#Ravager's little sister | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moon7jay · 1 year ago

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Carnal (p.sh)

Warnings : stepcest, dubcon, sunghoon is a pervert, sex tape, cum eating, just filth tbh, porn without plot

a/n: Im functioning on 2 hours of sleep so it's not proofread,there might be some errors,pls ignore them. reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡

"fuck, just like that " sunghoon groaned, squeezing himself from above his boxers, his red rimmed eyes tethered to the passionate sex scene playing on his laptop screen.

His breathing was heavy, pupils dilated as he watched the man's dick assault the bounded woman's pussy, coming out covered in white cum juices. She was trying to get away from him, but the restraints were not letting her. She had no choice but to take it.

Fuck. He needed sex.

As Sunghoon rubbed his clothed dick, sighing at the delicious friction, his mind drifted off to you.

Pink.

He swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth and reached across the table to open his hidden drawer. Rummaging impatiently with one hand while his other was busy touching himself, sunghoon groaned when he found the one thing that he was looking for. The pink lace underwear in his hand was old and dirty with cum stains. Sunghoon knew that he was responsible for its sorry state. That's what he gets for jerking off in it like an animal anytime you so much as smiled at him.

But he wasn't the only one to blame. You were equally responsible for fueling his perverted tendencies. Prancing around the house in your short little pink skirts. Sunghoon was never the one to go for hyperfeminine women but turns out you were an exception. With your pink bows and pink gloss and pink skirts and pink tops, you were like the sweetest candy that was waiting to be bitten into and tasted. sunghoon craved you with every fibre of his being.

The fact that you were forbidden only increased his desire tenfold. You were his step sister for fuck's sake but his dick throbbed at the mere sight of you. Blasphemous. But who cared? Not HIM.

Sunghoon buried his nose in your panties in hopes of inhaling your addicting scent but groaned in frustration instead. It no longer smelled like you. Fucking hell.

He was drunk and horny and you were the only thing running laps across his mind. He wanted to bury himself into your tight little body. Now.

Sunghoon briefly paused his ministrations and listened for the football match still playing in the living room across the hallway. the volume was loud enough that his parents would not be able to hear the nasty sounds of fucking from your room. He quickly shut down his laptop and tredged his way to your room right across from his own. His dick hung long and heavy in between in legs, straining painfully against his boxer briefs.

Your door was ajar, like always, a careless habit of yours that had given sunghoon countless opportunities to sneak inside and act out his perverse desires.

But he'd never gone this far. Never gone as far as to actually touch you. As he watched your scantily covered body resting so sinfully against the pink sheets, an inexplicable heat spread throughout his limbs. His body worked faster than his brain and he reached inside his back pocket to take out the handcuffs he'd picked up from his room. quickly setting up his phone right across from your bed , sunghoon hastily took off his boxers, ready to ravage you the entire night.

You stirred up when you felt a heavy weight settle onto your body, you tried moving your hands, mumbling and squirming in your sleep but your hands refused to move. Something was holding them down. A sharp pain in between your legs punched a gasp out of your chest, your eyes flying open at the sudden intrusion into your body, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your bleary eyes met sunghoon's who was breathing uncharacteristically heavy on top of you. Tears gathered at your waterline, the sting in your lower region spreading throughout your pelvis. your core was throbbing from his cock tearing through your hymen so mercilessly. you tried to free your bound hands, but to no avail.

"Wh-what are you doing" you asked with wobbly lips but sunghoon's eyes were dark and unseeing as he stared into yours. You had never seen him like this before. "Gonna use you to satisfy my dick" he whispered and started pistoning his dick in and out of you. A pained moan left your lips as his thick dick dragged against your dry gummy walls. You could have screamed and begged him to stop, but you'd be lying if you said that you'd didn't dream of this every single night. Your step brother was hot and he made you hot. Your mother had kept you away from boys your entire life, so you had never given much thought to your sexual desires, never indulging in pleasures of the flesh. But all of that changed when sunghoon came into the picture.

He grabbed your wet cheeks and stuck his tongue inside your mouth forcefully, tasting your hot mouth with a fervent passion. You moaned and arched into his touch as he began pounding into you. His lips were harsh on your pillowy ones, his tongue moving languidly inside your warm cavity. The pain mixed with pleasure made you sob, your fingers curling around the handcuffs around your wrists.

"God , always wanted to fuck your virgin little pussy, waited for so fucking long" he moaned into your mouth. You pushed your chest up against him as he rotated his hips in a circular motion, grinding into your cervix, his cockhead rubbing and poking your g spot in a delicious rut. "h-hurts" you cried, your pussy struggling to fit him inside, the stretch was too painful.

"Mhmm bet it does baby" he panted on your face and reached down to rub against your clit to make your pussy wetter. the stimulation against your sensitive bud made you squeal and thrash under him. You sobbed as the pain started turning into sweet pleasure, your pussy began to drool, wet sounds coming from the continuous collision of his pelvis with yours. His teeth dug into your lower plump lip with an intention to hurt, your red swollen mouth was too tempting for sunghoon to resist.

"You feel so much better than my hand baby, fuck, so hot and tight" His fingers dug into your soft waist, bruising the flesh with his harsh grip while his thrusts became faster, the headboard now slamming against the wall. A fleeting thought of your parents came into your mind but you weren't able to dwell on it for long, the heat spreading inside your pussy overshadowing every other thought. His hand left your clit and he folded your body into half. He cursed upon seeing your fucked out face, your tongue hanging out while drool escaped your mouth. Fuck. Sunghoon's palms moved up to grope your chest, pinching and twisting your pert nipples painfully from above your flimsy nighty, a whine leaving your lips at his actions.

"we could do this all day baby, you just have to keep quiet and we could-mhmm god-fuck all day" His hands slid down to press upon your abdomen, eyes rolling back upon tracing his own cock through the bulge in your tummy.

"B-but it's wrong" You mewled, your toes curling when he applied more pressure on your lower stomach. He bent down to nibble on your earlobe, his thick dick reaching deeper in this new angle. "Yeah, it's so fucking wrong baby, you shouldn't be drooling around your step brother's dick like a slut" He grunted into your ear and grinded his groin against yours. The Squelching sounds resonating in the room were disgusting but so, so hot, your sweaty bodies rutting against each other to reach carnal pleasure.

Sunghoon pulled all the way out and thrusted inside, snapping his hips into your cunt again and again. Your silky walls wrapped around him so snugly, his breath coming out in harsh pants. "Nasty little girl, what will your mom think if she found you bouncing on my dick like this?" His dirty words made you cry out in disgust mixed with arousal. He swore under his breath upon feeling you clench on his dick. You felt So wet and So fucking tight, he swore he could taste heaven at the top of his tongue. he watched your legs flailing around while he forced himself into your tight hole repeatedly, without mercy, the sight so erotic that he could feel his orgasm approaching. He was pounding you into the sheets furiously, all the pent up sexual tension causing havoc on your cervix. You tried to stifle your moans but he was too big and too rough for your tiny, inexperienced body. The pace of his hips became faster and harsher, his grunts and groans reaching a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls ready to burst.

"Take my dick baby, take it like a fucking whore" he punched out with a few more thrusts, his hips stuttering and then stilling inside of you all at once, filling you full of his hot cum. "Ah fuckk fuck" He moaned through his orgasm, he was cumming so much, his hips still moving back and forth. Before you knew it, he began thrusting into you again, your cries of pleasure turning him into an insatiable beast.

"cant stop fucking this cunt" He groaned and started edging you, angling his hips in such a way that it felt good but not enough to make you cum. Your eyes were blurry and you started sobbing in frustration, moving your hips up to grind against his dick. His calloused palms held your waist and helped you move your hips on him, stilling his movements while he watched you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Your eyes were dizzy with pleasure, small whimpers falling from your swollen lips, but you couldn't stop rotating your hips, thrusting upwards to make his dick reach your delicious spots. Sunghoon clenched his jaw at the sight of his cum leaking out of your hungry hole while he was still buried inside you. the way your arms struggled against the handcuffs above your head while your hips chased his hard cock was driving him crazy in lust. You looked like his fucking wet dream.

"Yeah, keep fucking it baby, fuck it like it's yours" He grunted, moving your body back and forth on his dick like a fleshlight. It felt too good, his dick throbbing inside your warm pussy. He wanted to start fucking you again but his pervert instincts took over instead. You whined in disappointment as he pulled out of your needy whole, your pussy trying to suck him back in. You watched in confusion while sunghoon came back to the bed with his phone, he turned on your tv which was set up right across your bed and connected his device to it. reaching above you to free your hands, he threw the handcuffs to the side.

You hissed and rubbed against the red marks on your wrists, freezing mid movement when you heard moans coming from your tv screen. Your moans, specifically. Your wide eyes turned towards the tv and you saw yourself. Saw your own body tied up to the bed as sunghoon pushed himself inside of you, rutting against you while you cried. In disbelief, you looked over to sunghoon and gulped at the scene in front of you. His hand was wrapped around his thick dick, jerking off to the footage of you two having sex. Hot arousal rushed through your lower body and your hand moved down to apply pressure to your throbbing clit. You should have been angry at the fact that you had been recorded without your consent, but you didn't think sunghoon cared much about consent and its synonyms.

"Fuck yeah" sunghoon groaned, this was hotter than any porn he had ever wanked off to. The way your tiny body struggled underneath his big one on the screen, his dick moving in and out of you without mercy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while his hips clenched as he fucked into you passionately. All of it was too much. He could see you rubbing your clit, getting off to the obscene sounds on your tv. He squeezed his tip and cursed "fuck baby make yourself cum, it's so fucking hot isn't it?"

You nodded and whined, your moans overlapping with the moans coming from the speaker. Too good, it felt too good. You rubbed your clit faster, looking to the side to watch sunghoon jerk off furiously. His palm moved up and down, playing with his own balls, his entire chest covered in a sheen of sweat. "Im-im so close" you whined and he groaned, watching you gather his cum out of your abused hole with your free hand and suck onto your fingers, basically slurping on his cum. "Oh my fucking god " He sighed, his own eyes closing shut at the pleasure.

The Squelching sounds on the screen mixed with the filthy sounds of you both masturbating like perverts pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a damn train, your back arched off the bed while you kept rubbing yourself to ride your high. The filthy taste of sunghoon's cum on your tongue was too good. Sunghoon came just moments later, eyes fixated on your swollen pussy, spilling all over his palms and thighs "oh yeah, shit shit shit" he hissed while he rubbed himself raw.

Small sighs of pleasure and satisfaction filled the space between your heated bodies. As you both came down from your mind blowing orgasms, the bodies continued rutting against each other on the screen. It was starting to get hot again. The passion permeating your senses. You squirmed and met sunghoon's eyes which were already set on you. They were dark and blown in lust. Before you could say anything, he was hovering over your spent body again, rubbing his cockhead against your swollen clit, making you whimper in overstimulation.

"let's fuck while we watch us fuck"

#enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon x you

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dolicekiss · 7 months ago

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Silver Sobs

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Sister!reader

CONTENT WARNING: incestous relationships (obviously) noncon, dubious con (?), somnophilia, smut (18+, mdni), dark aemond, unprotected sex, breeding, nipple play, forced kissing, threats, coercion, praise, obsessed and sick aemond, display of possessiveness, hair pulling, biting.

SYNOPSIS: After the terrifying battle which took place at Rook’s Rest, Aemond’s lust for power had still not subsided despite burning his own brother, the king of Westeros. He arrives at King’s Landing with one thing in mind; to claim everything that belongs to his brother which included — you, his sweet dear sister. The Queen.

Restless and relentless, you paced around the floor of your chambers. Finger nails scratching the skin around them, drawing blood from beneath the stripped flesh.

War was blooming, like a dangerous grey cloud above your heads with the prominent promise of a storm. Panic was everywhere, as well as despair. Multiple soldiers had died, leaving behind their families to fend for themselves, the King had fallen.

And amongst all that, you could only possibly worry for the well being of your only child, Jaehaera. After what had befallen your innocent babe, you had completely disconnected from everything.

Under the name of war, you suffered. You witnessed the atrocities committed by Rhaenyra’s men and your mind had become a void — as you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper into it. Images and reality merging together. Both a foreign concept.

There was no one there for you.

Everyone enamoured with the idea of winning the war, playing their parts, desperate to stay alive. You were all but a pawn, a machine to produce heirs. You knew they didn't even consider you a proper Queen.

The smallfolk and even your own mother, Dowager Queen as well as your brother, Aemond.

Yet you did not care.

You wished to be left alone, pay no mind to such things. Break free from the uneasy restraints of danger and war. Form peace, relish in it. Is all you wanted.

You were not blessed with the courage to go pay your badly injured husband a visit, choosing to nip and scratch at your own skin was a much better and comforting option.

Losing your babe made you realize none of this was worth it. Not a single person in Westeros could end the brewing war and you'd left everyone to fend for themselves — just as they had abandoned you.

Darkness fell over Westeros and meanwhile your maidens were preparing you for bed, Aemond on the other hand battled obscene thoughts and needs at such a dark hour.

Aemond drowned himself in wine yet it had no affect on him. Instead he found himself wondering about staking a claim over everything that belonged to his brother. He got the throne, when he didn't even wish for it and he got you — the sister that Aemond himself wanted.

From when you both were only children, little kids, Aemond had thought of marrying his older sister. Only a year younger, he was. Hoping he'd be the one who's children you'd carry, watching your stomach swell up with his babes and be his wife but even that was snatched right away from him in the name of serving the realm.

His childhood snatched — face left deformed and disabled, a laughing stock that he'd become for his older brother. The drunken fool who had no right to even linger around such a prestigious throne, made only for strong willed men and warriors to take a seat on.

Aegon was no warrior.

He was foolish, an embarrassment and an utter disappointment.

Incapable of pronouncing a word properly in high valyrian.

And he surely did not deserve to have such a sweet little bird such as yourself by his side.

He finished his wine in one gulp and slammed the glass down, aggressively against the wooden table. Criston Cole was nowhere to be seen and Aemond made up his mind to ravage you, to claim you like he had already desired to from the beginning of time.

His steps were stable and strong, booming through the halls of the red keep. Each step only brought him closer to your chambers, driving himself quickly up the stairs which lead to your chambers.

He was relieved to find no guards guardian you and scoffed, realizing how little and less important you were to the Hightowers.

Aemond’s hands moved to push past the doors and there you were, sound asleep in your bed. Your daughter asleep in a cradle a little far away from your bed. He closed the heavy doors and sauntered towards the bed, standing at its foot.

He had consumed wine but he was not drunk at all. Matter of fact, Aemond was as sober as the day he was born.

Your silk robe concealed the plush of your creamy breasts as they rose up and down in soft little attempts to inhale air, one arm laid leisurely over your stomach while the other somewhere concealed within your silver, sparkling hair.

Aemond felt his cock harden in his leather slacks, his sword still attached to his hip. Reaching for it, he undid it and placed it over a table across and then moved his body to continue admiring your body, the vulnerability you showcased had him frozen on the spot.

The lecherous act he was heading to engage in would surely leave you in disarray too but Aemond was too far gone to even care anymore.

He'd arrived to claim what was rightfully his.

He walked to the side of the bed, hands reaching out to remove the blanket from your frail figure. Then his hands pried open the robe, revealing your kirtle. It scarcely did anything to veil your dignity and Aemond shuddered.

His hands, his war causing hands, sinful hands, moved covetously over your body. Fingers digging into your neckline to pull it down, watching with his one good eye as your breasts spilled out. The cold air forced your pebbles into peaks and Aemond nearly lost all restraint.

Large hand cupping your left breast, a callous thumb flicked your nipple and your already parted lips released a short lived gasp. He was pleased with the soft sound, as subtle as it was.

Aemond sat next to you on the empty space, slithering his tongue over his plump lips. Your breaths were soft, the only sound echoing in the expanse of your room, cutting through the silence like butter. His own breath hitched in his throat, upon witnessing the disarray you were in.

Hair like rippled waves of the narrow sea, body loose and comfortable. Aemond leaned in, shrinking the space between the two of you, to analyze your features. He'd never gotten the chance to do, you'd never allow him. You were anything but an immoral woman who'd give herself to him on a silver platter.

You were the Queen.

Aemond knew he'd be reprimanded for even being in your room, staring at you up close like this. He had unraveled you like some gift, like a present and he wished to do so much more.

Your beautifully long lashes coated the apples of your cheeks and Aemond, with a gloved hand, reached to swipe the thick strand of hair away from your cheek. Just by touching you, despite having leather separate his skin from becoming one with yours, he was already thanking the Gods for blessing him with you.

Aemond slowly slipped his gloves off, resting them on the table next to the bed. He fully slipped into bed next to you, face buried in the crook of your neck and bare hands slithering to fondle with your beautiful, plump breasts.

Soft flesh with hardened nipples.

A soft breath from his lips ghosted over your nape, his hips pushing into your hip in dire need for physical affection. Aemond had slept with whores, he'd fucked them but for the first time in his life he wanted to lay with a woman to satiate his hopelessness for affection.

Something he never received from his mother, Alicent and Rhaenyra always managed to overshadow him.

He let out a guttural moan, pushing his hips more into you and when you shifted in your sleep — back turned to him, Aemond fucking lost it. You had exposed your perfect curves to him, how your ass was shaped and how your side dipped in, giving you the shape of a goddess.

In your state of unconsciousness, you had presented yourself to him like a feast.

Aemond’s actions grew haste. Hands reaching from behind to grope your tits much more roughly, hips stuttering into you from behind and his cock leaked from the amount of pleasure the depravity of this endeavor brought him.

His breath grew quicker, heavier and your sleep was soon disturbed. As you fluttered your eyes opened, revealing the purple hues, your sleepy brain finally acknowledged your surroundings and the cold, callous hands fondling you from behind.

