#asked him if he was fine with incest

[palatial-monstrosity]

Random cishet dude in a Lannister t-shirt at peak GoT popularity: yeah Jaime is a badass! Go Cersei! Random queer person on twitter today: oh NO you cannot WRITE about INCEST in fact you cannot even THINK about it lest be judged problematique

[dried-mushroom]

Reunited

Gwayne Hightower x fem! niece! reader

Warnings: team green (Guys I'm a team black girly but the Hightowers are just too fine), uncle-niece incest, getting caught, and PIV sex.

Note: I know in the show Gwayne is meant to be the older brother but for the plot of this, he'll be the younger brother of Alicent (Like he is in the books)

Summary: You were the 2nd eldest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen, and you and your uncle, Gwanye, always had a connection much like your step-sister and her uncle have. After being sent away from the Red Keep to Oldtown after being caught with you in a compromising situation years ago, Gwayne returns, and you both are finally reunited, and he asks for your hand.

You adored Gwayne, ever since your mother had introduced you to him when you were near the age of ten and five and he was ten and seven. Gwayne quite liked you, and you him. You both spent a concerning amount of time together, he had taught you how to ride a horse and wield a sword and in return, you'd embroider the Hightower sigil into his tunics and read to him late at night, until the early morning, where you'd most likely fell asleep next to him, his gentle hold on you more akin to a lover than an uncle. You remember the day that he was made to leave Kings Landing, a gloomy day at that and you partially blamed yourself, because if you weren't caught with him, in such a situation, he would still be here.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

You had approached him in the training yard, watching him joust his spire, winning effortlessly, smirking at you the whole time. You rolled your eyes in jest as he seemed amused by your presence, he sauntered over to you,

"Good morrow my sweet niece, come to see me practice?"

"Is it really practice if you're just winning, Uncle Mhm?"

You smiled back him, hand reaching up, stroking his bicep through the material of his thin shirt, making his reaction turn from more of a playful gaze to a lustful stare. Gwayne knew you wanted him and gods forbid, he wanted you as desperately. You both knew it was wrong, the late-night visits, the lingering touches, the blatant flirting but you both couldn't resist the temptation. He disregarded his sword, opting to stroke your soft hair instead, staring down at you.

"Well, my princess, how else would I win the tourney then?"

Your eyes lit up and you had an idea, it was completely immoral and wrong but god you wanted him so badly it hurt, you craved to be more than uncle and niece.

"Well, Kepus, perhaps I have a motivator for you to win tomorrow."

Gwayne saw the glint in your eye and he couldn't help but glance down at your cleavage whilst you spoke, making him hard in his breeches when you spoke the next words he almost finished right there and then.

"Perhaps if you win your tourney tomorrow I will let you taint my virtue, uncle."

He smirked at your boldness and leant down to your ear,

"M'lady I sure hope you know what you're implying and what you're getting yourself into."

You smirked back at him, moving your hand to his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your hand.

"Of course, I know what I'm implying and I want you, Uncle. Good luck for tomorrow."

You walked away from him, leaving him breathless, a knowing smile on your face because you knew he was the best knight in Kings Landing, of course, he was going to win.

Moans and grunts were heard throughout Gwayne's chambers, the echo of his hips hitting against your pelvis was so loud, that you weren't surprised you both were caught. Gwayne tucked his head into the crook of your neck, nipping softly at the tender skin while his calloused hands palmed at your plush thighs and your hands raked at his back, your legs resting on Gwayne's shoulders, making his cock bump your cervix with every thrust. You knew he was close, the stuttering of his hips, how tense his muscles were and his hands gripped you like a vice. You began to play with his copper hair, entangling your hand in his soft hair and tugging softly, making him groan against your skin. His lips reached your chest, a hand leaving your thighs to grope at your breasts, his hand playing with your nipple while his mouth encircled the other, nipping softly at your sensitive skin, making you whimper while his hips still rutted into yours, much like an animal in heat.

"Fuck, my sweet niece, you feel like fucking heaven. Gods I won't last long, can I spill in you please?"

"Yes, please Kepus don't stop."

Gwayne loved hearing your mother tongue, you knew high valyrian better than all your siblings and even though he couldn't understand the language it always made him hot under the collar hearing you speak, especially when you read of the Targaryen histories to him late at night, your soft smooth voice was always a comfort to him.

It took only a few more thrusts and Gwyane's hands on your body for you to cum on his cock, squeezing, milking him for all he was worth. Gwyane fell slack against you, body twitching in pleasure as he emptied himself in you. Before you both could utter a word, your mother and grandfather had burst into the door, mouths agape at the scene in front of them, the Queen's own brother fucking his niece, her own daughter on his table in his chambers. You couldn't even defend yourself or Gwayne before Otto grabbed Gwayne by his hair and dragged him out of his chambers, his breeches loose on his hips, as Otto began to lecture him,

"Do you know what you've done? You've just sullied your future Queen. How are we going to marry her to her brother now, any suggestions my son?"

You're face burned as you felt the scornful stare from your own mother, who could see how debauched you looked, dress ripped and bunched up around your thighs, hair messy and a fine sheet of sweat covered you, you just silently prayed to the seven that she could not see Gwayne's spent dripping out of you. You swallowed cautiously and began to speak,

"Mother, I can explain-"

"There is nothing to explain. This didn't happen...I will see to it that the maesters bring moon tea to your chambers. As for my brother, my father and I shall discuss what will happen."

"Please Mother, don't blame Gwayne, it was I who pursued him."

Your mother didn't care to listen to your pleas and that was the last time you saw Gwayne. Not even a morrow later Otto had sent off his son, to Oldtown, not even letting you bid him farewell to the man you secretly wished to marry. You had cried for days on end, opting to stay in your chambers rather than face your family who judged you for your inappropriate behaviour with your uncle (You were a bit taken back considering Rhaenyra faced no consequences for the same acts with Daemon) resulting in you being subjected to cruel rumours, had you gone mad? Were you ill?

It took weeks until you could stand to see the familiar faces of your siblings, mother, father and grandfather without feeling entrapped by shame. They chose to forgive you for your...misguided transgressions (Although you disagreed, as you still longed for Gwayne's heart and yet him being in Oldtown, he longed for yours) and kindly decided to wed Aegon to Helaena instead of you, which were most grateful for, although you did feel sorry for your sweet sister having to deal with a drunken and whoring husband.

It was no longer than three weeks since your father's passing, Aegon's ascension to the throne, Jaehaerys death and funeral, years after your last interaction with Gwayne and the realm was in pure chaos, divided on who should sit the iron throne, your brother or your step-sister? You weren't directly involved in Aegon's actions, merely just there, observing how the cracks were beginning to fester between Aegon, Aemond and your mother. You tried burying your feelings towards Gwayne, knowing there was little to no chance of him returning nonetheless coming back into your arms.

It was a chill morning when you awoke, hearing the commotion from the servants outside. You groan, annoyed about how loud the girls were being outside your door, You looked at them confused when you opened the door, startling them.

"What is this commotion for?"

"Sorry Princess, it's just that Criston Cole is leaving today for the Riverlands and....Gwayne Hightower and his men from Oldtown will be attending with him. Today."

You thought you truly had gone mad when you heard those words come from the servant girl's mouth and without saying anything you shut the door in their faces. You shakily exhaled as anxiety ate at you. You couldn't resist the temptation of seeing Gwayne once more, the feelings that once encompassed you rose to the surface once again. You didn't wish to wait for your handmaidens and made yourself presentable, opting for a dark green dress, low-cut but not low enough to question virtues, and left your chambers.

You left the Red Keep, and entered the courtyard, spotting Criston Cole near his steed, you personally disliked the knight, knowing of his past and how he chose to spend their night with your mother instead of protecting the Queen and her now dead child, you didn't let Alicent know that you knew of her actions that night, preferring to keep it to yourself in case you ever needed leverage. You sighed before walking up to the man,

"Ser Cole, I heard of Gwayne Hightower's return, may I ask of his whereabouts?"

He huffed, seemingly annoyed at the mention of the other knight's name, alas you ignored it and gave him a questioning look. Despite his carelessness, Cole wasn't stupid and knew of your shared history with the older Hightower.

"Ser Gwayne should be at the stables m'lady, although we are set to leave soo-"

Cutting the knight off with a curt, 'Thank you' and you set off to walk to the stables, a good five-minute walk from the courtyard, allowing you to try to calm your nerves before seeing the man who stole your heart all those years ago. You approached the stables, and your breath hitched when you saw Gwayne, alone, tending to his horse, you walked closer before uttering,

"Uncle"

Gwayne's eyes lit up in surprise when he turned and saw you, how beautiful you had grown in the few years spent apart. He sent his house off with the stable boy before focussing his attention on you. He truly had missed you, refusing to be a suitor to any maidens in Oldtown, preferring to wait until he could ask for your hand.

"My sweet niece, oh how the years have made you even more beautiful."

Your mouth was agape when he turned and you saw how handsome he had gotten with age, mid-length copper hair framing his chiselled face, his vest was unbuttoned so you could see how toned he had gotten in Oldtown, tufts of reddish-brown hair littering his pale chest. He chuckled softly, noticing your staring, breaking you out of your stupor,

"Oh, Kepus, I'm so sorry about what happened, It is my fault you were made to lea-"

Gwayne walked towards you, softly stroking your hair with a calloused hand, with a small smile on his face, making you feel like a young girl again.

"My princess, It was my fault just as much as yours and it was years ago, the past no longer matters, although I must say my feelings towards you have not changed no matter the time spent apart."

You felt him grab your waist, pulling you closer, and whispering in your ear,

"Every time I stroked my cock, it was to the thought of you. Gods how I've missed you y/n."

You knew it was wrong but he was so tempting, a forbidden fruit. His touch lingered, his blue eyes staring adoringly into yours.

"Please uncle, how I have missed you so dearly, please tell me you're not leaving again after the Riverlands."

"Oh my sweet girl, I don't plan on it and I don't know if my sister ever told you but before I was made to leave, I asked her for your hand, I offered to take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife, after Targaryen tradition, like you once told me of. Alas, Alicent did not share the same sentiment."

Your eyes widened, he had wanted to wed you? Why wouldn't your mother tell you this? it would have spared you from your endless weeping for days after his departure and spared you from the ruthless rumours from court. You cupped the side of Gwayne's face, soft fingers, stroking his cheek gently, he leaned into your touch.

"Alicent did not mention it at all, all I was told was that you were made to leave after you had already left. Although dare I be so forward and ask, even after all these years, would you still want to wed me? I am a woman grown now and do not need my mother's permission and trust me when I utter these words, I have wanted to marry you since the age of ten and five and I still do."

Gwayne smiled against your hand and pulled you even closer, feeling the warmth of his bare chest against your own, his stubble tickling your face,

"Of course, I still do, my sweet y/n. I give you my word after that Cole's march to the Riverlands and we succeed, I will come back and we may not have Dragonstone but I will wed you, I swear on my life."

You didn't wait for him to continue before pressing your soft lips against his, he eagerly cupped the back of your head, deepening the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, as his tongue poked at your lips, waiting for your permission, which you gave instantly, his tongue searching your mouth, dancing with your own. You suddenly felt his hardness press against your abdomen, throbbing against the material of his breeches. You snaked a hand down his chest to palm at the tightened fabric, making him groan into your mouth. He broke the kiss, admiring how swollen your lips looked under his ministrations.

"M'lady, please I need to take you once again. I have felt no other touch besides my own after you."

"But don't you have to leave soon? Cole sai-"

"Fuck Cole, he can wait, I need you y/n."

Your mouth was agape once again, you were surprised he had not taken a single lover after you, considering how attractive he really was. Alas, you couldn't resist Gwaynes's pleas and unlaced his breeches, pulling his erection, engorged and already leaking precum at your very touch. Gwayne pinned you against the wall of the stable between his hips and the wood, rutting his erection against your soft stomach, chasing any friction. He peppered kisses to your neck, nipping the skin, making you whine pathetically. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, pressing his cock against your pussy, which much to his delight, you weren't wearing any underclothes. Gwayne ran his cock through your folds, the tip bumping your clit with every thrust, making you moan and claw at his back.

Gwayne leant his forehead against yours when he entered you, waiting until you were comfortable before beginning to rut into you, setting a brutal pace, making your hands grip his shoulders and both finally got to enjoy each other once again. His hands gripped your hips to pull himself closer and you smiled against his chest knowing that soon you'd be wed to Gwayne, not having to worry about Alicent or even your own brother trying to force you into a marriage with some drunken lord. His hair fell into your face, seeing if he would enjoy it as much as he did when he was younger. You snaked your hand into his hair and pulled lightly, making him grunt against you,

"Fuck, if you keep doing that I'm not going to last."

As a tiny form of revenge, Gwayne moved a hand to rub little circles on your clit, making you whine, chasing your orgasm. As his pace increased, faster and deeper, his hand continued until he felt you clasp your thighs together, cumming on his cock, squeezing him deliciously. He lewdly brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting your wetness, groaning at your sweet taste, ensuring he'd definitely be trying you himself soon enough. You moaned into his ear,

"Please Kepus, Cum for me, I need you to fill me up, I wish to carry your child."

The image of you swollen with his child tipped him over the edge, his body tense as he finished in you, hips stuttering against yours, his forehead pressed against yours as he panted, coming down from his high. You stroked his back, your nerves coming back knowing he would have to leave you soon again. He slowly pulled out of you, making you feel empty without him. He helped you stand up properly and he noticed your frown and tipped your chin towards him with two fingers,

"What's wrong my sweet princess?"

"Promise me you will come back to me. I don't want you to leave again Gwayne."

He smiled down at you, brought you into an embrace and whispered into your hair,

"My love, I will never leave you, and you know what? Fuck Cole, he has enough men for the march to the Riverlands and Harrenhal, he doesn't need me there, surely he can't be that stupid he can't lead a small army."

You laughed, an attractive sound, against his chest.

"You'd be surprised Uncle, but thank you for staying, I have truly missed you."

"My love, I wouldn't leave you again for the world, plus that man is fucking insufferable....and I would much prefer to taste you again."

The end

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do Jace x younger sister! Reader, where reader inherited her mother’s white hair and purple eyes and is very beautiful so everyone wants to vie for her hand. And Jace is rlly angry bc this is HIS sister(lover), she belongs to Jace and Jace alone.

fight for you

A/n: Hi! Love this sm. I didn’t rlly know what to do so this is just a short blurb. if you would like a longer version you’re more than welcome to req anyone one ): sorry

Warnings: possessive!jace, canon typical incest

MASTERLIST | KOFI

Ever since you both were younger, Jace had always been protective and possessive over you. He had always been by your side, fending others away from you.

No one else quite understood it, but you looked up into his eyes and he felt that urge to protect you from everyone else.

It never left him, not even as he got older and matured into a fine young prince. He had denied other peoples hands in marriage, all in hopes that he would get to marry you eventually.

As you got older, people had begun to realize your beauty, taking after the valyrian look. Many had asked for your hand in marriage, and they had always failed, your mother not accepting it.

Little did you know, it wasn’t because of your mother. Rather, it was because of your brother.

Every time he found out, he told his mother that the man was not fit, and that you would not be fit for him. He fought for you each time, finding every little detail he could about the men who attempted to take you away from him.

He could not have it. He would not have it.

Jacaerys would fight for you his whole life if need be, because you belonged to him and him only.

[cassie48]

Destined

Dark!Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!twin!reader

Summary: Where jacaerys loves you, his pretty twin sister, so much that he believed you were created for him, and him only.

Tw: Twincest, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, breeding kink, blood

MASTER LIST PART2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the moment you were born, Jacaerys had always loved you. All those years ago, cries could be heard, from a baby that had just been born, mere minutes after her brother.

Everyone in the room had tried to get you to stop crying, you’d been passed around multiple times, to multiple people, until eventually your mother took you back again, this time Jacaerys in her arms as well.

Once you were placed in her arms, your little cries stopped, as you felt your twin link his finger within yours, the two of you staring at each other.

When you had grown older, your brother had become very protective of you. Some may even say possessive. One time, at age four, the two of you were outside, running around with another child. The little boy took your hand running with you, and your brother exploded.

He shoved the boy off of you, screaming and crying with jealously, making you cry two, as you watched the scene in horror.

As the two of you got older, his behaviour with you only worsened, this led Rhaenyra to announce the two of you to be betrothed. It came as no shock, incest relationships were nothing knew for targaryens and the other houses.

The two of you shared a bedroom, you had your entire life. Since you had your first bleeding, you and your brother had been somewhat different. In other words, your brother spent every night between your legs.

One night, you had ran to your bedroom, hoping to find your twin brother. You ran with tears falling down your cheeks, crying loudly as you ran.

You opened the door, and Jacaerys stood with his top off, turning and looking at you. “My love?” He asked coming over and taking your smaller face in his hands.

“It was markus, he hit me and wripped my dress” You cried as you buried your face in your brothers chest.

Jacaerys face turned cold and with a glare he kissed your head lovingly. Markus was one of the lords sons, who lived in the castle with you. He was constantly teasing you and bullying you, but he had never physically touched you, and this was where your brother had finally had enough.

“How about you go to bed, you look tired. I shall deal with Markus, idaña” he told you kissing you before helping you undress for bed.

Around an hour later, when he had returned back to you, you turned in your bed, your nightdress high up on your thighs from tossing and turning. “Lēkia?” You murmured as he undressed for bed.

“I’m here” he whispered, now joining you in bed. You turned smelling blood and sat up inspecting your brother for injuries.

“I’m fine Issa jorrāelagon” he said cupping your cheeks and smiling at you fondly.

“Who’s blood is that?” You asked worriedly. He simply ignored your question and continued to look at you lovingly “All is well” he concluded.

You squealed slightly as pulled you onto his waist to straddle him, your hand going to his chest as his hands landed on either side of your waist.

“Sīr gevie” he whispered, moving his hips slightly to push himself against your tender body.

You moaned softly at his actions, grinding down against him as he moved against you, your wet pussy aching with need.

“Please” you cried, continuing to push your hip’s against his own to try and satisfy yourself.

Jacaerys hands moved up slowly, teasing you. He grabbed the ends of your nightdress, lifting it up above you waist, smirking as he saw your bare pussy on him.

You pouted at him, wanting to feel him deep inside of you. “Please” you said again, this time close to crying from annoyance and overstimulation.

He cupped your cheek, pulling you down to kiss you passionately, before flipping you over, so he was now above you.

He removed your nightdress completely, throwing in to the side, as he kissed you again, this time his tongue exploring your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, your hands now around his neck.

He began to kissing down your neck, then your breasts, eventually finding your lower tummy, and you squirmed under him, making him smile again.

“Patience, my lovely sister” he said making you glare at him.

With no warning he began to lick your wet pussy, and you cried out, your hands going to grip his dark curls, smirking to himself he continued for another minute before moving back up to your face. He kissed you once more, making you taste yourself.

“Jace please” you begged, your eyes now filled with tears.

“As you wish” he replied, removing his trousers, before entering you slowly. His hands on either side of you, as you both moaned. He began to move in and out of you, placing sloppy kisses on your lips every now and then.

“Louder, I want them to hear, I want them to know who makes you feel this good” he whispered in your ear, only arousing you further, as you cried out his name.

After a few more minutes you were both close to your climax “jace, I’m gonna-“

“I know” he replied, knowing your body all too well. He moved in and out of you, until you cried, literally. Tears fell down your cheeks as you clung to your brother, your walls clenched around him as your silhouette cum spilled out.

After a minute he joined you, spilling his seed deep into your womb. Groaning as he eventually pulled out. He watched as his seed dripped out of you, before he pushed in back in “Can’t waste any, need to make you carry my heir” he said breathlessly.

You only nodded, resting your head on your twins chest. The two of you drifting off to sleep, happily.

Some may disagree with your relationship, but you didn’t care, and neither did your family.

Anyway, the two of you were destined, as Jace liked to put it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idaña - twin

Lēkia - brother

Issa jorrāelagon - my love

Sīr gevie - so beautiful

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[rinhaler]

😩🤌 HOLD OOOOON JEALOUS UNCLE SUKUNA PLEASE? Extra Rough with a Sprinkle of loving

I got carried away but when don't I get carried away tbh also this is super icky sorry in advance hehe

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest, kinda cheating?, vaginal penetration, anal mention/slight teasing, degradation, pet names, jealousy, possessiveness, hair pulling, spanking, squirting, creampie.

words: 4.3k

There are eyes on you that you don’t feel. For the first time in your life, you don’t feel them. You’re engrossed in your phone as you swing gently in the hammock chair on your porch. The one that’s been continuously taken care of and maintained by him.

He watches you as you smile and bite your lip, your thumbs moving a mile a minute as you send reply after reply and wait with bated breath for a response in return. Even clearing his throat does little good. Is he really so invisible to you, now?

“Who is he?” he asks, muttering to your younger brother as he stands at the entry gate in your front yard. Your brother is confused, unsure of who he’s talking about. He looks around, until Sukuna looks at him directly. “You aren’t that stupid, are you? Look at her. Who’s the idiot she’s texting?”

Your brother looks in your direction, the cogs coming to life in his brain as he realises what he’s talking about. He smiles at him, but it soon fades as he sees your uncles disgruntled expression.

“Oh, she’s been bringing this guy around a lot called Megumi but she keeps saying they’re just friends. We all think it’s bullshit but—”

“That’s enough.” he groans. He puts his finger and thumb into his mouth and whistles loudly. Your eyes dart up from your phone, your giddy expression soon changes to one of surprise. “Hiya, princess.” he greets you, disappointed expression unchanging.

You get up from your seat, dropping your phone, and walk over to him. Even with both of his hands filled with gift bags, he wraps one around you and holds the small of your back. He kisses your cheek sweetly, pulling away to look at you properly.

“You’re getting prettier by the day, sweetheart.” he finally smiles. “You should drop out and become a model.”

“Looks fade, uncle Ryo, I’ll be a lawyer ‘til I’m old and grey.” you smirk. “You got us gifts again? You didn’t have to.”

“Speak for yourself.” Yuuji mumbles as he walks by you and into the house.

