more intense than the last, pushing you to the limits of your endurance.

The room, though filled with activity, became a closed and private space, where time seemed to distort. The maester guided you, his words calm and measured, while the midwives supported you, adjusting the pillows and keeping you as comfortable as possible. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of pain and effort, the maester announced that he could see the baby's head.

"One more time, princess, just one more time," he encouraged, his voice filled with contained emotion.

With the little energy you had left, you gathered all your strength and pushed with fierce determination. The pain reached a climax, enveloping you in a whirlwind of sensations until, suddenly, you felt an indescribable relief as the weight you had carried for months finally left your body.

A moment of silence fell over the room, followed by the most beautiful sound you could have imagined: the strong, clear cry of your newborn. Tears filled your eyes as you heard that first sign of life, and the midwives quickly wrapped the baby in warm blankets, bringing him close to you.

"You have been very brave, princess. You have brought a new Targaryen into the world."

With trembling hands and a pounding heart, you took your child into your arms. As you felt his warmth against your chest, all the pain and fatigue faded away, replaced by a love so intense you could hardly contain it. You looked at your baby's face, his soft hair and delicate skin, and in that moment, you knew that every second of effort had been worth it.

Your ladies, discreet and efficient, quickly restored order to the room. They swiftly cleaned the area, replaced the sheets, and helped you into a clean, soft gown. Though exhaustion weighed heavily on you, their careful hands made you feel comfortable, allowing you to focus solely on the little being you held.

One of the ladies took the newborn with great care to clean him, while you rested for a few moments, watching every movement with eyes full of love and wonder. When they returned him to you, wrapped in warm blankets, a wave of overwhelming emotion washed over you.

You looked at the child in your arms, noticing his delicate features, his hair already showing the shine of Targaryen heritage.

"Laenor," you whispered, the name leaving your lips with the softness of a prayer.

It was the name of your father, a man whose memory lived on in your heart, a brave leader and a loving father. Naming your son in his honor felt as natural as breathing.

The door to the room opened gently, and when you turned your head, you saw Aemond and Aerion entering. The little boy, without paying attention to the baby in your arms, ran towards you with the urgency of someone who had been holding back his worry. Aerion threw himself into your arms, and as soon as he did, you felt the warm tears running down his face as he hid his little face in the crook of your neck.

"Why are you crying, my love?" you asked in a whisper, gently stroking his small back while leaning down to leave a soft kiss on his wet cheek. "I'm alright."

Aerion sobbed softly, his little hands clinging to you tightly, as if he needed to make sure you were really there, safe and with him.

"I was scared, Mama," he admitted in a small voice. "I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you."

"I know, my little one," you murmured. "But everything is fine now. I’m here with you, and I'm not going anywhere."

Aemond, who had remained nearby, watched the scene with a mixture of pride and relief. He stepped forward, and with a careful gesture, placed a hand on Aerion’s shoulder, silently giving him support. When Aerion felt his father's presence, he finally looked up, his eyes still shining with the tears he hadn’t been able to hold back.

It was then that Aerion noticed the small figure in your arms. His big, curious eyes filled with wonder as he saw his younger brother for the first time. With the same caution children reserve for what they consider most precious, he approached slowly, almost as if he feared breaking something fragile.

"This is your little brother, Laenor," you said with a smile full of tenderness, gently tilting the newborn so Aerion could get a better look.

The little boy gazed at his brother with a mix of fascination and respect, as if he understood that this moment was sacred. With a timid gesture, he reached out his hand towards the baby, gently brushing his tiny hands.

"Hello, Laenor," Aerion whispered, his voice barely audible.

Aemond, with a look that spoke of pride and relief, leaned towards you, his lips meeting yours in a warm and comforting kiss. The connection between you was immediate, like a reaffirmation of the strength of your bond. You responded to the kiss with equal tenderness, feeling in that gesture a deep gratitude for the family you had built together.

"Mama," a small voice was heard at the entrance, soft but full of excitement.

Vaera appeared in the room, her eyes shining with the news she had just received. She wasn’t alone; Helaena followed closely behind, with her unmistakable aura of sweetness and serenity, smiling warmly at you as she saw you cradling the newborn. Just a step behind, Queen Alicent entered with Vaerys in her arms, her elegant bearing and maternal expression completing the family tableau that now filled the room.

"Look, Vaerys," Alicent said in a gentle tone, approaching so the little one could see the new member of the family. "You have a new little brother."

Vaerys, always curious and observant, looked at the baby with big, wide eyes full of wonder. Alicent leaned down slightly to allow little Vaerys to get a better view of Laenor, while Vaera, not wasting a moment, moved closer to your side, clearly fascinated by her new little brother.

"He’s so tiny," Vaera whispered, extending a small, delicate hand to softly touch Laenor’s cheek, her touch full of affection and care.

"He is," you agreed, your voice softened by the mix of emotions that overwhelmed you. "But he’ll grow strong, just like all of you."

With a smile full of confidence and tenderness, you handed the little Laenor to Aemond, who received him with the same delicacy one would treat a precious jewel. You watched as his hands, normally so skilled with a sword, now held his newborn son with an almost reverent care. In his eye, there was a silent pride, a pride that needed no words to be understood.

Aemond turned towards his mother and sister, bringing the baby closer so they could see him better. Alicent, upon gazing at her grandson, smiled with a warmth that softened her features even more, while Helaena, with her ever-serene gaze, extended a hand to gently caress Laenor’s cheek.

Finally, Aemond returned to your side, and together, you looked at Laenor, surrounded by the love and unity of your family. In that moment, everything seemed to be in its place; the arrival of Laenor had not only brought a new life into the world but had also strengthened the bonds that tied you all together.

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky and his tattoos are irresistible, especially when he gets out of the shower.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, Bucky has tattoos in this, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, blowjob, Sergeant kink, vibranium arm kink, praise kink, hair pulling, pet names

A/N: @katherineswritingsblog brought this up to me and persuaded me to write this🥵 she also made the mood board for it🩷

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You approached the bathroom. The door is half open. You slowly opened to see your husband taking a shower. Bucky was rinsing the soap off of his body after he washed his hair as you walked in the bathroom. You lick your lips and bite your bottom lip when you noticed the outline of Bucky’s tattoos the glass shower door. You rubbed your thighs together. Something about Bucky and his tattoos are irresistible.

Bucky’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of your breathing. He looked towards the shower door and seen you standing there. He lightly chuckles to himself and continues to rinse the soap off of him.

“You watching me shower, doll?” Bucky asks.

You hummed in response. Your hum sounded more like a moan. Bucky smirks to himself, knowing the effect he has on you, especially his tattoos.