You gasped, giving away hint of your consciousness and before you could even scream, Aemond had already wrapped a palm over your mouth.

“Sh, sh. It's me, Aemond.” As if that would make things much better for you, but this revelation only worked to make things harder for you.

Your eyes widening in horror and when you tried to shift, a feeble attempt to slip out of his tight grasp, you realized the severity of the situation. Aemond’s hard manhood was pressed up right between your ass. Your brother's and it left you completely astonished. Your flight or fight response being triggered.

You tried to say something but only muffled words paired with broken sobs tore managed to make through the little space between Aemond’s slim fingers clasped tightly over your lips. Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the cradle in which your daughter laid, asleep and in peace.

Aemond had glued himself to you. “I've missed you, dear sister. I miss our childhood, I miss what we had. Remnants of our childhood always haunts me.”

You almost felt bad. Guilt ridden because somewhere, deep down, you were aware of the feelings your brother harbored for you. The two of you would even go as far as behaving as you were already betrothed to each other when younglings.

You moved past it, accepted your loveless marriage with the care less drunken brother of yours. You succumbed to your targaryen traditions, roles and duties bestowed upon you by the Gods but it appeared that Aemond decided to fight that Gods.

He chose to go against destiny and the traditions.

“I will remove my hand and you shall keep your honor and dignity intact, Dear sister.” You nodded in desperation and Aemond with great reluctance peeled his hand off your face, causing you to inhale a sharp breath.

You registered the situation you were in. Breasts spilled out, hair pushed aside with Aemond buried in your nape. Seeking solace that he never found in his mother's embrace and you swallowed. Tears streamed down, soaking into the cushions.

“This is wrong.” You whispered, hoping that you don't awaken the dragon in him. “Immoral, Aemond. I am your sister, the Queen. I carried His Grace’s heirs. You cannot do this.”

Your tone was fearsome and Aemond’s irritation grew when you faced him with the facts. He knew about this already and he did not care, not in the slightest. His arm which had wrapped around your waist, tightened, a warning to tread carefully.

“His Grace is also your brother, our brother, so what is so immoral about us engaging in such..” Aemond couldn't call it debauchery, because he didn't see it exactly as that. He saw it as something more, something pure beyond anyone's understanding. “acts.”

You tried to shift, to face him and when you did, Aemond was already staring back at you, his patch still over his disabled eye.

Surely with more persuasion he would leave your chambers and you could pretend that none of this happened but unfortunately for you, there was no God, no sept or no traditions that could change his mind.

“Aemond, I'm his lady wife. I'm merely your sister. Please try to understan—”

Aemond nearly growled. “Do not remind me over and over again that he – a drunkard, an idiot – managed to put his heirs in you when you were supposed to carry mine! You were mine, do you hear me? It is about time I get what is rightfully mine, what was taken from me.”

Before you could say more, Aemond closed the space between you two and captured your lips in a rough kiss. One with which you could not keep up — small fists banging at his chest, in tethered hope that he might have a change of heart and dissipate from your presence.

Your husband was fighting for his life, meanwhile you were laying nearly bare in front of your brother.

You felt bile rise up in your throat but you had no other option than to swallow it back down as Aemond’s passionate lip lock grew more restless and haste. Using up all your strength in an endeavor to push him, yet there was no retribution. He carried on with his sick intentions.

His hands moved down to grab a handful of both your tits, his lips swallowing your little whines and pleas. His rutting which had stalled, continued again as he pushed his hardened cock into your mound.

“A-Aemond.. ” You tried to reason, still.

His hands worked their way around your breasts, flicking your hardened peaks repeatedly and your body twitched. You did not wish to accept it but this was the most pleasure you'd felt in your whole life.

Warming your husband’s bed was only to fulfill his desires, his needs and wants. You were solely a doll, a lifeless being who only existed for Aegon to have his pleasures with. You always wondered how your own mother could subject you to such cruelty, such monstrosity.

To lay awake at night and welcome your husband, whom you do not wish to even breath the same air as, with open arms.

Aemond’s potent tongue pried your lips open and you let it happen, not possessing any more of courage. His tongue danced with yours, a reminiscent of the dragons that danced above Rooks’s Rest. He panted like a wild beast, and you followed.

Dire need to consume you warred with his ache for you and Aemond soon tore away from you but continued flicking your swollen buds. He stared at you, eye dark and rapacious.

Your cheeks were flushed and the rays of moonlight illuminated the beads of sweat on your forehead. Aemond was lost in you, drunk off a single kiss and he simply could not wait to have more of you.

“You have grown into such a beautiful woman, Sister.” Aemond praised, pinching both your hardened pebbles simultaneously and you cried out a wail. “But before me I still see my older sister, nuha byka hunte.”

You flinched at the name.

He addressed you as his little bird in high valyrian when you were kids and then he stopped, after witnessing your wedding to his brother. In all honesty, you longed to be called that and Aemond had finally responded to that longing of yours, unknowingly.

Aemond’s hands fell, fingers tucking underneath the edge of your silk robe as he tugged at it. You didn't allow it — still fighting back as you stayed still. He didn't like that one bit. The Targaryen man pressed his forehead against yours, warm breath lingering like a looming threat.

“You will let it happen.” He commanded, rendering you speechless. Chills dancing across your frail frame at the sheer dominance in his voice. Just when did your little Aemond grow up into a masculine and domineering man?

You shook your head, staring at him with a plea. “Stop ‘tis for I am the Queen, I am your Queen and I demand you to stop.”

Aemond tugged at the dress, bunching it up past your thighs. “I wish you were my Queen but instead those fucking cunts had you warming up my brother’s bed like some common whore.”

The overwhelming urge to cry took over and you sobbed, banging your fists against Aemond’s chest. It didn't seem to affect him much but it did rile him up how you fought to accept him but most probably allowed his brother in — gave yourself up to him in the name of duty and sacrifice.

“I'm not a whore!” You wailed, punching him over and over again. To flee from the upcoming acceptance of your situation but Aemond reprimanded you. He forbade you and greeted you in the form of your queasy truth.

Aemond grabbed both your wrists, glaring at you. “Yet he treats you as one. You're even below that for him. I have seen him show kindness he's never shown you, to a fucking whore. Not the mother of his children, not his queen, but a whore for some coin.”

The reality Aemond was making you face was slowly poisoning you from the inside. You couldn't even hit him anymore as your wrists had been restrained. Your demeanor fell and Aemond took notice, his fingers unclasping from around your small wrists.

He saw how you cried.

Softly, each tear falling as your pale pillow awaited to absorb your pain.

“But I would treat you differently. If it had been me, I would have cherished you like the only woman in the seven kingdoms and beyond that.” He whispered to you with yearning obvious in his voice.

Aemond managed to slip the petticoat off your body and revealed you to him — in all your glory. Skin bare and glistening from sweat. Each curve delicious and crafted by the seven Gods themselves. You were the embodiment of pure targaryen beauty, some even going as far as claiming you to be the most beautiful targaryen woman.

You tried to reach for the blanket, to cover the shredded pieces of your dignity but Aemond hurried to refrain you from doing so.

He grabbed both your wrists, slamming your back down on the bed and pinning you against the mattress. His body hovering over yours, knee bent and settled between your thighs. Your chest heaved, and tits bounced from the force of harsh pants.

Aemond’s knee pried open your thighs rather forcefully, pressing his knee against your cunt. His vile action had earned a whimper of discomfort and embarrassment out of you, your whole being resenting the throbbing sensation spreading in your core as it flourished.

“Tonight I shall have you and cherish you like you deserve, like I should have.” Aemond whispered, tone grave. “If you choose to stay adamant and resilient, I cannot promise you humility, nuha byka hunte.”

Your lips formed into a pout, tear ducts sore from all the droplets you'd shed. “A-Aemond please, don't. If you do this, everything will change.”

Aemond scoffed at your naivety. “Everything has changed, Sister. Brother is injured, I'm prince regent and you're going to carry my children.”

You shook your head, pushing at his slim frame but that only resulted in Aemond’s hand drowning in your silver, pale locks. A malicious grip tugging at the roots, a fiery sensation blooming.

“They will be bastards.” A lone tear slid down.

Aemond’s lips broke in a sadistic smirk. “And? The pretender can have bastards, not even remotely close to her late husband’s features but I can't have bastards with you?”

He licked his lips, his pointy, sharp nose caressing against your own. “Our children will look like true born Targaryens. They will have our purple eyes and silver hair.”

There was no point.

You were defeated.

Aemond saw you accept defeat and he smiled in victory, his other letting go off your hair and moving to grab yours. He pulled it to the strings of his leather slacks and encouraged you to undo them.

You shook your head and that angered Aemond.

How adamant could you be?

“I will shove my cock into your cunt one way or another and I will make sure my seed takes root inside you.” The vulgarity of his words made you sob, your hands trembling as you began to undo his strings. Pulling each one from the knots and finally loosening the leather enough for him to slide out of it.

Aemond was pleased and soon, he was naked too.

Leather pieces thrown over to the side along with his eye patch too.

When your gaze captured the sparkling sapphire in the void of his left eye, you were left appalled.

He had never ever shown you what was behind that eye patch. Even after you begged him to, he grew cold and pushed you away but now you had begun to realize it was probably because of the announcement of your betrothal to Aegon.

His silky strands were in a tedious contrast to your wavy, thick ones.

Lingering eyes caught the awakened cock between his legs and horror flashed in your widened eyes. He was blessed by the Gods, that was for sure and no wonder your brother was this famous amongst the ladies. He had the equipment to satisfy them.

You gulped, nervousness donning your face.

“I slept with other woman so I could become better for you. Incompetence and lack of experience would surely ruin this time, don't you think so, sweet Sister?” Aemond spoke, as his hand dropped from your knee to your center.

You flinched every time he caressed your skin and your abdomen twitched with absolute need. You failed to fathom where all this rush and need was birthing from — how the disgust lingered but along it roamed a feeling of desire which had erupted in the form of essence from your hole.

Aemond ran his slim, tenacious fingers over the stripe of your cunt, gathering the arousal you produced. “Your little cunt is very wet, Sister. Disobedience, wails and pounding at my chest. Is this all merely an act, to veil your sickly desires beneath?”

Your breath broke and humiliation draped itself around you like an invisible blanket. Your small hand reached over to deliver a tight slap to your brother's face, but it barely caused an impact. All you left was a red hand print on his face.

Aemond looked at you, head tilted and fire born in his eye.

You had awakened the dragon.

“Your actions tell me you have no desire to be treated with respect. So be it then.”

Your low chances of rebuttal were revoked as he slid two fingers at once into your opening, going to the point until he was knuckles deep inside your squelching cunt. You sobbed hopelessly, hands trying to push at him but none of it worked.

Your resistance only boosted his ego, his god complex. He had all the power over you, despite you being the Queen. How fucking pathetic and cruel life had been to you but Aemond was here. He was here to save you, and in order to do that, he had to claim you first.

You pushed inside you, caressing your cervix and your gummy walls clasped around his fingers. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cause him pain but that was a failed attempt as Aemond’s cock hardened even more — if that were possible — when he felt the prickling feeling on his shoulder.

The pain inflicted only heightened his arousal.

“A-Aemond, please.” Your cries were the least bit of his concerns, as he curved his fingers up and managed to hit that sweet concealed spot of yours.

Your back arched, lifting up from the mattress, hands bunching up the sheets in them. Writhing your hips, Aemond used his other hand to strike you down — a stinging sensation blossoming on your thigh. You suckled on your lower lip, to stifle your sounds. Jaehaera waking up could possibly ruin everything.

“The Queen’s cunt is truly worth becoming a kingslayer for. Look at how tightly you squeeze around my fingers, Sister.” He whispered, staring at you. You caught the shimmering of the sapphire and sniffled, your cheeks and nose a crimson color.

Death was much better than this humiliation at the hands of your own brother — one you used to see as your protector when you were a little girl.

“H-Have shame. Your sister.” You managed to whimper out and Aemond groaned in annoyance, retrieving his fingers from your cunt.

Your hole gaped as you whined at the loss of contact. He laid next to you, flipping you so your back was facing him. Aemond kicked your thighs open with his shins and pressed his red leaking cock head over your clit, moving it in soft little circles. The burial of your face in your pillows made you realize just how unbearable all this was.

“Do not turn away from me.” Aemond’s voice had a plea in it. “You allowed Aegon in, why is it so difficult to allow me in? I promise you, nuha byka hunte. You will never feel shame again, you will never be embarrassed by your husband again.”

His promises almost worked.

You found yourself wondering whether this was so bad. You'd slept with Aegon, in a much more brutal way, worse than Aemond. Usually he'd ignore you and your pleasure in his drunken state, only chasing after his own. Aemond made you feel good.

He actually cared enough to bring you pleasure.

You nodded your head with a soft sob. You wished things were better, that your betrothed was Aemond, not the other brother but things never turned out the way you wanted them to.

Aemond aligned his cock with your hole and sunk into you, face hidden in your nape as his naked body sought comfort in your presence, basking in it. His chin resting on the small cup of your shoulder, breath caressing the skin of your neck.

He was almost like a babe.

“Aemond.” You called out, feeling bad for what he was put through as a child. For what he had turned out to be.

Having your own children made you realize how easy it was to provide them with affection, so it was difficult for you to fathom why your own mother failed to show you and your brothers affection.

Aemond melted at the way you softly called out his name and his cock had fully sheathed inside your cunt, thighs pressed up against your ass. You'd become one and he was going to have you for himself now.

“Yes, my sweet sister?”

“It feels weird.” You spoke truthfully as you had never ever lay with a man in such a close and intimate position. Aemond figured what you were hinting at and he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your nape.

He moved his hips, stuttering inside you, grinding into your ass. Your sounds nearly woke up your daughter if it wasn't for Aemond’s hands slithering from behind, one groping your tits while the other silencing you.

“Quiet now. You don't wish to wake up your daughter, do you now?” You shook your head as he slowly rutted his cock inside you, pushing it deeper into that weak spot of yours and muffled sounds escaped your sealed lips.

Tears fell, and so did your dignity as your brother fucked himself into you with newfound vigor meant to swallow you whole.

Aemond lost his demeanor, his usually calm and nonchalant demeanor. Transforming into the sadistic monster that he was. He pulled his hand back from your swollen breasts and brought it to your hair, pulling it up rather harshly to expose more of your sweet skin.

A perfect spot. A clean canvas for him to paint his bloody streaks across.

He parted his lips open, baring his teeth and sinking the sharp canines into your skin. Being punctured with such severity, even his hand could not prevent the piercing scream that tore through your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Aemond sunk his teeth. The searing pain of prickling bones a deadly contrast with the soft, sensual thrusts of his cock. A mess he had made you into and there was no escape from the lecherous bounds of your brother.

“I-It hurts. Aemond, it hurts!” You cried out, writhing against his body but his arm had locked you in place. Right against him.

The more you struggled, the more his long arm like a snake tightened around your stomach. He did not budge, not at all. Focused fully on the task at hand which was to leave a gut wrenching mark, as a testament to his claim over you.

When he was done suckling and drawing blood, he pulled back and hummed in satisfaction at the mark. A mix of reds, blues and purples. Such hues looked absolutely breathtaking on you. He pressed a soft kiss over the bruise, the two punctured hole and you shuddered.

Helplessness washed over you.

Your husband was hurt, in pain meanwhile you engaged in such debauchery with your brother.

Aemond snapped his hips, now ramming his cock into you. Pounding with potency and your body surged forward. He reached for your leg and pulled it up, holding it in air as he fucked you.

“P-Please. You're my broth–”

“Shut your damn hole.” Aemond snapped, patience wearing thin. “Keep saying I'm your brother but it only arouses me more.”

You gasped when you felt his cock head hit into that spongy bubble of sensitivity and Aemond scrunched his brows in over whelming pleasure. He had taken many maidens and whores but you were different – of course you were. A targaryen princess turned Queen, his own blood and flesh.

You ought to be different.

Aemond reveled in the feeling of your tight cunt pressing down on his cock, caressing every vein, soaking it in your juices. The sounds of his flesh colliding against yours enticed him in a way that he could not fathom. Like milk of the poppy, he wished to continue absorbing you.

His fingers rubbed your clit, the swollen bud twitching. All this pleasure, that you were so foreign to, it overwhelmed you. Thighs convulsing and abdomen building up knots, a warning of your upcoming orgasm.

“Brother, something’s happening. Aemond, please!” You wailed and he stared at your sweaty, flustered face.

Gods, had Aegon never once made you unravel?

How fucking pitiful.

Aemond grinned. “Yeah? You're going to make a mess, dear sister.”

Your stomach tightened and this unfamiliar feeling took over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your hands shifted hastily to find something, anything to grab a hold of as your body transcended to another realm. One visible to those who indulged themselves im such debauchery.

Aemond hissed. The sheer tightness of your cunt made him feel like he'll snap in half, his own groans and moans loud enough to reverberate through your chambers. He still continued to thrust, earning your climax out of you.

When you were done, Aemond raised himself and pulled his cock out of you. Relief washed over you but how naive were you, to assume he'd get dressed and leave without chasing after his own pleasure. Your eyes fluttered open and you found him right between your legs, kneeled.

“Are you not done?” Your voice was weary, soft and tired. Aemond chuckled at your innocence, both hands pulling your thighs apart.

His one good eye stared at your cunt, pink flesh glistening from your creamy arousal. He felt the urge to lean in and lick along the swollen stripe of your pussy but the throbbing of his cock made him cave in. He slipped inside you again, pulling both your legs up and balancing them on his shoulders.

Your lips released a gasp.