Your uncle shakes his head at him, a warm smile returning to him as he looks at you. You allow him to guide you inside, your phone a distant memory while his hand holds your shoulder.

You join Yuuji in the front room, sitting beside him on the couch while your uncle places the bags in front of you both. He sits nearby, in your dad’s old chair, while he watches you both sift through your gifts.

Well, you assume he’s watching you both. But those ruby eyes of his remain perfectly fixed on you. They wander to Yuuji every so often when he expresses gratitude for the gifts he’s received, but all he cares about, truly, is you.

“Is this a new laptop?” you ask, jaw almost dropping to the floor as you see it. “This must have cost a fortune. You didn’t have to do this.” you smile.

“It’s fine, I got you both one. What’s the point of my sister having kids if I can’t spoil them? Where is she, by the way?”

“Wait,” you stop him as you go through the rest of your gifts. “New stationary, bags, files. You got me all of this stuff for college? Thank you.” you beam. You jump up and sit in his lap, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing tightly, the intensity makes him wonder if you’ll ever let go.

Unfortunately for him, you do.

“She texted me a few minutes ago saying they’ve changed her shift and she won’t be back until late.” Yuuji says nonchalantly as he continues looking through his stuff.

“What?! She said she’d give me a ride tonight. I’m gonna have to get a taxi, where’s my phone?” you ask, leaping up from your seat in your uncle’s lap as you check all of your pockets. You head towards the front door to check the last place you’d been with it, when you suddenly feel his hand encase your wrist.

“Talk to me.”

“She’s meant to be taking me to the movies for my d- uh, I’m meeting a friend.” you explain.

“Boyfriend, you mean.” Yuuji mumbles before coughing loudly to cover up his comment.

“Shut up.” you snap back. “But I’m gonna have to book a taxi and start getting ready now in case I’m late. Thanks for the gifts, uncle Ryo.” you smile as you turn away to leave. But he squeezes your wrist hard, pulling you back to him.

“I’ll take you. Alright?” he tells you. “Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“Really?” you smile. “Thank you.”

“… What are uncles for, hm?”

Hours pass, time spent doing your makeup and choosing an outfit with texts sent to Megumi in between. Sukuna’s foot has been tapping incessantly as he waits for you, resisting the urge to check in on you every five minutes. He’d give anything to be in your room while you dress, allowing him to approve of your attire.

But instead, you appear hours later in a pair of shorts that would make him lose control in his younger years, but even now, he feels stirring in his slacks. A slight tightening that he’s fighting to ignore.

“Not leaving anything to the imagination, are you?” he grumbles, looking you up and down. You’re too irritated by his comment to notice the fact his eyes linger on your bare midsection and rake over your chest. Your little crop top almost looks too small for you, to him, with the way it accentuates your tits. “It’s a bit much for a movie.”

“Don’t start, I’m not changing. It’s so hot out I just wanna be comfy. Can we go?”

“Move, then.” he scowls.

You scoff, walking out ahead of him. He watches as you walk away before trailing after you. You’re mistaking his rage for sulking. You’ve never seen your uncle angry, not really.

If only you knew, he’s seething.

You spend twenty minutes in the car with him, panicking that you’re going to be late. You’d hate to picture Megumi there, waiting for you all on his own. You’ve texted him a few times to let him know you’re on your way, but you’re yet to hear back from him.

“Can you, like, do something?!” you ask before gluing your eyes back to your phone.

“What?” your uncle responds, teeth clenched as he looks over to you. His anger brewing further as he sees Megumi’s name with a bunch of heart emojis at the top of your phone. “Should I pick up the car and carry you it through the streets for you, darlin’?”

“If it’ll get us there faster, yes.”

“Tch.” he scoffs. “You know the world won’t end if you put your phone down for five minutes.”

“I’m letting him know I’m gonna be late! Is that alright with you?!”

“Him. The boyfriend, not friend. You lied.” and before he can stop himself, he speaks without thinking. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Your eyes widen at his words. And you can’t decide if you’re furious or devastated. Ashamed? Is he ashamed of you? You don’t know why he would be. He’s never said anything so mean to you before. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever said anything cruel to you in your life.

“What’s your problem?” you speak, your volume a little louder than intended.

“You are. I don’t even recognise you. Throwing yourself at college boys and dressing like a little slut. I thought I brought you up better than that.”

“You didn’t bring me up. Just because you visit with gifts every few months doesn’t mean you’re my fucking dad, Ryo. You’re barely an uncle.” you bite back. There’s more you could say, but you’re silenced by an incoming text from Megumi. “FUCK! I’m so stupid. Take me home, I got the time wrong.”

He grunts, turning the car around roughly before he parks down a nearby alleyway.

“Get out.” he orders.

“Huh?”

“Get out of my car, princess. You think you can disrespect me like that in my own fucking car? Get out and call a cab.”

Your heart sinks when you realise he’s far from joking. He actually wants you to get out of his car. In fact, he’s waiting for it. It’s hard to know if it’s genuine, if he’s legitimately planning on leaving you in a creepy alleyway all on your own and driving away. You hope he’s just trying to scare you, but the air is getting thicker.

His stare becomes harsher.

Your heart beats faster.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to disrespect you…” you pout. “Don’t make me get out, please. You’ve been so… off with me today. And I’m embarrassed I got the time of this date wrong and—”

“So it is a date after all, huh?” he sighs.

“We’re, ugh, we’re friends but—” you cover your face in embarrassment. “We keep talking about taking things further, but it’s just a movie I don’t know if it’s a date. Maybe we’re just gonna be friends forever and he isn’t interested at all.” and with that, you’re officially sulking, humiliated that you spilt your little secret to your uncle of all people. You feel his eyes on you, but you don’t want to look.

If they’re the same harsh eyes that told you he’s ashamed, you don’t want to see them ever again.

“Is that why you’re dressed like an easy whore tonight? Hah? Thought he’d be more interested if you put more on show.”

“Why are you being such a dick?!” you yell. The silence is too much, his bewildered face catches you off guard. It’s like he hadn’t expected you to raise your voice. You both maintain your silence, equally at a loss for words. But it goes on too long, and unintentionally, you feel the need to fill it. “What, are you jealous? Bet it’s been a while since you got any action, old man.”

“Old?” he scoffs. “What are you talking about, action? You wouldn’t do that… would you?” he asks, there’s venom coating his tongue, but it’s overridden by curiosity.

“Why do you think I dressed like such a… ‘little slut’, huh?” you laugh as his expression changes once again, he’s uncomfortable, so you decide to poke the beast. “We got seats in the back row… I don’t even care about the movie, it’s just an excuse to put our hands down each other’s pants.”

“That’s enough.”

“Why?”

You watch him as he unbuckles his seatbelt with haste. If you had blinked you would have missed it, and it’s not long before he does the same to yours. You’re weightless as he pulls you from your seat and into his lap, a few pathetic ‘ow’s’ leave your lips as he positions you over him.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, a combination of worry and curiosity overwhelming you.

“You really wanna get felt up at the movies by a little college boy? How pathetic you are… I thought you were better than that.” you’re too stunned to speak as his words consume you. Has he always been so protective of you? Has he always had this side to him? You don’t want to move. You barely want to think in case he doesn’t like how your thoughts sound. You gulp, nervously, and he smirks in amusement.

His fingers trail lightly across your chin before he holds it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. He licks his lips as his eyes examine your features. There is hunger in his ruby irises, a starved man sizing up the meal he’s worked so hard for.

But he’s patient.

He thinks it’ll be fine, nothing he does will make you object.

Though he can’t be too careful. So he proceeds with caution, allowing his fingers to carry on tracing downwards. Your wide eyes turn to a heavy lidded gaze as you feel the pads of his fingers softly dance across the column of your neck. His eyes follow the path they take, looking up once or twice to make sure you still aren’t opposed to his touch.

You gulp, again, when you feel him touch atop your breasts, and his eyes stay fixed on yours for a moment longer. But he’s greedy, now, unable to withstand the growing bulge in his pants or the thoughts he has about you in order to cure him.

He hooks his index finger into the low scoop of your crop top and pulls downwards. You’re unable to stop yourself from shuddering, and he looks up at you with a sympathetic stare.

“This is… wrong.” you speak, a slight whimper in your voice.

He grins, though he tries to hide it from you.

“How can it be wrong, sweetheart?” he asks. He holds your hips in heavy hands and pushes you down onto his clothed erection. “Feel how good you make me feel? Let me make you feel good, too. Megumi won’t satisfy you, I promise you that.”

“Ryo…” you sigh, soon stifled as he helps you roll your hips onto him. “It’s wrong… you know it is…”

“Well, maybe I don’t care,” he hisses, his cock leaking from the friction between you. He allows his head to droop back against the head rest behind him, smiling up at you as he realises you’re beginning to move all on your own. “I don’t think you do, either.”

Your eyes fill with water, and you bat your eyelashes in a bid to dismiss it. How did this happen? How did you get to this point? Maybe you’ve been waiting for Megumi for too long. Maybe some part of you knew you’d end up here with him. And maybe you want it just as much as he seems to.

“Naughty girl… give me a kiss,” he demands, fingers caressing the column of your spine before he pushes you down towards him.

A little whine escapes your lips before you submit to him. The feelings of his bulge nudging against your clit is enough to make you lose all sense. It’s clumsy and uncomfortable, a chaste kiss as if you were kissing your uncle turns into a sloppy, tongue tangling kiss as you soon dismiss that familial bond.

He pulls away, groaning slightly before he yanks down your crop top and exposes your bare tits.

His jaw tenses as he looks up at you again, as if he were withholding something he so desperately desired to say. But instead, he silences himself, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking experimentally.

Your eyes roll back into your head, your hand carding through tufts of pink hair. It’s been a while since you’d been intimate with anyone like this, the sensation making you weak and needy. The slightest touch feels enough to make you cum, though you hold back, savouring the way his hand holds your other breast and rolls your nipple between his finger and thumb.

You wonder if he sleeps around a lot, you wonder if he’s gotten laid recently. You want to know how good he is. You’ve heard from girlfriends that older men do it better, but you’ve never experimented so cavalierly, you wouldn’t even know where to meet one.

Little did you know you’ve had an older man vying for your attention all along.

“How do you like it?” he asks, breath fanning across your drool soaked tit before he swaps which one he suckles. You hiss a little as he grazes your perked nipple purposefully between his teeth.

“I— It’s good,” you say, shyly, body heating up further when you hear a small laugh leave his lips.

“No, baby. How do you like to fuck?” he asks again. You think you might pass out from the shame. Though it’s shameful enough that you’re allowing your uncle to suck your tits. You screw your eyes shut before opening them again, hoping that this could possibly be a bad dream you just need to wake up from. But he’s still there when you open your eyes, still looking up at you with a cocky grin as he observes your embarrassment consuming you.

“I don’t— I don’t really—”

“You’ve proven yourself to be a little slut, so you must have a preference. What happened to that mouth of yours, huh? You were so desperate to talk about your little classmate touching you up later.” he reminds you, and you pant from the humiliation. Any attempt to wriggle away is halted by him wrapping his arms around your torso and keeping your body glued to his. “How many little pricks have you let slut your cunt out, sweetheart?”

“Ryo…” you gasp, breathing becoming erratic. It’s too much, he chuckles as you start to fan yourself. “I don’t know anymore. I can’t think.” you explain.

“Have you lost count, princess? That’s disgusting, don’t you think?” he tuts, mock repulsion lacing his words. He only half means it. He’s disgusted that so many useless little boys have felt you wrapped around them without any inkling of how to truly satisfy you. “They don’t matter, now. No one will make you feel as good as I’m going to, you won’t want anyone else when I’m through.”

“This is… it’s a one time thing. Okay?” you tell him, and his smug smile only grows wider.

“We’ll see,” he starts, his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass as your shorts ride up. A pathetic yelp flees from you as his stinging palm lands on your body. “I don’t really care how you like it, I was just curious.”

“… how do you like it, Ryo?”

“It depends, princess.” he bites his lower lip. “But if it’s just this once, you’ll let me fuck you how I like. You’ll be a good girl for uncle Ryo, won’t you?”

You blink a few times. Are you really so easily manipulated? Are you really still grinding down on the throbbing bulge of your uncle? Your silence speaks volumes, to him. And with his patience wearing thin, you find yourself being thrown awkwardly into the back seat.

He takes a deep breath before stepping out, from behind the wheel and opening the back door.

You watch him as he unbuckles his belt, and he smiles when he notices you watching. He slows down the action, allowing you to savour the sight of him undressing. He stops after his cock springs free, slapping off his abdomen and leaving a pretty trail of pre on his pristine white shirt.

“Have you never seen a big dick before? You look scared.” He chuckles. You don’t say a word, and without realising you’re shaking your head. You thought you had, but apparently they were nothing in comparison to actual big dicks. You’re terrified, almost horrified, but you can’t look away.

Not until he tells you.

“Sluts take it from behind. Turn around.” he orders, and you immediately position yourself onto your hands and knees.

You squeal when his fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts and yank aggressively. He doesn’t pull them off, they remain around your thighs and keep your legs perfectly pressed together. His cock throbs at the sight, holding one of your ass cheeks and moving your lower half from side to side. You’d decided to forgo panties, and he couldn’t be happier.

The sight of your drooling cunt makes up for what has felt like an eternity of patience.

You scream, again, as you feel a multitude of spanks in quick succession. He thinks he might legitimately lose it at the sight of your holes clenching, and surprise rips through you as you feel a thumb pressed to your puckered hole. You cover your mouth to stop you from yelping at the unexpected touch, but he merely groans.

“Have you taken it here before?” he asks.

“… no… I h—aven’t,” you answer honestly. He hums in contemplation. He spits down onto your asshole and rubs his thumb across it gently.

“Next time, hm?” he muses to himself. Despite his words, he guides his cockhead to your tight hole. The thick tip rubbing teasingly against it. He doesn’t breach it, but the teasing alone feels pleasant. “I think you’ll like it…”

And with that, he moves from your rear entrance and plunges brutally into your drooling slot. You cry out, the unexpected entry taking you by surprise. He hushes and coos as your walls adjust to his girth.

The intensity of the pressure gives away to pleasure soon enough. Internally, he wants to be rough with you. He will be rough with you. However, he can’t ignore the fact that you are and always have been so precious to him. The thought of hurting you is hold him back.

But a deeper, darker part of him with a bruised ego overrides his conscience.

His fingers grab your hair harshly and wrap around his hand as if you were a dog on a leash. He pulls you until your back arches gloriously for him, and he uses the leverage to fuck into you harder.

He’s all too aware of the risks he’s taking. If anyone were to walk by they’d see exactly what he’s doing and has made no attempt to hide. Standing confidently outside the car with your ass on full display for anyone who’d dare to look. He could get arrested, your family could find out.

But it’s been too long of a wait for this taboo coupling for him to let something so trivial deter him from this. From you.

He’d like to hold off in favour of extending your pleasure. He’d like to see you cum and make a mess of his cock before he fills you to the brim with his creamy load. He’d like to see your pussy twitch and struggle to hold in his kids after he fucks them into you.

But he’s just a man, after all.

He doesn’t care if you cum anymore. He did, but this is for him. His heavy tip rocks repeatedly into your sweet spot and your raucous moans are bound to catch attention sooner or later. He’d love to stifle you in some matter, whether by covering your mouth or shoving his cock down your throat. But he can’t. His hands are still filled as one remains wrapped around your hair and the other keeps a bruising grasp on your hip.

He wants to tell you to shut up, he wants to tell you you’re being too loud and you’re soon to be spotted. But he can’t, he’s proud of you. Your pussy begins to suck him in and pulses around his thickness.

He chuckles and further fuels your shame as your pussy begins to gush from the pressure. Clear liquid jets out of you, dousing his cock, your shorts and his leather seats as you cum from the staggering sensation of being ploughed by your very own uncle.

The sight has him gritting his teeth as he uses your quivering cunt to reach his own satisfaction. His head falls back as he spurts stream after stream of viscous white cum into your womb. The warmth makes you hum contently, giggling as his movements slow, still determined to fuck his seed deep into you. He doesn’t even want to pull out, but the chill of the night air brings him to his senses.

You’ve been lucky to get away with this.

He pulls out, admiring the sight of his sperm dripping down into your shorts as he tucks himself away.

Your body is tired, but you find the strength to pull up your now soiled shorts before slowing making your way back to the passenger seat. You sigh, taking a few deep breaths as you contemplate what just happened.

“You look tired.” your uncle says casually as he starts up the car.

He’s right. You look at yourself in the mirror before you fold it back up, too disgusted with yourself to even look at how dishevelled and smeared your perfectly applied makeup has become. It’s all ruined. There’s no point in seeing Megumi, now. As excited as you were, you can’t go like this. You can’t let him see you like this.

Whenever you see someone walk by as your uncle drives you home, you can’t help but think they know. When your car stops at a red light, you think the people in the car beside you know. If you go and see Megumi tonight…

He’ll know.

YOU: sorry Megs, can we reschedule? My uncle just got to town x MEGUMI: of course. don’t worry about it, have fun with your uncle x

He reads your messages out of the corner of his eye, and does all he can to supress the satisfied smirk desperate to break out across his face. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, he understands. You did something wrong. But that isn’t why it’s so quiet.

You’re quiet, and uncomfortable, because you liked it.

You can’t make eye contact with him, because you liked it.

And you can’t talk to him normally, because you want to do it again.

Your body language tells him all he needs to know. He’ll be in town for as long as you need to wrap your head around this. As long as you need to confess how desperately you desire him once more. It’ll only be one more time. Every time you tell him, beg him, crave him to make you feel good again, you’ll say it’s the last time.

But that one last time will never come.

Poor Megumi, he has no idea just how much fun your uncle intends to have with you.

© 2024 rinhaler

[0silver0dreams0]

"Whispers of Devotion"

Yandere House of the dragon x ModernReborn!Reader Pt. 2

Summarized: Despite her mother, Queen Consort Alicent's attempts to control her, (your name) felt a stronger attachment to Rhaenyra and her children, which created jealousy and tension within the family. Aemond's frustration at not having a dragon fueled his anger, which grew daily, especially after Laena's tragic death. This escalating conflict ultimately led to a tragedy.

Warning: mentions blood, eye of Aemond taken out, incest, vulgar languege and a little of angst.

<< Pt. 1

Sunlight streamed through the window, accompanied by the giggling voices of small children, curious at the sight of a little baby, only a year old, as they tried to make her speak. The two children were trying to get her to say their names, each hoping that she would utter even the faintest hint of recognition, perhaps even a small peek of one of their names.

"Come on, (your name), it's easy—Helaena, or Ena, please," the girl said slowly, hoping that speaking more clearly would help. "No, no, Aegon," the boy interjected, "(your name), Aegon is easier!" he insisted, eager for her to acknowledge him.

Their efforts were abruptly interrupted by the arrival of someone else.

"What are you two doing here?" the queen exclaimed, a hint of frustration in her voice. "We were just trying to get (your name) to say our names," Aegon replied, glancing nervously at his companion. "Sorry, Mother, we just wanted to spend time with (your name)." "Well, you both need to leave now. (Your name) is only a baby, and it's best if you go and play with Aemond or someone else. Poor girl," Alicent said, turning her attention to the baby.

Before the Queen could exit the room, the princess appeared. "My Queen, what are you doing with this precious girl?" Rhaenyra asked, much to Alicent’s displeasure, as she blocked her way. "Nothing much, I just took her for a brief stroll through the gardens." "Well, perhaps she could have a playdate with Jace. He’s eager to play with her, and maybe her brothers too." Alicent furrowed her brow, and before she could refuse the offer, Viserys entered the room. "I think that's a splendid idea," he said, dismissing the queen’s look of disapproval. "Then it’s settled, isn’t it, sweetheart?" Before the princess could take (your name) in her arms, Alicent objected, "Fine, I'll go with her," as she held (your name) close.

On the way to the rooms where Jacaerys were, there was a palpable tension. No one spoke, except for the little baby, who was utterly fascinated by her mother’s hair. When they entered the room, a little boy was playing alone. As soon as he noticed someone entering, he looked up.

“(your name)! She’s arrived!” The little boy exclaimed, rushing to Alicent. “Yes, she’s here, and she brought her brother's along too,” Rhaenyra said, her eyes sparkling with happiness at the boy’s excitement. “Can I hold her?” The boy asked, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. “No, she’s too small and delicate. I don’t want—” “Please, Alicent, it will be fine. She is a dragon, after all,” Rhaenyra interjected before Alicent could protest further, swiftly taking (your name) from her arms and into her own. “Just be careful. Hold her like this,” Rhaenyra instructed, placing the little girl into her son’s arms but keeping a bit of (your name)’s weight supported by her own. “See, it’s easy, isn’t it?” she asked, beaming at Jace. “Ye—” “No! What are you doing?! She’s mine! She’s my sister!” Aegon interrupted, protesting loudly.

Before anyone could react, the little boy seized the girl roughly, causing her to cry out from the jarring movement.

“Aegon! What are you doing?! Give me the child now!” Alicent scolded him angrily. “No! She’s mine—!” The boy’s protest was cut short by the sound of a slap, prompting Rhaenyra to swiftly take (your name) back into her arms, soothing the baby. “What were you thinking?! She could have been hurt because of your foolishness! What’s the matter with you?” “But it’s not fa—” Another slap was heard, “You will be punished, young man. You won’t see your sister, play, or even leave your room for a long time.” Alicent then took her son’s arm and led him out of the room, with Helaena following behind.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m here, calm down, honey,” Rhaenyra cooed as she walked around the room, demonstrating to Jace how to hold (your name) properly. “Look, now it’s just the three of us. Do you like it?” she asked her older son. He simply nodded happily, his gaze fixed on (your name).

Just then, a maid entered the room.

“My Princess, it’s time for Prince Jacaerys’s lessons,” the maid announced. “Go on, sweetheart,” Rhaenyra encouraged. “Perhaps by the time your lessons are finished, (your name) will still be here.” With that, Jace hurried off with the maid.