He shut the water off and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist that hung low on his hips to show off his v-line. You couldn’t help but watch droplets of water roll down his body, down to the towel. You walked closer to him. Your eyes didn’t leave his tattoos for a second. You had two things on your mind in this very moment… you want to lick his tattoos and suck his cock. You were snapped out of your thoughts when Bucky put his hands on your ass. You could feel the coolness of his vibranium hand against your skin since you were only wearing a pair of panties and one of his shirts.

“My tattoos turn you on, babydoll?” He asks.

“More than you know.” You say seductively.

Bucky pulled you against his body. You could feel his hard cock through the towel against your lower stomach. Your eyes came across the tattoo he has just below his collarbone. It your name. Actually, it’s Doll. That one is your favorite. You love the rest of them too.

You kissed Bucky hungrily. You lightly bit down on his bottom lip, making him moan. He loves it when you do that. You moved your lips down to his neck, your teeth biting down hard enough to mark him up. Your lips slowly moved down to his tattoos, starting with the Doll tattoo. You kissed it softly before licking. Bucky’s grip on your hips tightened. You licked each and every one of his tattoos, starting with the ones on his chest and made your way down to his abs, getting down on your knees.

Bucky’s cock was uncomfortably hard. You could see a bulge in the towel. You bit your bottom lip and innocently looked up at your husband. You brought a hand up to his bulge, rubbing it through the towel. That provided Bucky a little bit of relief, but not enough. He wanted more than just your hand. He wants your mouth on his cock.

“Doll…” Bucky whines.

“Yes, Sarge?” You asked innocently.

Instead of answering you, Bucky thrusted his hand against your hand as a way of telling you what he wants.

“If you want something, Sergeant, then you have to tell me with your words.” You say, continuing to rub his cock through the towel.

Bucky opened his mouth to tell you what he wanted, but a moan left his mouth instead.

“Suck my cock.” He finally says. “Please.” He says.

You took the towel off of him, letting it fall to the floor and revealing his hard cock. Precum was leaking from his tip. You wrapped your hand around his cock, swiping your thumb across his tip and using his precum as a lubricant.

“You’re so hard, Sarge.” You purred seductively.

Bucky could cum right then and there by the seductive sound of your voice. That’s how turned on and hard he is.

“Doll, please…” He whines.

You finally gave your husband what he wants. You licked along the underside of his cock and up to his tip. Your tongue kitten licked his tip. You moaned at the taste of his precum. You wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking on it before putting his cock the rest of the way in your mouth. Bucky moaned at the feeling of your tongue against his cock.

You bobbed your head as you sucked his cock. Your hands held onto Bucky’s thighs to steady yourself. Your thumbs rubbed over the tattoos Bucky has on his thighs. Your eyes were staring at the tattoos he has on his lower abdomen as you sucked his cock. Bucky didn’t miss the way you were staring at his tattoos. He put his vibranium hand to the back of your head, grabbing a handful of your hair. A small whimper left your lips, but other than that, you didn’t mind him pulling your hair. Bucky tilted your head back just enough so you were looking up at him. His blue eyes were clouded with lust.

“Such a good girl for your husband, aren’t you, babydoll?” Bucky praises huskily.

You moaned in response, sending vibrations through his cock. Bucky moaned at the feeling.

Bucky’s vibranium hand remained on the back of your head with a fistful of your hair in his hand. He unexpectedly thrusted his hips forward, making his cock go further in your mouth. You gagged a little bit when his tip hit the back of your throat, causing your eyes to water. You flickered your eyes up at your husband, looking at him with watery eyes and making eye contact with him.

“Fuck…” Bucky moans. “Don’t stop.” He says.

His moans and words urged you on. You bobbed your head faster. Saliva began to pool in your mouth. Some of it rolled down your chin. One of your hands left his thigh and went to his balls, your fingers lightly rubbed them before giving them a little bit more of a firmer rub.

“Holy shit!” He moans loudly.

It doesn’t take much for Bucky to fall apart, but when you play with his balls while you’re sucking his cock, it makes him fall apart almost instantly.

“Keep doing that!” He moans and begs.

You obeyed his begging and continued rubbing his balls with your fingers. You knew his orgasm was building up when his grip on your hair tightened. You continued your movements to bring him closer to coming.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moans, getting closer and closer to coming.

You gave his balls one last firm rub, which sent him over the edge. Your name left his lips in a moan as he came in your mouth. You pulled his cock out of your mouth and leaned back against the sink cabinet to catch your breath. Bucky leaned against the wall in front of you to catch his breath. Your knees were red from being on the floor for so long.

Bucky looked down at you, catching a glimpse of your panties. There was a visible wet spot to tell him how wet you are. He licked his lips at the sight of it. He held his vibranium hand out to you. You grabbed onto it and he pulled you up from the floor with no effort. His lips were on yours as soon as you stood up, kissing you hungrily.

“How about we move this to the bedroom.” Bucky suggests.

“Yes please.” You replied.

Bucky picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and hovered over you.

“How about I return the favor.” He says huskily.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded your head. Bucky moved down your body, stopping at where you need him the most. He returned the favor in many different ways tonight that involves you screaming and moaning his name.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[suksatoru]

𝒷𝒶𝒷𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎, 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝑒.

summary ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sukuna loves you and his daughter to death. you two were his all - so what does he do when his little girl tells him she has a boyfriend?

cw; none. fluff, sukuna x reader, daughter is a cutie and so is her bf <3

request by @lovelymuffin!  

You and your daughter were out on a walk, hand in hand through Sukuna's palace garden as you enjoyed the warm weather. The flowers always managed to put you in a good mood -

So when you see a servants son approaching your daughter with a rose from the garden in the palm of his hand, you can't stop yourself from smiling at the sight

He couldn't have been more than seven years old, holding a small pink rose in his little out stretched hand with a shy smile painting his rosy cheeks - your little girl only stared back - taking the rose from his slowly.

Well, until she deicded to tackle him with a hug.

You let out a yelp - mainly out of concern for the little boy, but when you hear his cry of laughter as they roll around in the dirt, you're crouching beside them with your own smile as your daughter thanks him profusely over and over again - cheeks flushed as her small hand holds up the rose like it was the greatest thing she'd ever been given.

The following weeks flew by - and their friendship only grew. It was a beautiful thing - and you felt greatful you were able to watch it bloom from the very beginning. Or, it was what you believed to be friendship.

So when she mentions her boyfriend during dinner, you're choking on your bite with widened eyes as Sukuna's head snaps towards her with lightening speed - you can hear the clatter of the fork in his hand hit the plate while he tries to process the words he just heard from his little princess's mouth.