Aemond’s bestial and rapacious thrusts made you cry, muffled wails breaking apart. He stared at you as the sapphire glinted, his cock driving itself with fervor into your cunt, enjoying your sweet vice like grip.

Your shaky hands reached for his face, to cup it and Aemond leaned in your touch. Affectionate it was, his lips parted as he let out a broken breath, similar to how he felt on the inside. A broken boy and you felt horrible, like it was all your fault to begin with.

He had turned into a monster and it was all your fault.

“Your eye,” you whispered, his snaps coming to a halt. “its beautiful. You look so beautiful, Aemond.”

He admired you before snapping out of the trance and pounding into you. Aemond’s cock found comfort in your tight cunt and his release had grown closer to. You cried out, vision completely blurry and lips swollen, covered in drool.

“My beautiful sister.” He growled, pressing his pelvis against yours. “I shall fill you up, give you a child of mine. Your stomach will swell with our child. Your beautiful breasts will once again pump milk, this time for our babe.”

His palm laid flat on your stomach and you shook your head. You didn't want him to give you a child, as it would end badly for the both of you yet Aemond did not bother himself with traditions. He nuzzled his cock into you and with a loud groan, shot ropes after ropes into your walls.

Tainting your gummy flesh white. You sobbed as you felt the warm fluid fill up your stomach, your whole body suffering from prominent convulsions. Aemond’s cock bulged against your taut stomach, a fine print visible to you both.

When Aemond was done with his release, he pulled out and dropped on the bed right besides you. Body numb and throat parched from all the sounds you'd made, your gaze lingered across the room to find your daughter sound asleep.

Thank the Gods.

You turned to Aemond and found him already staring at you. His arm wrapped around you, refraining you from moving away from him as he nuzzled his neck into your neck. Aemond sniffed your scent, closing his eyes and relishing the sweetness of it. God, you were a dream come true for him.

“I will get rid of him soon.” Aemond whispered, hair mixing in with yours. “And then I will have you as my wife. Our child shall be conceived within the bounds of our marriage.”

#mimi writes ☆#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond smut #smut #house of the dragon #house targaryen #aemond oneshot #tw noncon #tw dubcon #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond smut

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months ago

Text

Tear Down My Reason

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader Warnings: Canon typical incest, dubious consent with allusions to no consent, smut. Word count: ~4.6k

Summary: When Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing to petition Lucerys's claim to Driftmark, Aemond is eager for revenge for the loss of his eye. However, what he does not anticipate is the object of his ire becoming his niece instead of his nephew.

Author's note: No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Aemond sits in his chambers, beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other. His eyepatch is discarded on the table in front of him, his index finger absentmindedly running the length of the scar that ravages the left side of his face.

It had itched incessantly since he had learned the news that his half sister, Rhaenyra, and her family would be arriving in King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark. His scar always grew irritated at the mention of Luke, a reminder of the boy who had permanently disfigured him and left him without an eye. It was a crime for which Luke had never been reprimanded, and so Aemond had spent almost a decade allowing his anger and resentment to fester, thinking of all of the ways he would seek revenge should he ever see him again.

He knows exactly when they have arrived the next day as he spars in the training yard with Cole; he spots the two dark haired boys circling, and takes a moment to lean against the table of weapons before him, steeling himself. He imagines grabbing a blade and carving out one of his nephew’s eyes in exchange for his. Luke had taken his left, perhaps he’d take his right, a fair exchange.

Snapped out of his reverie by Cole beckoning him forward, he picks up his blade and advances towards him. He knows that Jace and Luke will be watching, and so he works hard to put on a display that will show he’s no longer the sullen, little boy they used to torment. He is a man grown, a warrior that they should respect and fear. He ducks and weaves against Cole’s morningstar, throwing away his shield as it splinters under impact, until finally he seizes the advantage, the point of his blade directed towards his opponent’s neck.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Criston tells him, “you will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” he utters, turning to face the two dark haired boys who stare up at him in shock. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

He is unable to stop the malevolent smirk that tugs at his lips, seeing fear in their eyes as they gaze at him. There is revenge enough in knowing that while he has advanced in training with the sword, transformed himself into a foe which any man would find themselves unlucky to cross blades with upon a battlefield, they have remained frightened, sniveling little boys that still cling to their mother’s skirts for protection. It is not enough to satisfy him though. Not yet.

Having bathed and changed, he joins his family in the throne room, as the court gathers to hear the petitions for the succession of Driftmark. He stands tall and proud beside his brother, sister and mother, as his grandsire sits the throne in his father’s stead.

His eye sweeps the hall, seeing Vaemond Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and her granddaughter, Baela, standing to one side. On the other is Rhaenyra, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, his uncle, Daemon, and his daughter, Rhaena. And then he spots her.

Aemond had utterly forgotten of her existence; born a year after Jace, and a year before Luke, his niece. She is as tall as her mother now, and has her father’s hair - her real father’s hair - long, dark curls that, despite being half pinned up, fall almost to her waist. She is soft featured, with Rhaenyra’s striking blue eyes. It baffles him that a Strong bastard could be so pleasing to look upon, and he purses his lips in disgust, forcing himself to look away as he reflects back upon what she had been like as a child.

She never joined in with the relentless teasing that Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys had subjected him to. She had spent all of her time with Helaena, from what he can remember, the two of them sat side by side, Helaena holding up insects and describing them to her, as she flicked through the pages of books trying to see if records of them already existed, so that they could learn more about them.

The night that he had lost his eye, she had remained next to his sister, looking on with concern as he had his wound stitched closed. He remembered thinking it odd at the time that she was not with Luke and Jace, but his mind was so addled from the effects of milk of the poppy that nothing is clear, beyond the image of her mother bursting into the hall of Driftmark and tugging her away, back to her own family.

As the petitions are heard, even when his own father arrives unexpectedly, announcing he will sit the throne today, he finds his attention drawn to her, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be a meek little thing, keeping her eyes downcast, seeming ashamed of her own presence in the room. A trait that all Strong bastards ought to possess, in his opinion. Yet as the moments pass by and she does not look up, he finds himself growing increasingly irritated that she won’t look at him, despite how desperately he wills her to.

“Her children are bastards!” Shouts Vaemond, before turning to Rhaenyra, his voice lowering, “and she is a whore.”

Elation spreads like a warm glow through Aemond’s body, his attention finally pulled away from his niece to look upon the horrified expressions of his nephews and half sister. Serves them right. Finally someone is saying it out loud.

When he casts his gaze back upon his niece, her eyes are still fixed upon the floor. However, he sees the subtlety with which her bottom lip trembles, the light flush of her cheeks. She is about to cry.

Look at me.

The room falls silent as Daemon’s sword slices through Vaemond’s head, and it is only then that her head snaps up, her eyes tear filled and wide with shock, meeting Aemond’s. He finds himself smirking again, a quiet victory. Not only had the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children been brought loudly into question once more, but now he had the attention of his niece. He had forgotten her in the passing of so many years, but now she is within reach again, he will ensure she certainly never forgets him. The next time tears fill her pretty eyes he wants to be the cause of them.

Aemond groans when his mother informs him that the following evening they are to dine as a family, a request from his father to unite them all, having reestablished Luke’s inheritance. He resents the idea of breaking bread with people he does not like, that do not like him, to have to sit at the same table and make pleasantries with the boy who half blinded him.

But she would be there. He wonders where she is now. Her mother had been swift to hurry her from the throne room after the decapitation of Vaemond Velaryon, and he is unsure of which apartments within the Keep she now occupies.

He finds himself stalking the corridors of the usually unoccupied quarters of Maegor’s Holdfast, his eye scanning every closed door, wondering which is the room that she occupies. He pulls to a stop at the top of a staircase as he sees familiar long, dark curls flowing down slender shoulders, disappearing into a doorway before it closes behind her.

Her chambers are unguarded, and before he has a chance to stop himself, his feet carry him down the steps towards them, his knuckles rapping at the wooden door. It’s only when he hears the rustle of movement from the other side that his mind begins to race.

What if she is not alone?

What did he even intend to do if she was unattended?

He briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving, however, no sooner has the thought occurred to him than his niece is opening the door, startling at the sight of him, lips parting in shock. She is even prettier up close, despite her reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Aemond?”

Despite the confusion that laces her voice, it is soft and dulcet toned. He wants to hear her say his name a hundred times over, for it has never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.

He inhales deeply through his nose, preparing himself to speak. “You are understandably upset by that business with our uncle and Vaemond. I have come to check on you, to make sure you are alright.”

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, blinking a few times as she regards him carefully. “Oh…that is…kind of you. My mother has said I ought to rest.”

“Perhaps you might welcome some company?” He offers. “It would be unwise for you to be alone after witnessing something so bloody.”

She draws back a little at the suggestion, her mouth opening to speak before closing again, her brow furrowing.

Aemond fights the urge to smile at her hesitation. Reaching forward, he crooks a finger beneath her chin. “Do I frighten you so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me?”

Gasping, she shakes her head fervently as his hand drops away. “N–no! It is just…it has been such a long time, and the last time I saw you, you…my brother…your eye…”

He cocks his head, pushing down the resentment that bubbles to the surface at the mention of what had happened to him. “But have you not heard? My father is hosting a dinner for us all tomorrow, to unite our families once more. There is no need for you to be so cautious, allow yourself to be reacquainted with your uncle.”

Her gaze lowers for a moment, as she appears to consider his offer. “Yes, I suppose that would be nice,” she finally says, looking back up at him.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter.

Too easy, he thinks to himself as he steps inside. There would be almost no sport in this if the fight she means to put up is so feeble.

He strides into the room, hands clasped behind his back, noting the lack of personal effects within the space, a reminder that she is a visitor. This is his home, not hers. He has the upper hand.

“Apologies, Uncle,” she utters nervously, shifting from foot to foot as she fidgets restlessly with her fingers. “I had not anticipated your visit, this room is ill equipped for guests. I have no chair to offer you.”

“That is quite alright,” he tells her amicably, forcing a soft smile before sitting upon the edge of the bed. “We are family, are we not? Such formalities are not necessary.”

He pats the space beside him. “Come, join me, we have much to catch up on.”

She hesitates a moment, before sitting next to him. There is something about the feeling of the dip in the mattress beside him, combined with the floral scent of her filling his nostrils that sends the thrill of a shiver through his body, and he turns to look at her, eyeing her much like a cat would a mouse.

Such a pretty little thing.

“I am truly sorry, for what Luke did to you,” she begins, “I—”

He waves a hand dismissively, forcing down the anger that threatens to burst forth. “Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past. Tell me, how is life upon Dragonstone treating you?”

She chews her lip, hesitating a moment before she speaks. “Truthfully, it is lonely. I miss King’s Landing. Jace and Luke have one another, and mother is preoccupied with her pregnancy and Joffrey and the babes. Daemon pays me no mind, and while I am grateful for Rhaena’s company, I can tell she misses her sister. I am a poor substitute for Baela.”

He hums with faux concern, allowing a moment of silence to present his next words as thoughtful. “You could never be a poor substitute for anything. And I expect you will soon be away from there anyway. I can imagine you have no end of suitors all vying for your hand.”

The hint of a blush turns her cheeks pink as she casts her gaze downward. “No, not yet. I have overheard Rhaenys talking with my mother. They wish to betroth Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke. There are no such plans for me. What about you? Are you to be married?”

“Not yet,” he says softly, meeting her eye as she looks up at him. “I have been waiting for the right woman to capture my interest. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we both find ourselves unattached?”

“What do you mean, uncle?” She asks, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Baela and Jace, Rhaena and Luke,” he shifts his hand across the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. “You and I.”

She gasps softly, though she does not wrench her hand away as he had anticipated. “Is this some sort of trick, Aemond?”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, moving closer. “What better way to unite our family once more?”

“We hardly know each other,” she utters softly.

“And yet you have scarce left my thoughts all these years,” he lies. “Let me kiss you.”

Before she has a chance to respond, he is pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens at first, taken aback by his forwardness, but soon responds, her supple mouth moving against his. He brings his hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly, the skin soft as peach fuzz beneath his calloused fingertips.

She sighs softly as he deepens the gesture, her inexperience showing as her tongue retreats from his as it slips into her mouth. It serves only to stoke the fire that rages within, tightening his breeches as the sensation of her saliva causes his cock to swell.

Pulling away from her mouth, he moves his hand from her cheek, sinking it into her silky curls, anchoring her in place as he places hot, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck, making his way down towards her clavicle, relishing the way her head tips back slightly and her eyes flutter closed.

Tugging down the neckline of her bodice, he fights to suppress a groan of desire at the sight of her bared breasts, the hardened peaks ruddy and inviting. She is putting up so little resistance that it emboldens him to press forward, capturing a rosy bud between his lips and suckling as his tongue flicks against it, causing her to arch and mewl.

A whore, just like her mother, he thinks, shifting his attention to the other and repeating the same motion. His blood feels like liquid fire in his veins as her breaths turn to soft pants. One hand massages the breast that he is currently not latched upon, while the other creeps beneath her skirts.

It is only when his fingertips ghost upon the top of her stocking that she suddenly pulls free of him, eyes wide and breaths ragged as she hurriedly readjusts her dress.

“We should not have…forgive me, I…” she stumbles over her words, flustered and looking on the verge of tears again, before hurrying from the room, leaving Aemond alone on the bed.

He growls in frustration, smacking his hand down upon the edge of the mattress. “Ilibītsos,” he mutters angrily. Little slut.

When he returns to his own chambers, he comes harder than he ever has before, such is the force with which he fists his cock, imagining the entire time that his niece is splayed beneath him, sighing softly with pleasure as she had for him earlier that day.

As his pleasure induced haze wears off, a feeling of shame settles over him. He does not quite understand how his infatuation with her has taken hold so quickly, but now that it is, he is unable to shake it. Worse still, when she ran from her bedchamber, what if she had gone straight to her mother and told her of what he had done to her? It would be a disgrace from which he would never recover if his own mother were to be privy to such information.

He hides himself away the next day, embarrassed to face any of his family for fear they will know of his transgressions, until finally he is summoned to the feast that he has been dreading.

Much to his surprise, the entire day has passed without angry confrontation or a tongue lashing from his mother, and as he enters the dining hall there are no looks of shock or disgust to be met with, simply the shy smile of his niece as she looks up at him from her seat between her two brothers.

She has not told anyone, and she does not appear to regret what had transpired between them.

Aemond settles into his seat at the head of the table with a smug sense of pride. The dinner is a tawdry affair, musicians playing tunes he does not care for are stationed in the corner, while endless trays and bowls of food are brought out to them all.

He listens to his family toast to each other with a sneer, watching with barely concealed anger as Jace invites Helaena to dance. His only reprieve are the shy glances and smiles that his niece directs his way across the table. Perhaps all is not lost.

It is not until a suckling pig is brought out and settled before him that he is no longer able to contain his temper. Seeing Luke smirk at him, a reminder of the pig he had been taunted with in place of a dragon as a child, is too much. Is it not enough that his nephew has taken his eye, but now he continues to mock him too? He will not stand for such an insult.

Abruptly, he slams his first upon the table, halting the music and chatter within the room, as he rises from his chair, raising his wine cup.

“Final tribute,” he announces, eye scanning the room, careful not to include his niece in his speech, lest he foils the plans he has especially for her. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

The ensuing scuffle passes by in a blur for Aemond, resulting in him pushing Jace to the floor before they are all dismissed to their quarters. He hangs back, out of sight, waiting for Jace and Luke to disappear from sight, before striding after his niece.

She whips around, looking angrily up at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Why would you do that? You’ve ruined everything!”

“Forgive me,” he utters gently, taking her hands in his, “I lost my temper, but you have to know that my anger was never directed at you.”

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Jace and Luke’s betrothals were announced tonight. I was hoping we could announce ours too. Now my mother will never agree to it.”

Pride and satisfaction swell within his chest as he gazes down at her. He raises an eyebrow. “You wish to marry me? I had thought you were refusing my proposal, considering how quick you were to flee from me yesterday.”

“It all happened so fast. I have never been touched in that way before, and I allowed it to frighten me, I am sorry for it. But having had time to think on it, I do want to be your wife.”

He smiles down at her, seeing eye shining malevolently. “Then let the news of our betrothal be the balm that soothes all hurts upon the morrow.”

She smiles happily at him. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, Uncle.”

“So soon? I thought perhaps we might pick up where we left off yesterday.”

She flushes a delicate red. “Would it not be better to wait until we are wed?”

“I will not push you further than you wish to go,” he whispers, before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards into her bedchamber.

He is quick to cover her body with his own as she topples back against the softness of the mattress, kissing her fiercely as his hands push her skirts roughly up and over her hips.

“I thought you did not wish to push me?” She whispers breathlessly, pulling back from his lips.

“I shall not, talus,” he reassures her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her the bare skin of her thighs, “but that does not mean I will not make you beg for it.” Niece.

Kissing her deeply once more, he shifts down her body, dragging her small clothes down and off of her leg in one fluid movement, before spreading the plushness of her thighs, his single eye drinking in the glistening sight of her cunt spread out before him.

He smiles to himself as he drags the tip of his tongue through her folds, hearing the way her breath hitches, his hands forcefully holding her down, keeping her still, as she attempts to buck her hips. He almost groans at the tart taste of her, his mouth quick to envelope her, alternating between sucking messily at her pearl and laving the flat of his tongue against her.

She writhes, pinned to the bed by her pelvis by his forceful grip, wanton sounds of pleasure escaping her as she clutches the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Lapping greedily at her as she falls apart against his tongue, he almost spends in his breeches taking in the sight of her arched back, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks and trembling thighs. But he is not finished yet.