Rhaenyra looked down at "her" daughter with a wistful smile. “My little girl, soon enough, you’ll be all mine. Your scheming mother won’t be around, and you’ll be with me all the time. Perhaps I can find a way to make that happen sooner.”

The rage and desperation grew with each passing year. You had become far too close to Rhaenyra for her liking. Even when she set boundaries, you wouldn’t listen. Even when she locked you in your chambers and punished you, you still wouldn’t listen. Even when she spoke ill of Rhaenyra and her bastards, calling them cruel by nature, or cursed your whore of a sister—claiming she cared nothing for duty or family—still, her precious child wouldn’t listen. Even if you were a little wary of them, you still preferred their company over hers or your brothers’. And, truth be told, she couldn’t entirely blame you. Aegon was Aegon, always deflecting blame for his own failings, jealous and cruel to anyone who didn’t fit his mould or threatened his swollen ego. Aemond and Helaena were peculiar in their own ways too, always lingering around her darling girl, bickering over who had your attention. Even Helaena, the strangest of all, wouldn’t leave your side. When you wished to rest, she would follow you to your chambers and sleep next to you, clutching you tightly, gifting you butterflies or little insects that you adored. Of course, she loved Helaena, but her oddities were sometimes too much. You were perfect—pure, intelligent, beautiful, kind—qualities neither Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, nor even Daeron possessed. And she was proud of you, proud of what you were.

But there were times when you angered her. She didn’t want to punish you, but you left her no choice. You wished to explore, to see the world, so she had to teach you that this was wrong, one way or another. You were supposed to be perfect. You are perfect, but sometimes you’re not, and that was unacceptable. That made her furious. Then she would punish you, reprimand you, give you more lessons than you could bear, or even lock you away in your chambers until you understood—you must be perfect. She believed she was only doing what was best for you, for your own good.

Even though you only wanted to be perfect, you longed to see the world, to go beyond King’s Landing, even if it was just to Dragonstone. But how could you do that to your mother? She only wanted what was best for you.

“(Your name)! What’s this?” Alicent stormed into the girl’s chambers. “It’s just a wooden sword, mother,” the girl answered, her face showing confusion. “You shouldn’t have this. This is not for a princess. What’s wrong with you, darling? You shouldn’t have this!” Alicent approached her, anger and bewilderment clouding her expression. “You’re grounded. You’re not to leave your room for the next two days. Maybe that will teach you how to behave.” “But, mother—” “NO MORE FIGHTING! I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF IT!”

(Your name) simply stared at the floor, defeated. Without a word of protest, she nodded. Alicent stormed out of the chamber, the sound of the door locking behind her echoing through the room.

Time passed, and when it was time for tea, no one came. That was normal when you were grounded—until Rhaenyra and Jacaerys entered your chambers, accompanied by maids carrying the tea.

“Hello, dear!” Rhaenyra greeted you warmly, with Jacaerys following behind her. “We heard your mother was being difficult. What if we have tea with you instead?” Rhaenyra moved to your side, taking your hand. “But she’ll be furious, Nyra. I don’t want to be grounded again,” you replied, worry evident in your voice. With a pitying look, Rhaenyra kissed your hand. “She won’t know we’re here.”

At that, a small smile appeared on your lips as you reached for the desserts Rhaenyra had thoughtfully brought—your favourites. Jacaerys stayed close, holding your hand as the three of you talked.

“How’s your dragon? I bet they’re incredible!” you asked excitedly.

“They’re amazing! Every lesson, we learn something new! But…” Jacaerys’ voice grew more irritated. “Aemond’s been hanging around again, and he doesn’t even have a dragon. He’s just there to annoy everyone.” “Well, he is Aemond,” you said with a laugh. “He’s just a bit too obsessed with dragons. Mother says he loves them more than anything else. But could you try to be nice to him? Please? He’s still my brother.”

After you spoke, you winced slightly as Jacaerys unintentionally squeezed your hand too tightly.

“Sorry, (your name), I didn’t mean to.” “It’s alright. It wasn’t on purpose,” you said with a smile.

Even though it was never openly discussed, everyone knew about Jacaerys’ quiet obsession with (your name) since you were a baby. He always wanted to be near you, and no matter how much Alicent tried to keep you isolated with endless lessons and punishments, they always found a way to see you. Even when Rhaenyra was busy with her own baby, she would sneak into your chambers, and somehow, they always got away with it. And you were happy for it. No matter how much Alicent, Aemond, or Helaena tried to intervene.

“A pig! They gave me a pig!” Aemond’s furious voice echoed through the corridors of the Red Keep. His footsteps were heavy with frustration as he stormed towards your mother’s chambers. Your heart sank; you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

You rushed down the hall, your small feet trying to keep up. Aemond had always been so determined to prove himself, and once again, he’d come back from the dragonpit humiliated. Jace, Luke, and Aegon had gone too far this time. You always tried to keep them from fighting, but this… this was bad. His shouting grew louder as you neared the room. When you entered, Aemond was pacing like a trapped animal, his face red with anger, and his silver hair messy. Your mother stood nearby, looking pale and worried. She had tried to calm him, but Aemond was beyond listening now.

“They mock me!” he shouted, his purple eyes blazing as he turned to you. “They gave me a pig, (your name). A pig with wings! Like I’m a joke!”

For a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say. You could see how much it hurt him. It wasn’t fair.

You walked up to him slowly, your small hand reaching out to touch his arm. “Aemond…” you said quietly, trying to sound brave. “They’re just being mean… but it’s not because of you. You’re going to get your dragon, I know it. And when you do, they won’t laugh anymore. You’ll be so much stronger than them.”

Aemond didn’t say anything at first, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “But when?” he muttered, his voice shaking. “When will it be my turn, (your name)? Everyone else has their dragons… and they treat me like I’m nothing.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, the kind that words couldn’t fix. You took a deep breath and squeezed his arm gently. “I don’t know when, but it will happen. I promise. You’re not nothing, Aemond. You’re strong. You’re my big brother.”

His shoulders seemed to relax just a little, and he looked away, the fire in his eyes dimming. For a second, you thought he might feel better. But deep down, you didn’t know that his anger would only keep growing. Every joke, every cruel word was feeding a fire inside him that no one could see.

Laena was dead. She had faced complications during childbirth and, in the end, took matters into her own hands. She went to Vhagar and burned herself alive. You hadn’t seen her or your uncle Daemon since then; in fact, you had only seen him twice: once on your sixth name day, and now. You could feel how deeply this loss had shaken Rhaenyra; she wasn’t herself. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a heaviness too. Baela and Rhaena were there, their sorrow so clear it was almost suffocating, and Laenor seemed utterly lost.

You didn’t know what to do. You always tried to help everyone, but even now, you couldn’t see a way to make things better. The air was thick with grief, yet it felt distant—like a heavy fog that clouded every interaction but kept everyone apart. You walked slowly, the weight of your steps echoing on the stone floors of Driftmark. The silence seemed to carry the presence of Laena’s death in every corner of the hall. It was strange, surreal even, to be here at a time like this, when everything felt like it could unravel at any moment.

Daemon’s reaction puzzled you. His laughter during the ceremony had sent an eerie chill down your spine. Maybe it was his way of coping, or perhaps there was something darker within him. But that was Daemon—unpredictable and always impossible to fully understand, playing by his own rules.

You approached Baela and Rhaena, their small forms huddled together near the edge where the sea raged below. Their faces were pale, eyes red from crying, but they were silent now—their grief too deep for words. They looked so fragile, and it made your heart ache for them.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. “I know I can’t make anything better, but I’m here if you ever need me.”

Baela gave a small nod, biting her lip, while Rhaena gripped her sister’s hand as if it were her lifeline. Their sorrow was overwhelming, but they remained silent, offering only a brief glance in your direction. You knew it was all they could manage right now. Still, you gave them a small, comforting smile, hoping it might bring them even the tiniest bit of comfort.

Your gaze shifted toward Daemon, who stood off to the side, staring blankly at the horizon. He seemed unfazed by the storm raging around him—the physical one or the emotional one. You couldn’t tell if he even cared or if this was just another chapter in his chaotic life—another loss in a sea of turmoil. Even at your age, you had heard the stories whispered about him: his first wife, the things he had done. But then, his gaze flickered toward you, and for a brief moment, your eyes met. Something passed between you—an understanding, maybe. No words were exchanged, but you smiled at him softly before turning away.

You moved toward Helaena, hoping her presence might offer some solace—or perhaps just a distraction. She stood alone, her eyes focused on a bug crawling on the ground, lost in her own world as always. There was something calming about being near her, a quietness that made the weight of the day seem a little less oppressive.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping beside her. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with a strange sort of wonder you couldn’t quite place.

You both stood there in silence for a while, just existing together. It felt easier that way, less forced. The grief that surrounded you seemed lighter when you were near her. Still, everything felt heavy, and the urge to escape—to be anywhere but here—grew stronger. The sea crashed violently below, the wind howled in the distance, and yet you stayed, tethered to the weight of your family, the expectations, the sorrow, and the unspoken pain that filled the air. For now, all you could do was stand and wait for the storm to pass.

Dreams filled your mind, peaceful and free from nightmares, until you heard voices and footsteps outside the room you were in. Curiosity quickly overtook caution, and despite knowing your mother would be furious, you decided to have a look around. Peeking out, you saw two heads of brown hair and two white ones—it was Baela, Rhaena, Jace, and Luke. But why were they outside at this hour? You hesitated, feeling a little nervous, but decided to follow them.

From one of the windows, you caught sight of him, Aemond. And Vhagar. He’d done it. He had claimed a dragon. You ran, trying to catch up with the others, but in your haste, you lost them for a moment. Unbeknownst to you, a knight had started following you, trying to usher you back to bed. But you were determined.

Then, you found them—and they were fighting. Aemond was holding a rock. Why? Why did he have a rock? What was happening? You were confused, your heart racing.

“Stop! What are you doing?!” you shouted, your voice desperate as you tried to understand the chaos in front of you.

Aemond turned to look at you, his face a mixture of anger and pain, but before he could respond, dust was thrown into his eyes.

And then it happened—the dagger slashed across his face, slicing through his eye.

“No! What have you done?!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, rushing towards Aemond, trying to help him, panic rising in your chest.

"Let me see, Prince, let me see," the knight said, appearing beside you as he tried to assist your brother, his voice urgent.

You were scared, your hands trembling as you reached out to Aemond, but there was nothing you could do. His eye was gone.

You were still trembling when the knight led you back into the hall where everyone had gathered. The air was thick with tension, and the weight of what had just happened made it hard to breathe. Your mother, Alicent, was standing over Aemond, her face twisted in a mixture of shock, grief, and fury. She had seen the wound, seen the blood pouring from her son's ruined eye. Aemond sat there, the maesters fussing over him, trying to stop the bleeding, but he remained calm—too calm. His face was eerily blank, as though he had already accepted his fate. But you hadn’t. You were still shaking, the image of the dagger slicing through his eye burned into your mind. And yet, the horror of it all was drowned out by the fear rising inside you. You feared her. You feared Rhaenyra.

Alicent's voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, as she demanded justice. "An eye for an eye," she declared, her voice filled with a cold rage you hadn’t seen in her before. "They have maimed my son! They must pay for this!"

You tried to shrink back, standing near the edge of the room, trying to stay out of sight, but Aemond wouldn't let you, holding your hand more tightly and looking at you with his now only eye. You didn’t want to be part of this, but there was no escaping it. The words your mother had whispered so many times before now echoed in your head, louder than ever. 'Rhaenyra is dangerous.' 'Her sons are a threat to you and your siblings. They will stop at nothing.'

And as much as you didn’t want to believe it, after what had just happened, you felt that maybe your mother had been right all along. Rhaenyra stood across the room, tense and defensive, her eyes flashing with worry for Jace and Luke. Sometimes she tried to look into your eyes, but you always looked away.

You didn’t understand. She had always been so kind to you, and you had always liked her. You could even say that you wished she were your mother instead of Alicent. And Jace and Luke had always played with you, promising they would be kinder to your brother. But now, with Aemond’s blood staining the floor, you saw something different in her—a danger that you hadn’t seen before; their promises were all fake.

“I demand justice,” Alicent said again, stepping forward, her eyes locked on Rhaenyra. Your heart pounded in your chest as you watched, unable to tear your eyes away.

King Viserys stood between them, his face pale with exhaustion and grief. He tried to calm the storm, but you could feel the fury radiating from your mother.

“I will have one of her sons’ eyes!” she cried, her voice trembling with emotion. She was wild with rage, desperate for justice. You had never seen her like this before, and it terrified you.

Viserys shouted for calm, trying to bring order to the chaos, but it was no use. Alicent was already reaching for the dagger at his side.

You gasped, your small hands covering your mouth as you watched in horror, taking your hand away from Aemond’s hand. Your mother, the woman who had always taught you to be measured and composed, was now lunging for Rhaenyra with a blade in hand. You wanted to scream, but the words caught in your throat. You were frozen in place, too scared to move. The clash was swift and brutal. Rhaenyra caught Alicent’s wrist before the blade could strike, and the two women stood there, locked in a furious struggle.

“You’ve gone too far, Alicent,” Rhaenyra hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

For the first time, you saw the true divide between them. And you realised, in that moment, that this wasn’t just a fight over Aemond’s eye. It was about power, about the throne, and in that moment, you didn't know that it was also about you.

“You see now, do you?” Alicent’s voice wavered, her eyes burning with a mix of heartbreak and rage as she looked at Rhaenyra. “Everyone can see now what you truly are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, too young to fully understand the depth of the betrayal, but old enough to know that nothing would ever be the same. You thought of all the times you had laughed with Jace and Luke, how you had always felt safe around Rhaenyra. But now, doubt gnawed at you. Maybe your mother was right; Rhaenyra was truly dangerous. You now saw that you were a threat to her throne, just as much as your brothers and sister were.

Aemond’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and cold, chilling the room. “It was a fair exchange,” he said, his one remaining eye burning with defiance. “I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Alicent froze, her dagger still clutched in her hand, as everyone turned to look at Aemond. His words were final, like the closing of a chapter.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that now everything had changed, that you no longer saw Rhaenyra as you once had. Now you despised her, despised Jacaerys, and despised Lucerys.

You didn’t trust them now.

Pt. 3>> (Coming Soon)

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I apologize for the delay in updates; as a full-time college student, I have a lot of assignments to juggle. I promise I’ll try to be quicker with my posts from now on. I’ve also added a poll to my profile where you can vote on whether (your name) will have a dragon, and if so, which one. If you don’t want to participate, that’s completely fine! Thank you for your understanding and for reading!

Tag list: @ursinaw @dakota-rain666 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @pookiedragonfire @jjggdfvvy @maryldrsstuff @1soultaken

[lizzyiii]

I LOVE THE DRAGONS TREASURE

Please tell me she claims a dragon

Uhhhh, well why don't you read and see...

The Dragon's Treasure (2)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 8.5k words

summary | ‘You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.’

tags | ANGST, ANGST AND MORE ANGST, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, depression, suicidal thoughts, as always reader is a sensitive queen 👑, reader really goes through it

a/n | I'm SO SORRY this took so long. Also I couldn't put everything in here or else it could've been like 15k words, so guess whatttt, there will now be A PART 3, which will be the final part of this which WILL have a HAPPY ENDING. Anyway enjoy

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 is 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 3

Laenor’s frustration hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to reach out and envelop the room. "How could you do this, Rhaenyra?" he hissed, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. He paced across the chamber, the sound of his boots echoing against the stone walls.

Rhaenyra, seated beside you as you lay asleep, cast her gaze downward, her expression shadowed by shame. Her injured arm was pressed tightly against her chest, while her other hand delicately brushed aside the strands of hair that fell across your serene face.

"It was the only way to preserve the fragile peace, Laenor," she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with sorrow as she focused on you.

Laenor’s frustration erupted once more as he countered, "By giving away our daughter?" His tone was hushed, yet the anguish etched across his features spoke volumes.

"And what do you call your intention to abandon her?" Rhaenyra's retort was fierce, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and hurt.

Laenor's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. He clenched his jaw, the weight of truth too heavy to bear. It was true—after much debate with Rhaenyra and Daemon, the decision had been made to stage his own death, allowing him the chance to flee with Qarl. The thought churned within him like a storm. "You should’ve spoken to me first," he murmured at last, his voice softer, tinged with the ache of sorrow.

"Mother," your weak voice echoed in the chamber, silencing the hushed argument between your parents.

A sharp pain throbbed in your head, the remnants of a distant ringing lingering like a ghost. With great effort, you began to sit up, but your mother gently urged you back, her voice soothing yet urgent, "My love, settle back. Do not strain yourself."

The world around you remained a blur as you blinked, trying to shake off the fog that clouded your mind. "What—what happened?" you managed to ask, your voice soft and uncertain.

Your gaze wandered to the window, where the soft light of dawn poured in, painting the room in warm hues. "What is the last thing you remember, my sweet?" your father asked from your other side, concern etched upon his features. You turned to him, puzzled, noticing the deep worry in his eyes.

Closing your eyes, you grasped at the fragments of the night that felt just out of reach. "Jace woke me, and then—there was a fight," you stammered, urgency clawing at your chest as you opened your eyes wide. "Is everyone alright? Is Aemond alright?"

Your mother’s lips pressed together as she exchanged a troubled glance with your father. "Your brothers and cousins are fine," she began carefully, "but… Aemond lost his eye."

Your heart plummeted at her words, and tears brimmed in your lilac eyes as memories flickered like a dim flame. "Luke?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yes,” your mother whispered gently, searching your eyes with a steady resolve, “but he only acted to protect Jace from Aemond.”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head in denial, desperation threading through your voice, “Aemond would never truly hurt Jace.”

“But it’s alright,” Rhaenyra interjected, dismissing your words with an air of resignation. “Aemond said that Vhagar was worth the sacrifice.”

Worth the sacrifice? You struggled to comprehend how anything could justify the loss of an eye. A deep longing stirred within you to see Aemond, to confirm that he was truly alright. Your gaze flitted anxiously between your mother and father before the memory of the loud commotion that had pulled you from your sleep surged back. “Why were you and Father fighting?”

Your father arched an eyebrow, turning his attention to your mother with an air of expectation, “Well, Rhaenyra?”

Your mother offered a strained smile, her hand gently brushing your cheek as if to shield you from any remaining tension in the air. “To ensure peace between our families, the Queen and I have decided to betroth you to Aemond. You will wed when you turn seven and ten. But do not fret, dear one; you and Aemond are the closest of friends.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your father’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Rhaenyra, tell her the rest.”

With a small sigh, your mother looked away, a shadow passing over her face. “During your betrothal, the Queen insists you stay in the Red Keep.”

Feelings swirled within you at the thought of being promised to Aemond. Yes, he was your dear friend, but never had you envisioned him as your husband. As memories of the past returned—those cruel words Aemond had hurled at your cousins and brothers—you felt a knot form in your stomach. Yet, a flutter of hope ignited in your heart as you looked up at your mother. “Does that mean we’re going home?”

Your mother’s eyes widened, confusion washing over you as you noticed tears pooling within them. “No, my treasure,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We shall remain in Dragonstone while you live in King’s Landing.”

The air seemed to thicken around you, and your heart felt like it had cracked open at her words. "What?" You clutched her tightly, burying your face against her soft dress, your voice muffled as you pleaded, "I don’t want to be away from you."

“It will be alright,” Rhaenyra whispered gently, pressing her lips to your brow. “We will write letters every day, and you will come visit us at Dragonstone.” You could hear the tremble in her voice, even as she held you close, tears started to shimmer in Rhaenyra’s eyes, her heart aching as she cradled you in her arms, trying to soothe both your sorrow and her own. “All will be well, I promise.”

It was the only path left before her. By sending you to the Greens, she hoped to weave a thread of peace, to quiet their unrest, and when the time was right, she would reclaim you from their grasp.

You pulled back, your little nose pink and tear-streaked cheeks glistening with sorrow as your gaze fell upon her injured hand. “What happened to your hand?” you asked, concern etched across your cherubic face.

Rhaenyra fought back the urge to weep at your innocent worry. Even through your own heartbreak, you were thinking of her. She offered you the best smile she could muster, brushing a thumb softly against your cheek as she kissed your forehead. “It’s naught to trouble yourself over, my love.”

Her eyes drifted toward Laenor, who stood nearby, his face a mask of despair as he looked down at you.

"I do not wish to leave, please, Father, do not make me go," you whimpered softly, clutching at him as he carried you toward the Driftmark courtyard, where a carriage awaited to take you away. You had heard that Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond had already set sail on a ship, so you would be accompanying the Queen.

"I trust your mother’s wisdom," his voice was gentle. "You know that I love you, don't you?"

You nodded quietly, burying your face into the comforting crook of his neck, seeking solace from the storm brewing in your heart. Laenor paused, his hands steadying you as he whispered, "Look at me, my sweet. I've come to a most profound realization."

With a flicker of curiosity, you lifted your head, your sad lilac eyes searching his face, "What is it?"

He regarded you with a deep, thoughtful gaze for a moment before speaking, "That nothing and no one shall ever hold my heart as you do." He leaned closer and pressed a tender kiss upon your nose, a gesture meant to seal the words in a bond of love, "You are and will always be my greatest love."

At his declaration, your lips quivered, and hastily you retreated into the comforting warmth of his embrace, hiding your face against him once more.

You felt him exhale softly, the sound laced with an emotion you could not name, before he asked with a quiet sincerity, "Do you wish for my happiness?"

"More than anything, Father," you replied without hesitance, your voice a whisper wrapped in sincerity.

With your head nestled against him, you were unaware of the tears that brimmed in his eyes. He brushed his lips gently across your brow, murmuring softly, "Good, that’s good.

As you and your father finally stepped into the sunlit courtyard, you turned your gaze to take in the bustling crowd.

Your cousins, Baela and Rhaena, stood close by, flanked by your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. A frown crossed your face as you spotted your great uncle Daemon standing beside your brothers and mother too close for your liking. Opposite them, before the grand carriage, stood Queen Alicent, her expression poised as she appeared to await your arrival.