"Boyfriend?"

His voice is uncharacteristically devoid of any emotion as your daughter continues chewing on her dinner mindlessly, playing with her small knight and princess figurines as she swallows her bite with a grin

"Yup! We're gonna get married!" She squeals, pressing the kinght's face against the princess's - the two dolls kissed as she proclaimed them husband and wife with a finality in her voice that had Sukuna struggling to keep his eye from twitching

His head slowly turns towards you - and the look in his eyes, god he looked like he was going to murder every single person in the palace with a single, heartless blow.

"Sukuna..." You warn, wincing when the utensil in his other hand - a knife, one made from the finest metal in the kingdom, is bent in half from the mere pressure of his fingers against the metal

He didn't even seem to notice as he turned back to the little girl with hardened eyes

"And just who is your so called boyfriend?" He says, his voice coming out as calm as he could make it - a way to coax your little girl into unknowingly revealing the sacred name without understanding Sukuna was fully prepared to slice the boy into more pieces that she could count

"Oh! His name is - "

"Sukuna! Can we talk please?" You voice breaks through, cutting off your daughter as she blinks up at the two of you - confused but deciding to continue playing with her toys and leaving the two of you to talk

Once you drag him away to a secluded area, he spins on you almost immediately

"Tell me his name."

The way he's impatiently tapping his foot against the tiled floor was near horrifying - he truly intended to end this boy.

"Sukuna, listen to me. Lay a finger on him and I will smother you in your sleep, do you understand?" You say, your finger poking his chest as he blinks in disbelief, grabbing your hand that poked at his chest and clasping it over his own

"Really? HAH! That kid is dead."

Yet here Sukuna was, crammed into a little chair with a pink glittery crown on his head as he stared daggers at his daughter's boyfriend - they were all at a small tea party the little girl had arranged for the two of them to meet

The boy smiled shyly, sipping the imaginary tea in his cup as he politely listened to your daughter tell her father about how nice and fun the boy - Yuzuki had brown hair that curled and fell around his face - framing it as he sat in servant attire with a smile on his adorable little face

"Uh - sir, the tea." Yuzuki says, a little pout on his face as Sukuna realized his tea cup - the one filled with imaginary tea, was tipped upside down. So the invisible tea was falling all over the floor. Great.

Sukuna narrows his eyes at the boy, heart beating erratically with nothing but fury - How dare he -

"Papa's tea!" Your daughter yells, her hand reaching out to try and catch Sukuna's tea cup as her frantic self moves forward

You're instinctively reaching your hand out towards her from across the table - realizing as she leaned on her chair to grab Sukuna's falling teacup, her own chair was tipping over. She'd be hitting the tiled floor face first if no one caught her -

Sukuna had failed to notice she was falling because his attention was focused solely on the seven year old boy in front of him. So when he watched the boy outstretch his arm towards your daughter and catch her - saving her from a near concussion, he can't stop his eyes from widening just the slightest bit.

Huh. Maybe he's not that bad.

~

"Papa. There's no need to try and hide your smile. We can see you!" Your little girl - no, your now very much big girl, says as she smiles at her father

"Tch. What are you on about." Sukuna mutters, eyes moving when a grinning Yuzuki comes out of his dressing room - he was head to toe in groom attire, the lavish colors of black and white swirling together

"Oh Yuzuki."

It only takes a few moments for you and your daughter to reach the boy, fawning all over him as he blushes and insists he doesn't look half as handsome as they're claiming. He's smiling softly when you pinch his cheek and tell him to hush, promising you've never seen anyone more handsome.

"Yes you have. Me." Sukuna mutters, finally approaching the three of you with his usual stoic expression as Yuzuki's back straightens

The boy had always been one to go great lengths in order to show Sukuna just how much he cared about your daughter. He soon learned - the King of Curses was very hard to convince.

"You look.. good." Sukuna settles on, watching the corner of Yuzuki's lips lift as your daughter laughs

"He basically just said you look handsome!" She says, and Sukuna scowls as he opens his mouth to deny her very true statement as you wrap a gentle arm around your husband - a tactic you used to calm him down

"Yuzuki doesn't need Sukuna to say it - we can all see how lovely you look musuko." You say softly, and you can recognize the gleam of unshed tears in Yuzuki's eyes at your words

Musuko. Meaning, son.

"Let's call someone over to have the clothing wrapped." You daughter says, gently pulling on your arm and tugging you away - leaving Sukuna and the boy alone.

Sukuna shifts his head to look at the boy - the one's he's watched grow into the person he is today. He couldn't say the words - not now, perhaps later - but he was proud of who Yuzuki had become.

"Hurt her and I'll kill you."

Yuzuki merely grins, reaching a hand over and clasping it over Sukuna's shoulder with a lovesick smile spread over his handsome features

"I could say the same for you." He replies cooly, his eyes watching you and your daughters retreating figures as Sukuna fights the smile threatening to slip

Bastard said he'd killed me. Insignificant punk said he'd kill me.

Sukuna doesn't say anything. He doesn't move Yuzuki's hand off his shoulder, either. Instead, he lets the boy hold him as Sukuna finally smiles.

His daughter was in good hands.

tags ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ @siriusdumblittlepuppy @lovelymuffin

[axelsagewrites]

Hey, can I please request Jacaerys x aunt!reader where he goes to her after the dance as she had been imprisoned in the dungeons and he offer her to let him have her or she'll be sentenced to death or sum. And reader is as pious and religious as Alicent and she is horrified by the idea of being sullied by ""bastard seed"" but she reveals to be c0ck-drunk by the end of it?

Jace Velaryon*Perfect Wife

Pairing: Jace x f!reader

Word count: 2809

Warnings: dub con, imprisonment, held at knife point (not during smut), praise, degradation, nipple play, p in v sex, hickeys, spanking, bruising, forced marriage, smut 18+c

Masterlist here

You weren’t much of a warrior. You had been raised the way a princess should have been. Well, that’s what your mother told you. However, when two days had passed since Aemond and Aegon had left to confront Rhanerya, and everyone refused to tell you what was happening you decided to get the hell out of there on your dragon.

Maybe you’d end up in Essos and sell a dragon egg for a home. Maybe even Dorne. You could try throw yourself on their mercy. After all, their ambassadors had always seemed to enjoy your company. However, all your plans soon crumbled when you accidentally flew into what you’d assumed to be an empty clearing.

You’d landed in a small field and had quickly tried to ‘borrow’ an apple from a local farm when you felt a strong grip on your arm and a sharp blade on your neck. So cold it had to be Valyrian steel. “And who do we have here?” you recognised Jace’s voice clearly. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you pretty girls shouldn’t go about dawdling?”