The moment she settles back against the bed, her body spent and pliant, he begins his assault anew, this time crooking two fingers inside of her, rubbing urgently against the rough patch inside of her as his tongue focuses purposefully on her sensitive nub. The desperate sounds she makes are music to his ears. She is impossibly tight, he wonders how he will ever fit inside, but is all the more determined to find out as he sends her hurtling and crying out once more into the throes of another torturous release.

“Stop, stop!” She whines, attempting to back up the bed away from him, as he attempts to settle his face between her thighs a third time. “I cannot take it anymore.”

“If I am inside of you, it will not feel quite so intense,” he whispers, not moving an inch from where he lays between her legs, his chin shiny and sticky with her arousal.

“We are not yet married, Uncle, we should not,” she protests feebly.

“But we will be,” he insists, “so what does it matter? And I am afraid I have not had my fill of you, talus, so we shall have to continue as we are if you do not wish for me to be inside of you.”

“Gods…please…no…anything, just no more of that, it is too much.”

He smirks at her ruined state, bringing himself up towards her face, his voice dark. “Beg me for it.”

“Please, Aemond, please,” she cries, “put it inside, I cannot stand anymore.”

He grins wolfishly, as his fingers move to the lacings of his trousers, untying them and shucking the material past his hips.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he places the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her opening, his eye flickering to her face for any signs of hesitation. She still looks utterly wrecked, her expression one of hazy bliss, her eyes glassy. Taking this as silent permission, he presses forward, hissing through his teeth at the resistance he is met with.

She whimpers softly, in clear discomfort, as he continues to push inward slowly, looking between her face, her brow furrowed and lips parted, and where their bodies are joining together.

He feels something give way, before he is fully rooted within her.

Her maidenhead.

Aemond fights the prideful grin that wants to spread itself across his face. His nephew had taken his eye, now in turn he had taken his niece’s virtue.

He stills, waiting for her to adjust, before moving slowly, dragging his hips back before pushing softly forward, repeating the motion. He desperately wants to snap his hips against hers, to make her cry out in pain, to disregard her comfort, but he is not a monster, he reasons. Her innocence soaking his length is payment enough.

Remembering how her body had responded so positively to his affections the previous day, he tugs down her plunging neckline with two fingers, freeing the softness of her breasts, leaning down to press gentle kisses against them, before suckling a nipple into his mouth.

She moans quietly, her body loosening up, becoming less tense beneath his, making it feel more pleasurable for him in turn. He means to be gentle with her, he really does, but feeling her grow wetter around him makes it impossible for him not to speed up his thrusts, driving into her faster, harder, causing her to whine and whimper as he trails his mouth across her chest. So lost in the sensation of her, he barely registers her delicate fingers clutching desperately at his hair and shoulders.

He knows he is done for when she squeezes around him, he knows he ought to pull out, to spill himself across the creamy white skin of her lower belly and thighs, but she is so warm, so wet, so tight around him that he cannot bring himself to leave her. He finds himself chasing his own end inside of her, his hips moving of their own accord, until finally, with a blinding white heat that tingles at the very base of his spine, he groans loudly, pulsating and spending inside of her in hot, powerful spurts.

Allowing himself a moment to settle against her, he basks in the warm afterglow of his peak, before pulling slowly out, disentangling his limbs from hers as his breath comes in shallow pants. He kneels up on the bed, pulling his trousers back over himself and fastening them. He allows himself to drink in the sight of her, her dress and hair in utter disarray, the sticky mess between her legs, her kiss swollen lips and faraway stare. Utter perfection.

It is not until he stands from the bed, smoothing over his clothing and hair with his hands that she finally comes back to reality and pulls herself up to rest upon her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my chambers,” he says coolly, “I have gotten what I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, worry lacing her tone, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Your bastard brother took my eye. Now I’ve taken the only thing that makes you worth a damn.”

Her voice wobbles, tears rimming her eyes as they widen in realisation, pulling at her dress to cover herself. “You said you would marry me…”

“I lied.”

“Why?! Why me?!”

He shrugs. “You made it easy. You might want to have the maester brew you a tea though, unless the bastard also wants a bastard.”

“I will tell my mother,” she whispers tearfully.

“Go ahead. I will deny it. Who will believe you? If you birth a silver haired babe, there is nothing to suggest that it is not a result of my brother forcing himself upon you, or perhaps our uncle. Your mother was younger than you, I believe, when he first started to show an interest in her. So if I were you, I would have the tea brewed and keep quiet, unless you wish to be branded a whore as well as a bastard.”

“You are a monster!” She spits, shoulders shaking as she sobs.

“Drīves, talus,” he utters, turning to leave her bedchamber. “Ñuha drīva issa.” Justice, niece. I have justice.

Read on AO3

More Aemond fics

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

Text

Mob Bucky likes his innocent date ft smut

Sigh. I wanted this to be wholesome but it’s horny instead I’m sorry. Might delete tbh. Imagine devilishly gorgeous mob Bucky getting joy out of making his shy date flustered til she’s tripping on her words and unable to speak. He got Steve to find him a date for an event in the evening, uninterested in having to actually find one for himself. He just wants a pretty thing on his arm that he could maybe fuck at the end of the night. Between busy schedules and mob work, Steve doesn’t find anyone so he scrambles to the last person he can think of.

His sisters best friend.

You’re not at all what he was expecting.

He walks down the long staircase in his all black suit, beard trimmed, his cologne intoxicating, coking an eyebrow when he sees the shy thing waiting for him that he’s supposed to go with.

You nearly squeak when he stands before you, too nervous to say anything, your heart running a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who the very James Barnes was. You had no business being here, you were doing this for Steve.

“Hi” you whisper, and Bucky can’t help but smirk at the way you keep tugging at your dress, not meeting his eyes, tipping your chin up to meet his wolfish expression.

“You must be Y/n” he doesn’t let go of your face, noting the goosebumps that now cover your exposed skin from your plunging dress. He doesn’t say much else, letting you squirm, quite enjoying himself.

You want to tell him he looks good, be the confident woman he probably expected to have, exuding grace and poise but you bite your lip instead, nearly whining when he lets go of your chin.

“Y-you um. You look b-beautiful” you finally stutter out, your face burning under his amused gaze.

“Is that so Bambi?” He smirks, cocking his head while you fidget with your fingers. “Hmmm. No one’s called me that before” he chuckles, taking your arm in his and leading you to the limo parked outside.

Your skin is so soft, you smell so sweet and for the first time ever, he doesn’t want to ravage his date to bits. Not when you’re such a soft precious thing.

The night goes well as you grow more and more comfortable with him. He dotes on you the entire time, not letting you lift a finger. He can’t help but take care of you, not letting anyone else near his precious little Bambi.

By the end, he wants to take you home safely like a gentleman but he wants more. And he knows you do too. He can see it in the way you look at him with such longing, nuzzling into his side further and further in the back of the limo.

You’re practically on his lap now, desperately wishing he’d just have his way with you without toy having to say anything but he’d never let that happen.

“What is it Bambi” he whisperers when you squeeze your thighs together, hiding you face in his neck. Your hand trails from his tie to his belt buckle, too embarrassed to go any lower.

“Oh you poor thing” he coos, bringing and pressing your hand on top of his erection, your shaky hands rubbing his bulge like a needy kitten, “do you want my cock baby, s’that it? My Bambi needs her cock?”

“Mhm” you whine, clinging onto him when the limo pulls up to his house, his thick arms wrapping you up and taking you right to his room with no second guesses.

When he gets you into bed, all his animalistic tendencies go out the window, holding back how badly he wants to pounce on you and ravish you like the cute little bunny you are, trapped in the wolfs den. Your gown has been thrown off, lingerie ripped to bits, laying on his bed as he crawls on top of you, his thick, leaky cock bobbing between his legs.

“Are you sure you want this Angel” he checks in with you first, cupping your cheek and swiping his thumb across your pouty lip.

“W-want you” you whisper, shakily reaching down to grasp his cock, swallowing nervously. “I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t have to be scared bunny” he kisses your cheek, placing his hand on top of yours, guiding your strokes. “I’ll teach you how to play with my cock baby”

You tighten your grip, tugging him to where you need him most and he can’t hold back much longer, he’s trying to hard but you makes it impossible.

“Fuck Bambi” he groaned feeling his tip run against your soaked cunt, holding back frok shoving himself in you “keep doing that and I’ll lose control baby”

“Lose control Bucky” you tug at him again and he shakes his head with a strained chuckle.

“I’ll hurt you bunny” he said warns again but you need him to take you apart till you cant walk.

“Please?”

“Bunny…” he warns one last time but you want anymore.

“Daddy” you whine in his ear and something inside him snaps. He doesn’t give you any warning, slamming his cock into you with one stroke, your pleasured cry music to his ears.

“What did you just call me?!” He pulls out to flip you over, spanking your ass while his balls slap your clit, loving the way you go dumb over his cock.

“Such an innocent little baby with a filthy mouth, huh doll, my bunny wants her daddy’s cock”

He grips onto the headboard, delivering powerful snaps with his hips, alternating between pounding you against the pillows and grinding his cock in you without pulling out.

“Such a tight pussy squeezing daddy’s cock, my naughty little bunny, you want daddy’s cream too baby? You want daddy to give you his fresh cum, hm? Breed this needy little pussy?”

“B-breed me daddy!!” You squeal, his words driving you towards your climax, crying into his sheets and arching your back more as his movements grow sloppy.

“Get ready for daddy’s cum baby- gonna breed this pretty pussy till your fuckin’ round n’swollen n’leaking with milk” he gritted out, grabbing your hips with slam back and meet his thrusts. “Together Bambi, cum with daddy, c’mon, be a good girl n’cum with daddy”

The most salacious and primal sounds fill the room as he pumps ropes of his cum into toy, your greedy pussy milking him for all he’s worth. He can’t believe such a quiet little bunny could turn out to be a minx on the inside but he’s never letting you go.

“You’re dangerous Bambi” he whispers, keeping his softening cock in you, having never felt so satisfied afterwards, practically floating in the clouds with you. “M’never pulling my cock out, you feel too good around my dick baby”

You giggle as he kisses your glistening skin, gathering your into his arms, your eyes growing wide when he doesn’t kick you out of his bed.

“You’re mine now Bambi” he says with a soft growl, holding you closer to his chest before pulling the sheets over you both.

Anyway. Wholesome version coming later.

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penkura · 7 months ago

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Had a thought about Trafalgar law, you come across a little boy and his little sister who are being chased by other pirates for whatever reason and you decided to protect them (basically adopt them at first sight) you tell them to run to the docks to find your captain/love interest for help. While holding off the pirate crew you take damage....I could picture law seeing him and lammi in the little ones and becoming protective just as you are with them

I turned this into a full one-shot, scenario thing cause I just couldn't NOT after I read this! I hope you like it!! 💚

“Law, I can explain.”

“Please. Enlighten me, [Y/N]-ya.”

With his arms crossed, Law listens very closely as you start to explain the situation you’re in now, why you were injured and why the hell there are two children on the Polar Tang now, a set of siblings that you swear you hadn’t fully intended to bring with you. A boy no younger than five and a girl no more than two, they’d ran into you on the last island you docked at, the place having been taken over and ravaged by another pirate crew, begging you for help. The orphanage they lived at had been burned down, their caretakers were missing, and no one had been willing to help them until you stopped. Their story felt like a knife twisting your heart, causing you to direct them to the docks and that as soon as they found the big yellow submarine, to look for the guy with a spotted hat and tattoos, tell him you sent them there if you didn’t get back first.

You hadn’t fully intended to bring them on board, but your crew ended up being in a rush when you came back with a gash on your temple and a stab wound on your arm, you ushered them on board and not even Law noticed them at first. It wasn’t until he went to treat your wounds and the two were holding onto you for dear life that he questioned you on where on earth these two came from, leading to the current situation.

“That’s, that’s really it, I swear,” you quickly bend down and lift up the girl as she starts to whine a bit, Law watching you, “I didn’t think we’d end up taking them with us.”

“Their caretakers are probably looking for them.”

“They said no one was around that they recognized. Law, please, I’ll—”

“This ship isn’t a place for children, let alone toddlers.”

You know he’s right, based on the small nod you give as you look at the girl, laying her head on your shoulder, still whining a bit with her thumb in her mouth. You don’t even have items on the Polar Tang to help you take care of two small children, but even still, you want to help them. You’ve heard your captain/boyfriend tell you before that pirates don’t help people, but the Straw Hats do that everywhere they go, why can’t you do the same for these two orphans? Even if it’s until the next island, you could do something positive for them.

Knowing you as well as he does, Law is aware he’s not going to win this battle. You’re already getting attached, even if he tells you to leave them at the next port, you’re going to be heartbroken doing so. As soon as Bepo sees them it’s going to be even more difficult, the mink loves children and will fight to keep them on board too, even if it might be seen as insubordination by some. He can’t even deny that there’s a part of him that wants to help them, clenching his jaw as he watches you comfort the girl, asking if she’s tired or hungry before her older brother says she’s hungry, knowing her so well.

It reminds him of how well he knew Lami, every little tick and tell that showed what she needed or wanted when she was little. The age gap between these siblings is about the same as his and Lami’s was.

If she were there she’d be on your side to keep these kids around.

“Law,” the disappointed look on your face makes his heart drop, and Law sighs knowing he’s lost this one, “I’ll look for an orphanage at the next island, for now—”

“As soon as Bepo sees them it’s going to be impossible to let them go…”

“Then…!” You brighten up so quickly that Law has to look away from you as he nods. Your smile is too bright for him sometimes, despite how long you’ve been together.

“They’re your responsibility.”

Nodding, you take the boy’s hand and start to lead him to the kitchen, only stopping long enough to kiss Law.

“Thank you, Law. I love you!”

“Yeah,” Law sighs and watches you leave, asking the newest Heart Pirate crewmates what they want for lunch, “love you too.”

+!+

Their names are Noa and Luna, you find out while you make them something to eat with Penguin’s help. He holds Luna as she fusses for something to eat, promising her it’s on the way, as Noa tells you a little more about what’s happened to the two in recent months.

Their parents died in a house fire that happened while the siblings were with their grandfather for the day, who ended up taking them in after the accident. He unfortunately passed a few weeks ago from pneumonia, leaving the two with nowhere else to go but the orphanage, until it was ransacked and almost burned down by the pirates that invaded their home the other day. Noa did all he could to keep Luna safe and fed the last couple of days, and when he saw you, he just felt like he hadto try, he hoped you would help them and luckily you did.

The story almost gets Penguin to even cry, but Luna’s little cries keep him from doing so. You take her from him once it’s all ready, a very basic chicken fried rice you made with some leftovers for Noa and some mashed potatoes with bites of the same chicken for Luna, sitting down with the toddler in your lap to help her eat. Penguin joins you and just watches, it’s such a domestic scene, very strange for a pirate crew.

“Can’t believe captain is letting them stay…”

“I guess something convinced him it would be okay.” You shrug as Luna attempts to take the spoon from you, but settles for holding onto your hand while you keep feeding her. Noa digs in so quickly and is nearly done, ready for seconds that you’d think he hasn’t eaten in weeks, not days.

“Yeah, that something is you,” Penguin grins while you roll your eyes, “but maybe also cause he was reminded of his sister.”

You know Law’s life story very well at this point, you can easily tell when it’s all gotten to him again based on how he stays in his office those nights, only letting you come in when you realize what’s happening again. Letting you almost coddle and pamper him with love and sweet words of how proud they all are of him, it’s enough those nights to bring him back to your shared bed, though he keeps his face buried in your chest and if there are any tears you don’t let on that you notice them.

It's been a long time but it still affects him all the same, you’ll gladly stay and help Law through all of it. You love him too much to let him deal with it alone.

“Ah, who knows,” he shrugs this time before getting up to leave after serving Noa more fried rice and ruffling his hair, “Maybe captain is thinking of you two having a kid now!”

That comment just makes your face heat up as you glare at him and he laughs.

“Shut up, Penguin.”

+!+

Everyone takes to the young siblings quickly, especially Bepo when he does meet them. Luna becomes attached instantly and falls asleep without much problem for a nap, Noa trying to climb on Bepo to play until he lays down with the toddler asleep on him, the five-year-old joining for a warm, comfortable nap that afternoon. It becomes quite common to find the three napping together over the next few weeks.

Lists are made of what you need to pick up next time to ensure these kids have a chance and can live comfortably on the submarine, Ikkaku and Hakugan taking the reins on that when you dock again. Uni and Clione watch the two whenever you’re busy elsewhere, and Noa treats Jean Bart like a jungle gym too, though he doesn’t complain simply because it’s cute. The whole crew enjoys helping care for the siblings, Noa and Luna being seen as a full-fledged members right away, in spite of how young they are. Noa constantly asks to help people with things and it normally ends up with him helping fold laundry as Luna toddles around, giving bright smiles and giggles to everyone.

It’s takes more time for Law to warm up to the two, even as they’ve been sharing your room and bed, since there’s no other place for them on the ship. He hasn’t argued with you about it, even when he’s woken up with Luna snug against his side or Noa on top of him, it’s weirdly sweet and he doesn’t seem to mind it.

You can tell he’s becoming more accepting of having these two kids around, as he starts to carry Luna when she lifts her arms up to him, he easily scoops her up in his arms and continues what he was doing even when she lays her head on his shoulder and yawns. Noa has come to start asking Law all kinds of questions about medicine and medical procedures, your boyfriend explaining it the best he can so a child can understand it.

A part of you wonders if he’ll be like this with your own children one day, if you have any.

For now, you soak up the moments like this one, where you catch the three fast asleep in your bed, Noa curled up beside Law while Luna is asleep on his chest, a copy of Sora Warrior of the Sea in your boyfriend’s hand, obviously he’d been reading to them before they’d all fallen asleep. It makes you smile to yourself as you cover them with a blanket, placing soft kisses on foreheads and cheeks where you find them, enough so that it wakes Law and he just looks at you.