With a gentle motion, your father set you down before your mother. As you looked up, you noticed Jace and Luke actively avoiding your eyes, their faces averted. Your mother knelt before you, her hands tenderly cradling your cheeks. "Do not fret, my sweet treasure. We shall be together again soon."

At her comforting words, fresh tears welled in your lilac eyes as you suddenly launched yourself into her embrace, clinging to her waist and burying your face in the soft fabric of her skirts. "I don’t want to go!" you cried out, your voice breaking.

Your small hands tightened around her skirts as you felt your father’s gentle persistence in trying to pry you away from your mother, and you protested fiercely, "No, I won’t go! You can’t make me!"

Your mother, her heart heavy with sorrow, cupped your cheeks in her hands, trying to soothe your tempest of emotions. “Hush, my love,” she whispered, her voice a tender balm against your distress.

Around you, pitying gazes flickered like candle flames—your grandparents’ melancholic expressions, your cousins’ shared discomfort. Jace’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears while Luke, overwhelmed, covered his ears, trying to drown out your wails. Rhaenyra felt a crack in her resolve as she listened to your sobs, contemplating possibly halting your betrothal. But then, a steady touch on her shoulder drew her attention. It was Daemon, giving her a firm nod, a silent promise of encouragement.

Steeling herself, Rhaenyra placed her hands over your tiny fists, carefully prying you away from her gown. She lifted your small face to meet her gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “You must perform your duty to the crown,” she said firmly, the weight of her words grounding her as she continued, “You are a princess now—act like it.” Each word felt like a dagger to her own heart, yet she managed to keep her voice steady, unwilling to let her emotions betray her in front of the others.

You looked up at her, your large, glistening eyes begging for understanding as you bit down on your lip, desperate to stifle your cries. It was then that you felt a soft hand on your shoulder and you saw your mother’s once-kind eyes harden and her lips set into a determined line.

Behind you, Queen Alicent's voice rang out with gentle authority, “Do not worry, sweet princess. We shall take good care of you.”

With one last lingering gaze at your mother, you allowed the Queen to lead you away. As you settled into the carriage alongside her and your grandsire, the weight of your sadness enveloped you once more. You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.

Aemond's heart was heavy with worry. No, it wasn’t just worry—it was a deep, gnawing distress that coiled in his chest like a serpent.

The thrill of claiming Vhagar had filled him with such joy, he had felt as if he could touch the moon itself. The moment he soared through the skies on the back of the great dragon, he had thought only of you, eager to share the monumental news. In his mind, you would have clapped your hands and laughed with delight, celebrating the bond forged between rider and beast.

But fate had other plans. Just when he imagined your bright smile lighting up the sky, your brothers and cousins had to swoop in, like crows scattering the sunlight.

He could still picture the way you had stared at him, your eyes wide, but not with excitement. No, there was something else in your gaze—hurt. Aemond’s heart twisted painfully. What did it matter that he had claimed Vhagar? Didn’t you understand? He had done it for both of you, to lift you higher, to make you proud.

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the air crackled with tension. Your stupid cousin had lunged, and in that moment, everything exploded into chaos. And then much worse — his bastard nephew had struck you. It didn’t matter if it was an accident or a deliberate attack; Aemond saw only red. All he could think of was defending your honor, standing up for you. But that brave impulse led to disaster—the sharp, searing pain of loss as your bastard brother struck him down, taking his eye and leaving an aching void in its place.

The pain was unlike anything Aemond had ever known. As the sharp impact seared through him, a crimson tide flooded down his cheek, hot and frightening. For a fleeting moment, fear clawed at his insides; he truly believed he would not survive this. The world around him dimmed, distorted by the sudden absence of sight, as the maester began to stitch the ravaged flesh, one painful tug at a time. In that disorienting haze, it felt as if all the light had been extinguished, leaving him vulnerable and alone.

In the throng of shouting, his mother alone stood as his shield, her voice rising powerfully over the din. Where was the king? His father seemed indifferent, preoccupied with the whispers of bastardy that tainted his grandson's names, ignoring his son’s suffering. Aemond felt a pang of betrayal deep in his heart, a bitter realization that the bonds of blood carried chains as much as love.

But more damning still was your stillness. You lay unconscious atop a small cot, the aftermath of your collision against a stone wall. His worry for you gnawed at his mind, a relentless ache more piercing than the wound that marred his face. Around him, the fighting raged on, but all it did was intensify the throbbing where his eye had been, and in desperation, he called out, declaring that his lost eye was a worthy sacrifice for a dragon—any dragon.

Then his mother came to him, her expression conveying hope. She spoke of a betrothal, weaving a promise between the two of you like a delicate thread. In that moment, Aemond's heart swelled with a light that eclipsed the agony gripping his face.

You would be his wife; destined to stand at his side forever. It was a beautiful twist of fate meant to be, a binding forged that made him forget, at least for a heartbeat, that he was now a boy with only one eye.

But now, after a fortnight spent back in the imposing halls of the Red Keep, he still had not laid eyes on you since that fateful night in Driftmark. At first, his mother had told him you were too distraught, struggling to settle back in King’s Landing without your mother and siblings. Aemond could understand that; he knew how deeply you loved his sister, though he had no clue as to why.

Yet, days passed, and the weight of your absence grew heavier. Then, the letter arrived. A letter relaying how your father, Laenor Velaryon, had been murdered. His mother, with a grave expression, had explained that you were in no condition for visitors, grief stricken and devastated. Aemond felt a surge of frustration mixed with a pang of empathy. How could he possibly comfort you from afar?

Despite his mother’s warnings, he refused to be deterred. Each day, without fail, he ventured to your chambers, his heart pounding with hope and desperation. Each time, he was met with the same stony refusal from your sworn shield, Ser Rowan. The knight’s demeanor was unwavering, his expression a mixture of duty and pity that only fueled Aemond’s determination.

With a final, resentful glance at the shield that stood between him and you, he turned away, but not before giving your door a lingering look—his heart aching to see you, to offer even a word of solace.

That’s when a cunning idea sparked in his mind. He recalled the tales of Maegor the Cruel, who, in his paranoia, had carved secret tunnels through the very walls of the Red Keep. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a way in. Aemond’s pulse quickened at the thought of sneaking through those hidden passages, unseen and unnoticed, until he could finally stand before you.

He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying. No more waiting, no more barriers. He would find you, even if it meant crawling through the dark, twisting shadows of the Red Keep. You were destined to be together, and he would not allow the two of you to be apart any longer.

It had taken Aemond a full week—seven days of frustration, of feeling like a fool. He had spent those days pacing the cold stone walls of the Red Keep, touching every surface in hopes of discovering one of the fabled tunnels of Maegor the Cruel. They said the king had built secret ways throughout the castle, but Aemond had no guide, no map. Only his determination kept him searching. Then, at last, he'd found one—hidden behind a grand tapestry depicting dragons in flight.

Excitement had quickly turned to terror. Once inside the dark, winding passageways, Aemond realized he was hopelessly lost. The stone walls seemed to close in on him, their narrow confines suffocating. Hours passed before he finally stumbled out, breathless and covered in dust, into the kitchens. The sky outside had turned to night, and his stomach gnawed at him from hunger. He looked a sight—dirty, disheveled, and no closer to his goal.

The next time, he would not make the same mistake. He had prepared this time, studying the first tunnel he’d discovered and memorizing the paths it led to. He knew now how to navigate these secret ways, and his heart raced at the thought of where they might lead him.

Tonight, he sought your chambers.

Quiet as a shadow, he slipped through the concealed door in the wall, pushing it open just enough to sneak inside. His eyes darted around the room before he found a hiding place behind a tall dressing screen. From there, he could see only part of the room.

Aemond stood quietly behind the carved wooden screen, peering through the delicate patterns to catch a glimpse of his mother, Alicent. She sat beside the bed, where you were hidden beneath a heavy blanket, your figure barely visible. He strained to hear the conversation, his curiosity mingling with worry.

"You must eat, my sweet princess," Alicent's voice trembled slightly, though she tried to keep her tone soothing. Her words echoed through the chamber, filling the air with tension that made Aemond's heart tighten.

He frowned, sensing the tension in the room, the weight of his mother's concern. But you gave no answer, not even a whisper, and the silence only deepened his anxiety.

"If you do not eat," his mother continued, her voice sharper now, filled with urgency, "you will waste away. You will die."

Aemond swallowed hard. He hadn’t known it was this bad. He pressed himself closer to the screen, his young mind racing. What could he do? How could he help?

The silence finally broke, but the sound of your voice was weak, and it made Aemond's stomach churn. "I do not care," you said, the weariness in your tone hanging in the air like a shadow. Aemond frowned deeply, his heart racing. It sounded as though you hadn’t spoken in days.

"I wish to be with my father," you whispered, and Aemond felt the words like a blow. His hands clenched at his sides as his chest grew tight.

Queen Alicent gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Princess..." she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.

A heavy silence lingered for a few moments, only broken by the sound of Alicent’s soft sigh. She leaned forward and gently caressed your brow, her fingers smoothing your hair with a mother’s care. "I shall return later," she said softly, though there was a hint of sadness in her tone. "Perhaps by then, you will be in better spirits."

She rose from the bed, her gown rustling softly as she turned to leave. Aemond stayed perfectly still, his breath held until his mother had exited the chamber, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Only then did he dare to move, waiting a moment longer before stepping out from behind the screen, the weight of your words still heavy on his mind.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped cautiously toward your bed. The tension in the room made the air thick, and his hands had already begun to tremble. He cleared his throat, though it did little to ease the nervousness tightening his chest. "Niece," he called softly, hoping the word might draw some warmth from you.

But you lay there, still as stone, offering him no sign that you’d heard. His heart quickened, not just from excitement but from something colder—apprehension. "It is me, Aemond," he said, trying again, this time louder, as if his voice could somehow break through the wall you had built around yourself.

"Leave," you croaked, your voice rough from disuse. The word, though weak, struck him like a lash.

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he edged closer to your bedside despite the rejection. His heart ached at the sight of you, eyes barely open, a sliver of sharp lilac staring back at him with the irritation of a cornered animal. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I know you are in pain—"

"Go away," you interrupted, your voice fragile, cracking under the weight of your sorrow as you pulled the covers over your head, shielding yourself from him, from the world.

Aemond stood frozen, his brow furrowing deeply, the sting of your words sharper than he expected. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the vulnerability he had tried so hard to bury rise to the surface. His voice was barely above a whisper as he let slip the truth he had kept locked away. "I… I’ve missed you."

Your silence stung worse than anything you could have said. Then, muffled beneath the covers, you spoke firmly, your voice laced with bitterness. "Leave me be, Aemond."

Desperation took hold of him. His face grew hot as he reached out toward the blanket that hid you, fingers trembling. "Please," he whispered, voice cracking, "just speak to me. Let me help you."

Suddenly, the covers flew back, and you sat up, your face twisted in an anger that made Aemond step back as if he had been struck. The look in your eyes—sharp, hateful—was something he had never seen before, not directed at him. "Now you wish to help?" you spat, your voice ringing through the chamber, venomous and cold. "You’ve ruined everything, Aemond."

His heart pounded painfully in his chest. "What?" He stared at you, confusion clouding his mind. What had he done?

"Because of your selfish ambitions," you snarled, your voice rising with every word, "my mother had to give me away. If it weren’t for you, I would still be with them—still be with my father!" Tears brimmed in your lilac eyes, the sight of them making his stomach churn.

Aemond felt like the floor had dropped from beneath him. How could this be his fault? He didn’t understand. "Niece—please," he whispered, but his voice sounded small and powerless, even to himself.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and when you spoke again, the words shattered him. "I hate you, Aemond. And I will hate you for the rest of our lives." Your voice broke as the tears finally fell, streaming down your cheeks. "Now go!"

Your scream echoed through the room, and Aemond felt wetness on his own cheeks. His chest tightened, and the lump in his throat grew unbearable. He flinched as he heard your knight call for you from outside the chamber, likely drawn by your raised voice.

Breathing heavily, Aemond glanced at you one last time, your tear-streaked face seared into his mind. His body moved on instinct, turning away, his feet carrying him swiftly back toward the secret door he had come through. His heart was heavy with a pain he had never felt before, not even when he had lost his eye, and as he slipped away, the weight of your words followed him into the darkness.

Queen Alicent paced the length of her chambers, her mind in turmoil. She had never anticipated this outcome when she brought you to the Red Keep, far from Dragonstone, far from your mother, Princess Rhaenyra. She had believed that under her guidance, you would flourish. As her ward, betrothed to Aemond, your closest companion, she imagined you would grow into a graceful, dutiful princess—one who would restore the honor of House Targaryen, untarnished by the reckless whims of your mother.

In her heart, Alicent had even dared to hope that you might surpass Rhaenyra, earning the love of the people as the true 'Realm’s Delight.' But those dreams now seemed distant and foolish.

It had all gone wrong.

Alicent had grossly underestimated the bond you held with your mother, the Princess. The spirited, joyful girl she had known—the one who ran through the halls of the Red Keep with Aemond at your side—had withered before her very eyes. In mere weeks, you had become a ghost, hollow and silent, consumed by grief and loneliness. Being torn from your mother’s side, followed by the sudden news of your father’s death, had shattered something deep within you.

Alicent was powerless. She could feel the weight of her failure pressing down on her, and it terrified her. You had stopped eating, and each time she visited your chambers, the sight of you grew more distressing. Your once-cherubic face had grown gaunt, your cheeks hollow, and the dark rings under your violet eyes seemed to deepen with every passing day. The life that had once shone so brightly within you was now dim, fading with each moment that you refused to take nourishment.

In truth, Alicent no longer cared about the feud between her and Rhaenyra. She no longer saw you as a pawn in the game of succession, a princess bound to her son. All of that had crumbled in the face of her growing fear for your health. She couldn’t stand by and watch you waste away, not like this.

She had tried everything—soft words, coaxing, but nothing had worked. You remained trapped in your sorrow, unreachable, silent. Desperation clawed at her heart, and in that desperation, she did something she had not imagined she would ever do.

Alicent sat at her desk, trembling hands grasping a quill as she penned a letter to Princess Rhaenyra. She pushed aside her pride, her anger, her fear of what this might mean for the tensions between their families. None of that mattered now. Only you mattered.

“Princess Rhaenyra, your daughter is unwell,” she wrote, her heart heavy with each stroke of the pen. “I ask—no, I beg you to come to the Red Keep at once. She needs you. I fear that without her mother, she may not survive this grief. Please, come swiftly.”

The letter was sealed with wax, her hand shaking as she pressed the Targaryen sigil into it. For once, Alicent did not think of herself, nor of the coming war over the Iron Throne. She only thought of the fragile girl with lilac eyes, fading away in the chambers of the Red Keep.

"Send it," she ordered the servant, her voice tight with emotion. "Have the fastest raven dispatched to Dragonstone."

But a week had passed, and there had been no response. Alicent cursed Rhaenyra’s negligence. How could she ignore such a plea? How could she allow her own daughter to wither away in the Red Keep, as if you were some pawn to be discarded?

What Alicent did not know was that the letter had never reached Rhaenyra’s hands. No, it had fallen into the possession of Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince had taken one glance at the letter and, with a smirk of indifference, tossed it into the flames of the hearth. In his eyes, you were of no use to him. Another heir of Rhaenyra’s blood, one more obstacle between him and his ambitions for his own children. Let the girl perish, he thought with cold calculation. It was one less threat to his plans for the Iron Throne.

Alicent, unaware of this, grew more anxious with each passing day. No response from Dragonstone. No sign of Rhaenyra. She could not wait any longer. In her desperation, she turned to another—a hope that perhaps your dearest friend, Helaena, might reach you where others had failed. Helaena, her sweet daughter, only three years your senior, had always been close to you, sharing dreams and secrets in happier times.

Alicent clasped her hands together as she stood outside your chamber, her nerves taut. She turned to Ser Rowan, your sworn knight, who had guarded you since your first breath.

"Any change today?" she asked, though her voice betrayed little hope.

Ser Rowan, his face dark with guilt, shook his head solemnly. "No, Your Grace. She has not stirred."

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, and with a nod, she pushed open the door, Helaena trailing close behind. The chamber was as it always was—quiet, heavy with the air of grief. You lay in the bed, as still and silent as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

Alicent cleared her throat, trying to inject warmth into her voice. "Princess," she called gently, "I’ve brought a guest for you."

You did not stir. You did not acknowledge her at all. It was as if the words had fallen into an abyss.

Alicent’s heart sank. She glanced down at Helaena and gave her a nod of encouragement. Perhaps, just perhaps, her daughter could say what she could not.

Helaena moved slowly, her steps light as she approached your bed and sat beside you. She said nothing at first, simply humming a soft, melodic tune under her breath. From the small chest she had brought, she carefully lifted something between her fingers. The sight of her silent actions caught your attention, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, your small head peeked from beneath the covers, your curiosity piqued.

Alicent held her breath, hope blooming in her chest.

Helaena continued to hum as she gently played with the small creature in her hands, a soft smile on her lips. After a few moments of silence, you finally spoke, your voice weak and quiet. "What's that?"

Without glancing at you, Helaena murmured, "Buprestidae."

Your face scrunched in confusion, and Helaena, with her usual dreamy tone, elaborated, "It is more commonly known as the jewel beetle."

Your eyes widened in quiet wonder as you gazed at the shiny emerald insect in her hand. Its iridescent shell shimmered in the dim light, captivating your attention. "It’s very pretty," you whispered.

A faint smile touched Helaena’s lips. "My books say it is one of the most beautiful insects in the world," she said gently, her voice filled with affection as she watched your interest grow.

"Wow," you breathed, your small voice barely audible. Then, with a glimmer of your old self shining through, you looked up at Helaena, your lilac eyes filled with a trace of life. "Will you tell me more about them?"

There was a brief pause as Helaena's eyes drifted toward the untouched tray of food sitting beside your bed. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but firm as she made her quiet bargain. "I will... but only if you finish your soup."

Alicent’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched you hesitate, the tension in the room thick. She held her breath, praying to the gods that you would comply. After a moment of silence, you reached for the bowl and, with slow, deliberate movements, lifted the spoon to your lips.

Alicent nearly wept in relief as you began to eat, her heart lightening for the first time in what felt like ages. Helaena, true to her word, continued in her calm, melodic voice, speaking to you as you slowly finished your meal.

"Most jewel beetles are active during the day," Helaena explained, her tone soothing, "and they spend the night nestled beneath leaves or in the bark of trees. Their shimmering colors help them attract mates, especially under the bright sunlight, which makes their beauty shine even more..."

Alicent stepped back, her gaze lingering on you as the weight on her chest finally began to lift.

You found solace in Helaena’s presence, though at times her words felt like riddles, their meaning drifting past you like the wind. Still, there was something calming about her company, something soft and soothing in the way she moved and spoke. Her visits had become the brightest part of your days, a welcome distraction from the deep sorrow that still gripped you.

The ache of being separated from your mother, weighed heavy on your heart. You missed her fiercely, and the news of your father's death had only deepened that sadness. But when Helaena was near, for just a little while, the burden lightened. Her quiet, gentle presence helped you forget, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Today, the two of you sat in the warm light of your solar. Helaena perched on the chaise, her hands busy with her embroidery, weaving delicate patterns into the fabric with practiced ease. You, content with your own thoughts, sat nearby with parchment spread before you, sketching the insects Helaena had shown you in previous days. The jewel beetle, with its shimmering emerald wings, was your favorite to draw.

As your hand moved across the parchment, your mind began to drift. Your thoughts slipped away from the beetles and the quiet peace of the moment, wandering back to the last time you had seen Aemond. You could still see the hurt etched on his face, the way his expression had crumpled when you yelled at him in your grief. Your words had been sharp, and though part of you still clung to the anger, another part felt something different. Guilt. Regret.

You had missed him—more than you wanted to admit. Since you were a babe, it had always been you and Aemond, bound by blood and by the shared weight of the Targaryen legacy. You had thought that, no matter what, it would always be the two of you against the world. But then he had claimed Vhagar.

Everything had changed after that. He had left you behind, the only one of your kin without a dragon. And more than that, he had spoken cruelly, lashing out at your brothers and cousins with venom you had never seen in him before. His words had cut deeper than any sword.

But now, as you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had overreacted. Yes, Aemond had been harsh, and yes, he had taken Vhagar without thinking how it would make you feel. But could one misstep, one painful choice, truly undo the bond you had shared for so long? Was your friendship, your connection as kin, so fragile that it could be shattered by a single moment of anger?

You paused, the charcoal in your hand hovering over the parchment as you considered. You missed him. Truly. And perhaps, deep down, you wondered if he missed you too.

"I do not wish to marry Aegon."

You looked up in surprise, her words catching you off guard. The castle had been alive with preparation — maids sewing new gowns, cooks laboring over feasts, and courtiers whispering about the upcoming union. You knew it was common among your kin for Targaryens to wed each other, like your great-grandparents, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, who were siblings. But still, the thought of Helaena marrying Aegon unsettled you, and now it seemed to trouble her too.

You knew why, of course. Your uncle Aegon was cruel, more interested in wine and women than anything else. He frightened you sometimes with the way he looked through people, as though they didn’t matter at all. You couldn’t imagine him as a kind husband.

"Why don’t you tell the Queen?" you asked, leaning forward on your seat, your eyes wide and hopeful. "Tell her you don’t want to marry him."

Helaena didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on her embroidery as her needle moved with careful precision. “Mother says it is our duty,” she murmured softly, almost as if speaking to herself. “To keep the blood pure. But... I don’t believe I shall be happy.”

The way her voice wavered made your heart tighten. Without thinking, you blurted out, “What if we leave?”

Helaena blinked, her head turning slowly toward you, confusion clear in her violet eyes. “Leave?” she repeated, her tone soft and bewildered. “I do not understand.”

“What if we just left?” you said again, more firmly this time, your words coming quicker now as the idea took shape in your mind. “We could fly away. Dreamfyre is strong. We could ride her across the Narrow Sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us.”

For a moment, Helaena only stared at you, her needle paused in mid-air. “Niece...” she began, her tone hesitant, unsure.