-

The stone floors bruised your knees each time you knelt to pray but you didn’t complain or even wince at the pain. You’d counted the days you’d been here by etching marks in the stone with the corner of your Seven-star necklace your mother had given you. 27 days so far. Each morning you prayed. Well, what you thought was morning. Then each afternoon then evening. Each time to a different member of the seven. Even the stranger since perhaps the god of death was the one you truly needed right now.

“My lady,” a sing song voice called out, “Lunch is ready,” Jace said as he approached your cell with his usual grin. He didn’t come every day but when he did it only seemed to add to your punishment. “I made sure to pick you the freshest apple,” he crouched down, holding it out to you.

You kept your eyes on the ground as you tried to finish your prayer, “C’mon now. They’re clearly not listening to you,” he mocked, sitting down the tray in front of the bars to your cell.

Still, you ignored him as you wrapped them up. Jace sighed and just as you finished your prayers he stood, taking the tray with him. “Where are you going?” you called, moving to stand on your feet and grabbing the bars, “That’s my food,”

“No this is my food,” he said, as if he was calling the sky blue, “And you never took it,”

“I was praying!”

“Not fast enough,” he teased. “Maybe next time you’ll remember to acknowledge the heir to Westeros,” he said as he turned to leave.

“My brothers not here,” you mumbled, turning around to go take your place on the wooden bench they called a bed.

The wine cup clattered against the wall, missing your head by only an inch. You span on your heels to confront him, but the only trace was your food dropped on the ground in a head and the apple slowly rolling towards your cell.

It stopped just out of arm’s length of the bars as if the gods really were mocking you. It took you laying on the ground, stretching out the tips of your fingernails to manage to roll it closer so you could grab it. You consoled yourself knowing he never came twice in one day.

Yet this time he did.

Jace arrived with a meal so nice looking it almost reminded you of what you used to eat. There was even a whole chicken leg on it. when he saw the apple core in the corner of your cell Jace couldn’t help but laugh. “Here,” he said, reaching it out for you to try manoeuvre through the bars when he suddenly pulled it back, “Aren’t you going to thank your prince?”

“Thank you,” you glared, reaching your hand out.

Jace just smirked, “Thank you what?”

“Thank you, dear nephew,” you offered with a fake smile.

“Say it. say that I am the true heir, a true prince, and I will be most obliged to give you this chicken leg. Straight from the queens table,” he said, showing it to you once more just to rub it in.

You could feel your stomach rumble, but you couldn’t say it. not after all this time. Not after all the battles. Not for a chicken leg. “My mother isn’t here,” you said through gritted teeth.

Jace reached through the bars, grabbing your neck before you could react. His grasp was tight but despite his fingers digging into your skin you weren’t afraid, “I can only be so patient,” he warned before letting you go. He turned to leave, taking the food with him, “besides, who said your mother is even alive?” he mocked before slamming the door shut behind him.

The stalemate continued for another day and a half and suddenly you were regretting not rationing the apple. At least the guards had kept your water jug topped up, but you didn’t want to risk that being taken too.

“I have a new deal,” Jace said, walking in empty handed.

“Where’s my food?” you said, not even standing from where you sat on your bed.

“That’s not very polite,” Jace tutted, leaning against the bars, “How would you like to get out of here?” you couldn’t help your eyes widening at the idea. Something Jace seemed to revel in. he unlocked your cell and despite wanting to run you sat still as he closed the door behind him. “Come here. Let me get a closer look at you,”

You wanted to slap him but instead you stood up and slowly crossed the floor while Jace’s eyes scanned your frame. “Still so beautiful,” he mumbled before he finally brought his eyes back to yours as your cheeks burned, “I have a new proposal for you,” he said, reaching to stroke your cheek. He was gentle but you still flinched at his touch.

He stepped closer, moving his hand down till he was toying with your necklace, his eyes not so subtly on your chest, “Marry me,” he said, and you instantly grimaced at his words, “Be my wife and I will let you free,”

“I wouldn’t be free,” you snapped, “I’d be the wife of a bastard, a nobody, a waste of space- “you began to spit your venom at him only to be cut off by his tight grasp around your neck.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty if I was you,” he warned, “What I’m offering is generous. You should hear what Daemon had planned for you,” he dropped his grip and you instantly stepped back, trying to recatch your breath.

Jace slowly began to circle you, eyeing you up from every angle as you silently thought over his offer when suddenly a thought popped into your head, “What’s in it for you? Last time I checked you already had a betrothed,”

“Alliances can change, we both know that” he drawled, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grazed your hip. Not mine, you thought, but you stayed silent instead. “Besides I need a wife. Someone to show off in court,” his hand trailed up from your hip to your waist making you shudder through the thin dress they’d gave you, “Someone to bear children. Someone to warm my bed,” he said, his lips pressed against your ear.

His hand went to move to your front, but you grabbed his wrist before he could touch anything, “I’d rather die,” you spat.

Jace grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pulling you flush against his chest, “That can be arranged,” he warned but he still wore his teasing smirk, “You think you’d survive here without me? A pretty young things like yourself in nothing but her night dress roaming around court, think of the scandals. Gods help you if you even make it out the castle. What do you think the small folk would do with a princess like you?”

“Perhaps they’d save me. If they believed in the true king,” you said, trying to hold firm but feeling yourself shake.

He chuckled under his breath, “There is only a queen. C’mon, I can’t be that bad surely. You saying you’ve never thought about it?” he said, his hand moving down to your ass, his lips moving to your ear, “Its not just the gods who know your dirty little secrets,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning your neck.

“I want my dragon back,” you said suddenly making Jace lift his head from where he’d been dragging his lips across your neck, “If I’m to be your wife,”

“As soon as your belly swells with my seed,” he said, “Anything else?”

It felt like a trap, but you tried anyway, “And separate rooms. I don’t want to see you more than I have to,”

He chuckled this time, “That can be arranged, anything else?” you eyed him carefully before shaking your head no. one child and then you could escape with your dragon. It would take a year, maybe two, and then you’d be free. “Good. I shall have them draw up a treaty. But in the meantime,” he said, grabbing your ass so suddenly you gasped, “I want some kind of reassurance you won’t back out,”

“And what’s that?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he said making the words dry up in your throat, “And if I didn’t know any better id say you wanted me too,”

“And if I say no?” you asked.

Jace dropped his grip, but a smirk fell on his lips as he began to walk away. “Then no deal,” he said, reaching for the door.