“They both love you, Law.”

He hums a bit, gently grabbing your wrist to pull you into bed with them, you bring Noa close to you and let him snuggle against you in his sleep.

“…did I tell you she called me dada the other day?”

“No, you didn’t!” You have to keep your surprise down to not wake the two, “When did that happen?”

“Luna wanted my attention but I was busy with something. I guess she got frustrated and it just came out…I didn’t mind it.”

“That’s good, Law,” once you kiss his cheek again, you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes while Law brings you closer to him, “I’m glad you let them stay.”

“Yeah…so am I.”

Maybe one day Law will admit to you he saw himself and Lami in Noa and Luna, but for now, he’ll just accept that most of his days will be cut short with naps and bedtime stories and his work will he interrupted by the little girl that needs held. He really doesn’t mind it, it’s a nice change of pace.

Maybe the Straw Hats have it right that you can be a pirate and help people after all.

#one piece x reader #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #request

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themultifanshipper · 6 months ago

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🔴 with Webber!reader x Jenson x Sebastian.

Living with your brother had it's perks, him living in a penthouse and all.

But it had it's downsides too. Like when you had to sneak your hookups out without him knowing. It didn't help that they were his friends and colleagues.

To be honest it was only a matter of time before he caught you.

Warnings: disgusting smut, crying, dacryphilia, sub reader, sub sebastian, dom jenson (hear me out), overstimulation, forced sex?, use of the colour system, PinV sex, Oral, cum, facials you know the drill, Jenson being mean af

requested from my prompt list

He finally caught you the day after his win in Monaco 2012.

He'd gone out partying all night so you had the place to yourself and you decided to invite a couple of friends over.

Those friends happened to be Sebastian Vettel and Jenson Button. No biggie.

They both knew about your situationship with the other, and you didn't get to see them that often, so you had planned that while they were both in Monaco you'd have a bit of fun with them both.

And it's not like they didn't mess around on their own either.

Sebastian arrived first, having rushed through his duties in his impatience to join you.

Before you'd even shut the door he had you up against the wall, whispering about all the things he wanted to do to you, feeling frustrated after your brother ‘stole his win’ (his words not mine).

Fucking his biggest rival's little sister was certainly a great way to let out his frustration, and you were happy to take everything he had to give.

He undressed you slowly, making sure to tease you as much as possible while he peeled your clothes off your body.

He was halfway through getting you to your second orgasm using his fingers, when Jenson barged in.

The bastard didn't even knock, he just opened the door, gasped in fake surprise at the sight of you getting ravaged on the couch and closed the door behind him.

“God, look at the state of you two, couldn't even wait for me” he tutted as he prowled towards you like a predator.

Seb hadn't stopped his ministrations and you were currently hurtling towards your peak. Jenson chuckled at you barely being able to keep your eyes open with the pleasure.

“Aw babygirl are you going to come on Seb's fingers?”

You nodded as the pleasure overcame you and you clamped down on Seb's fingers as you rode your high.

Once you had finished, Jenson dragged him away from your weeping cunt and sat him on the couch next to you.

“Let's give her a break and take care of this mess, hmm?”

Seb gasped as Jenson lowered his head and licked up the underside of his leaking cock.

He wasted no time sinking down completely, making Seb choke on his spit.

You had no idea Jenson was so proficient at blowjobs, but the sight of him swallowing around Seb's cock really did something to you.

“Fuck Jenson-” Seb moaned “don't stop”

Jenson pulled off for a second to answer “Don't worry baby, I'm not going to stop until you're crying”

Seb whimpered and Jenson sank back down to the base, deepthroating him expertly.

It took Seb an embarrasingly short amount of time to come after that, and he pulled Jenson off him by the hair.

Jenson himself was flushed but he sat up and looked at the two of you mischievously.

“Now then, given that you two brats decided to be greedy and start without me, you're going to fuck, and I'm going to watch. And if you stop before I say so, I will tie you both up and tease you all night and leave you here for Mark to find, understood?”

You and Seb looked at each other with a twinkle in your eyes.

“Yes Daddy”

You were just goading him at this point, you knew it would drive Jenson mad, and it did. He groaned and rubbed his face.

“Right, come on then.” He sighed, slapping your thigh “Any position you want, get to it.”

You decided to ride Seb, and it was wonderful. He was so thick, grazing all the right places inside you, that this didn't feel like much of a punishment at all.

You came for the third time just as you thighs were starting to burn from the effort, so as you came down, Seb pulled out and you changed position, now laying on the couch with Seb above you as Jenson watched on.

Seb fucked you hard immediately, slightly overstimulating you, and his hands wandered over your flesh, squeezing and pinching as they went.

The real punishment started when Seb came inside you and stopped his thrusts to pull out gently.

“Ah ah! What do you think you're doing?” Jenson said, looking up from his phone “keep fucking her Seb”

You both froze.

“But-“ Seb started but Jenson interrupted him

“This is your punishment for being impatient little fuckers, so get back inside her while you're still hard and take it like a man”

Seb blushed and reluctantly pushed back into you.

You were both so sensitive it sent shocks through your systems.

“Fuck” Seb muttered as he put some of his weight on you in favour of grinding his hips into yours.

“Feel so fucking good around me schatz”

You whined “It's too much Jense, m'gonna come”

Jenson just laughed.

“Is it too much or are you going to come baby? It can't be both”

Jenson talking down at you shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but you were clenching around Seb as you got closer to another orgasm.

“Gonna come” you gasped out.

“Then come baby, I'm not stopping you”

And you did, your fourth orgasm washed over you but Seb kept going as per Jenson's instructions and he himself came again not long after that.

Jenson sensed he was going to pull out so he grabbed Seb's hips and pushed him flush with you.

“Don't you dare pull out, Sebby. Keep going. It's what you get for being greedy little sluts”

He guided Sebs hips back and forth, using Seb to fuck you, not giving his dick time to get soft again as you both felt tears of overstimulation cloud your vision.

“Can't Jenson” Seb gasped, he was shaking like a leaf “It's too much, I can't keep going”

You shared the sentiment, you weren't sure you'd be able to come again, the pleasure bordering on pain.

Jenson pushed on Seb's hips particularly hard and he let out a sob into the crook of your neck.

“Yes you can” Jenson said tenderly “I know you can, Sebby”

Seb let out a wanton moan and Jenson asked “Colour?”

Seb's shaky voice replied, muffled by your skin “green”.

Jenson looked at your tear stained cheeks and you also gasped out ‘green’.

“There you go, you can both give me one more then”

Seb's hips slapped into yours with renewed vigour, he was determined to see this to the end, his impressive stamina coming in handy in this situation.

Jenson decided to help you along and give you a hand, literally.

One of his hands went to Seb's hair, yanking his head back and licking into his mouth as he panted like an animal, and the other slithered down you body and started rubbing circles onto your clit.

The touch sent a jolt of electricity through you and you found yourself right on the edge again, and the pleasure was too much for you as you sobbed your way through your orgasm.

Seb’s hyper sensitive cock didn't survive you clamping down on him and he also came with a wretched sound, muffled by Jenson's mouth on his.

Jenson helped Seb to pull out carefully, and he slumped down to a kneeling position on the floor.

He instructed you to do the same and got his painfully hard cock out of his pants to finally get the relief he'd been denying himself.

The sight of you and Seb on your knees for him, his two favourite brats, tears staining your cheeks, eyes wet and lips puffy, was enough to get him off in record time as he groaned out a curse and spurted streaks of white over both of your faces.

“My perfect whores, fuck- so good for me, you did so well”

He stroked your heads as he waited for his head to stop spinning.

You all got washed up and went to bed very late, after a nice (takeaway) meal and a couple of drinks to wind down.

The next morning you woke up with Seb, Jenson being a heavy (and late!!) sleeper, and decided to get up and get some breakfast.

What you didn't expect was for Mark to be in the living room, holding your discarded clothes and a Redbull shirt.

You froze in the doorway and you stared at each other, your eyes full of fear and his full of anger.

“So you're sleeping with a Redbull driver, huh?” he cocked his head “Last I heard, there's only two of those. And it's definitely not me. So tell me, who is in your room right now?”

“Well I should hope you're not sleeping with your own sister” Seb's voice resounded from behind you, and you cursed the man internally.

“Ah! Nice of you to join us, Seb! What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” Mark's eyes flashed with anger.

Seb just chuckled and wrapped an arm around you “I was invited by your lovely sister, do you want a play by play of everything we did on your couch?”

Mark's eyes widened and he looked at the couch with disgust.

“Also that is my shirt you're holding, so I will let you make your own conclusions”

He walked towards a livid looking Mark and ripped his own shirt from his grasp, before going to sit down in the kitchen.

“You coming schatz? I thought you wanted to make breakfast?” he called from the other room.

You gave an apologetic look to your brother before following Seb's path.

Mark took a second to regain his composure before doing the same.

“How long has this been going on?”

You sighed, of course now he was going to be nosy.

“A few months… maybe a year”

Mark would have been outraged except… he just frowned, he definitely heard you with someone a few weeks ago, and it definitely wasn't Seb.

In fact he was pretty sure he recognised the accent he’d heard through the wall.

“But what about…” he looked at Seb quickly before deciding he actually didn't care about possibly hurting his feelings and blurted out “Jenson!”

You stared at him blankly. “What about Jenson?”

He narrowed his eyes at you “Well I know you fucked him… recently”

“And why would you think I'm fucking Jenson?”

And because your luck always ran out at the very worst of times, Jenson himself strutted through the door, shirtless, and sporting a smug grin.

“Someone mention my name?”

He walked towards you, pecked you on the cheek and sat down on the other side of Sebastian.

Marks eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull, and you could see the cogs turning in his mind.

“You… you're fucking BOTH OF THEM?!”

You could barely contain your smirk as you answered.

“Yeah? This is what the young people are doing these days, Mark. You should give it a go, it might help you unwind!”

He didn't even dignify that with a response, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

You, Seb and Jenson looked at each other and burst out laughing.

You were definitely inviting them over more often.

#my thots #sebastian thots #jenson thots #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button smut #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request

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joelmillerisapunk · 6 months ago

Text

Escapism

Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 5,733

Summary: The grumpy Joel, one bed, who did that to you trope fic no one asked for/ Ellie matchmaking for Joel

Warnings: 18+, smut, joels a grump, ellie's there, reader experiences a tiny bit of ptsd from being captured prior to meeting joel and ellie.

Notes: Ty to @evolnoomym for the moodboard and beta reading and @syd-djarin & @joelslegalwhre for the beta read. and @saradika-graphics for the divider.

The world changed in the blink of an eye. Civilization, with all its comforts and securities, crumbled under the weight of a relentless pandemic. The infected roam the earth, their minds and bodies ravaged by a virus that turns them into mindless, ravenous creatures. Humanity, once the masters of their domain, is now just another prey in a landscape that has turned savagely against them.

You are on your own for months, ever since the virus claimed your sister and the raiders took everything else. Your husband and son, Ethan, are lost to the chaos, leaving you with nothing but the clothes on your back, a backpack filled with meager supplies, and a book - "No Pun Intended: Volume 1" - a cherished memento of a life that once was.

The days blur into a testament to your will to live. You scavenge for food, avoid the infected, and keep moving, always moving. The world is a graveyard of memories, and you are just another ghost haunting its ruins.

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you find yourself in the remnants of a once-bustling town. The buildings stand like skeletons, their windows shattered, their doors hanging off their hinges. It is here, in this desolate place, that you decide to make camp for the night.

You choose a spot behind an overturned bus, its rusted shell providing a modicum of shelter. You gather what little dry wood you can find and build a small fire. The can of beans you scavenged earlier in the day heats slowly, the metallic smell mingling with the scent of smoke and decay that seems to permeate everything.

As you wait for your meal, you allow yourself a rare moment of stillness. The book lies open in your lap, its pages a portal to a time when puns and laughter were the greatest concerns of the day. You are so lost in the world of words that you almost don't hear the low growl that signals the approach of danger.

It happens in a heartbeat. One moment you are alone, the next an infected lunges at you from the shadows, its bloodshot eyes and snarling mouth a terrifying vision of death. You have no time to react, no time to defend yourself. The creature pins you to the ground, its fetid breath hot against your face.

Panic surges through your veins, a scream lodges in your throat. Darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, and you brace yourself for the end. But then, the deafening crack of a gunshot splits the air. The weight of the infected creature collapses onto you, its lifeless body trapping you beneath its bulk.

For a moment, time stands still. You lie there, stunned and gasping for breath, the world around you reduced to the pounding of your heart and the ringing in your ears. Then, as quickly as the nightmare has descended, the weight is lifted from your body. You scramble backward, your hands and knees scraping against the rough ground, until you reach the sanctuary of your sleeping bag.

Looking up, you are met with the imposing figure of a large, rugged man. His rifle is still smoking from the shot that has saved your life. His eyes, hard and suspicious, bore into you as he demands, "You bit?”

Your hands shoot up in surrender, tears threatening to spill as you vehemently shake your head. "Please don't shoot, I- I wasn't bit," you plead, your voice quivering with fear.

The man nudges his gun towards you, his voice gruff as he commands, "Get up slowly."

You rise to your feet, hands still raised, and perform a slow pirouette to prove your uninfected state. Satisfied, he lowers his weapon.

"I totally could have done that," a smaller, younger girl boasts as she steps out from behind him. His daughter, you presume, exudes a mix of bravado and youthful naivety.

"I told you to stay in the woods," He chides her.

The girl ignores her father's reprimand, instead, bounding over to your belongings. "No fucking way!" she exclaims, holding up a book that clearly means something to you. "No Pun Intended - the first volume." She chuckles, turning to the burly man. "Can you believe it?"

You rush over, snatching the book from her hands. "That was my -" Emotion chokes your words as you clutch the book, a tangible piece of your past. "It was my sister's," you manage to say, hastily stowing the book in your bag.

The man surveys your camp, his expression a mix of concern and disapproval. "Ya know it ain't safe to be camping out in the open like this," he remarks. You follow his gaze, taking in the vulnerability of your setup, and release a heavy sigh. "I - I know. There used to be more of us - a group. We traveled together, always finding safer places to go. But now - now I'm on my own, alone and..." Your voice trails off as you turn away, taking a seat by the dwindling fire. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm not gonna survive too long out here alone. It's only a matter of time. If you weren't here, I'd have been dead already. But thank you for your help. Help yourselves to some food, I don't have much else to offer you."

Abruptly, the girl's head bobs up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come with us, oh yeah, it's going to be a blast. Finally, another girl around here!" Her voice rings out with a mix of eagerness and camaraderie.

"Ellie, quiet!" the man snaps, then pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, a clear sign of mounting frustration. "We don't have the space for anyone else."

You stand by, a silent observer, as the man and his daughter, Ellie, butt heads over the possibility of taking you with them.

"You're just going to leave her here alone," Ellie emphasizes, her voice sharp as a knife, "to die? Come on, Joel." Her plea hangs in the air, reminiscent of someone who's just found a stray puppy and can't bear to leave it behind.

Joel's gaze flickers to you as if searching for a reason to abandon you. He heaves a sigh so heavy it seems to carry the weight of the world. He turns back to Ellie, frustration etched on his face, then looks at you once more. "You have five minutes to pack your things, and then we're leavin’. With or without you." With that, he strides off into the thicket of trees, leaving Ellie behind with a look that speaks volumes of his exasperation.

"Sorry, he's not always so grumpy... well, actually, he is," Ellie admits with a sheepish grin. "Don't mind Joel; he's just set in his ways. I'm Ellie, by the way."

You can't help but giggle, kneeling down to gather your belongings. "It's nice to meet you, Ellie," you say, your voice tinged with a mix of relief and curiosity. "But why do you call your dad by his name?"

"I ain't her dad," Joel's voice cuts in, as he reemerges leading a horse by the reins.

"He's not my dad," they echo each other, their voices intertwining in a strange harmony.

"Oh," you reply, hurriedly stuffing your meager possessions into your sister's old backpack—a white and black checkered bag adorned with random sunflowers. You hoist the thick black straps over your shoulders and roll up your sleeping bag, tucking it under your arm. Rising to your feet, you dust off your flared blue jeans. "Sorry, I could have sworn you two were related, the way you bicker like that."

Ellie nudges Joel with her elbow, a playful smirk on her face. "It's just Joel. He's old and cranky."

Joel stands there, stoic and unamused, the reins held firmly in his grip. "Need to find shelter before nightfall," he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Why can't we just stay here?" You ask, genuine curiosity lacing your words.

"The fact that you almost got killed by one of those things, and you couldn't even hear it creeping up on you, should make it pretty damn clear why not," Joel retorts, his voice rising as he gesticulates wildly, emphasizing the danger lurking in the shadows.

"Be fucking nice, Joel!" Ellie interjects, smacking his arm with back of her hand.

"I am being very nice by lettin’ her come with us. Now why ain’t we movin’?" he asks.

"I have no idea where we're going, lead the way, cowboy."

"Actually, Joel was a contractor before this, super cool, right?"

You can't help but laugh. "Yeah, totally."

"What's so funny?" Joel asks, his brow furrowing as the three of you begin to navigate the rugged terrain.

"You actually managed to make being a contractor sound like the epitome of cool to young Ellie here?"

Joel's patience wears thin. "Can we all just keep quiet until we find a place to hole up for the night?"

Ellie clears her throat, her curiosity piqued. "So, what's the story with your group?"

"Ellie, you don't go asking people you just met that stuff." Joel snapped.