“Yes!” You leaped to your feet, your excitement bubbling over as you grabbed her hands, your small fingers wrapping around her delicate, unmarked ones. Your hands were still smudged with charcoal. “We could see all the wonders of Essos — the great temples, the golden fields! We would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

Helaena’s eyes softened, though a flicker of something uncertain lingered there. “And what of coin?” she asked after a pause, her voice gentle but cautious. “How would we live?”

You waved your hand dismissively, grinning. “We have a dragon, Aunt Helaena! We wouldn’t need anything else. Dreamfyre could take us wherever we wanted. No one could stop us.”

But Helaena’s gaze grew distant again, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We would be leaving our family behind,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Your smile faded as you sat back down beside her, your shoulders slumping slightly. Your mother had already left you behind when she sent you to King’s Landing. You had not seen her in months. Aemond… well, Aemond had Vhagar now. He didn’t need you anymore. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

“They don’t care about our happiness,” you said softly, trying to convince yourself as much as Helaena. “Why should we care about theirs?”

Helaena turned her face away, her expression distant, as if lost in her thoughts. Her lips moved slowly, forming words that you didn’t quite understand, though her tone was soft and strange, like a distant lullaby. “As shadows stretch and sky turns cold, fear within, like dusk, takes hold. Alone you stand, though hearts may yearn, in darkness waiting will light return."

You blinked, completely baffled by her words, but you simply shrugged and smiled brightly. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Helaena’s head snapped back to you, her eyes widening in alarm. “Wait—”

“We’ll meet tonight at the Dragonpit!” you declared, bouncing up from your seat, your excitement renewed. “I’ll go pack my things!”

Before she could say another word, you were already running toward the door, your heart racing at the thought of your grand adventure. You didn’t hear Helaena call after you, nor did you see the torn, pained look that crossed her face as she watched you leave, uncertainty clouding her gaze.

Sneaking out of the Red Keep was, by far, the most reckless thing you had ever done in your ten years of life. Well, perhaps not the hardest, but it certainly felt like it as you plotted how to send Ser Rowan, your sworn shield, on a task that would occupy him long enough for your escape.

Stepping out of your chambers after so long, you saw Ser Rowan look at you with wide eyes, as though he had seen a ghost. It had been months since your return and you had not left your chambers since. your presence at such an hour clearly startled him.

“Ser Rowan,” you began, trying to keep your voice even, “could you fetch me some strawberry cakes from the kitchens, please?”

It was the middle of the night, and you knew full well that no one would be stirring in the kitchens at such an hour. Ser Rowan frowned at first, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Might it wait until morning, my princess? Surely—”

You interrupted with wide eyes and a slight pout, a trick you had learned from watching your mother use many times. Ser Rowan sighed, defeated.

“As you wish, my Princess,” he said with a small bow. “I shall return as swiftly as I can.”

As soon as he disappeared down the corridor, you darted back into your chambers. Your hands moved quickly, fastening a dark cloak over your nightgown, pulling on your boots, and securing a small satchel around your waist. Inside the satchel, you placed the few things you could not bear to leave behind—a few trinkets, a drawing of your family, and the little wooden dragon Aemond had carved for you.

Heart racing with excitement, you slipped out, careful to avoid the guards as you moved silently through the Keep. You kept close to the stone walls, where the shadows were deepest, and prayed no one would see your small figure darting from one corner to the next.

Somehow, by sheer luck or skill, you made it past the castle walls. You retraced your steps, recalling the times you had secretly followed your brothers, Jace and Luke, on their way to their dragon lessons. The path to the Dragonpit came to you as if you had walked it a hundred times before.

The pit was dark and silent, save for the occasional low rumble of a sleeping dragon. You knew you should have waited outside for Helaena, but your curiosity won out. The thrill of being here alone, surrounded by the presence of dragons, was too great to resist.

The deeper you ventured into the pit, the more your heart pounded with a mix of fear and awe. And there, before you, stood Dreamfyre, Helaena’s dragon. Even in the dim light, her blue scales shimmered like precious gems.

You gasped, startled, as Dreamfyre let out a heavy breath, a plume of smoke curling from her nostrils. The sudden movement made you cough, and Dreamfyre’s eyes flickered open. For a terrifying moment, the great beast stared at you with narrowed eyes.

You froze, holding your breath, certain that you had made a grave mistake. But after what felt like an eternity, Dreamfyre closed her eyes again, seemingly uninterested in you. Slowly, you let out a breath of relief, the tension easing from your shoulders.

You had not anticipated how long it would take for Helaena to arrive. The excitement of your escape began to fade, and the long wait in the cold of the Dragonpit made your eyelids heavy. Without thinking, you found yourself sitting against Dreamfyre’s rough, warm side. Her body heat was comforting, and before long, your head drooped, sleep threatening to take you.

Just as you were about to doze off, the sound of footsteps echoed through the pit. You jumped to your feet, hastily smoothing out your cloak and dress. Heart racing once more, you called out eagerly into the darkness.

“Helaena? Is that you?”

But the voice that responded was not hers.

“No, it’s me.”

A surge of confusion washed over you as Aemond stepped into view, a torch held high in his hand. The flickering light cast sharp shadows across his face, illuminating the scarred half hidden beneath his eyepatch. The sight of him, standing there with his frown and fierce gaze, made your heart drop. You hadn’t seen him since that terrible confrontation, you had not even noticed his injury. And now, seeing him like this, the guilt and confusion from that night flooded back.

You swallowed hard, your voice quivering as you asked, “Where is Helaena?”

“She’s back in the Red Keep, where you should be,” Aemond replied, his tone firm and commanding.

He hadn’t seen you in months, and though he felt relief to see you healthy and well, there was also a deep, gnawing hurt inside him. He had been shocked when Helaena told him of your plan to run away, and that pain twisted in his chest. You, his betrothed, were going to leave him behind so easily. And as much as he would have never admitted it aloud, if you had asked him to join you, he would have gone without hesitation.

Hurt flashed in your eyes, and your lip began to tremble. “Why isn’t she here?” you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

“She told me about your plan,” Aemond said quietly, his violet gaze never leaving you. “She sent me here to tell you that she has changed her mind.”

“No,” you shook your head fiercely, your voice cracking. “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

“She realized what you were doing was wrong,” Aemond said, stepping closer, his voice calm but stern. “The two of you have duties —”

"That's so easy for you to say," you snapped, your voice suddenly sharp and filled with anger. Neither of you noticed Dreamfyre’s eyes slowly opening at the sound of your raised voices. Tears welled up in your lilac eyes as you shouted, "You’re not the one being used as a broodmare! A mere vessel for heirs!"

Aemond flinched, pain crossing his face. He reached a hand out towards you, trying to soothe you. “Niece—”

But you stepped back, tears spilling down your cheeks as you slapped his hand away. Without another word, you turned and ran, your feet flying across the stone ground as Aemond’s voice echoed behind you.

But you didn’t stop. You ran through the Dragonpit, tears blurring your vision as you navigated the winding paths. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you, but you pushed forward, taking every shortcut you knew to avoid him.

When you finally reached the Red Keep, your legs were aching, and your breaths came out in sharp gasps. You felt utterly betrayed, the sting of Helaena’s broken promise cutting deep. Your ribs ached as you hurried back to your chambers, your sobs the only sound in the cold, empty corridors.

Then, as you turned a corner, you collided with Ser Rowan, who had just returned, a tray of strawberry cakes in his hands. The tray clattered to the ground as he caught sight of your tear-streaked face, his eyes widening in alarm.

“Princess!” he exclaimed, dropping to one knee in front of you, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

But instead of answering, you flung yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and sobbing into his steel-clad shoulder. The weight of everything crashed over you—your mother’s abandonment, Aemond’s actions, and Helaena’s betrayal. It all felt too heavy to bear, and in that moment, Ser Rowan was the only one who hadn’t turned his back on you.

You clung to him, crying into his armor, while the castle around you remained cold and silent, just like the hearts of those you had once thought loved you.

So what do you think about that reader/rhaenyra parallel I snuck in?

“we could ride her across the narrow sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us. we would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

—reader

“i want to fly with you on dragon back, see the great wonders across the narrow sea, and eat only cake.”

—rhaenyra

TO BE CONTINUED...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @strawberymilktea

[slut4thebroken]

Sweet Dreams

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Tommy Shelby x daughter!reader

Summary | Tommy let’s you try some of his whiskey.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, actual incest, technically non con, large age gap (unspecified), breeding/housewife kink, somno, underaged drinking (pretend the legal age is 21 over there lol), kissing, praise, innocence & corruption kink, daddy but not the kink, I want him to take advantage of me so bad😭

Words | 2.4 k

Notes | I shouldn’t even have to say this but this is a work of fiction. Please remember that lmao. Also it’s unspecified but reader is at least 18 so don’t come for me 💀 It’s also unspecified on whether reader is his bio daughter or step daughter so feel free to choose lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

(You can only read this fic if you pinky promise to help me come up with a different title)

You were lying on his chest as he read a story to you, trying to get you to finally fall asleep. But your brain was too awake. When he grabbed his glass from the side table and paused reading to take another sip, you decided to ask him. 

“What’s that, daddy?” You angled your head up to look at his face. 

“It’s whiskey, love.” Your eyes moved between his face and the glass. 

“Can I try some?” You finally asked, making his brows shoot up. 

“This drink isn't for little girls. You’ll have to wait until you’re older.” He chuckled, making you frown. 

“Why can’t I try some now?” You pouted. 

“Because you’re too young, love. Give it a couple years, then I’ll let you have some.” You turned onto your stomach and leaned up to face him better. 

“Please, daddy?” You gave him puppy dog eyes and he stared at you for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. 

“Alright, fine. But just one sip.” You beamed at that and grabbed the glass when he handed it to you. Before tasting it, you decided to sniff it first, noting that it smells like how he sometimes smells. Not able to wait any longer, you took a small sip, then immediately scrunched your face up in disgust. He laughed quietly and you swallowed it, but that only made it worse. 

“It burns!” You whined, coughing lightly. 

“You get used to it, little one.” He said with an amused smile. “Try some more, it should be better this time.” You hesitated, but took another sip. It wasn’t better, it still burned a lot and you could barely take it. “Good girl. Have a little more.” 

“Daddy, it hurts.” 

“I know, love, but if you drink more it’ll stop hurting. Don’t you trust me?” You averted your gaze and bit your lip. After a moment, you brought the glass up to your lips again. “That’s my girl.” He said proudly, making you blush. You coughed again, but he wasn’t wrong, the burn was just barely starting to improve. 

“You’re such a good girl. Drink a little more for me, eh?” You pouted, but nodded and took another sip, this one slightly larger. “There you go… How do you feel, princess?”

“Warm.. n’fuzzy.” That made him laugh quietly. 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “That’s good. Can you do one last thing for daddy?” 

“Mhm.” You could feel yourself getting a little drowsier and you weren’t sure why. 

“Can you finish the rest for me?” You looked at how much was left and whined quietly, but agreed. Figuring it’d be better to get it over with quickly, you chugged the rest, ignoring how much your throat was hurting. “Good girl. You are such a good girl for me, baby.” He took the cup and set it on the side table, along with the book he was reading to you. “Tell me how you feel now.” 

“Mm… sleepy.” You mumbled, making him smile. 

“Don’t try to fight it, love, just go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime anyway.” You let out an incoherent agreement, then laid your head on his chest again, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. You weren't so tired that you fell asleep instantly, but you were tired enough where you could barely keep your eyes open. 

Tommy stared down at you as he stroked your hair, soothing you to sleep. You turned more on your stomach and lifted your leg so it was bent and resting over his legs. One of his hands moved down to your bare thigh and rubbed slowly, staying below the hem of your night dress. 

“My sweet girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. You hugged him tighter and he was suddenly very aware of your breasts against his side. “Getting so grown up…” He sighed solemnly. “Thought I told you not to do that? I oughta punish you for disobeying your father.” He suddenly squeezed your thigh and you let out a quiet noise, but didn’t react any other way besides that. 

He kept dragging his hand up and down your thigh, pushing your dress up a little higher each time. For a while, he continued that, waiting until your breathing slowed and you started to fall asleep. He smiled at the sound of your soft snores and brushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip— so soft… so kissable. He had to shake his head to get rid of the thought as soon as it appeared. You’re too innocent and pure. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he took that from you. But fuck… 

You smiled a little in your sleep and hugged him tighter, pushing your cunt against his hip as your leg rested on his crotch. He stiffened and bit his lip, trying to control his thoughts and his body. But he couldn’t help it when his hand drifted from your cheek to the strap of your dress. He teased it a little, silently debating if he should… It didn’t take much convincing though. 

Slowly pushing the strap down your arm, he just barely brushed his fingertips on your skin. He continued dragging it down until the nightie was being pulled as well, slowly exposing more of you. He only stopped once it was resting on your waist. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, staring at your young, perky breast and hardened nipple. He lowered his hand so it was holding your hip, then raised the one on your thigh to lightly trace over the soft skin. You just looked so young— so little. Especially when he cupped your breast, completely engulfing it in his hand. He knew that your pussy would be just as little. The thought had him biting his lip to stifle a groan, feeling his cock twitch in his pants under your leg. 

He squeezed and groped you slowly, being extra gentle while he still had the self control to do so. When he moved his attention to your nipple and started rolling it between his fingers, you let out a quiet little sound, just barely audible. 

He placed his palm flat on your chest and slowly snaked it down your body, to the bottom of your dress. Without any hesitation, he snaked his hand back up, taking the fabric with it. He cursed under his breath as more and more of your body was becoming visible.

You were perfect. You looked like innocence personified. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he gently pushed your shoulder to get you to lay on your back, making you whine quietly. 

“I know, sweet girl. It’s okay.” He whispered, kissing your head as he turned on his side to face you. He ran his hand over the soft skin of your tummy and down to your hips, where the plain cotton panties rested. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured, almost dreamily. As his hand continued to explore your body, he tugged down the other side of your dress, then moved his head closer and gently kissed your nipple. He took it into his mouth, suckling on the hard bud and moaning quietly against you. The only reaction you gave was a soft sound and a small shift of your body. 

“Are you gonna let daddy see your pretty pussy?” His voice was quiet, but thick with arousal. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.” He chuckled quietly, as he kissed over your breast, just enjoying having his lips on you. When you didn’t respond, he got up and moved between your legs, settling on his stomach between them. Rough hands were placed on your thighs, prying them apart to give himself more room. 

He leaned down and inhaled deeply, savoring your scent. With a low groan, he started mouthing at your cunt, licking and sucking through the panties just to tease himself. Your hips squirmed a little and a quiet moan left you, making his eyes snap up to your face, but you were still fast asleep. After only a few more seconds, he pulled back so he could move your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. 

“Do you like when daddy touches you like this? Is that why you’re so wet already?” He asked teasingly, not expecting a response. Using his thumbs, he pulled your folds apart, giving him a better view of your untouched pussy. “My perfect little girl…” He sighed, unable to tear his eyes away. 

He moved his thumbs closer and pulled your hole open a little, imagining how it’d look stretched open on his cock. The thought had him grinding against the bed like a fucking teenager. He desperately wanted to force his fat cock inside, split you open and push it in deep. He wanted you to cry and beg him to stop, to tell him how much he was hurting you. 

He wanted to bury his cock in your torn up, used little pussy, press the tip right up against your cervix and fuck you full of his come. He wanted to give you load after load, not stopping until he fucked a baby into you. Even though, realistically, that could never be allowed to happen, he enjoyed picturing you with a round belly, your breasts swollen with milk. He wanted to keep you at home, safe from the world, to raise all of the babies he fucks into you, cook him dinner every night, drain his balls whenever he needs it. 

“Fuck—” He choked out, suddenly getting on his knees between your legs, opening his pants to free his cock. He stroked himself slowly a few times, gaze dragging all over your body. “See what you fucking to do me?” He hissed, slapping his cock on your clit a few times. Practically holding his breath, he dragged the tip through your folds, covering himself in your slick. He held his cock right up against your entrance, breathing heavily and closing his eyes, shaking his head to convince himself not to do it. 

He’d hate himself for the rest of his life… But would that be worth it to feel you stretched past your limit around his cock? 

“No.” He decided, clearing his throat and opening his eyes again. “No. Not— not yet…” He leaned over your body, keeping his length firmly between your cunt and his stomach, then started grinding slowly. He watched your brows scrunch together a little when you felt the constant rubbing on your clit. 

Dragging his gaze over the rest of your face, he finally settled on your lips. He leaned closer, trying to steady his breathing as his eyes grew heavier until they finally shut, only a second before he pressed his lips to yours. You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but he enjoyed feeling your soft lips against his. Growing needier, his hips sped up as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth, practically devouring you. 

You let out a muffled sound and started squirming a little, making him pull back. As he panted, he watched your heavy eyes trying to flutter open. 

“Daddy?” You mumbled, voice laced with sleepiness. “What…” You trailed off, unable to get out any other words, and he shushed you softly. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m here.. you’re okay.” He murmured, kissing your forehead and cupping your cheek, the movement of his hips never faltering. “Just go back to sleep. You’re safe with daddy.” And you believed him. You stopped trying to open your eyes and relaxed into the bed again. He resumed the kiss, keeping the intensity from before as he pushed his tongue in your mouth and moved his hand from your cheek to your jaw to tilt your head up a little more. 

“Daddy…” You tried to say, voice coming out in a pathetic, muffled whine. He hummed in response, not pulling back to bother with verbally replying. His free hand moved to cup your breast, groping and kneading until you were letting out quiet little sounds into the kiss. You whimpered when he started pinching and pulling on your nipple. 

“Shh… It’s okay, love.” He said softly, only pulling away to speak before immediately diving back into the kiss. His hand strayed from your breast, dragging all over your body, feeling every inch of skin possible. 

He broke away from your lips so he could trail kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. His cock throbbed at the idea of covering you in marks— claiming you so everyone knew who you belonged to. But he knew he couldn’t if he wanted this to happen again. So he continued kissing your skin, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. Everything about you was absolutely perfect. 

“I can’t wait to feel your cunt.” He whispered into the crook of your neck, his breathing growing more labored. “You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you? And all mine.” He was rambling as he neared his release, far quicker than he would’ve liked. “All fucking mine. You belong to daddy, eh? These perfect tits,” he suckled on your nipples, quickly and eagerly, “belong to daddy. Your pretty little cunt belongs to daddy.” He growled, cock twitching at the thought. “You’re mine.”

He cursed under his breath when he felt his balls tighten up. Lifting himself so he was sitting on his knees, he rapidly fisted his cock, keeping your panties pulled to the side. As soon as the first ropes of come shot out onto your cunt, he let out a low groan at the sight. He grunted and moaned, breathing heavily as he watched all of his come land on your folds. He waited until the last drop beaded on the tip, then dragged his cock through your slit, spreading his arousal. He moved it down toward your hole and just barely pushed his cock forward to get some of it inside.

“Good girl.” He said through a heavy breath, admiring you for another moment before fixing your underwear and night dress, then tucking his cock back in his pants. He stopped again and just stared at you for a few seconds. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and probably also the stimulation on your clit, and your lips were just barely parted as you breathed quietly. “Made daddy feel so good.” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. You let out an incoherent sound, making him smile. “Sweet dreams, little one.” 

Taglist (join here)

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[catsgut]

FROM BUD TO BLOOM - GOJO

warning : incest, drugging, noncon

“we know you just turned 18, but we were your age once, you know. even if it was years and years ago,” you rolled your eyes and groaned, falling onto the couch. “we just know how kids your age think,” your dad said backing your mom up. they were leaving for a week for work and just broke the news to you that you wouldn’t be staying at your house alone. part of you could understand where they were coming from, but you had just turned 18. it was bullshit they didn’t trust you enough to not throw a party.

but somehow, someway, they trusted your immature and spontaneous uncle to hold the fort down while they were gone. you weren’t really close with uncle satoru, so it didn’t bother you any that he would be there, it was the lack of trust your parents had for you. it was almost insulting.

a loud knock on the thick wood of your front door brought you out of your thoughts. speak of the devil. “toru!” your dads voice boomed at the sight of his older brother, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pat on his back. “hey,” you heard a smooth voice follow before the sound of shoes on the floor. “good to see you again,” gojo said to your mom with a bow and his signature smile. you sat up and peered over at the three older adults in the entrance hall, looking over the man you rarely ever saw. you were surprised he even answered to the text your dad shot him about the favor they had needed. gojo’s predatory eyes wandered over to where you were sitting on the couch and smirked.

“hello, angel,” he spoke eyeing every inch you down as if he could see what you were thinking. “your babysitter has arrived!” his long legs brought him to stand over you, head leaning forward to get a good look at your face. it had been so long since he had seen his pretty little niece. you sighed, closing your eyes you laid back down ignoring the annoying comment, still feeling hurt by the lack of trust your parents had for you. “aw not happy to see your uncle, little girl?” he chuckled and looked back over to your parents. “you nothing to fear! i’ll make sure everything goes… smoothly.” they just nervously looked at one another before putting their bags in the car.

they said their goodbyes and you hugged your mom tight. “it’s not too late to tell him to leave,” you mumbled into her shoulder before she flicked your forehead. “nonsense. now be good for satoru,” she said before kissing your cheek. “we will be back in a week.”

honestly, the first few days went by fine. you hadn’t spoke to gojo much and just hid up in your bedroom playing computer games. he actually wasn’t so bad, usually watching tv, cooking something, or laying out by the pool. the one thing you did notice about uncle satoru was that he liked the ac on full blast. colder than what your parents usually keep it at. several times he has pointed out your clearly hard nipples through the thin fabric of your pajama shirt. “you cold?” he’d ask with a grin and you crossed your arms over your chest furiously. it was embarrassing, but you assumed it was because he was just as immature as when you were a kid.

even though he kept the house at freezing temperatures, gojo absolutely loved to spent time outside. he would stay out there hours laying in the sun. a couple of times you had caught yourself staring out your bedroom window at the shirtless man laying on the pool chair. although he was in his 40s, you could tell he was still very active for his age. your eyes traced down his abdomen, taking in every detail of his defined body before looking back up to his face. to your absolute horror, he was already looking back at you with a sky smile. you quickly sat back down on your bed feeling your face get hot.

after that you avoided him as best as you could. he probably thought you were some kind of pervert, and you hated yourself for it. his own niece looking at his body in that manner. god, you needed to get ahold of yourself.