“Wait!” you called, reaching out to grab his arm. Jace turned his gaze back to you with a knowing smirk, “I suppose if you are to be my husband. The gods, they’d understand,” you said, trying to rationalise it all.

Jace moved closer to you till his chest was flush against yours, “I’m sure they’d understand after all,” he said, pushing the hair out of your face, “Who could blame you for wanting some pleasure in your life?” he said, his hand trailing down till he grabbed your tit, squeezing it softly, “Why would something that feels so good be so wrong?” he whispered in your ear, his hand traveling lower to your thighs, toying with the hem of his dress.

His lips moved to kiss down your jaw, across your neck till he was kissing your undiscovered sweet spot making you moan softly. His arms moved to slip around your waist, pulling you somehow closer to him as your hands rested on his shoulders. You gasped when he squeezed your ass and winced at the quick slap, he gave it before his hands moved to the hem of your dress.

The cold air rushed over your frame, making your nipples harden as Jace pulled the dress over your head in one swoop. The only thing to cover you was your necklace but right now that felt even worse. Jace’s eyes travelled your frame, soaking up every inch, “The gods have blessed me with you,” he murmured.

“You do not know the gods,” you glared but Jace just chuckled as his hands went to cup your tits, stroking his thumbs over your perked nipples making you whimper.

“Perhaps you don’t either,” he said as he led you by your hips to your bed. He sat on it, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you into his lap.

His lips moved to your collarbones, kissing and nipping at the soft skin. Your brain told you to push him away, but a strange feeling was overcoming your body as his hands moved to your hips. You could feel a hard bulge under his trousers as he began to move your hips, pushing your core onto his clothed cock. You moaned at the friction, his bulge rubbing perfectly against your clit sending shock waves up your body.

Soon you felt your hips begin to buck and move of their own accord. You felt his smirk against your skin as his hands moved to your tits. You gasped when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers making you moan. “Oh god,” you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when he took one into his mouth, sucking on the perked bud.

You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, your moans growing louder as you took the gods in vain at the top of your lungs. You felt your peak hit you like a boulder before you slumped into Jace’s chest.

He moved to kiss your cheek with a chuckle. “Not even fucked you yet and look at you,” Jace said, slipping his hand down to rub against your sensitive core making your body lurch, “So wet for me,” he praised, his hand moving to unlace his trousers. “Can’t wait to see what my cock does to you,”

Before you could protest you felt his tip pressing into your entrance. You gasped, your hands moving to grab his shoulders, “Aw,” Jace pouted, “Does it hurt?” he mocked, pushing you down further, “Too fucking bad,” he practically growled as he used your hips to push you all the way down.

You almost screamed at the feeling, as if you were being split in half but Jace groaned, throwing his head back against the wall as you felt his cock twitch inside you, “Fuck you’re so tight,” he praised, giving you a moment to adjust. Your hips betrayed you again, moving without your mind thinking making him chuckle.

“Such a desperate little thing,” Jace mocked, grabbing your jaw as you tried to move away. His thumb ran over your bottom lip before using it to pry your mouth open, resting it on your tongue, “Good girl,” he praised, his free hand moving your hips.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you felt him hit all the right spots. You gave up trying to resit as your hips began to grind onto his cock.

Jace’s hands moved to your hair, grabbing it suddenly and pulling it back so he could have full access to your neck. You were sure by the way he kissed it there would be marks tomorrow but that didn’t matter now. Your hands went to his hair, tugging it softly making him growl against your skin.

His free hand went to your ass, grabbing it tightly before suddenly leaving stinging slaps against the soft flesh. You could feel your second peak fast approaching and when Jace moved to run quick circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves you felt your cunt squeeze around him as it came crashing down again.

“Fuck,” Jace mumbled, a stream of profanity tumbling from his lips as his hands moved to your hips so he could fuck you through your orgasm, “You feel so good,” he praised, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You felt yourself coming down from your high and his movements began to slow, “Don’t stop Jace. Please gods don’t stop,” you began to beg, and you could feel his smirk.

“Begging suits you,” he teased, grabbing your jaw so he could make you face him, “You look so good right now. So drunk on my cock. Is that it?”

“Yes,” you whined, “I need you please,”

“Aw my poor baby,” he teased, “So desperate for her king,”

“Yes,” you weren’t even thinking any longer, and a spark ignited behind his eyes, “Need you. Want you my king,” you moaned.

Jace grabbed your hips tightly, standing suddenly before turning as you back slammed against the wall. You winced until you felt his hips begin to snap up against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tight against you. This new angle had him hitting newer spots that had your legs wrapping tight around him.

“So good,” Jace mumbled against your skin as you felt a third orgasm approaching, “My perfect little wife,” his words sent you tumbling over the edge.

Jace couldn’t resist anymore as your cunt squeezed around his cock and with a couple more pumps, he began to spill his seed. His thrusts became slow as he rode out his own peak, fucking his seed deep inside you. You were both panting as he pulled out, his forehead resting against yours as your feet finally hit the ground again.

“I always knew you had a dark side in you,” Jace chuckled as he pulled away.

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you in your sleep, husband,” you threatened but the last word made him smile. Maybe this was a good trade after all.

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[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Redamancy ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!reader

A/N: Based of scene in Domina if ykyk, also don't know if I like this one yet because it was written in the middle of the night :)

Warning: NSFW, 18+ mdni, making out, catching aegon getting sucked, oral (f receiving), vaginal and creampie (ofc).

Summary: During a brief walk at night you catch your eldest brother in a comprimising position with one of the servants. He obviously has to be a good brother and show you what that pleasure feels like.

Word count: 2K

It was a cold, breezy summer night. The temperature finally had dropped after such a scorching day. You twisted and turned in your bed, sleep didn’t come easily to you lately and it was affecting your daily duties. After a while you gave up, throwing the sheets of your body, your long silvery hair fell down your side. Your feet touched the cold stone floor beneath you and you walked over to your chaise, where your robe was draped over.

Maybe a walk would clear your mind. Now clad in your thin white nightgown and robe you slipped in some shoes and opened the door of your chamber. Your personal guard Ser Arryck immediately stood straight and asked where you were heading off to at such a late hour. You explained your insomnia and told him you’d go for a walk around the Red Keep. Nothing to worry about, you wouldn't go out or leave without guards. So you started your walk, shivering slightly at every breeze that flowed through the hallways. 

Deep in thought you didn’t notice you had wandered close to your eldest brother’s quarters, your mind on if you should perhaps alert the maesters of your troubles. But you quickly snapped back to reality when you noticed there were no guards around. How could they possibly leave Aegon’s chambers unguarded at night? Maybe you should check up on him, usually he is quite the night owl and you often went to him when you couldn’t find sleep, sharing some wine and a laugh with him.