You let out a soft chuckle, the memory of your past still vivid. "It's alright. My sister got bitten. I had to...you know, in the middle of the night." The weight of that memory tugs at your heartstrings. "My husband and son, Ethan, they were killed by raiders who tried to overrun our camp. They took me captive, but I managed to escape. And now, here I am." You pause, the chilling recollection making you shudder. You shake off the dark thoughts, not wanting to dwell on them now.

Ellie offers a sympathetic smile, and you catch the hint of one on Joel's face too. "That's rough. I'm really sorry that happened to you," Ellie says, her voice gentle.

"Thanks, Ellie," you murmur, your gaze falling to your boots, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment washing over you.

You look up at Joel, who seems to be wrestling with his own thoughts. "So, where are we actually heading?"

He takes a moment, staring off into the distance before heaving a sigh and meeting your eyes. "My brother and his wife are part of a large group just north of here. We can make it there. It's not far—a couple of days' travel at most."

"We should find a spot to camp soon. It's getting dark," Joel suggests, scanning the surroundings.

With the three of you working in unison, the camp comes together quickly in the shelter of the woods, hidden from any unwelcome eyes.

"Wanna get the fire going?" Joel asks, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through his bag. He extends his hand to you, offering a small amount of kindling and a pack of matches.

"Uh, sure," you reply, your voice tinged with uncertainty. The truth is, you're still pretty green in this post-apocalyptic world, and tasks like starting a fire are always more challenging than they seem.

You step forward and accept the kindling and matches from Joel, then set to work. Carefully, you arrange the kindling, trying to remember the techniques you've been taught. You strike the first match, the flame flickering to life. With trembling hands, you bring it close to the kindling, only for the wind to snuff it out.

"Shit," you mutter, hoping no one noticed. You try again, but the result is the same. On the third attempt, you realize Joel has been observing you all along. Each failed attempt makes him wince. Finally, on the fourth match, he's seen enough.

Joel stands abruptly and strides over to you. He takes the matches and kindling from your hands and, in one swift motion, ignites the fire. "Just go set up your sleeping bag," he says, a sigh of exasperation escaping him as he avoids your gaze. The sting of being a burden weighs heavily on you.

You rise slowly and move toward your sleeping bag and backpack, which are nestled beside a tree just off to the side of where Joel and Ellie are sitting. You drag your things closer to the newly lit fire and spread out your sleeping bag. As you search through your bag, you pull out a small handgun and begin to load it.

"Whoa, cool!" Ellie exclaims, bounding over to you and eyeing the gun with interest.

"It was my husband's," you tell her as you finish loading the weapon. "I'm going to get us something to eat." With your bag slung over your shoulder, you head toward the edge of the camp. But before you can leave, a hand grips your upper arm, halting your progress.

You turn to face Joel's frustrated expression. "No, absolutely not. You can't even start a damn fire. How are you going to shoot us something to eat?" he challenges.

You pull your arm free, determination flashing in your eyes. "I can handle it myself. I did fine before you came along, and I'll do fine after you're gone." You resume your course, but Joel isn't done yet.

"I'm not letting you go out there alone. I saved you once; you don't get another chance," he calls after you.

You turn back, extracting your arm from his grasp for the last time. "I didn't ask for your saving or help. You have no obligations to me. Thank you for saving me once, but I don't need it again." With that, you continue into the dense woods, leaving Joel standing there, conflicted. He returns to the camp, muttering to himself, "Fuck sakes. You stay here. Don't fucking move. I'm not in the mood to save two of you today." He grabs his rifle and follows you into the woods, the setting sun casting long shadows across the forest floor.

A few moments later, he hears your gun go off, and panic starts to seize him.

After about five minutes, he finds you huddled over something, "What the hell? You can't just go shooting your gun off like that. Raiders, fucking infected, someone's gonna find us." His voice is laced with urgency.

As he approaches, he sees you covered in blood, and fear races through him. But then he realizes it's not your blood. You've actually killed a deer.

You turn around to see Joel standing near you, his expression a mix of relief and irritation.

"So now what? You even know how to skin it?" Joel challenges.

You shake your head, "No."

"What was your plan then? To just try and drag it by yourself back to camp?" He's exasperated, but there's a hint of concern beneath his gruff exterior.

You shrug, admitting your inexperience. You've always known you're not very good at hunting, but the desire to contribute, to ensure a decent meal tonight, drove you to try.

"Come on, I'll teach you," Joel says, resignation in his voice. He shows you how to skin and butcher the deer, his frustration still evident. It's clear he resents the extra burden you represent.

After you've all eaten your fill and packed away the rest for tomorrow, you and Ellie crawl into your sleeping bags, while Joel takes the first watch.

—

In the dead of night, a sound pierces through the silence, and you jolt awake. You see Joel leaning against a tree, his vigilance unwavering. As you approach, you offer, "Here, let me take over. Get some rest."

He turns to meet your gaze, "No. I don't know you, can't trust you."

"I don't know you either, and I trusted you to keep me safe," you rebut.

"I think saving you before I even knew you is proof enough of my trustworthiness. You've done nothing but add extra work for me since I've been here. I'm not lettin’ you keep watch. You couldn't even hear the damn thing when it was close." Joel's frustration is palpable.

Your eyes narrow as you step into Joel's space, "Fuck you, Joel. I never asked for your help. If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and I'll go." Despite barely knowing the man, his words sting.

Joel rolls his eyes, a silent admission of the care he feels for you, a care he'd never voice. His tough exterior belies a growing attachment, one that complicates his solitary existence. He avoids looking at you, his gaze skittering away whenever your eyes meet. "Go to bed, please. I've got this," he says, his voice a low rumble. Joel doesn't turn his attention to you until you retreat to your sleeping bag, where you curl up, seeking warmth and comfort. As you drift off to sleep, he watches over you, a silent sentinel in the quiet night. There's a palpable sense of relief that washes over him when you finally succumb to sleep.

The next morning, the sound of footsteps rouses you from your slumber. You blink against the bright morning light, using your arm as a shield. Rolling over, you're greeted by the sight of Joel's back; he's crouched, presumably packing his bag for the journey ahead. The remnants of sleep slowly clear from your mind as you extricate yourself from the sleeping bag and roll it up. To your right, Ellie lies fast asleep, her soft snores a gentle backdrop to the morning.

You leave Ellie to her dreams and approach Joel. He's focused on his pack, his shirt inching up to reveal the taut skin of his lower back. You catch yourself staring and quickly bite your lip, a futile attempt to redirect your thoughts.

Attraction? No, that's not it. He's infuriating, self-centered, and yet here you are, sharing this strange journey with him and Ellie, who might as well be his daughter.

Joel looks up, his eyes betraying a deep exhaustion that seems to have settled into his very bones. "We're leaving once the sun's up. Make sure you're ready. We'll cover more than half the distance by nightfall," he informs you, rising to his feet and hoisting his pack over his shoulder.

You find yourself captivated by his deep brown eyes, noticing for the first time the kindness hidden beneath his gruff exterior. A silent exchange passes between you, a moment of unspoken understanding, before Joel clears his throat and breaks the connection, turning his attention to the horse.

The tension in the air is almost tangible as you both look away. Once Joel has secured everything onto the horse except for Ellie, he gently wakes her.

The three of you fall into a rhythm, traversing the desolate landscape. The day stretches on, filled with endless walking. As the sun begins its descent, casting long shadows across the land, fatigue sets in. But Joel, ever perceptive, anticipates your need for rest.

"There should be a town up this road," he says. "We can find an old house to spend the night. No need for watches tonight; we all could use some proper sleep."

As night falls, Joel guides the horse with practiced ease over the unforgiving terrain. Before long, a small farmhouse emerges from the twilight, its isolation suggesting it's been long abandoned.

Ellie's voice cuts through the stillness. "Is this the town you were talking about? It's tiny, Joel. There's barely a house here."

Joel just chuckles, a soft sound that carries the weight of countless stories and experiences. "Sometimes, the best places are the ones that are hardest to find."

The three of you brace yourselves for the night, the assurance of safety and rest offering a much-needed refuge from the relentless challenges of your travels.

"This isn't the town, but it's likely safer to camp here. Raiders might be patrolling near the town. Now go inside and get settled, Ellie, help me with the horse."

You move silently into the house, scouting for a suitable spot to bed down for the night.

Ellie and Joel lead the horse towards the barn at the back.

"So, you planning to make a move, lover boy?" Ellie abruptly inquires, her voice laced with playful mischief.

Joel's eyes narrow in confusion, "What?"

"Ugh, it's so clear you two are head over heels for each other. It's adorable how you bicker." She giggles, mimicking air kisses.

Joel dismisses her with a shake of his head, "Mind your own business, would you?"

"So it is true! You like her... ha! I knew it. Can't wait to spill the beans."

Joel's eyes widen with a hint of panic as he secures the horse to a post, "Ellie! Cut it out, this isn't the time for matchmaking. I'm not in love. I wouldn't bat an eye if she left."

Ellie smirks, her eyes gleaming with a devious spark. "Oh Joel, dumb dumb Joel. Don't worry, I'll help you out."

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Ellie, please, just drop it, head inside. I'll be there shortly. And don't say a word to her!"

By the time he finishes, Ellie is already darting back to the house.

Upon entering, you're arranging an old, grimy mattress when Ellie bursts in.

"Hey, lucky for us, there's another mattress upstairs. I figured we could each -"

Before you can finish, Ellie dashes up the stairs, calling out, "I'll take this one!" She pauses at the top, looking back, "And tell Joel I'm really upset with him and I don't want to talk."

Perplexed, you try to stop her, but she's already disappeared, the door shut behind her.

As the door closes, Joel steps in, and you turn to face him, "What happened with Ellie?"

Joel looks up, puzzled, as he sets his gear aside, "What do you mean?"

"She just bolted upstairs, saying she's upset and doesn't want to talk to you."

"She's a kid, I don't know. So this is the only bed then?"

"Well, you must have done something to upset her. She dashed upstairs and staked her claim on the other mattress."

The realization dawns on Joel. "Goddammit, Ellie! Get down here now!" he yells, but his call is met with silence. He races up the staircase to the closed door, pounding on it. "Ellie, come out here. We need to talk."

"No! I'm not talking to you. I locked the door, you can't come in," her voice is muffled but defiant. Joel continues to pound on the door. "Ellie, get out here."

"I can't hear you..." Ellie's voice trails off, barely audible.

Frustrated, Joel descends the stairs, his gaze shifting between the bed and you. "You can have the bed. I'll just crash on the floor in one of the sleeping bags."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised by his offer. "Just get in the damn bed, Joel. We're two grown adults; we can share a bed for one night, can't we?"

He looks like he's about to argue but then relents. "Fine... whatever." He grabs a sleeping bag from his pack and tosses it onto the bed. You slip under the covers, turning away from him. As Joel settles down to sleep, the room falls silent.

After a few minutes, you hear him chuckle softly to himself.

"What's so funny?" You turn to face him, a hint of irritation in your voice.

"Nothin’, just thinkin’," he replies, the chuckle turning into a full-blown laugh.

You sigh and turn back around, but his laughter is infectious. "Seriously, Joel, if you don't stop, I'm going to punch you in the face." You turn to face him again, trying to suppress a smile.

"It's Ellie," he says, the laughter subsiding. "I know why she's upset."

"Then why aren't you talking to her about it?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

He studies you for a moment, his gaze intense. "It ain't that simple. She thinks she's doin’ us a favor by making us share a bed."

Your cheeks flush with warmth. "Oh."

"So I guess that means it's your fault," he teases, a smirk playing on his lips. The atmosphere shifts, becoming both more relaxed and more charged at the same time.

"How is it my fault?" you challenge, playing along with his playful tone.

"If I didn't have to keep saving your ass, we wouldn't be in this situation," he jabs, his tone light and teasing.

"I think you owe me, if anything, for that deer I killed," you retort, a small smile tugging at your lips. The tension that's been building over the past day begins to dissipate.

"Oh yeah?" he says, inching closer to you on the bed.

You swallow hard, your heart rate picking up. "Mhm, you sure owe me big time."

His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes. Suddenly, he leans in and kisses you, his hand cradling the back of your neck while the other pulls you tightly against him. The kiss is gentle and sweet, causing your thoughts to scatter as you surrender to the moment, pressing closer to him.

In the quiet hush of the room, you pull back slightly, your gaze meeting his. Joel's face is mere inches from yours, his eyes brimming with unspoken desire.

Nervously, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue, whispering his name like a secret, "Joel..."

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he slowly leans in, closing the distance between you. His forehead gently meets yours, a tender gesture that sends a shiver down your spine.

"God, I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," he confesses, his voice a low rumble that resonates deep within you.

Without warning, his hand shoots out, capturing your wrist in a firm yet gentle grip. He pulls you towards him, your bodies aligning, pressing tightly against each other.

Your lips find his again, this kiss more urgent than the last, fueled by a hunger that has been building since your first encounter. Joel's lips move against yours with a newfound intensity, his tongue exploring, claiming every inch of your mouth.

You surrender to the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips on yours. His hands begin to roam, tracing the curves of your body, eliciting a soft moan from you. The sound seems to spur him on, and he deepens the kiss even further.

You can feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his muscles beneath your hands. His grip on you is firm, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He breaks away from your mouth, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. His hot breath against your skin causes goosebumps to rise in its wake.

His hands slide lower, gripping your hips with a possessive intensity. Joel lifts himself off the bed, pressing his body against yours, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable.

A gasp escapes you as he grinds against you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, while his hands explore the softness of your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. A whimper slips past your lips as he teases you with a gentle squeeze.

You can feel his smirk against your neck as he continues his descent, leaving a trail of kisses and small love bites in his wake. The sensation of being consumed by him is intoxicating, and you find yourself yearning for more, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

"Joel...please..." you beg, tugging at his shirt, eager to remove the last barrier between you.

He chuckles at the desperation in your voice, a sound that only fans the flames of your desire. His lips return to yours, and he begins to move his hips in a rhythm that matches the urgency of your kisses. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, seeking friction.

"Ahh..." you groan as his bulge hits just the right spot, causing your body to tremble with anticipation.

"Shh... just relax. I'm going to make you feel so good," Joel whispers, his voice a promise against your ear. He quickly strips you of your shirt, tossing it aside, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze.

You bite your lip, your eyes fluttering closed as the sensation of his hands on your skin sends you reeling. His touch is electric, igniting a fire within you that only he can quench.

"Look at me," he commands, and your eyes snap open to meet his intense gaze. His face is a portrait of desire, his eyes dark with need, his hair tousled from your eager hands. His fingers find the hem of your pants, and he takes his time, drawing out the anticipation as he peels them off your legs.

He plants a gentle kiss on your belly, causing you to sigh with contentment. His lips continue their journey downward, and you can't help but arch your back, moaning softly as his fingertips graze your sensitive flesh. His tongue darts out, teasing you, tasting you, driving you wild with need.

The years of longing, the pent-up desire, it all comes crashing down as his tongue delves into your core. You can't hold back the moans that escape your lips, each one a testament to the pleasure he's bringing you. He continues to tease you, his hands tracing a path back up to your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples into hard peaks.

The sensation of his mouth on you is almost too much to bear. You come undone, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Joel's mouth is relentless, his lips and tongue working in unison to draw out every last ounce of your pleasure.

As you come back down to earth, your breathing slowly returning to normal, Joel pulls away, his lips glistening with the evidence of your desire. He wastes no time in shedding his own clothes, revealing the full extent of his arousal.

He positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his shaft teasing you, promising you the release you so desperately crave. And then, with one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

The world around you fades away as Joel sets a punishing pace, his hands gripping your hair, pulling just enough to send shivers of pleasure down your spine. You match his rhythm, your bodies moving together as one, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

Sweat beads on your foreheads, your chests rising and falling in sync with each other's breaths. All you can see is Joel's face above you, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a passion that takes your breath away.

"Joel..." you whisper his name, a benediction, a plea, a promise. Your fingers thread through his hair, caressing his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips.

With a final, powerful thrust, Joel reaches his climax, his body shuddering against yours. You hold him close, feeling the aftershocks of his release mingle with your own.

For a moment, the only sounds are the ragged breaths filling the room and the pounding of your hearts. In this moment, there is nothing else—just you and Joel, two souls intertwined in the most intimate of dances.

You lie there, your breaths heavy as they echo in the quiet room, your gaze fixed on the ceiling above. In the stillness, the sound of your own ragged breathing mingles with Joel's intense scrutiny of your body. It's then that he notices the jagged scar marring your torso. His fingers trace its length, a silent question hanging in the air. "What happened?" he asks, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

The question yanks you from the serenity you'd found, hurling you into a tumultuous sea of memories. "Uh - it's nothing, just a battle wound," you reply, your voice trembling despite your attempt at nonchalance.

He looks at you, his eyes probing, seeing right through your facade. "Who did this to you?" he presses, his tone insistent.

Tears well up as you feel the rough pads of his fingers grazing your scar. You pull his hand away, sitting up on the bed's edge, turning away from him. A heavy sigh escapes you before you begin to unravel the story.

"When the raiders took over our camp, they brought me to some abandoned warehouse a few cities over. They held me there for weeks, torturing me, starving me. They left bruises everywhere. Every night before they would sleep, they would have their way with me." you confess, your voice wavering. "One night I guess I fought them a little too hard and I was awarded this fucking thing as a lovely reminder." You gesture to the scar on your abdomen with a trembling hand.

Joel moves closer, his cool hands unexpectedly cradling your face, turning you to meet his gaze. He wipes away your tears, his eyes locked onto yours. "I'm here now, baby girl," he assures you, his voice firm with conviction. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to you like that ever again, you hear me?"