“hey.” you heard a voice in your ear from behind. it was the middle of the night and you were making yourself a snack. startled, you quickly turned around to be face to face with your uncle. “hmm, are you avoiding me, little girl?” he cocked his head to the side. you groaned at the nickname he had decided to give you. “i’m not little anymore,” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, hiding your embarrassed face. why couldn’t he just leave you alone.

“that’s right! you’re 18 now… you feel any older?” gojo asked leaning against the counter next to you, arms crossing over his muscular chest. you shrugged and stared down at your hands. why was he talking to you so casually after what happened just hours earlier. “i remember when i was 18. had the girls alllll over me,”. he giggled and sighed as he reminisced. “of course, they still are.”

you stared over at him with a look of horror at his comment. “what? embarrassed? well don’t worry, i won’t tell if you won’t,” his big hand rubbed your shoulder before placing it on top of your head. “do you have a boyfriend, y/n?” you shook your head quickly feeling more and more uncomfortable. “never had one before.”

that seemed to get his attention because he raised an eyebrow. “never? wow… so you’re a virgin then right? damn, if i were your age i would have jumped at the chance.” you didn’t know how to answer that, almost feeling ashamed being called out for something that was probably weird for a girl your age. of course you were a virgin, never even having your first kiss.

gojo stared down onto you for what seemed like hours before leaning closer. “so what you’re saying is you aren’t really a woman…yet,” he harshly squeezed one of your cheeks before leaving you alone, standing there in shock. ‘was that normal for uncles to do?’ you thought. you tried to brush it off, hurrying up in the kitchen before running off to your bedroom for the night. did that really mean you weren’t a woman? is it really that obvious? it made you feel insecure and uncomfortable at the realization. little did you know, gojo couldn’t get the thought of his sweet little niece being a virgin. he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

on his third night over gojo had offered some alcohol after getting back from the store. he said it would be good for the both of you to drink and bond over a movie. not wanting to seem little, you accepted his offer, sipping on the mixed drink he gave you. it tasted fruity and made your face twist in disgust. did adults really drink this crap? you would never say it, but this was your first time having alcohol and so far you couldn’t say you were enjoying it.

but was it normal to feel this funny after a couple sips? ‘must be a lightweight,’ you thought, eyelids blinking almost in slow motion. alcohol felt weird… why was your body feeling heavier?

you looked over at your uncle who was watching tv a few feet from you. his long legs were spread and he was picking at a hangnail on his thumb, biting at it occasionally. you cocked your head to the side as you watched the man. you felt guilty at the fact your stomach was doing flips at the sight of him just existing. it wasn’t normal to have these thoughts about your uncle, but here you were thinking the nastiest things.

you watched his eyes flick over to where you were sitting, giggling to yourself with your legs crossed. “what’s so funny?” he sat up a bit and patted the spot next to him. “come sit by your uncle.” his long finger beckoned you over as you slowly crawled over to him, head running into the side of his shoulder from losing your balance. “woah there,” he laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “how you feelin’ kid?” his eyes stared at you already knowing the answer to his question.

truth is you could barley see at this point. “ish thisss… normal?” you mumbled, head rolling to the side. “just gave you a little something extra… to make ya feel good,” you heard him say under his breath before pushing your back against the couch. his words didn’t register in your brain, but you felt his big hands on your hips, massaging them. you felt his long fingers hook into your waist band, playing with it for a bit, before slowly pulling your pants down your thighs. everything was happening so fast yet so slow at the same time. “mmm what doinn’?” your question went unanswered as rubbed his pointer finger over your pussy, listening to the wet noises it made. you moaned and closed your eyes, lip being pulled in between your teeth.

he inserted his finger before a second and then a third. your body naturally reacted to the foreign feeling, back arching and hips lifted off the cushions of the couch. he chuckled and pushed on your lower stomach. you tried sitting up, but between whatever it was you had drank and your uncle pinning you down you were unable to do anything but lay there and take whatever he wanted to give.

“just stay right there pretty girl,” you barley heard him say, and after that everything went black. you didn’t know what was happening to you even if you tried to fight it, drifting off into sleep. the last thing you remember was hearing the sound of fabric rustling, not knowing it was gojo taking off his sweat pants.

“missed you,” you hugged your mother tightly, face burring into her neck. you really, really did.

after that movie night with uncle satoru, you had felt off. your lower body ached and your head was fuzzy. you chalked it up to lack of sleep, but something deep down told you it wasn’t…. you were missing something big that happened but you couldn’t remember for the life of you. maybe it was the fact you woke up in your bed in a different pair of clothes, or maybe it was the weird sticky mess in your panties. the whole situation was off.

“she’s been an angel all week,” he told your parents with a hand on your shoulder. your parents told gojo he was so generous and that they were so thankful for helping them out. he even offered to let you stay with him when you went to college! your parents were so very happy to hear that, telling you it would be an amazing experience. you knew they just wanted you out the house, but all you could do was smile, not knowing what to do or say, showing gojo he got away with his sins that took place that night. showing him that he would be able to get away with something far, far worse.

[teratosfavouritesnack]

"Ishtà-kurme"

husband!orc x chubby!fem!human x husband's sons - orcish mating traditions, your first time with your husband, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, loads of cum, cum eating, family bonding (let's call it like that lol), soft doms, your husband's sons' very first time (just to be very clear, there's NO INCEST here, his sons are not yours), slight language barrier, romantic fluff <3

Your husband needs you to take part in his sons' rite of passage to adulthood.

+12 k.

The long fabrics of your dress brush against the smooth stones on the ground as you walk at a brisk pace towards Mauhul - your Mau. You can feel butterflies stir in your belly, your heart racing in anticipation at the prospect of making love for the first time with your beloved husband. 

When he called for you, requesting your presence in his chambers, you felt it in your bones; you would finally consummate your marriage and start your new life together. You’re not sure why it didn’t happen on your wedding night, nobody even mentioned the matter before or during the ceremony. After the festivities, you and Mauhul had simply parted, retiring to your own separate quarters for the night. And you did so for the following nights as well, after spending a lot of time together, snuggling in the sunlight. You had concluded that perhaps the orcs didn’t follow the same customs of your people and so you had tried to not give it too much importance. Sooner or later you would be intimate, that much is certain, and so you went on with your life, hanging out with your husband, deepening your bond, while waiting patiently for that special moment to arrive. 

And you think that moment could very well be upon you.

Your hand shakes a little as you push the door to his chambers open. You pictured this moment in your mind so many times: your tall, buff orc lying on his bed, already fully undressed, waiting for you to join him, beckoning you over with an inviting grin on his lips…

The scene you’re presented with, however, is quite different. Your husband stands by the crackling fire, half-naked, in the company of his two sons… who are also half-naked. Loincloths made of animals pelts cover their modesty, leaving the rest fully exposed. Their mighty builds, broad shoulders, massive chests, thick arms and thighs are all in full view, making your eyes widen even further and your now tensed hand linger on the steady surface of the wooden door. Your stunned stare darts from one orc to the next, until it lands on your husband with a silent questioning look.

Mauhul's black eyes instantly light up as they meet your gaze, watching you as you hesitantly stand by the doorway. The chief orc smiles and steps away from the fire to welcome you.

"Ah, my love, come in," he says, extending his hand. His sons, Tarek and Moth - spitting images of their father - watch you as you approach, their dark eyes flitting between you and their parent with a mix of curiosity and something else that you can't quite decipher.

There's some tension in the air that makes you nervous. His sons' presence in his chambers cannot be left to chance. You can sense there's a reason they're here and for you to be here as well, with them.

"We were just discussing something important," your husband says. His movements are fluid despite his immense bulk as he walks towards you.

You try to mask your apprehension as you step closer until you're standing right in front of him. He’s so much taller than you that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes.

"W-What… about?" you ask him hesitantly, voice trembling slightly. Your hands fiddle with the drapes of your long dress, the fine fabric creasing under the pressure of your nervous pinches. 

"Their coming of age.” His answer is simple, though it makes you uneasy. 

Mauhul watches you closely. He senses your discomfort and can see the slight tremors that run through your hands as you toy with the fabric of your dress. His large, calloused hand reaches out to cover yours, stilling your fidgeting. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to his intimidating size and looks.

"Their coming of age?" you repeat, the words heavy on your tongue. Your eyes dart to his sons, who seem to be watching you and their father with bated breath. 

"This is a significant rite of passage for them," he states, his voice soft and soothing. "They've grown strong and capable. And I, as their father, must ensure they realize the importance of the role that they're about to hold in the clan," Mauhul adds, his fingers trailing down your arm and raising goosebumps across your skin.

You swallow and blink up at him, puzzled. You're not sure what the implications of his words are or how you fit into this scenario, but you can feel the tension in the room getting heavier and heavier by the second.

Mauhul's free hand goes to rest gently on your chin, tilting it upward so you focus on his eyes, his gaze intense and almost primal.

"And as they approach adulthood, there are certain... traditions that must be observed," he says, his fingertips slowly tracing the line of your jaw, leaving tingles in their wake.

You shudder under his delicate touch, his words making your stomach turn. Your body seems to be catching up on the undertone of this conversation long before your mind.

"W-What sort of traditions?" You inquire cautiously, unsure whether or not you genuinely wish to know. 

Mauhul's nostrils flare slightly as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent - a blend of fear, excitement, and innocence that only adds to his yearning. 

"There are rituals that mark an orc's transition from young to adult," he says, his voice dropping to a rumble. "Rituals that involve you, my lovely wife. Tonight, you'll be their partner in this rite."

You blink, your eyes widening and flitting to the young orcs before returning upon him. You gaze into your husband's kind eyes, hoping to find some answers into the depths of his dark pools to the myriad of questions spinning inside your mind.

"I..." you stutter, your stomach churning. "I'm afraid I don't u-understand..."

Or perhaps you’re choosing not to understand. The more you think about it, the stranger it all sounds. What kind of partner would he require for his sons' transition from orclings to adults? How could you possibly assist them? 

Your breath hitches, your brows furrows. Surely, he doesn't mean...

Your gaze darts back and forth between him and his sons as you subconsciously back away, your mind finally catching up to what has been left unsaid.

"Mau..."

Mauhul's smile fades slightly as he senses your anxiety. He steps forward again, closing the distance between you two, his hand coming up to gently cup your chin, making you look back up at him.

"My love," he murmurs, his voice softening slightly, "This is an important rite for my sons to go through. And you... you have an important part to play in it."

His other hand comes to rest at your hip, gently pulling you closer. "Do you trust me, kisee ?"

Your wide-eyed stare searches his face, with a trace of panic in it. You swallow again, attempting to soothe the furious hammering of your heart, but with little success. The prospect of taking part in such a rite causes your body to oscillate between uneasiness and wicked trepidation.

Of course you trust your Mau, but you're confused by what's being asked of you. You also can't help but think of your unconsummated marriage. If what you assume this rite is about is actually true, does that imply you will be intimate with his sons prior to your own husband? This notion doesn't sit well with you. 

"But, Mau... W-what about us? We haven't..." Your voice trails off as you frown up at him.

A faint smile flickers across Mauhul's lips as he watches the plethora of emotions dance across your face. He can see the panic in your eyes, the trepidation, the confusion, and the trust you have in him... all mixed in a beautiful, confusing whirlwind. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath warm and soft against your skin.

"I know, mìzaah ," he murmurs, his hand at your hip pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours, "But that will change tonight. I will claim you as my wife, completely, and my sons will be here to witness it."

You gasp sharply at his words, your body instantly warming up. Your hands reach up to tug at his long braid, your wide eyes meeting his again. Now you understand. He has been delaying your intimate union precisely for this moment, precisely for this rite.

You glance back at his sons, looking at the young orcs as if you're seeing them now for the first time. You haven't had time to build a closer connection with them yet, they're almost strangers to you and the mere idea of letting them witness your lovemaking sends your body into a frenzy.

"Will they only... watch... or...?" You express your concerns, dropping your voice so that only your spouse can hear.

Mauhul smirks, clearly aware of your body's reaction to his words and touch. He draws you in closer, his hand on your hip going around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He glances down into your eyes, his gaze glazed over with desire.

"They will watch," he declares, stooping down to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning your skin. "They'll watch as you become entirely mine. Learn from it. And then... join in."

You breathe in sharply once you hear him confirm your worries.

Your fingers dig into his braid, lightly tugging on it. Your wide eyes lock onto his face again, boring deep into his own, seeking confirmation, reassurance... guidance. 

His intense but reassuring gaze is fixed on yours, ensuring that intense connection you've become so addicted to.

"Trust me, my love," he murmurs with a deep rumble. "I will guide you through it. You have nothing to fear. And I'll be the one to claim you first. My sons will learn from me... and then they will learn from you, as you please them as well."

His sinful words send chills down your spine as they snake their way through your mind, bringing to life vivid images of the scenario they depict. However, the shivering rapidly gives way to a warmth that pools between your thighs. You can't deny the growing dampness there, or how your nipples harden against the silky fabric of your dress. 

Your heart stutters, your body trembles, and your doe eyes gaze straight into his as the words leave your lips in a shaky whisper.

"If this is what you request of me, husband..." 

Mauhul nods, his smile broadening, his eyes filled with possessive pride, delighted by your trust and devotion, moved by your willingness to please.

"It is, my love," he replies, lifting his hand to cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. "I would never ask this of you unless it was of the utmost importance to our tribe."

He bends down and gently captures your lips in his, his hand on your hip pulling you closer. The tender but meaningful kiss has you melting on the spot and your mind spinning, your lips chasing his even as he moves away. 

"You'd honour me... and my sons with your willing participation."

Your gaze lingers on his lips, filled with increasing yearning. Your hand relaxes its grip on his hair, traveling up his torso to rest on his tattoo-covered chest.

"I'll be honored to take part in your tradition," you say softly, your eyes meeting again. "And help your sons in their coming of age."

The sight of your small palm on his chest, your eyes glazed with need, sends a rush of primal satisfaction through Mauhul's veins. His massive hand goes from your face down your neck, tracing the curve of your shoulder before resting on your lower back and pulling you close against his strong body.

"You are... perfect, mìzaah ," he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble, filled with desire and admiration. "Your trust and willingness please me greatly. And my sons... they will be grateful to you as well. They will know what it means to honour a woman... to worship a woman as she should be worshipped."

His remarks, praises, and probing hands make your body tingle, and your cheeks flush crimson with heat. A soft hum escapes your lips as your hand glides from his chest to his cheek, stroking it lovingly.

Mauhul closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the gentle gesture. When he reopens them, they are filled with a burning longing. His hand on your back squeezes, bringing you closer.

"We shall begin the ritual, then," he announces, his voice thick with lust.

He glances over his shoulder to his offspring, who are still standing by the fire, observing the two of you with ardent looks. "Come closer, sons."

Your gaze shifts to the two young orcs as he urges them closer. Your eyes rake over their forms, taking them in. It's equally odd and comforting that they resemble their father so much... Although, given your understanding of what is about to occur and their role in it, you can't help but flush in embarrassment at the sight of them.

As the lads approach, their steps slow but deliberate, Mauhul returns his gaze to you, his hand firmly spread across your hip. Your stomach flips under his possessive touch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your belly from above the fabrics of your dress.

"Kneel, boys." he gruffly instructs.

You watch in amazement and awe as they drop obediently at your feet. Their gazes are keen and fascinated as they take in your smaller stature while towering over your frame even as they stand on their knees.

Mauhul instead moves to stand tall behind you, one arm wrapped around your waist, possessively holding you close while his free hand traces idle patterns along the curve of your thigh. Seeing you marvel at his sons then look up at him expectantly, uncertainty clear in your expressive eyes, he gives you a reassuring nod and a warm, indulgent smile. His eyes glow with pride and affection for you. You're such a delicate creature compared to his burly sons, to his burly self as well, yet here you are, ready to undertake this crucial task for his family.

"This is their chance to admire you properly," he explains quietly, leaning down to murmur in your ear, "to appreciate the beauty and delicacy of the female form... before they learn to ravish and conquer it."

His large hand trails lightly up your side, brushing the outer swell of your breast before cupping the back of your neck in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. He draws your head back so you can meet his piercing black gaze without straining your neck. 

"They must show proper respect first and look upon you..." his gravelly voice drops to a conspiratorial purr, "...upon your pure unveiled beauty.”

You shiver at his purr and look up at your husband as if mesmerized. Your lips part but do not form words. You simply nod your head in consent, ready - as if you could ever be ready for something like this - to do whatever he asks of you. Your body suddenly grows too hot under the fabric of your dress.

With a satisfied grunt, Mauhul allows himself a moment to admire how beautifully you submit yourself to the situation - your eagerness to please him evident in every trembling breath and flustered blush painting your delicate features. Then, with a firm but gentle tug, he begins to untie the laces at the back of your gown, his fingers deftly working the knots of your bodice loose. 

"Mmh. You wore your best dress for this, kisee …" he murmurs appreciatively, his breath warm against your skin as he exposes more of your delicate flesh inch by tantalizing inch.

"Oh..." a soft gasp escapes your lips at his praise. You did choose this dress in the hopes he would take his time peeling it off of you. Your eyes flicker to your bodice coming undone and pooling at your wide hips. A red shade dusts your cheeks as you briefly glance at the two orcs kneeling before you, noting how hungrily they are drinking in the newly exposed sight, before you bashfully avert your gaze and bite down on your lip.

Mauhul chuckles deeply, amused by your modest reaction despite the situation. His rough hand slides up from your thigh to rest on the bulge of your soft belly, pressing your body closer to his towering form.

“You've got nothing to be ashamed of,” he assures you in a rumbling tone, tracing the edge of the fabric that now clings loosely to your curves. “They are honoured to witness such beauty.

“And so am I.”

With a final yank, Mauhul pulls the gown completely off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. You stand now before him, clad only in a simple linen shift that does little to hide the enticing curves of your body. Your breasts strain against the thin fabric, nipples hardening in the humid air of the hut.

His sons' hungry gazes drink in every detail of your exposed form, their breathing growing heavier as they marvel at the contrast of your delicate features and petite frame against the robust, muscular build of their father, standing behind you like a looming shadow.

Your instincts urge you to press your thighs together and lean back against your husband's chest, as if seeking shelter. You refrain however from draping your arms across your torso to conceal your obvious arousal, visible even from beneath the linen shift. You keep your gaze away, a bashful look engraved on your face, yet you still try to catch his boys' gazes, ashamed albeit curious about their reactions. It's strange; deep down, you actually want his sons to like you so as to please your husband, to make him proud. 

“You needn't be coy with them, my love” he purrs, grazing his tusks along the sensitive skin of your throat. “They hunger for you, just as I do.”

Turning your face toward his, Mauhul captures your lips in a searing kiss, plundering your mouth with his tongue and staking his claim for all to see. When he finally breaks away, he looks down at your flushed face with satisfaction, noting how dazedly you meet his heated gaze.

“You please me greatly,” he whispers, his hands trailing up your arms, his calloused fingers gently peeling the strands of your shift down the curve of your shoulders. “And you’re about to please me even more.”

You feel a rush of satisfaction as you hear the praise. Your hooded eyes are fixed on his dark, mesmerizing pools. A soft, fond smile blooms on your lips as you keep staring up at your spouse, as if he is the beacon you follow, while he undresses you entirely.

As the last threads of fabric fall away, exposing your full form to his hungry gaze, Mauhul lets out a low, approving rumble. The sight of your delicate skin bathed in firelight is enough to stir the beast within. His sons' eyes widen in unison, relishing the sight of your creamy, supple curves.

“Beautiful…”, he mutters reverently, his gaze roving over every inch of your exposed flesh. From the swell of your breasts, down to the soft narrowness of your waist, to the roundness of your hips and thighs – each part molded with flawless generosity.

Mauhul reaches around to cup one of your breasts, his calloused palm enveloping the soft mound. He thumbs your hardened nipple, eliciting a startled moan from your parted lips.

“And so responsive too,” he praises, his voice dripping with adoration. “Such a treasure to behold and claim.”

His sons watch, transfixed, as Mauhul continues to fondle and tease your sensitive breasts. 

Your body arches against his under his eager touch. Soft moans leave your lips in appreciation, your skin tingling all over and rising with goosebumps. Your thighs squeeze together again, this time to create friction for the ever-growing ache in your core. This is the first time your husband touches you in such an intimate way and you're already lost in the pleasure his warm, rough palm brings you. You almost forget his sons are watching and are soon to witness their father claim you as his.

Feeling your thighs clamp together, Mauhul chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest and against your ear. His grip on your breast tightens, squeezing the soft flesh firmly as he watches you react.

“So impatient, aren't we?” he teases, pinching your nipple harder, drawing another sweet moan from your plump lips. “But we mustn't rush things, my love. This will be a long night.” his growl vibrates against your skin. “I will savour you and make sure you remember this night for the rest of your days. Just as my sons and I will.”

His free hand moves lower, skimming across your soft stomach until it finds its way to the moist heat between your thighs. As his fingers delve into your slick folds, he finds your swollen clit, circling it slowly.

The moment his thick fingers meet your nub, your breath hitches sharply and your whole body jolts in pleasure, knees buckling under your weight. Your head falls back against his broad chest and your eyes flutter closed. 

A guttural groan escapes Mauhul as he feels how wet you are already. His thumb rubs your clit faster, coaxing more sounds of delight from your quivering lips. His other hand squeezes and kneads your breast, tweaking the nipple roughly between his thumb and forefinger. With your back pressed against his front, Mauhul can easily feel every little response to his touch. Your walls clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them. He groans deeply, feeling his own desire spike at the thought of taking you, finally claiming what’s his.

“See? Such a responsive little thing you are”, he murmurs into your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive lobe. “You were made for me, weren't you?”

He continues to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm. His other hand leaves your breast, tracing down your side before gripping onto your thigh firmly and lifting it, stretching your cunt. In this position, his touch feels even more intense, the thrills of pleasure coursing through your body are even sharper.