You always had a good relationship with your brother, you were the youngest daughter of the King and Queen and one year older than Aemond. He always told you you were his favourite despite his sister-wife Helaena. But you knew Helaena didn’t have much interest in Aegon either. But what you didn’t know was how much Aegon liked you. He always knew he shouldn’t act on his desires, instead taking them out on servant girls and whores at brothels but every time he finished with them it was your name he muttered as he came.Your name he moaned and whined as he fisted his cock at night. 

Tonight was no different, it seemed his desire for you was worse in the summer, when you wore thinner, more exposing dresses to fight off the heat. As you approached his door with your fist raised, ready to knock you stopped at the sounds of soft moaning coming from his chamber. It didn’t sound like he was in trouble or pain but he was clearly awake. Curiosity took hold of you and you opened the door as silently as possible, you didn’t want him to know you were here just yet. Peeking inside you could see Aegon lying on his bed with a servant girl between his legs.

You could hear his soft moaning and groaning as well as the sucking noises of the servant girl. Clearly she was pleasing him, you could feel the jealousy as his panting became more frequent. You don’t know what came over you but you silently opened the door to fully reveal yourself. Aegon's eyes snapped to your barely clothed frame and made eye contact with you. Sitting up straighter his hand held the servant girl in place. The erotic sight of him, getting pleased while looking at you made you pant along with him. Your breath shortening as his mouth opened to speak, but he didn’t. 

Only moans left his pretty lips and they grew louder the longer he looked at you. Your chest heaving as you could feel the pleasure yourself. Thighs becoming wet, pressing them together for relief. Never had you felt this way. Aegon started to almost choke on air as he gave out some final groans. Then stammered out your name as he finished inside the girl’s mouth.

You finally realised what was happening and turned on your heels to run back to your chamber. The amount of times your mother had warned you about the sins of pleasure whirling through your mind. When you had reached your chamber Ser Arryck bid you goodnight as you went to sleep that night with an ache between your thighs. 

The next couple of days were filled with tension and shame. You felt like everyone knew what happened, what you had witnessed. Of course this wasn’t true but you were terrified of what Aegon was thinking. It also didn’t help that your mind uncontrollably went back to that night. The sounds he was making sounded so heavenly. And you couldn’t help but picture yourself in the servant's place.

Four days later it was another cool summer night. You were reading in bed with some candles still lit so you could make out what was written on the pages. You stopped mid sentence as you could hear chattering outside your door. Oh no, Aegon…and? Ser Arryk? This couldn’t go well. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of some soft knocks on your door. “Come in.” You softly called out. 

Aegon stepped inside your chamber, a chalice of wine in one hand and two cups in his other with of course a big grin on his face. Like he always had when wine was nearby. “What did you say to Ser Arryk?” You were too curious not to ask. “Nothing to worry about sister, just if he could leave us a private moment. For some well needed…sibling time.” Aegon smiled as he put the cups down on your side table and immediately filled them. 

A content sigh leaving his lips as he brought a cup over to you. Grabbing his own as well, he joined you on your bed. Of course your mind instantly had to go back to that night. “Aegon I-” He cut you off before you could say more. “Don’t.” He looked hungrily at your chest. “You know what you saw- and heard. And I know what I saw, I saw how you looked at me, how it turned you on.” He smiled and took a big chug of his wine. 

It encouraged you to drink some as well. Knowing that the alcohol would make this easier. It always seemed to be for Aegon. “However I would be willing to bet you don’t even know what that means. But you know what pleasure means, don't you sweet sister?” He put his cup on the side table and went to sit closer to you. Putting your wine cup aside yourself, you also closed the book laying in your lap. “I guess I do. But it is a sin, mother said so. Septa Luelle said so.” 

You didn’t even look at him. Book now on the side table as well. “Did they now? And what would they know about us Targaryens? We don’t answer to gods nor men. We do whatever we want. So if we want to give each other pleasure, we will.” He pulled the covers of your legs and moved next to you. His hand grazing your lips as he made you look at him. Both of your breathing getting heavier.

Finally he gave in and forced his lips on yours. Both drunk on wine and desire. You tried to keep up with his movements but after a while you could feel his wet tongue sliding across your bottom lip. Not quite catching up on what he wanted, he caressed your breast through your thin nightgown. And as expected, you gasped which gave him a perfect excuse to entwine his tongue with yours.

With some time you got a better grip on how he wanted you to kiss him. How to mimic his movements and find your own rhythm. His hands were starting to wander more, getting more impatient by the minute. He parted his lips from yours, allowing the both of you to catch your breath. “Do you know how many times I had to pay extra to get a silver haired whore. Just so I could pretend I was fucking you? But now, you are finally mine to ruin.” He rasped.

He positioned you to lay down as he himself got on top of you. You could feel something hard poke your thighs. Aegon mouthed and nipped at your neck, desperate to touch every inch of you. “Let me show you exactly what it felt like, let me show you true pleasure.” He groaned in your neck, hands already busying themselves with hiking up your nightgown and removing your smallclothes.

Aegon's lips went down and as he got closer to your already slick cunt, the more you felt like you were about to explode. The effect this man had on you was beyond words. No man could ever make you feel this euphoric and he knew it too. He wasted no time in devouring your cunt, lapping and sucking at your core. Making you gasp in shock, this new sensation was so mind numbing and electric, that you couldn’t even think about who could hear you outside your door.

“Aeg- please- it feels so weird-” You panted out as Aegon had no intention of stopping. He flicked his tongue faster over your clit and you had to grip the sheets beneath you to feel some type of control. The only things coming out of your mouth now were chants of your brother's name and moans. 

Mere moments later, he added a finger inside you. Your tight cunt sucking him in deliciously, making him groan at the thought of putting his cock inside you. With his expert finger and tongue he had you screaming his name in a final plea and made you see the heavens themselves. 

You were trying to calm down, to process what just happened. But Aegon was ever impatient and removed his clothes as fast as he possibly could. When he had also removed his small clothes, you finally really laid your eyes upon him. His chest was a perfect mix of muscled with a little belly from all the wine. But what made your eyes widen was what hung between his legs- or rather stood. 

“That is my cock, my love. And it will make you and me both feel so much pleasure.” Aegon grinned as he saw your lips curl into a smile. It was thick and veiny, precum dribbling from the tip. “Please Aegon, take me. I can’t wait any longer.” He captured your lips with his as he held his cock by the base so he could guide it inside you.