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. He then reclines on the bed, drawing you into the sanctuary of his arms. Your head finds the rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting lullaby that resonates against your cheek. In this moment of vulnerability, you allow yourself to trust in his promises, your defenses crumbling as sleep claims you, cocooned in his embrace.

—

"I knew it!"

Suddenly, a sharp whisper slices through the silence, "I knew it!"

Joel startles awake, his heart pounding in his chest. There, at the foot of the stairs, stands Ellie, her eyes wide with the realization of the scene before her. He glances down at you, still nestled against him, and for a moment, time stands still. With a quick gesture, he signals Ellie to be quiet, his finger pressed to his lips. "Go back to bed," he commands softly.

"But I'm not tired -" Ellie protests, her voice a whisper in the dark.

"Now," Joel repeats, his whisper now a stern command. Ellie sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes, but she complies, her footsteps retreating up the stairs. "Jeez, okay, lover boy," she mutters under her breath.

Relief washes over Joel as he watches Ellie disappear from view. He turns back to you, your peaceful slumber a stark contrast to the tension that just gripped the room. He gently kisses your forehead, his whisper barely audible, "I got you, baby girl."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfic

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faustiantales · 7 months ago

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𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖞

Dark Descent: Atsushi Murasakibara X fem/afab!Reader

Twisted Truths: incest, underaged sexual activities, dubcon, cunnilingus, slight somnophilia

Synopsis: It's no surprise that Atsushi loved eating sweets. That's why when he was suddenly woken up by his grumbling stomach in the middle of the night, he decided to pay a visit to his unlimited supply of ambrosia — his little sister.

Shadows Lengthen: 900+ words

"So sweet..." Atsushi whispered against her wet lower lips, tongue languidly licking her delicious juices that pooled out from his ministration.

It was around midnight that the purple-haired basketball player was struck with hunger. At first, he tried to ignore his grumbling stomach. Still, after a few minutes of trying to convince himself to ignore it, he decided to give up on the thought altogether and just go for it, or else, he would never be able to fall asleep. And so, he went straight to his little sister's bedroom.

Atsushi always loved the taste of his little sister's pussy ever since he first got a taste. Not only did she taste amazing, but she also smelled good, too. Her smell was like strawberries fresh out of the oven. Her scent made him feel so content and warm when he had a craving for some sweetness.

The man always tried his best to take care of his sister and treat her well. He would always treat her with something sweet to eat, believing that it will make her sweeter, thus, producing even more delicious nectar from her cunt. He was right, though—his sweet sister is delicious in every aspect, from her mouth to her skin, from her toes to her breasts, from her ass to her cunt, and all over the body.

"More," he growled against her wetness, tongue entering her hole to ravage the insides. "Please let me taste more..."

A moan escaped his sister's lips while he continued sucking her clit, his hands rubbing vigorously between her thighs as his tongue laved the inner flesh of hers. She shuddered as he suckled harder, her moans growing louder by the second. Atsushi thrust his long tongue inside her tight hole, feeling her muscles twitch erratically from his action. Despite the chance of waking her up, the purple-haired brother didn't stop, as if it didn't matter if his dear sister slowly stir awake from his starved ravaging of her cunt.

And that, she did.

"Ngh...Nii...chan...?" the girl babbled, still groggy from being awakened from her deep sleep that she could barely register the overwhelming pleasure in her nether region.

The feeling of his strong fingers caressing her soft thighs sent her into a daze. And the sensation of his long tongue swishing through her juicy folds was the last straw for the sleeping beauty, sending her to wakefulness all the same. It was only when her eyes fluttered open that the girl realized how much she was enjoying the pleasurable sensation that his hot tongue has inflicted upon her pussy and she immediately felt embarrassed by what happened.

"Ah...Nii...chan~" she mewled, arching her back from the pleasure but didn't do anything to stop him.

Atushi smiled, caressing her quivering legs soothingly. "Sorry, I woke you up. I was hungry."

"Do...you have...to—ngh!—eat me...right now?" she panted, willing her half-asleep body not to convulse from her brother's skillful tongue. "Why don't you...eat something from the fridge? There's still...some leftovers from...dinner. Ah! Niichan!"

The girl clenched her mattress, teeth gritted together while her eyes shot at the back of her head. Her body arched automatically when Atsushi did one pleasurable thrust of his long tongue into her battered hole, the sensation sending goosebumps all over her entire body. She was so sensitive that at this moment, it really didn't matter whether she was conscious of what he was doing, so she just couldn't stop herself from moaning and gasping and whimpering.

"You're the tastiest," the man replied, hovering over her small, weary form overwhelmed with pleasure. Atsushi licked the juices from his mouth, purple eyes lidded with desire and insatiable desire. A devilish grin crawled to his face as soon as the words left his lips, his dark eyes glowing wickedly as he stared at the small figure beneath him. "Why should I bother eating leftovers when I have you?"

"Just..." she panted, chest rising and falling while sweat littered her skin. She fluttered her lids open, [e/c] hues staring at her older brother's purple ones. Soon, her bottom lip puckered into a pout. "...I hate when you wake me up like that, Niichan..."

"Sorry," his wide shoulders drooped, looking somewhat apologetic, the corner of his lips curving into a slight frown.

"Geez... You're so needy, Niichan," she huffed, playfully rolling her eyes.

"But you enjoyed it, right?" his grin returned, a mischievous glint in his amethyst pools.

The girl's face flared up at his words and immediately blushed crimson from the tips of her ears to the top of her neck. She averted her gaze shyly, unable to deny her older brother's statement. At this point, no amount of pleading could change the truth, after all. So, she simply nodded in response instead.

"Hm... How about I make it up to you? For waking you up?" Atsushi suggested, caressing her cheeks and making her turn to him.

"How?"

At her innocent question, the purple-haired teen grinned mischievously. "I want to fuck you. Let me make it up to you by fucking you senseless so that you can fall back to sleep from pleasure."

📜— Return to the Shadowed Archive

#tw:incest #tw incest #tw.incest #knb #knb x reader #knb fanfic #🖤faustiantales #🕯️eerieepics #murasakibara atsushi #knb murasakibara #murasakibara x reader #tw dark content #tw dark fic #fem reader

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 6: Ladybugs and Dragonflies]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, a bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), references to war-related violence, pregnancy/childbirth/etc., Red and Jace should go on Marriage Boot Camp, Lady Caro tries to bond with her weird replacement daughter, a little animal abuse??

Word count: 6.2k

❤️ All my writing can be found HERE! 💙

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

“How many people has he killed?” you ask as Jace takes your arm—not like Aemond would, not crushing and bruising but gently as if you are a creature with thin fragile bones, a blue jay or a bat—and leads you out of the Great Hall. The men still gathered around the letter on the table glance at you without knowing what to feel. As Jace’s wife you are their princess, you are their future queen, and yet you are Aemond’s sister and perhaps much more than that as well. Why else would he have abruptly fled Dragonstone to ravage the Riverlands, leaving Criston’s army vulnerable and scrambling to catch up?

“Thousands,” Jace says. “And there will be many more who starve because he’s torched their granaries and livestock. He’s sending ravens to the noble houses swearing that the dying will continue until you are returned to him.”

Thousands of people? Women like Mother and Helaena, children like Jaehaera and Maelor. “Let me write to him. I’ll tell him that I’m safe in hiding and not to harm any more noncombatants—”

“You think the Greens care about them?” Jace snaps as he brings you into the castle library, sparse and dusty, and you cannot help but remember the long hours Aemond spent in the Red Keep studying history, war, suturing, High Valyrian, the heroes of legends, the secrets of your body. “Daeron and Tessarion are burning people alive in the Reach. The Lannister army is pillaging every town they march through as they make their way east.”

“Jace, please, let me try.”

“Aemond isn’t going to believe a letter just because it claims to come from you.”

“There are things I can say that no one else would understand, and so he’ll know it’s really me and that I’m not acting against my will—”

“You’re not writing to him!” Jace shouts, and then collapses into a chair of pale lavender velvet and rubs his face with both hands. And you know—because he’s not someone who can easily hide what he’s feeling—that Jace is not just exhausted and frustrated but afraid. Afraid of the devastation Aemond sows, afraid of the hold he evidently still has over you. “It’s difficult for you to love someone like me, I think.”

“Yes,” you admit softly. “But I’m trying.”

Jace glares up at you; you have disappointed him. You have proven his suspicions true. “I don’t want it to take effort.”

“Isn’t it difficult for you too, Jace? To have affection for me? To see me as your wife instead of a captive enemy?”

“No,” he says. “Not anymore.”

You stand in the small neglected library—dust motes wheeling in cold grey daylight, dim nausea still churning in your belly—and watch him, feeling disoriented, feeling guilty, knowing there is nothing you can say that will help. It’s just like when Mother or Grandsire used to hint at your relationship with Aemond, grimacing with revulsion; you cannot make the accusations go away, you can only deflect. “Why would Aemond think I’m in the Riverlands?”

Jace sighs deeply, slumps in his chair, and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe because Daemon’s at Harrenhal, and Aemond assumes he arranged your travel.”

Caraxes and Sheepstealer. Can Vhagar survive them both? “Aemond won’t try to take Harrenhal, will he?”

“He might!” Jace says, throwing up his hands with exasperation. “He’s reckless, he’s bloodthirsty, he’s insane, only the gods know where his lunacy will end.”

You don’t respond to this, though it is your instinct to. He’s not insane. He once promised to find me, and now he’s keeping his word.

“Isn’t he worried he’ll harm you?” Jace mutters, almost to himself. “If he’s attacking so indiscriminately, couldn’t he inadvertently burn you too?”

“He thinks he would be able to feel it if I was close by.”

Jace stares at you. “How would he possibly know that?”

“There are a lot of things you don’t understand.”

“About him?” Jace says spitefully, as if trying to decipher Aemond’s madness is beneath him.

“About us.”

Jace studies you. “What was the nature of your relationship?” he asks after a while, and then when you hesitate: “It must have meant a lot to you both. You’re still protecting him, he’s burning down the realm for you.”

“It’s in the past.”

“But it still matters.”

“I haven’t asked you about Baela.”

“She’s not a part of this war, she’s not here anymore. Aegon saw to that. He murdered her.” Jace’s expression softens, and his voice goes tender. “We need to learn to be truthful with each other. To respect each other, to be in harmony.”

“So you don’t repeat the sins of your parents,” you fling at him like a stone.

“Yes,” Jace agrees. “And because I love you.”

“Why do you keep using that word?”

“Because we’re married.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

“I want to. But you have to let me do it.”

“You won’t like the real me.” No one does. No one except Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, Aemond.

Again Jace asks: “What was the nature of your relationship?”

You look helplessly at the books stacked on the shelves, chronicles of plants, animals, ailments, battles, gods, heroes, dragons. Mounted high on the wall is Lady Forlorn, the Valyrian steel longsword of House Corbray, possessed by the elderly Lord Leowyn but no longer wielded by him. If you stood on your tiptoes, you would be able to reach it. Near the center of the room is a large globe of the world with the unknown reaches left blank. You walk to it, spin it slowly, stop when your fingertips land on the broken ruins of Old Valyria.

I wish we were still there. That’s where we belong. Aemond and I would be married, and Aegon would be unburned, and Jaehaerys would still be alive, and perhaps I’d even have a dragon.

“You and Aemond were close,” Jace says.

“Yes,” you confess.

“Mother said that Alicent told her you shared a flirtation.”

“We did.”

“And that entailed…what?”

“Just words, mostly.”

“You’re lying.” Jace stands and rages to you, his words halfway between a threat and a plea. “Stop lying to me.”

You can’t catch your breath, you can’t think. Your skull pulses hotly, your stomach roils, the scar on the left side of your chest aches where Aemond stitched you back together. Jace can’t hurt me, he can’t break our mothers’ pact and undo this marriage. Not if I’m carrying his child. “Jace, I don’t feel well—”

“You know about your body. The way you kiss, the way you move, the High Valyrian…you learned it somewhere.” And you can see in Jace’s face—the attractive yet unextraordinary face of a Strong—that he is terrified you learned it from Aemond. “What did you do with him?”

Your head feels like a shell struck with a mallet, splintering, shattering. Your arteries and veins have turned to currents of magma beneath the black volcanic rocks of Dragonstone. “Everything except what happened on our wedding night.”

Jace’s dark eyes widen, then drop to your breasts, your waist, your hips. “Everything…?”

“Except that, yes. What could result in a child was saved for my husband.” Aemond could never father a bastard. He would sooner die than debase himself like Rhaenyra did.

“You mean…surely you didn’t…” Still, Jace is gaping at you, his words slow and stunned. “I’ve heard stories from the soldiers, vulgar and wicked, strange ways of coupling, sins they commit with whores in brothels so they don’t leave children in their bellies to be murdered or abandoned…but…but you’re not…”

“Then you are adequately educated and we need not expound on it further. You got the truth you asked for. I hope you’re satisfied.”

Jace reaches for the sword at his belt, grips the hilt, then releases it. Instead he kicks over the globe—it hits the stone floor with a reverberating boom—and points to the door. “Get out of my sight.”

“Why are you mad at me?!” You are drained and dismayed, and then you’re furious. “I answered your questions, I was honest with you. You wanted to be in harmony and you believed this is what it would take. I tried to protect you from it. You insisted upon being hurt.”

“You told me you were a virgin.”

“And I was, you know that.”

“But he still fucked you,” Jace hisses. “In every other way. Things no decent lady would ever do. So that, what, he could rob your future husband? So he could degrade and humiliate you?”

“It wasn’t about that! He wanted to feel close to me, he wanted to please me, and perhaps you don’t care about pleasing a woman but I know for a fact Aemond did.”

Jace turns away from you. Again, his hand rests on the hilt of his blade. “You’re sinful, you’re disgusting. I can’t believe I’m fated to be bound to you for a lifetime.”

“You aren’t a Targaryen,” you seethe in High Valyrian, words you know he can’t comprehend, and you can feel your gaze scorching and cold mountain air on your bared teeth. “You can’t fathom the fury, the lust, the violence, the fire and the blood. We aren’t like the people of any other house. And we aren’t supposed to be.”

“Stop it,” Jace orders you.

“You’re not the blood of the dragon. You’re just some bastard built of ordinary things.”

“Get out!” Jace roars, and you flee from the library, from the castle, yanking on your boots and fox fur coat left by the entranceway and bolting out into the snow. It is halfway up your shins and coated with a layer of ice that crunches as you plod through it towards the tree line. You aren’t supposed to go into the forest of towering pines—not even with guards, and certainly not alone—but all your life you have been doing things you aren’t supposed to and it hasn’t killed you yet, and even if it did this time, what would be lost? Your imprisonment with a man who hates you? Cold snowbound misery here in some forgotten corner of the Vale?

I can’t save Aemond. Jace will never listen to me now.

Under the shade of the pines, so thick their dark green needles interlace like lovers’ fingers and blot out the sunless grey daylight, you find a felled tree and push snow off the trunk with the sleeves of your coat. Then you climb up onto it to sit, your boots swinging just off the ground, a frigid breeze billowing down from the Mountains of the Moon to make you shudder. Your right hand settles on your belly, where you are increasingly sure—now that you think back to how long it’s been since your last bleeding—that you are carrying Jace’s child. You don’t want it there, you have no maternal inclinations toward it whatsoever. You wonder if you can somehow sneak unnoticed into the storeroom of the maester here at Heart’s Home and find the ingredients for moon tea. But you don’t know how to brew it. You’ve never had any need of it before.

I’m not in the Riverlands, you think as loudly as you can, peering up into the trees and listening for the deep rumbling of Vhagar’s screams, the maelstrom of wind she stirs up. Aemond, I’m here in the Vale with House Corbray. Come find me. Come bring me home.

But you’ve never been able to make him hear you by your own volition, just like you can’t control your glimpses into his mind. And you fear Aemond wouldn’t want you back the way you are now.

Whether Jace or Aemond, either would be convinced the other ruined me.

You don’t feel ruined. You don’t feel like a different person at all; you don’t believe that any man has ever changed your strangeness, your desire, your love, your ferocity, your dreams of flying. But the world seems so fixed in its rules, and Old Valyria is gone, and perhaps now the Targaryens and their dragons are meant to be too.

There is the sound of crunching snow, and you look around expecting to see a bear or a shadowcat, something to maul you to death and drag your carcass away to be picked to the bones. Instead, it is Jace, and he has hurried outside in such a rush that he has forgotten his coat. He stops when he sees you and stands there silently in his black and red, the colors of his mother’s house, shivering but trying not to show it.

“You aren’t supposed to be out here,” he says at last.

“I know.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“And you’d be so devastated if I was devoured by a shadowcat.”

Jace sighs and pulls himself up onto the tree trunk to sit beside you. “My father had a temper,” he says, then flushes and gazes down at his own footprints in the snow, ashamed. “Harwin Strong, I mean. He had a temper.”

You are gentler with him now. It must be painful to lose a father who cares about you. “Yes, I’ve heard that.”

Jace looks over at you. “Did you have a choice in the matter?” With what happened with Aemond, he means.

Mother’s words echo in your throbbing skull: You don’t know better. You never had a choice. “It felt like I did at the time. Now I’m not so sure.”

“What kind of an answer is that?”

“Did you have a choice in loving Baela?” you ask, and Jace frowns thoughtfully. “She was your circumstances, she was beyond your ability to resist. But still you grew to love her as if she had been the wife of your choosing.”

“You loved him? That monster?”

“It’s very hard to explain.”

“Did he love you?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honesty. If he did, he never said it.

Jace reaches for your right hand and you let him grasp it. The motion is a bit awkward, but Jace is warm. Flurries fall from an overcast sky. “Neither of us wanted this match. I imagine we both fought against it with equal passion. But now it has happened, and nothing can unravel this bind we find ourselves in. We were wed in the eyes of the Seven. We consummated the marriage. You are my wife and I will never lie with another woman. And I don’t have any desire to. Whatever happened before, whatever we or our kinsmen did, we have to move beyond it. There was betrayal and death, and there was love too, and yet all of it must be worked through if this marriage is to succeed.”