His sons watch, enraptured, as Mauhul's large fingers work magic on your quivering flesh.

With practised ease, he begins to rub faster, applying pressure that sends shockwaves of delight through your body. Your cries fill the air, mingling with the crackling fire and his son's heavy breathing.

"Oh, Mau-!" you whimper, writhing against his chest, hips seeking and at the same time trying to evade his greedy fingers.

Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips only fuels Mauhul's desire further. His movements become more purposeful, and relentless. He presses two thick digits inside your slick warmth, relishing the way you cling to him.

“You like that, do you?” he asks gruffly, curling his fingers upwards to stroke against your innermost walls.

The boys continue to watch in reverent silence, their eyes wide with fascination and barely concealed lust. Seeing their father take you so eagerly only serves to inflame their own arousal. Their erections already strain painfully against their loincloths, yearning for release.

Mauhul adds another finger, stretching your tight pussy even wider. Each thrust sends ripples of pleasure through both him and you.

You writhe against his firm body, your walls throbbing around his thick fingers stretching you out. Your hooded eyes look up, searching his gaze as you pant heavily. You can feel a hot pleasure coil in your lower belly, and your legs twitching more and more as the climax gets closer. The squelching sound his fingers produce by pumping in and out of your wet cunt drowns out every other noise.

Mauhul's eyes burn with primal hunger as he watches you lose yourself to the sensations he's creating. Your needy whimpers and the sight of your succumbing to his touch are intoxicating. Feeling your impending orgasm, Mauhul quickens his pace, driving his fingers deeper and faster. His thumb still circles your clit relentlessly, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, cum for me,” he urges in a deep rumble. “Come apart on my fingers like the good little wife you are.”

He pistons his digits in and out of you rapidly, each thrust hitting that special spot inside you. Mauhul's own need is becoming unbearable, his cock throbbing painfully in his loincloth, pressing against your spine.

His words send you hurtling over the edge. Your pussy clenches tightly around his fingers as you cry out, your body spasming with the force of your orgasm. Mauhul keeps pumping, milking you for every drop of your release and you almost feel yourself faint from the overwhelming pleasure you experience. Heavy and loud pants fall from your parted lips as you sag against him, nearly dropping on the ground when your knees give out under you.

Feeling you come undone on his hand elicits a growl of satisfaction from Mauhul. He revels in the way your body trembles and in the vice-like grip of your spasming pussy around his fingers. He slows his motions, letting you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm and holding you steady, one strong arm hooked around your middle to keep you from falling. 

As you regain some semblance of control over your limbs, Mauhul withdraws his fingers from your dripping pussy with a lewd squelch and brings them up to his mouth, where he laps at them hungrily. A low grunt escapes him at the salty-sweet flavour, fueling his desire even more.

Slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees behind you and pulls you close, letting you lean your whole weight on him, your ass pressed against the upper side of his chest, your arm latched around his shoulders. He prays your trembling legs open again, holding your thigh up with his forearm and allowing his sons a perfect view of your glistening sex. 

"Behold," he announces reverently, "the most precious prize. My wife’s sweet honey."

He dips his fingers in your juices again, splaying them all over his palm, then presents it to his sons’ hungry gazes, stretching his fingers to display your sticky essence.

“Why don’t you give them a little taste, hm my love?”

His free hand nudges your own and your hooded eyes flicker to his face. Your mind is still hazy after your intense release and you struggle to register his words.

Seeing your confusion, Mauhul takes your small hand in his massive one and guides it towards your soaked folds. His sons' eager eyes follow the movement, drinking in the sight of your delicate fingers coated in your own arousal.

“Let them taste you,” he explains, his voice a low rumble. “Feed them.”

With Mauhul's encouragement, you hesitantly extend your fingers towards the boys. They hungrily lean in, their tongues darting out to lick at your sticky digits. Moans of pleasure escape their lips as they savour your unique flavour.

Your chest heaves with a shuddering breath upon feeling their avid tongues swirl around your fingers. The haze in your mind is slowly fading and the realization of what is happening has you blushing all over again, especially as you notice how their eyes remain locked on yours, watching your reaction intently.

Noticing your blush, Mauhul smirks, pleased to see such a response from you. The sight of his sons worshipping your fingers like precious gems is incredibly arousing. He can't help but let out a satisfied groan, the sound vibrating against your back. He leans into your neck, whispering words meant only for your ears. 

“Enjoy this, mìzaah . This is how you deserve to be treated – to be worshiped like a goddess.” His voice is a rough purr, filled with promise and intent.

Mauhul slips his hand up to cup and squeeze your breasts, thumb brushing over your hardened nipples. Shifting a little on his knees, he gently pushes your thighs wider apart. Your folds glistening wetly, inviting and tantalizing. His gaze shifts back to his sons, still licking and sucking thirstily at your fingers.

“Do you want more?” he questions them, voice laden with promise. Their nods and hums of approval are quick to follow and you can see their pupils dilate at the inviting sight of you stretched out so open for them. They glance back at their father, seeking his confirmation before they crawl forward, almost bumping their heads against each other in their eagerness to taste your juices directly from the source.

“Careful boys, there’s enough for the both of you.” he teases with a hearty chuckle, playfully squeezing your thighs as you whimper at the contact of their greedy tongues meeting your sensitive pussy.

Mauhul’s presence is large and imposing, yet his touch remains gentle as he helps you maintain balance while the boys worship your cunt. Their tongue action intensifies, their slurping sounds echoing in the room and their excitement palpable.

Looking down at them adoringly, he speaks in an authoritative tone, “Clean her properly, make sure you get all of her precious nectar.” His eyes land back on your face and an amused grin spreads on his face. “It will make you grow even stronger.”

Your arm squeezes tighter around his neck, seeking his grounding presence as his sons make you squirm and writhe against their tongues. Your head drops against his, your cheek pressing over his own, your shallow breaths fanning his skin.

The boys listen attentively to their father's instructions, their tongues swirling and probing deeper into your slick entrance. Mauhul's laughter rumbles through him, vibrating against your ear and sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

Watching his sons work diligently on pleasuring you only fuels Mauhul's own desires further. He can't help but let his eyes roam over your curves appreciatively, taking in every quiver and gasp that leaves your lips. With deliberate slowness, he slides his hand down from your breasts to trace along the side of your hips.

"Look how beautiful you are," he murmurs huskily. "My wife… my treasure."

His touch is tender yet possessive as he runs his rough fingertips across your soft skin, outlining each curve like he’s memorizing them.

The combination of your husband’s praises and reverent touches and his sons’ eager mouths sucking and lapping at you is too much to bear. A series of ever louder mewls fall from your lips, your grip tightening on Mauhul’s neck, as you feel another overwhelming orgasm crash onto you. Your body contorts sharply and your eyes roll back as white-hot pleasure blinds you. 

"That's it, my love," he coos, his voice a soothing rumble. "Let go, let us take care of you."

The boys continue to lap at you, prolonging your bliss until you finally start to come down. As your tremors subside, they look up at their father with proud, satisfied grins, their faces smeared with your essence, their cheeks flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly due to their exertions. 

“Good pups.” Mauhul looks at them fondly before turning his attention back to you. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense, dark gaze. "Aren’t they good pups, hm?”

You're still trying to ease your breathing as your heavy-lidded eyes meet his. You barely have the force to nod your head but take a deep breath and glance lazily at his sons, wishing to praise them for how amazing they made you feel. "G-Good pups..." you manage to say in a breathless and shaky voice.

A pleased smile curls at the corners of Mauhul's mouth, delighted by your response. 

“You heard her, boys?”

The pride in Mauhul's eyes is unmistakable and so is the reverent awe in his sons’.

He gives your chin a gentle squeeze before releasing it. His gaze never wavers from yours, filled with a depth of affection and possession that sends warmth spreading through your entire being.

"Now, we show them how a true mate submits to her husband... and how a true husband worships his mate."

With a swift motion, Mauhul grabs hold of your hips firmly, and hoists himself up from the ground, bringing you up with him as well. He cradles you in his arms like a precious treasure and carries you towards the centre of the room, where the firelight casts long shadows across the ground.

"And you, my sons," he addresses the boys over his shoulder, "watch carefully and learn. This is what it means to belong to someone."

With that said, Mauhul lies you down on the furs, positioning you right in the middle. The boys watch their father with wide-eyed fascination as he eases himself down on top of you. There's an air of expectation and anticipation amongst you all – eager for whatever comes next.

Your hooded eyes are locked onto him, unwavering from his towering muscular form; they lazily roam over his bare chest, lashes drooping slowly as you breathe deeply, still trying to regain control of your pounding heart. Yet, it is difficult for you to prevent your heart from stuttering at the sight of your handsome partner and the prospect of what he is, finally, going to do to you. You melt into the warm, soft furs beneath you, your tender body still trembling from the unparalleled ecstasy you've just experienced. Your hair is scattered all around your head, and your thighs are clamped together, curling lazily on top of one other. All the while, your eyes marvel at him.

A low growl escapes from deep within Mauhul's throat as he hovers above you, his massive form casting a shadow over yours. He reaches out with one hand, tracing the delicate curve of your jawline with his calloused fingers before cupping your cheek gently.

"You are so beautiful, my love," he whispers, his voice low and husky with desire. "I could stare at you forever..."

Slowly, deliberately, he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's a kiss filled with passion, hunger, and adoration. His tongue delves into your mouth, tangling with yours in a slow sensual dance as he explores every inch of your mouth. When he pulls away, his breath mingles with yours, and his eyes burn with a smouldering intensity.

“Feel me”, he whispers hoarsely, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. His hands gently take hold of yours, guiding them to his taut muscular chest. “I am your protector, your provider, your lover.”

Your hands reverently plane over his muscles, lingering over his heart, feeling its steady beat under your palm and his muscles flexing beneath your touch. Your eyes rake over his body, taking in his powerful physique, each mark on his skin telling a story of triumphs and failures. You bask in his warmth and the trepidant feeling buzzing within you. You're about to finally consummate your wedding with your husband, to be united with him in the most intimate and primal way. You don't even think about his sons watching you anymore, it's as if there's nobody else in the room but you and your beloved. 

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes sparkle with pure devotion. The flickering flames of the fire are reflected in your big doe eyes, looking up at him so earnestly and expectantly.

There’s no mistaking the tenderness emanating from Mauhul’s touch as he lets go of your hands and begins tracing patterns along your exposed curves - mapping out every part of your body as if he has already learnt every curve and dip by heart.

His large hands slide down your sides, then grip your waist firmly, lifting you slightly to position your buttocks on his thighs. He captures your lips in another heated kiss as he presses his hardness against your core. He grinds slowly, relishing the sweet friction and the gasp that escapes your lips.

Your body arches instinctively into his touch. You are so ready, so wet, so incredibly eager for him.

With a tug he strips off his loincloth, revealing his fully erect cock to your hungry gaze. It stands tall and thick, a golden ring sitting at the base, its rosy head dripping with pre-cum, a visible testament to his keen arousal.

Your eyes widen at the sight of it, at its veiny-mapped look and mighty size which seems to stir something within your very core, a thrill running down your spine straight to your throbbing sex. There’s a hint of apprehension now clouding your gaze too, your body tenses just thinking of his thick, lengthy cock shoving its way into your hole.

“Trust me,” he murmurs as if sensing your concern, his voice rough yet reassuring. “I would never harm you.”

You nod and bury your hands in the furs at your sides as you brace yourself for what's coming next, anticipating both pain and pleasure. But he takes hold of your hands again, holding them tight in his warm palm, settling them on your lower belly. His eyes bore deeply into yours, engulfing you with a soothing warmth that permeates your whole body.

He lifts your legs higher with his free hand, spreading them wide across his hips as he aligns himself with your slick entrance. With deliberate slowness, he pushes in – just enough to breach that tight barrier, stretching you open inch by agonizing inch until he's buried balls-deep inside you, the golden ring is cool against your hot flesh. His eyes never leave yours.

Your walls stretch to accommodate him and clench tightly around his shaft. A groan rips from deep within his throat, pleasure coursing through his veins at this first intimate connection with his wife, as he feels how snug you are around him – how perfectly you fit him.

Mauhul drinks in the sight of you, his pupils dilating at the raw emotion shining in your eyes. He feels a surge of possessiveness and protectiveness wash over him, knowing that this precious beauty belongs to him now, body and soul.

Your body is shaken by faint tremors, your muscles tense, your walls throbbing around his unmoving length. Your locked eyes say everything about your connection, and the way he's gazing down at you, holding your hands and pulsating within your walls makes you feel so utterly... loved.

He holds still for a longer moment, savouring the incredible feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness. His heavy lids briefly drift closed as he revels in the blissful sensations, letting out a low, rumbling moan.

A few beats pass, and then with a guttural grunt, he begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back into your welcoming heat. He sets a slow, deep rhythm, relishing each stroke as he fills you again and again, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with a lewd sound.

His gaze never departs from your own, drinking in the play of emotions dancing across your face – the initial tension giving way to relaxation, to acceptance, to growing pleasure. He can feel you responding to him, your inner muscles rippling around his shaft, urging him deeper.

"You are truly mine now," he growls, punctuating each word with a powerful stroke. His hand tightens on yours as he picks up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency, chasing the blissful release you both crave. “And I am yours. Completely.”

Shivers of pleasure consume every cell in your body as he thrusts in and out of you at the most tantalizing and blissful speed. You can feel his length sink deep into you under your palms resting on your lower belly, where his hand keeps them still as if aiming to make you feel even more connected to him. "Mauhul, ohh... gods-" you whimper breathlessly, your eyes crossing slightly as the pressure in your stomach mounts.

The sound of your sweet cries spurs him on and he increases his tempo, pounding into you with relentless fervour, driven by primal urges and a deep need to claim you thoroughly. His hips slam against yours with each powerful thrust, the force sending jolts of pleasure radiating outward from your joining point.

He can tell you're nearing your peak, your moans turning to breathy cries of ecstasy, your hips bucking against his to meet each of his powerful thrusts. His strong arms wrap around your smaller frame, dwarfing you, and making you arch against his body. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his hot mouth, sucking hard on your sensitive button as he continues to plunge into you with unyielding force, setting a relentless pace designed to drive you wild with pleasure. 

The dual stimulation sends shockwaves through you, intensifying the throbbing contractions of your pussy around his cock. Your hands reach out to grab onto something, finding his thick biceps. His muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingers as he drives into you with abandon, the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh filling the air. 

His dark eyes lock onto yours, watching intently as tears well up in your eyes due to the overwhelming sensations. Pride, satisfaction, and adoration mingle together in his penetrating gaze.

“Come for me, mìzaah ,” he urges, his voice husky with desire. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock as you come undone.” He rocks into you harder, faster, seeking that perfect spot inside you to send you over the edge.

His lips leave your nipple to trail searing kisses along your jawline, nipping and sucking at the tender skin there as his cock drills relentlessly into your slick folds. He reaches down with one large hand to press firmly against your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in time with his thrusts, intent on throwing you over the edge into a shattering climax.

And he does push you to the brink of madness, sending your body convulsing against him, with cries of ecstasy tumbling out of your parted lips. Your walls clench tighter around him, milking his throbbing shaft, drawing him closer to his own peak.

He revels in the sensation of total possession, feeling you unravel beneath him. His grip tightens on your curves, dragging you along the slippery fur bed as he seeks out every last drop of pleasure from your coupling.

With a savage roar, he tightens his arms around you and buries himself to the hilt, his shaft pulsing as he erupts inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the all-consuming bliss of your joining. For long moments, he remains buried deep, savouring the aftershocks and the feeling of your still-clenching warmth around him, while you’re lost in a haze of ecstasy.

You’re still panting heavily, feeling thoroughly spent as your hooded eyes slowly regain focus, landing on your husband, taking in his dishevelled state, his sweaty skin, his long black braid draped over his shoulder, his blissful expression... and you feel your lips curl up into a lazy but content smile.

As the waves of pleasure recede, leaving behind a sense of profound satisfaction he pulls out slowly, allowing his spent length to slide free from your clenching walls with a wet pop. The sight of his cum dripping down your thighs and tainting the furs elicits a primal satisfaction from him, a grin spreading across his features.

“Mmh, ùmah (mine),” he coos racously, brushing a calloused thumb over your slick folds, smearing his seed over your soft skin and pushing it back inside your walls. He draws lazy circles around your clit, teasing it gently until you flinch away in protest, still too sensitive to touch.

His eyes roam hungrily over your flushed skin, the sheen of sweat glistening on every curve and valley. His fingertips proudly trace over the mark he's left on your breast with his tusks, as though claiming ownership of your body once more. His fingers then trail back downwards, following the gentle slope of your stomach until reaching the apex of your thighs. He gives your mound a playful smack, chuckling deeply when you squeal in surprise.

His laughter is rich and full, echoing off the stone walls of his chamber as he teases you mercilessly with gentle slaps and pokes, enjoying the way you squirm and writhe beneath his touch, and the lazy breathless giggles that escape your lips. He leans down, planting a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your lower belly and inner thigh. Reaching the apex of your legs, he parts your folds with his thumbs, exposing your sensitive pink flesh to the humid air of the room. His nose brushes against your sex, inhaling deeply the intoxicating scent of your arousal mixed with his own essence. 

"Mmm, you smell like spring," he growls appreciatively, before he moves lower on the furs, spreading your thighs wide with his massive hands. His tongue darts out, flicking across your wetness in a slow swipe, tasting your juices mingled with his own.

“And you taste like victory,” he declares, dipping his head further between your legs to feast upon your sweetness. Each lick is drawn out, each suckle meant to draw forth another whimper of delight from your quivering form.

His onslaught on your still sensitive bundle of nerves has you wriggling and trashing on the furs, soft strained whimpers falling from your mouth, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging meekly on it. But suddenly you freeze, your heavy eyes landing on the two figures kneeling just a few feet away from you. His sons. How could you forget that you had an audience? They have been watching you coupling as part of their rite! Lost as you were to pleasure you didn't pay them any mind. But now, all at once, your husband's words rush back into your mind, bursting through the fog that has been numbing it. "My sons will learn from me... and then they will learn from you, as you please them as well." Your cheeks flush crimson again at the realization, and they only get hotter when you notice the massive bulges under their loincloths and the way their bodies tremble as if they're about to explode.

Mauhul feels you tense up and follows your startled gaze to where his sons kneel nearby. A low rumble emanates from his chest, somewhere between amusement and paternal pride at the sight of them, so aroused and fascinated by the act of mating. He knows they're learning valuable lessons today, about the power of desire, the thrill of conquest, and the depths of passion that can exist between husband and wife.

“Ah, look at them,” he says, his deep voice laced with mirth. “Look how much they enjoyed watching us. They've learned much about how to please their future mates.”

He shifts, laying beside you, propping himself up on an elbow to look down at your form sprawled languidly on the furs. His rough fingers trace the curve of your hip gently before resting on your plump belly, feeling it rise and fall with each ragged breath you take.

With a nod, he gestures for his boys to come closer, his voice low and commanding. “Approach, lads. Come to claim your new status.”

You watch in both apprehension and trepidation as his sons scramble forward eagerly, their cocks straining against their loincloths as they reach your side. The youngest, Moth, looks a tad more composed, although his breathing is uneven and quick, betraying his internal turmoil. Beside him, Torak appears visibly shaken; beads of perspiration trickling down his forehead, his normally resolute countenance displaying palpable trepidation. Yet both share the common hunger, the craving to experience such carnal intimacy like their father just has, guided by instinct and nature's demands. None move into action, waiting for their father to give them instructions.

Mauhul watches his sons approach, noting the mix of excitement and nervousness etched on their faces. He feels a surge of pride seeing them so eager to claim their place as adults, to follow in his footsteps and assume their roles as warriors and protectors and fathers.

He leans down, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, before sitting up straighter and addressing his offspring.

"Torak, first," he simply states while directing his attention to his eldest son. His tone exudes authority, demanding utter compliance, to which the firstborn responds by taking a tentative step forward, his large hands fumbling with the leather ties that hold his loincloth in place. The material drops away easily, revealing his throbbing cock, fully erect and pulsating with unspent lust. 

Your sight settles on his veiny meat, and you linger there for a moment. It's not nearly as large or long as his father's, but it bends slightly upward, giving it a wicked look that makes your walls flutter.

Mauhul glances at you, your face showing signs of nervousness mingled with lustful curiosity – the perfect mix for this particular scenario. There’s something intensely satisfying about watching his family unite like this, bonding through tradition.

“Show her what you’ve learned,” his voice booms through the room, filled with pride and expectation.

Torak’s hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to cup one of your breasts. His touch is tentative at first, unsure, but quickly gains confidence under his father's approving gaze and your soft hums. He leans down, taking a hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand continues to knead the other breast.

Watching his eldest son attend to you stirs something primal within Mauhul, a surge of possessiveness mixed with satisfaction. He leans back on his heels, allowing Torak space to explore and learn while keeping a protective eye on the proceedings.

A smirk plays on his lips as he watches the young orc's tentative touches blossom into confident caresses, spurred on by your moans and the way you arch your back, offering yourself further to his son’s attentions.

You bite onto your bottom lip to muffle your moans as you feel the young orc’s hand travel along your stomach and slide between your thighs. Your lashes flutter and your head cranes slightly to the side to search your husband’s gaze. One of your hands reaches out as well, seeking contact with him. Your fingers find his thigh, resting near your head, and dig slightly into his tight flesh.

Mauhul meets your gaze, his eyes burning with intensity as he allows you to ground yourself through the touch. He covers your hand with his own, holding it firmly against his thigh, the contact a reminder of your connection amidst the sea of new sensations washing over you. His other palm comes up to brush stray hair from your sweat-dampened brow, tucking them behind your ear tenderly.

His voice is a low rasp when he speaks, meant only for your ears. "That's it, kisee . Let yourself feel everything. Remember, my sons are learning from you too - teach them well."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, his words igniting a fresh wave of arousal but also a deep sense of responsibility. You think you realize now how important this moment is. How meaningful your role is in this rite. And so you brush aside the lingering awkwardness you feel towards this unorthodox orcish tradition, releasing your inhibitions to try and take on the duty your husband has bestowed on you.