His tip sliding through your folds to find your entrance. He groaned at the sensation, his tip entering your tight hole. You grimaced at the feeling, it wasn’t extremely painful but wasn’t pleasant either. “It will feel better in a moment, I promise. I would never hurt you.” He kissed your lips at that and slowly slid deeper inside you. Not being able to control his own moans. 

He stilled at the hilt and waited for your cunt to accustom to his thick size. He never stopped kissing and assuring you. For such a lust filled, drunken prince he was awfully kind to his favourite sister. Once he got the okay from you he started to slowly move, hissing at the feeling of your walls around him. He had never felt more blessed and happy in his life.

As your moans grew as well he started to lose composure, pounding into you faster and harder. Chanting your name while he buried his face in your neck. Your own arms wrapped around his back as your legs wrapped around his lower back and ass. Letting out stuttered moans and gasps yourself. “I’m not going to last long in your perfect cunt sister-” He groaned. The vibration of his voice against your neck adding to the sensation. 

And he was right, mere moments after his movements faltered and he filled you with his cum with one last moan of your name. The white spend filling you up. He gave two more soft thrusts to really empty himself and then rolled off of you. Letting out a content sigh, he looked at you. Your silver hair splayed out, still a fucked out expression on your face. And he never thought you more beautiful.

[igotanidea]

Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it. 

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

 “I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒈𝒐 — 𝑨𝑼

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓!𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +21 minors do not interact. this is taboo please be aware, rough unprotected sex, oral (m&f), foul language, mutual feelings, large age gap, manipulation, motel sex, dad!body (because it’s hot), biting etc.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia 💕

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." you read out loud, the whole class seemed to be mesmerized by the verse you were reading. That was the last sentence before you looked up from the book to meet the eyes of your professor. For a moment… stealing glances and longing sweet innocent touches which were tiny. His heart seemed to jump every moment of the day as you two crossed paths and like that it was… for weeks.

But that all changed when you walked inside a restaurant on Saturday evening. Your family were having a dinner, so you joined them. It was your favorite- the ravioli were delicious. Ordering drinks, you heard a laugh. The voice was way too familiar so turning around you saw what you really didn’t want to. It was your professor dining with some woman, who wore a disgusting dress. She wore a revealing dress, and that caked on makeup god.. she reminded you of a hooker. Your heart sank as your professor sipped on his liquor talking away, with her and she seemed to be laughing at his little jokes gosh your stomach turned. Swallowing hard you tried to keep yourself together not wanting to cry. You smiled as you talked reassuring your cousin that you were okay even though your eyes were flooded with tears. What was that? All that.. was he playing with your heart at the end? You were just a toy weren’t you? You hated that he was wearing all black, which made him even more attractive. Those specs… his smile. Your heart was hurting. Were they in a relationship? Who was she? She seemed twice your age anyways. He wasn’t married anymore because you saw that his wedding band was not on his finger this meant only one thing- she was his girlfriend.

“Excuse me.” You breathed, standing up. But as you turned around you bumped into the waiter sending the glasses with drinks on the floor where they broke and spilled all over. Then… your tears really started to roll down your cheeks. You looked to his direction and his face.. he was worried. He only noticed you when you accidentally did what you did. Biting your lip, you grabbed your bag and walked out the door. You wanted to walk home and cry in peace. So he liked older women too? With slutty legs and caked on makeup?

-

“We need to talk about money. Meet me at the usual restaurant. Our daughter needs a new car and I’m not paying that kind of money.” the voice on the phone belonged to his ex wife. He sighed heavily sitting in his office- holding a coffee cup full of whiskey. Goddamn he hated his life. You hated him too apparently that’s why you ran out of his house in middle of a heated makeout session and now his ex wife wanted money and probably all of it. “I’ll meet you. Don’t be late tomorrow- who’s paying the dinner? Let me guess— me.” Another sigh left his lip clearly tired of his boring life. “Of course you’re. Toodles.” The line died and Logan closed his eyes taking another breath. He would regret this so much- why didn’t his daughter just ask him. Why did she have to involve the mother?

The sound of glass breaking caught him off guard his smile momentarily disappearing. He didn’t know that it was you. Once your eyes locked, seeing you cry caused his chest to tighten too. Fuck he hurt you didn’t he? You were thinking awful things about him now. So now this didn’t work out either you hated his guts. Great. Another reason to get shitfaced- just drown in alcohol. Because what else was there? He couldn’t talk to you in any way and you wouldn’t even let him explain. At least he thought so… you weren’t that childish.

The day started with a storm. You really didn’t want to attend any lessons- you didn’t have the strength to deal with your hurting heart and confused mind so you just sat in the library. Typing away on your laptop submitting yet another essay which was supposed to be already sent two days ago. Sighing with relief you smiled as friends joined you bringing smoothies from the cafeteria. At least the chatter would distract you for a moment. Seeing the face of a person you really didn’t want to see - heart in your chest skipping few beats. You had to ignore the aching feeling it wasn’t worth it at all. Taking a hold of your friend’s hand lacing your fingers through his seeing professor approaching your group. You sipped on your healthy smoothie pretending to smile but your smile faded away. “Can I see you in my office?” He let out a breath. “Sure.” You sighed letting go of your friend’s hand walking with him to his office. “What can I do for you sir?” You cleared your throat once his doors were closed. “I am so sorry. It’s not how it looked.” shaking your head with disagreement his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry sir I don’t know what are we talking about.” he took a breath, seeing the look on your face. “Yesterday in a restaurant you-” you cut him off by reaching for the door. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t recall to remember. Excuse me- I have lessons” you politely nodded even though your heart was torn apart. “It’s my ex wife.” He blurted out at you. “I don’t have a relationship.” his answer halted your actions turning to him. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” softly smiling he seemed to stay frozen in one place. The truth was he was not interested in anyone but you.

“She looked like your girlfriend. I just don’t want to be played with.” Shrugging your shoulders biting your lip. He chuckled “My girlfriend? Oh please sweetheart. I don’t date” walking around his table to sit down you remained on the same place backed against the doors facing him. “But- she wore a dress and tons of makeup.” He nodded “Does that mean something? If a woman wears makeup and a dress…?” You nodded “yes it does. It means she wants you” he let out a soft chuckle. “My ex wife? She’s an old story. Besides she was meeting someone else after our dinner. I headed home pretty drunk.” Admitting even though it was embarrassing. “Don’t worry about it.” raising a brow you approached his table. “Really? You think I worry about it?” He nodded softly. “I-I don’t..” you mumbled out.