“Not a simple task,” you murmur.

“No,” Jace says. “It isn’t. But I’ll try to do better. As your husband, it is my responsibility to protect and cherish you, not to be envious or cruel or wrathful. I shouldn’t have blamed you for what happened when we hated each other. I shouldn’t have ridiculed you for the effects of Aemond’s perverse influence. And I do want to know the real you, even if that hurts me sometimes.”

You watch the flurries whirl in the steel-colored air, feeling nauseous and dizzy and weary and fading away like the snowflakes melting into Jace’s dark hair. “I need to go lie down.”

Jace seems alarmed. “Are you ill?”

“I think it worked.”

He furrows his brow at you. “What worked?”

“Our efforts in the marriage bed. And in the stable.”

He blinks at you, startled, and then he smiles more luminously than you’ve ever seen him, and you think: I should be happy too. I should want this child. But I don’t, I don’t, I know I don’t. Jace rests his head against yours, his curls tickling your cheek, and whispers: “I am your family now.”

“Yes,” you say, a lie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Winter descends slowly, like a fever in reverse: cold that swims in your bloodstream, bone marrow turned to ice. Snow falls, ices over, melts on warmer days, is covered by a fresh blanket of powdery white. Daeron and the Hightower army wage war in the Reach. Aemond and the Lannister army besiege the Riverlands as Criston and his men march to join them. Aegon is missing. Sunfyre is presumed dead. Mother is still held in the dungeons of the Red Keep, along with Larys Strong, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, and a number of other political prisoners. Helaena is confined to her rooms but—as the result of Jace’s intervention—allowed to see her surviving children and walk in the garden under the supervision of armed guards. Rhaenyra rules over King’s Landing, a city that grows more restless and more hostile as Lord Celtigar’s taxes are levied and rumors of your disappearance spread. All over Westeros, people are starving and suffering and dying. And you are here, an island marooned in an ocean of mist and rocks, a remote land of the First Men and the Andals, earth you feel you do not belong on.

Jace and Vermax fly over the mountains and head south to King’s Landing, where Vermithor and Seasmoke circle high above the city and keep the riots from swelling to rebellions. You are left at Heart’s Home, and each night Sapphire flaps through the open window to visit you in your bedchamber when you are alone, and each morning you nurse your nausea and headaches in bed: mugs of cinnamon tea, toast with a thin scrape of butter and blackberry jam, nips of milk of the poppy that the maester allows you on particularly bad days.

“That is very skillful work,” he notes once when he spots your scar as he applies cold wet cloths to your throat and collarbones to bring down your fever. “Though I should not be surprised. I have heard that Maester Orwyle is among the best healers in the realm.”

“He is,” you say. “But Prince Aemond was the person who mended me.” After assassins sent by one of your Blacks beheaded a child and nearly killed me too.

But you know by the expression on the maester’s face—bewildered, disturbed, shrinking away from the unmistakable fondness in your voice—that you cannot speak of Aemond this way, that you should not speak of him at all, that no one here will ever see him as anything but the monster who murdered Luke and Rhaenys, who is presently raining dragonfire down on the Riverlands. And with each passing hour, day, week, month, you wonder if he really is a monster, and if you invented every soft moment you ever believed you shared, and if you would have chosen him if he hadn’t been the one who laid claim to you since birth.

By afternoon you are usually better, and Lady Caro drags you around trying to transform you into a woman of the Vale. She shows you how to tend to the goats and turn their milk into cheese and soap. She forces you to embroider dull scenes of snowcapped mountains and winding rivers. She sings—bellowing and off-key—the ballads of her childhood as you beg her to stop before it has some malevolent effect upon the baby. She brings you insipid-colored gowns tailored to accommodate your growing belly. She brushes your hair and tries out new styles constantly. She accompanies you for dinner each night and implores you to eat enough to make up for the breakfast and lunch you missed due to illness.

“I was horrified when my parents first told me I was to marry Lord Corbray,” she tells you one night as you dine on stew made from potatoes and peas and the meat of shaggy, black-haired yaks that roam the rugged terrain of the Vale, the fire crackling and her full cheeks ever-pink. Lady Caro is not one to ever run out of stories. She could have entire conversations all by herself, you are convinced. “I wasn’t even twenty yet and he was forty-five, and I thought that he was just…so…so old! But as it turned out, there are advantages to having an old husband. He treated me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was too tired to chase after mistresses like all my sisters’ husbands did. And men with more experience…well…they understand how to please a wife in the marriage bed. Even if his male parts aren’t cooperating, he knows he has two hands and a tongue. And that’s all I’ll say!”

“I wish you’d say less,” you tease as you scoop up a spoonful of stew.

“And he was kind about it when we lost our children,” Lady Caro continues, soberly now. And she goes away, like she does sometimes, staring blankly at the window or the wall or the fireplace without seeing anything. “And then when Jessamyn was married and left for Seagard. Oh, that was an awful day for me.” Outside in the darkness wolves howl and owls hoot, and Lady Caro returns. “Do you know what Lord Corbray said to me last week?”

“What?”

“That my spirits are much improved since Prince Jacaerys brought you here. He thinks you remind me of Jessamyn, and so I get to be a mother again.”

“Did he really?”

“Yes! And of course I told him that he was absolutely mistaken, that you’re an odd and disobedient thing, always ruining your embroidery, sneaking off into the forest where you know you aren’t supposed to be, dodging all my kind words and soothing embraces. You’re nothing at all like my lovely sweet docile affectionate daughter.”

You smile mischievously. “I’m kind of like your daughter.”

Lady Caro snorts. “If you were my daughter, I’d walk straight into the ocean and drown myself.”

And you both burst out laughing, so loudly that Lord Leowyn Corbray overhears and ambles into the Great Hall to investigate the cause of the commotion.

When Jace returns, he is worn down: by the journey, by the tremendous suffering throughout the realm, by being overruled by his mother and her council. He tells you as you lie in bed together that night, Jace’s head resting on your belly and your fingers combing absentmindedly through his hair: “It never used to be this way.”

“Before the war, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Jace murmurs, kissing the place where his child lives. You wish you felt such devotion to it. You wish you felt anything. Mostly, you try to pretend it doesn’t exist. “We were able to speak kindly to each other. Mother was always reading stories and playing games with us. And Daemon…he and I were never especially close. But we didn’t quarrel. I respected him as my stepfather, and as the husband of my mother’s choosing. But he hasn’t earned that loyalty.” Jace is quiet for a while, and you assume he’s dozed off until he speaks again. “It changed all of us. Grandsire dying, Aegon trying to take Mother’s throne, Luke and Baela being killed. I suspect that in Nettles, Daemon sees Baela and my mother when she was young, and that’s why he’s grown so…attached to her.”

You wonder: Will Aemond find someone who makes him think of me?

Jace gets up to extinguish the candles. The window is closed so Sapphire can’t get in; you don’t think Jace would approve. Mosaics of the faces of your lost family hang on the walls, but when the candles are blown out no one can see them. You feel the feather mattress shift as Jace climbs back into bed and turns toward you.

“We don’t have to anymore,” you say. I’m already pregnant.

“No, you’re right. We don’t.”

But then in the darkness you reach for him—your body starving for passion, your bones cold—and this time it is slow and intense and brilliant, and Jace learns how to touch you, and although he is never as rough or as primal as you crave he does not leave you unsatisfied. And each time he and Vermax vanish into the mist-colored sky above Heart’s Home, you discover that you miss him more.

The Triarchy arrive with ninety warships at the mouth of Blackwater Bay—and you knew they were coming, but Jace didn’t—and the Sea Snake’s fleet repels them, but not before half his vessels sink to the bottom of the ocean and Seasmoke is killed by a bolt from one of the countless scorpions mounted on the Triarchy’s ships. Corlys, wounded in battle and having lost a wife, three children, a granddaughter, and a grandson, is unable to fight on and is brought to recuperate in the Red Keep. In the taverns of King’s Landing, Jace finds a Targaryen bastard called Ulf the White to ride Silverwing, who is claimed during a clandestine trip under the cover of nightfall to Dragonstone while Aemond is leagues away in the Riverlands. One less free dragon in the world, one more person judged worthy in ways you aren’t.

Without Jace’s knowledge or approval, Rhaenyra sends ravens instructing the loyal houses of the Riverlands to capture Nettles and bring her south to King’s Landing to be tried for treason. House Mooton of Maidenpool, fearful of Daemon’s retribution (as he and Caraxes are based nearby at Harrenhal), inform the prince consort of the plot. Daemon sends Nettles and Sheepstealer away—to where, exactly, no one knows—and then flies north to offer protection to Cregan Stark’s army so they will agree to invade the Riverlands. In his absence, Aemond and Vhagar take Harrenhal, and both the Lannister army and Criston’s men follow him there and dig in to wait for the Northmen.

When Jace is able to return to Heart’s Home to stay with you for a few days or a week, he tries to win your trust and show you that you have his. He tells you of the Blacks’ war strategies and that Rhaenyra has hidden Rhaena, Joffrey, and her silver-haired sons with Daemon, Aegon and Viserys, in the Eyrie with Lady Jeyne Arryn. And while Jace is here, you enjoy walking through the snow with him and visiting the horses in the stable, and at night you fall willingly into the shelter of his arms. But when he’s gone again, the pieces of yourself you have tried to smother come back to life.

You dream of being locked in a closet or a trunk and pounding on the wood for hours, but Aemond never returns to let you out. You startle when you see your reflection and don’t recognize yourself with your hair in the styles of the Vale. You recall Helaena placing ladybugs in your palms and watching them scurry up your forearms like blood drops. You feel your fingers yearning to swipe, to claw, to fight, to be pinned and overpowered. You remember when you taunted Aemond with words he once said in the garden of the Red Keep—“If I ran, do you think you could catch me?”—and he had bolted after you and chased you through the halls as you both laughed wildly, slamming each other into walls and doorframes as horrified onlookers gawked, dragging each other to the floor, until you had crawled on sore palms and knees into your bedchamber and Aemond finally caught you, rolled you onto your back, held your wrists to the floor as he climbed on top of you, and aching so badly it had put tears in your eyes you had begged for what you knew he could not yet give you.

You receive a vision through Aemond’s eye once, and only once, late on a night when Jace is hopelessly far away and you are petting Sapphire as he sits in your lap, his shiny black eyes gazing adoringly up at you and his fanlike ears twitching as they listen to your words. Abruptly you are in a different firelit bedchamber in another castle, and within Aemond’s skull is a turbulent sea of grief, fury, disgust, desire, and you see—who is that?—a flash of long dark hair.

Then Aemond is gone, but for only a few seconds he felt so close and so real that you are left breathless, broken, missing him more than you thought was possible now that you’re another man’s wife and carry his dark-haired heir in your belly.

Does he touch someone else? Does he love someone else?

You curl up on the cold stone floor and sob as Sapphire clings to your shoulder.

I can never go back to who I was before.

Then why is it so hard to forget her?

~~~~~~~~~~

Jace is gone again, and has been for weeks. You hope he is back before the baby is born. By custom, men do not enter the birthing chamber, but you still want him in the castle. It would make you feel less alone, here in the cold windswept Vale where Targaryens were never meant to be, here where an icy stream almost took your life when you were a child after Aemond pushed you in. Lady Caro and the maester say your labor will begin soon, but this seems impossible. The baby you carry has never felt real—not even when it kicks, not even when it puts aches in your spine and your hips—and you try not to think of it too much because what it makes you feel are only sinful things that anyone else would be horrified by: indifference, inconvenience, disconnection, disbelief.

You are in your bedchamber and Sapphire is here with you. He scrabbles clumsily around the floor as you work on your latest mosaic of shattered seashells. It’s the first one you’d made of Jace, and you are trying to figure out how best to place the black shards to mimic his curls. You are being a good wife. You are trying to believe that he is your family now.

The bedroom door opens and Jace sails in with his red cloak streaming out behind him, beaming now that he is home with you and his soon-to-be-born child. Before you can say anything, Sapphire takes flight and swoops at Jace, curious, benevolent, making new friends. Jace gasps and knocks him to the ground.

“Don’t!” you shriek, but it’s already happening: Jace stomps on the bat twice, but once would have been enough. Fragile bones are snapped and crushed, blood gushes out onto the grey stone floor. You’re wailing as you race across the room and cradle Sapphire’s limp body, his black and white fur a satchel of hemorrhaging organs and shifting bone splinters. His eyes are lifeless.

“What?” Jace is asking, desperate to help you but not realizing what he’s done. “What’s wrong with you? It’s a wild animal, it could give you diseases, it could harm you or the baby—”

“You know I love bats,” you sob.

“What?! No I don’t, what are you talking about?!”

“On the ship!” you shout, enraged now. “I told you on the ship when you brought me here!” When you trapped me, when you stole me.

Jace is blinking in disbelief. “That was nine months ago.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t care. When he tries to comfort you, you push him away so violently his back hits the wall. You snarl at him in High Valyrian, words he cannot understand but a tone that is unmistakable: “You don’t listen to me. You don’t know me. Get out, get out, I don’t want you here.” And Jace storms out of the room simmering with his own disappointments, grieving that he will never have a wife who is sweet and compliant and comprehensible.

You want to burn Sapphire’s body so he can have the burial of a Targaryen, but the maids pour into your bedchamber and take him away as you try to fight them. They scrub his blood off the floor and make you change into a clean nightgown, and afterwards as you lie in bed with venomous tears snaking down your cheeks, you feel that everyone expects the person you were before to die and a new woman to reveal herself, but you can’t kill who you are—sometimes you wish you could, but you can’t—and there is a vague ache in your lower belly as you sink into dark, homesick dreams.

You wake at midnight in horrible pain, like the cramps you once had when you bled each month, but sharper and stronger and rather than letting up getting closer together until they are unrelenting. You stagger to the door, pink-tinged fluid leaking onto the floor, and call for the maids. They wake Lady Caro and the maester, then fetch linens and hot water and cold cloths. Lady Caro’s voice is calm, and her large hands are always there to seize with a crushing grip or help you stumble around the room. She tells you that Jace has been informed you’re in labor and that he is pacing in the library, where Lord Corbray is gamely trying to distract him.

I can’t be in labor. This baby isn’t real, this place isn’t real, I want to go home.

The maester thinks you should stay in bed, but you crawl down onto the floor and kneel there as contractions rip through you, and when he tries to urge you back into bed Lady Caro shushes him. The pain is very bad, and then awful, and then excruciating, and now you are convinced something has gone wrong and you cry out as your palms press into the cold stone floor.

“It’s not ladylike to scream,” Lady Caro says patiently, and you yowl at her and shove her away, and she laughs and comes back to cool your face with a cloth pulled from a bucket filled with snow. “It will be over soon. Right when you feel like you can no longer bear it, that’s when the baby will be born and the pain will subside.”

You look at her with sweated, exhausted terror. “Don’t pretend women don’t die doing this.” Rhaenyra’s mother Aemma did.

“Oh, they do, they do,” Lady Caro says. “But you won’t.”

Aemond would be here if I was his wife. “Please get Jace,” you tell her. “Can you bring him here? Please?”

Lady Caro glances anxiously at the maester and the maids. “Men aren’t usually permitted in the birthing chamber.”

“Please,” you moan. I’m dying. I’m afraid. I don’t want to be alone.

“Alright.” She squeezes your shoulder and then rubs your back reassuringly. “Let me go talk to him.”

It seems like Lady Caro is gone for a long time, but it must only be minutes. The maester is saying things you aren’t listening to, the maids are darting around franticly. It’s been a very long time since a baby was born in this castle. Then there are new footsteps in the room, swift and purposeful.

“I’m here,” Jace says, crouching down on the floor beside you. You clutch for him and he catches your hand, then kisses your knuckles. He chuckles nervously. “I don’t know what to do, but I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper pitifully. “I don’t want to die with you mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Jace promises, and his lips travel to your cheek, your temple, your ear. “I’m not mad. I love you. I’ll get you new bats.”

There is unimaginable pain, and pressure, and blood too. Jace holds you as Lady Caro reaches beneath your red-stained nightgown and says you are almost done, a few more pushes and the baby will be here and the agony in the past; and while you still even now cannot fathom being a mother to anyone, let alone this child you cannot admit you don’t want, this encourages you. You shriek as the baby is born in a torrent of fire and blood, and Lady Caro catches him in a sheet that turns instantly from white to crimson.

“A boy!” Lady Caro is announcing, and the baby is crying as she and the maester clean him, and Jace is weeping ecstatically and asking to see his son, but you don’t even glance in his direction.

I don’t want this child, you think through the dissipating pain and the relief that the worst is over. I don’t want this life.

“Dear, you should hold him,” Lady Caro says gently, and before you can protest she places the child, no longer crying and wrapped snuggly in a blanket patterned with blue dragonflies, into your arms.

And although of course he does not look like a Targaryen—dark hair already twisting into curls, black eyelashes and Jace’s nose—when you gaze down at him it feels as if everyone you’ve ever lost has been returned to you, Aegon and Helaena and Daeron, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and Maelor, a mother who understands you, a father who is present, Grandsire smiling proudly at you like he once smiled at Helaena, and even Aemond’s ghost (who haunts doorways and staircases, bedchambers and libraries); and when Jace marvels at the baby’s tiny wrinkled hands you know he is remembering Luke, and Harwin Strong, and Laenor Velaryon, and Baela, and he has forgiven you for all of it.

“We are your family now,” Jace says, and for the first time you believe him.

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