The key in your hand told you already all of the wrongdoings. “Motel..” you whispered under your breath. He nodded softly standing in front of you. “Meet me there tonight..” you swallowed thickly. “I can’t meet you there it’s going to be so late” his thumb brushed against your lower lip. “better late then never” your heart raced in your chest as your orbs locked. Gosh.. “okay.. I’ll meet you. What are we going to do?” He smirked softly. “Something..” leaning down to cup your cheek his mouth brushed against your forehead. Fuck…

The motel was definitely out of town, it wasn’t anything close to an eerie but it definitely had your heart racing. Parking your car, you sighed softly seeing a small light in the window on the third floor. Walking up the stairs you approached the doors with trembling hand sliding the key in and unlocking the doors stepping inside. There was nobody inside… the bed was primarily large for a motel. Shutting the drapes, remaining by the window biting your lower lip. Why the nervousness? Perhaps your professor just wanted to talk about some things- you really had no idea what he actually wanted from you this time. Soon you saw his car pull up, it was relieving seeing him show up. Backing yourself against the wall you waited until he came in. “Hey” you nodded “hi”- your heart seemed to be jumping in your chest. This wasn’t like the moment you experienced in his home. This was so much more intimate. The fact he was still wearing a suit from work- you figured he had worked until late. “You came” he removed his jacket throwing it on the bed. “I rent this room so often i almost feel like i own it.” He smiled and you chuckled approaching him. His large hand nearly covered your entire side as he caressed it bringing you closer to him. You hiccuped looking him in the eyes. Gently reaching up to remove his specs- his thumb touched your chin the tip of his finger rubbing your lower lip. “I wonder if I could fit my cock in there…” he let out his thought and the words caught in your throat making you blush in the cheeks. “You want to find out?” Your stomach was doing flips and the butterflies were swirling around in there. “Mmm” nodding, he lowered sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Between daddy’s legs.. come here” he pulled you down on your knees and you obeyed. “You want to call me your daddy tonight don’t you?” what happened to you? You were so eagerly obeying forgetting how sinful this actually was. “You need to tell daddy how does your pussy feel right now baby” cupping your cheek as you remained on the carpet between his parted thighs. “Mm tingly” you breathed moistening your lower lip by licking it. The view along went straight to his cock making it heavy and hard. “You don’t want daddy unhappy don’t you? Be a good little girl and open his pants.. his cock needs your mouth. We will see how it’s gonna fit” you gazed up at him like a lost little kitten reaching for his belt and his pants. Undoing each to get to his cock and once it was freed it stood proud and hard. Your face twisted in interest. “Something tells me you’ve never seen it up close like that” his thumb flicked against your cheek as he cupped it.

“I- no.. I never” you found yourself stuttering, gosh it was embarrassing how your face heated as he wrapped his hand around his cock stroking along collecting some of your saliva to lubricate himself you willingly spit on his fingers. “That’s a good girl” his nostrils flared as you watched him work his cock up and down. Your mouth salivated out of nowhere and your body was so eager, your pussy wept with slick and pulsed. “Come here” he brought you even closer, stuffing the tip of his cock between your lips making you whimper. He was thick, decorated with veins and gosh you sucked softly making him grip on your hair. “Fuck baby I always wanted your pretty mouth on my dick. Tastes good?” the only response he got from you were those tiny sucks and the drool which surrounded your lips coating him. Finding himself groaning as you braced yourself by touching his waist- smiling a little to himself. Thinking how of a sickly fuck he is for you. “Use your tongue” he breathed running his fingers through your hair wrapping his other hand around his length pushing it deeper past your lips. You whimpered taking a breath through your nose sliding your tongue on the underside of him. He let out a gaspy breath- bucking his hips up to push his cock into your mouth. He tasted salty, more like you imagined but that hint of sweetness kept you going.

With cum on your lower lip and chin, few moans of his later he was having you spread on the bed. Thighs parted as he devoured your pussy. He made out with your folds and spit on your entrance speculating around it with his tongue blowing on your clit making you a moaning mess and begging for more. “Sir!! Oh daddy!!” You pressed your pussy against his mouth and he groaned lapping up your juices. You were so close to cum- his expert fingers drawing fast circles on your clit leaving you sobbing covering your face in embarrassment “that’s a good girl doing so good for me, let me show you, letting me put my cock in there honey?” He smirked licking his lower lip tasting your pussy nectar. His chin shined with it and you nodded too dumb to think straight. Kneeling between your parted thighs you saw his cock standing again, you wanted it inside of you. So badly- “please daddy! Mmmm-yes” touching his tie and button up as he slapped your pussy lips earning a loud yelp out of you. He smiled at you hovering above you. “I don’t have a body of a perfect man- but I know how to fuck princess like you” he licked his lower lip rubbing his cock between your folds coating them in his pre cum. “I don’t care I want you.. you’re my daddy” you whimpered watching him do these sinful things to your body. Your core bloomed with heat as he peppered kisses around your breast through your shirt heading towards your neck. “Yeah? You want a dirty old man who is horny for you?” You nodded spreading your legs for him willingly too needy to refuse your professor. “You’re hot to me.. please daddy” you pleaded with tears in your eyes awaiting for him to slide inside of you. “We doing a bad thing but I want my cum dripping out of you honey” grabbing his length in his hand he put the tip inside of your core making you gasp for breath gripping his sides. Watching you with a soft growl he slid the entirety of him in you causing you to hit your lower lip so hard it bled. “Ow ow-so full of my cock you bitin’ your gorgeous lips huh?” swiping the little blood off with his thumb he slammed himself on top of you making you accept all of his weight. “F-fuck baby I can’t hold back I’m going to fuck you now” you nodded ignoring the slight pain at how deep he was inside of you. The little pudge of his tummy gave you both the extra claps as he snapped his hips into you. Your legs rising with every thrust, your body rocking and jolting heart juddering in your chest. His face fell against your neck as he groaned your name twice, trice, picking up the speed of his hips fucking into you and god your pussy drooled slick giving him the easiest slide in and out of you. Moaning out your hands held fistfuls of his white button up resting your feet on top of his thighs as he began to snap his hips harder into you. “Can’t stop now kitten.. take my cock.” Breathing harshly he nuzzled his nose against yours taking in your moans and whimpers as he kept going fucking your very heart and soul. “Yeah? You like that?” He smiled as he listened to your whimpers mixed with the wetness of his thrusts and your pussy colliding with him. Making a total mess until you both couldn’t anymore, your orgasms hitting you shortly and like he promised the cum he released inside of you it leaked out of your abused hole his eyes watching proudly before fingers stuffing it back inside of you. “Perfect little thing, can be so … slutty.”

-

(Any typos and mistakes I apologize in advance)