Your free hand moves down towards Torak’s head to gently stroke his long dark hair tied in decorative braids, your fingers weaving carefully in his loose roots.

“You’re doing good, Torak.” you praise him softly, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "Don't be afraid to touch me as you wish." Your stomach flutters when you see the young orc look up at you in a mix of shock and awe, then the instant glint of confidence that flashes across his eyes before he lets his fingers brush against your wet folds and rub around your entrance. His eyes are locked onto yours to gauge your reactions. You moan and nod at him in approval, your hands tightening their relative hold on Torak's hair and your husband's palm. 

Mauhul's grip on your hand also tightens reflexively as he watches his eldest son gain courage from your encouragement. Pride swells in his chest, not just for Torak's growing boldness, but for your poise and grace in guiding his son. You embrace your role as a mentor with a natural instinct that takes his breath away.

The sight of Torak's fingers disappearing into your slick heat sets Mauhul's blood aflame, but as much as he longs to join you and stake his claim once more, he knows he has to wait. This is his sons’ moment and he won’t rob them of it. Instead, he leans in close to your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck as he murmurs, "Such a good mate you are. My precious little wife… helping my sons become Shakran’z. "

Your heart leaps at his words, your languid gaze flickering up to briefly meet his eyes before you lock it onto his firstborn’s expectant look once more. Your fingers curl around the end of his braid, gently pulling on it. Your attention seems to spur him on, leading him to push his thick fingers inside your already thoroughly stretched and naturally lubed entrance. He’s still slightly hesitant in his actions, but you smile at him and roll your hips against his hand, to reassure him that he’s on the right path. “Yes, like that, Torak. Curl your fingers…”

Mauhul delights in the spectacle before him: you, the precious gem of his tribe, deflowering his young in service of mating traditions, but with all the grace and love of someone who genuinely cares for those they guide. It ignites a fire within him unlike anything else.

"That's it, Torak," his voice breaks through the silent haze of lust that fills the hut, gruff yet filled with paternal pride. "Please your mate before you claim them."

His father's words further encourage Torak to be more confident in his actions. His fingers curl and start to slide in and out of you, teasing that spongy area inside of you that has you instantly moaning in pleasure. His other hand moves to your lower belly, positioning his thumb over your clitoris just like he has seen his father do earlier. The pad of his thumb draws uneven circles on your swollen nub, managing to elicit shivers to run through your body.

Your head falls back on the furs, your body writhing and arching under his ministrations. Your palm tightens on Mauhul's hand and he squeezes it back as he watches intently, drinking in every detail of your shared intimacy. The flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your breasts rise and fall rapidly with each moan escaping your lips, the sway of your hips matching Torak's rhythm.

"Good boy," he praises Torak, his voice rough with need. "Make sure she’s ready for you... Make her cum..."

A whimper falls from your lips as Torak quickens his movements, wanting to take you over the edge just as his father said. Your hips buck against his hand, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel that pressure growing in your lower belly all over again.

"Yes... Oh... Yes..." you encourage him, cradling his braid in your shaky fingers until you can't take it anymore and start to convulse in pleasure, a muted scream falling from your parted lips.

You don't have time to recover, however, because feeling your walls clench around his fingers has sent Torak's hunger to the roof. His instincts kick in, overpowering his lack of experience. His eagerness to finally claim his maturity is so deep and ardent that he grabs his cock and pushes it inside you while you're still spasming.

"Oh! Gods!!" you cry out, eyes widening in shock and landing on Torak's hips just as they start to move back and forth with an erratic and disjointed pace that makes your whole body shake and jiggle.

With a low growl, Mauhul witnesses as his eldest plunges into you. Watching as his progeny claims you with his throbbing cock brings forth memories that burn bright within his chest - his own rite of passage decades ago, the impatience of youth, the yearning, the awake of his primal instincts, the overwhelming sensation of completeness, the deep-seated need fulfilled. Your pleasure-laden screams fill the air, mixing with his son’s huffs, setting off an echo of past bliss inside him.

“Easy now,” he growls soothingly through clenched teeth, giving his son a pointed look, to which Torak immediately responds by steadying his thrusts, even if only barely. Since the start of the rite, he’s felt his length throb maddeningly, an ache which only worsened as he watched his father claim his wife. And now that he is finally inside you, he can't hold back any longer. His grunts become louder, his eyes squeeze closed and his warm palms grab onto your hips as he plunges deeper inside you, seeking his first release. Release that comes quickly and overwhelmingly, with hips bucking erratically against yours as his hot seed fills your channel. 

Your stunned gaze flashes towards your husband, searching his face, silently questioning if his son was supposed to cum inside you. The proud look etched onto Mauhul's face is enough to convince you that Torak's did exactly what was expected of him. You feel his palm squeeze yours as he cups his son’s jaw, drawing his hooded eyes on him.

"Let it be known," he declares in a loud, clear voice which echoes through the room, "That Torak, my firstborn, has finally become a Shakran .”

The sound of Torak’s shallow breaths mingling with the crackling of the fire and the gazes of the three orcs so full of intensity and pride creates an atmosphere that is both raw and sacred. You don’t even dare to breathe as you lie there on the furs, your mind spinning and walls twitching around Torak’s softening cock as you stare at the scene in awe. Your wonder only intensifies as you catch your husband dipping a sharpened bone in a pot of ink and puncturing his son’s skin with it, skillfully etching a marking onto his chest. You’re not sure what the intricate lines mean but you’ve seen identical marks on your husband’s chest and you can definitely tell how significant they are. Torak’s passive reaction to the puncturing is also worthy of notice; he maintains his attention on his father and keeps his muscles from twitching despite the droplets of purplish blood rolling down his thick green skin.

Once the marking is completed, Mauhul gives his son a final proud nod. You can feel his seed leaking out of your walls, as well as the humid air meeting your wet folds, as Torak slowly detaches from you, but not before smiling down at you and whispering, "Raak ut, ishtà-kurme."

You've been with the clan long enough to grow familiar with the way the orcs express their gratitude, although perhaps not long enough to understand what the term 'kurme' means. Now, however, there is no time to dwell on translations because, while one son has completed his rite, another has yet to go through the passage. And so, everyone's attention is drawn to the youngest, who has been patiently waiting, in reverent silence, for his turn.

As soon as Torak pulls away from you, leaving behind a trail of your combined fluids, Moth steps closer to take his place between your legs.

Leaning back on his heels, his large hand finding your hair, Mauhul allows his eyes to roam over the youngest orc. He’s not particularly large like Torak, but he carries a strength in himself, an aura of determination. The same determination that was in Mauhul when he became an adult, years ago. Even you can notice the uncanny resemblance between the two now that Moth is so close. Both of his boys resemble your spouse in more ways than one, but the youngest exudes the same calmness and tenderness that Mauhul has. The way his palm reaches for your face to gently wipe a stray tear from your cheek - a tear you had no idea you shed - and his kind eyes smile down at you as if he's the one supposed to reassure you only serve to reinforce your impressions.

You’re so lost in his dark eyes, marvelling at just how much his gaze resembles that of your beloved Mauhul that you barely manage to catch a glimpse of brownish freckles scattered across his throbbing length before he rubs its head along your slit and gently but firmly pushes inside, eliciting a soft gasp out of your lips. He feels larger than his sibling as he stretches your walls. The wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh soon fills the room again as Moth picks up the tempo, his pace much more controlled and steadier than Torak’s. One would almost think this was not his first time, although watching his father first and his brother second must have given him enough visual clues to know what to do. Soft whimpers fall from your lips as your body is rocked by his thrusts, your heavy-lidded eyes unwavering from the youngest's face.

“Strong, steady strokes,” Mauhul advises softly, his voice carrying an air of approval. He feels a surge of pride swell in his chest seeing how Moth seems to have taken in everything, moving with such control and purpose. It reminds him of himself, years ago, determined to make the most of this rite, eager to prove his worth. He runs a comforting hand over your sweat-drenched hair, noting the exhaustion etched on your face but also the satisfaction shining in your eyes.

Moth nods, acknowledging his father's words without breaking the rhythm. Yet, it's clear that he needs no prompting, every thrust a deliberate caress designed to elicit moans both from you and him. His hands cup the soft mounds of your breasts, thumbs teasing your hardened nipples, adding to the rousing sensation. Each stroke sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, causing your walls to clench tighter around him. 

“...You're doing well, my son.” Mauhul praises him, his massive hand slides possessively over your stomach, feeling the tremors beneath his palm as you respond to Moth's attention.

Your eyes meet the dark pools of your husband's, and even through the haze, the exhaustion, and yet another orgasm brewing in your belly, you find yourself smiling up at him, searching for his touch with your smaller hand, his name falling from your lips in a hushed plea.

The sound of his name rolling off your tongue causes something to stir deep within Mauhul. A warmth spreads across his chest, mingling with pride and love, a blend that makes his heart throb painfully. “My beautiful kisem… ” he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss. Meanwhile, the rhythm between you and Moth grows more frantic, your hips rolling lazily to meet each of his powerful thrusts. Your body moves of its own accord, responding naturally to the sensations flooding through you. You're teetering on the edge once again, the pressure building in your core threatening to burst forth at any moment.

Moth’s fingers meet your swollen bundle of nerves, interrupting the kiss by eliciting a loud whimper from your lips. Your hooded eyes meet Moth’s again, his gaze locked onto your face, eager to capture your every reaction, ready to change his actions accordingly.

You only have the force to rest your free hand upon his - the one still squeezing your breast - and nod meekly in approval before you drop your head back, resting it on your husband’s thigh. Every nerve of your body is awake and on fire, your muscles tensing, your thighs twitching at every stroke of his cock and flick of his finger against your clit, your face contorting in pleasure as one more orgasm rapidly approaches.

Mauhul’s hand caresses your hair, providing a grounding presence amidst the storm of sensations overwhelming you. The sight of you losing yourself to pleasure over and over again is intoxicating, he’s already grown addicted to it and he can't wait to witness it every day from this moment forward.

Moth seems to sense your impending climax, his movements becoming erratic as he chases after his own. His strokes grow shorter and more insistent, his fingers rubbing tight circles around your sensitive nub. With a final, deep thrust and a low grunt, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, holding still as he unleashes ropes of cum into your channel. He doesn’t stop pleasuring you though, even as he reaches his first release. Only a few moments later your back arches and a strangled cry tears from your throat as ecstasy crashes over you in waves.

Mauhul watches in awe as you shatter apart, your entire body trembling and writhing against his and his son’s. Pride swells in his chest at the sight of his youngest son bringing his wife to such heights of pleasure. He leans down to scoop you into his arms, cradling you against his broad chest. "You did wonderfully, my love," he praises softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, his tusks grazing your sweaty skin. 

His gaze shifts to Moth, who is withdrawing from your quivering body, a satisfied smirk playing about his lips. "It seems my young warrior has inherited his father's prowess in the art of lovemaking." he announces with a smug, then looks at Torak and adds, “Both of my young warriors. You have made me very proud.”

His look then turns solemn once more as he fixes his dark eyes on his youngest son and declares: “Let it be known that Moth, my secondborn, has finally become a Shakran .” And just as he did for Torak before, he grabs the bone from the floor, dips it in the pot of ink and brings it to his son’s heaving chest. Mauhul presses his other palm on his skin and looks at him with affection and reassurance as his son’s body gradually eases its tremors. Only then does he start to mark his skin with the same intricate lines as earlier. Even through your droopy lids, you can’t help but reverently watch as your husband’s hand makes quick work of the tattoo. Your tired eyes rake over the young orc’s skin, rising to his face. He’s calm even now, a perfect picture of serenity, which deeply amazes you. He too, just like his brother has done before, moves his gaze back to you and smiles as he whispers the same orcish words with a devotion that makes your still racing heart miss a beat. You cling to your husband’s side as you nod at his son, acknowledging his words despite not fully understanding their meaning, already thinking of inquiring about them to Mauhul later.

With the completion of the ritual, Mauhul sets the bone aside and pulls you closer, his embrace enveloping you completely. As he rests his chin atop your head, his voice booms out, filling the room with a mix of pride and love.

“You've earned your rightful place among our adults,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Today, you became true Shakran’z - protectors, providers, and lovers. May these marks serve as a reminder of your role in our tribe. When the time comes, you’ll carry on our line of truebloods by providing your seed to the clan’s zàgartha but you will also take wives and repopulate our tribe with strong warriors, children of the bond you will build with your drùda’z.”

Mauhul's gaze drifts to you, looking exhausted but content in his embrace. He brushes a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone.

“Tomorrow we will celebrate. Now… you may go.” he dismisses his sons in a whisper, without taking his eyes away from you. 

He wraps his massive arms around your tiny frame protectively, holding you close against him. The warmth emanating from his large body envelops you in its cocoon-like embrace as he cradles you. 

You struggle to keep your eyes open, feeling too spent, drained of all your forces after the physically straining rite you've taken part in, your body still buzzing from the intense series of orgasms you've just experienced. Your sweaty forehead rests on his chest, your frame sagged against his muscular torso. 

"Mau?" you meekly call out for him. Your droopy eyes lock onto his, your fingers lazily drawing patterns on his broad chest. You wait for him to hum back before speaking again. 

"Your sons have called me… 'kurme'," you point out, curiosity twinkling in your tired eyes. "What does that mean?" 

A deep, rumbling chuckle escapes Mauhul's chest, resonating through your frame pressed against him. He looks down at you adoringly, his expression softening at the adorable sight you present - so exhausted yet curious like a mouse. His broad hand strokes slowly down your back in soothing circles as he responds.

“That is the orcish word for mother,” he explains in hushed tones, his dark eyes beaming down at you. “However, they have not simply called you mother but ‘ishtà-kurme’. Guiding mother. The mother who lights the path.” His thumb draws idle figures on your bare shoulder. The gentle motion seems to ease your strained, tender body.

“In our culture,” he starts again, his deep voice growing serious. “It's a term of utmost reverence and devotion. To a Shakran orc, the ishtà-kurme is someone held dear and sacred. They have shown you immense respect by calling you that, my love. They will hold you in high regard for their whole lives for what you have done for them today… and for all the things they will learn from you in the days ahead.”

Slowly he lifts his hand, cradling your delicate face gently within the expanse of his huge, calloused palm. He lowers his roughened lips against yours, capturing them in a tender kiss, conveying a wealth of emotion that words cannot match. “You became their yazàkurme , chosen mother, the moment I took you as my kisem… ”, he pauses as a fond smile curls up his lips, his black eyes sparkling as they reflect the warm glow of the fire. “My kisee -” he coos affectionately in a softer tone, making your stomach flutter. “My wife. And one day you’ll be kurme to our children.”

You sigh, feeling your heart swell with love. “Those are a lot of names…” you quip back with a soft huff of a chuckle, your tired eyes crinkling in both amusement and affection as they gaze lovingly up at him.

With a hearty laugh, Mauhul’s deep voice fills the room, echoing off the stone walls. His laughter fades into a soft hum as he gazes down at you, his eyes sparkling with undisguised adoration.

“Indeed, many names for one little human,” he muses aloud, a touch of pride evident in his voice. “But each one holds its weight in significance. For us orcs, titles matter. They define bonds, roles, and responsibilities.”

He releases your face, allowing his roughened hand to slide down your neck, coming to rest on the swell of your breast, just above your heart.

“You lost your name when you left your village to join us,” he whispers solemnly, his eyes flickering to his hand as his fingers splay over your soft flesh, feeling your heartbeat under his palm. “So we shall give you many, in return.” His eyes meet yours again, a genuine and fond smile blooming on his lips, one that causes your heart to stutter under his palm. “But one will always stand above all. And that is mìzaher. My mìzaah, that's what you are. My life companion, my only love.”

Your palm comes to rest on his cheek, softly cradling his face as you gaze deeply into his eyes, a faint veil of emotion blurring your vision as you return his adoring smile. You're physically drained, still a tad unsure of what has just occurred and what it all means for you, but one thing is certain: the overwhelming feeling of being loved, treasured, and protected that envelops you fully now as you rest in your beloved husband's arms. You wish for this feeling to last forever. 

Mauhul leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment as he savours the gentle caress. When he opens them again, they shine with a depth of emotion you have rarely seen in another being - pure, unadulterated love.

"You need rest, mìzaah, and a bath," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your palm. His eyes crinkle in amusement as he adds: "I can gift you more names tomorrow."

He shifts, carefully scooping you into his arms without breaking eye contact. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist as he stands, cradling you against his broad chest. 

“You can close your eyes. I’ll take good care of you.”

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[gracexthoughts]

the strong

jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!oc

warnings; slight canon divergence, cussing, canon typical incest, fighting, implied smut at the end (i cannot actually write smut to save my life sorry), s1ep8 spoilers ig summary; after vaemond's petition, aegon’s jesting, and aemond’s taunts, jacaerys is furious and seeks solace and advice from his step-sister and betrothed. inspired by tyrion telling jon to wear his bastardy “like armor so it can never be used to hurt'' him in the first ep of GOT (I’ve been rewatching to feed the brainrot) a/n; daenera is daemon’s eldest daughter from his first marriage, in my head daemon didn’t kill rhea and she died in childbirth just before rhaenyra’s wedding so daeny is about half a year older than jace but you can use your imagination as it doesn’t really matter.

“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys growls from the dancefloor. Daenera turns in her seat to see Jacaerys with his fists clenched, his eyes dark and glaring daggers at his uncle. The feast had been amicable considering the events of the day, but while the adults’ words of peace ring honest between them, animosity between the young princes, princess and ladies nears its boiling point. Prince Aegon has spent most of the evening cooing foul and crude jests to Jacaerys and Daenera about their soon approaching wedding. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Prince Aemond has added his own taunt to the pile: a thinly veiled comment on the Velaryon brothers' true parentage. 

“Why? Twas only a compliment,” Aemond defends, lowering his goblet to face Jacaerys, stepping towards him as he does. “Do you not think yourself Strong?” Jacaerys answers by bringing his fist up to Aemond’s jaw, the sound resonating through the hall. Lucerys leaps up from his seat, Vaemond’s slanders still heavy in his ears, but Aegon intercepts him, slamming him down on the table and sending food and silverware clattering from the impact. Daenera, ever protective of her siblings, leaps from her seat and wraps her arms around the eldest prince’s neck, putting all her weight against him to remove his hands from Lucerys. He grapples with her for a moment before she is ripped off by a Kingsguard. Knights separate Aegon from Luceryrs, Jacaerys from Aemond, and Rhaena pushes Baela back from leaping into the fray as well.

The Queen pulls her second son back, muttering angrily to him but he pulls away from her as Rhaenyra moves towards her sons and Daemon to his daughters. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family. Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of theirs!” Aemond continues to taunt, leveling a snide one-eyed glare at Jace. Jacaerys wriggles out of the guard’s grip and steps menacingly towards Aemond. 

“Wait, wait,” Daemon says, holding a finger up and stopping Jacaerys in his tracks, forcing him back to stand next to Daenera. 

“Go to your quarters, all of you. Go now!” Rhaenyra commands sternly, her eyes holding a warning as she stares down her eldest son and motions for the rest of her children, by blood and by marriage, to leave. 

“Come on,” Rhaena says softly, pulling her sisters along with her and out of the hall by their hands. Daenera relents with a sigh but not before squeezing Jacaerys’ and flashing him a sympathetic smile. 

“Are you alright, Daeny?” Baela asks as they make their way to their rooms.

“Fine, worried about the boys,” she mutters in reply.

“I’m sure Jace and Luke are alright, sister,” Rhaena says softly, wrapping her hand around Daeny and Baela’s arms. Daenera nods agreeing but still can’t shake the worry in her chest.

Near an hour later, a knock sounds on the door to Daenera’s chambers, pulling her from the depths of the book in her hands. “Come in!” she calls expecting one of her maids and, not bothering to stand from her comfortable position on the settee in front of the fire, turns to see who enters. “Jace,” the lady says softly as her betrothed steps into her chambers, his eyes still dark with rage. 

The pair have been betrothed for nearly ten years, the announcement made soon after their parents married, and as they grew up together they have grown a deep love for each other: a bond of unconditional trust and adoration between the future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys comes to crouch in front of her, placing his hands on her knees and caressing the joint over the silk of her night gown. His tunic is gone, leaving him in just his white undershirt and trousers, Daenera’s eyes trail to the bit of collarbone she can from her vantage point. 

“Are you alright? Did Aegon hurt you?” the prince asks, searching her deep purple eyes that snap back to his face at his words. 

“I’m fine, Jace. If I can match you in a spar, I can handle myself against that drunken lecher,” she chuckles slightly, setting her book aside and reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his brow. “Are you alright?” She asks, reaching for his hand with its already darkening skin. She’d let her hair down to hang around her shoulders and even clouded by anger as his mind is, Jacaerys notices her etherealness. She has always been a sharp and unsettling kind of beauty, her eyes seeming to have the ability to gaze upon your soul, but Jacaerys relishes her softer side. The side she so rarely shows others.

“Wish I’d gotten more blows in,” he grumbles, standing and pacing in front of the hearth, his shoulders tight and face scrunched in anger. 

“Maybe you’ll have a chance before we return to Dragonstone,” she offers with a smirk. “The cunts deserve it, the pair of them.” 

“Will I never be free of this? Of these slanders that are whispered in my wake? Will they sneer at me when I sit on the throne? Ignore my rulings and snicker-” 

“Jace, breathe,” Daenera pleads, concerned with the rising panic she sees in his eyes. 

“I cannot, Daeny!” the prince exclaims, “How am I meant to be a King, a leader, when I am not respected?” 

“Darling, we are barely eight and ten, you are second in line at present. Respect will come with time. Once your mother is Queen the people will become familiar with you, with your grace, your kindness, your justness,” she says, placatingly, reaching out for his hand, forcing him to stop his pacing and look at her. “They will forget the slanders the Hightowers murmur because you will be a good and just King. Besides, it's your mother’s blood that makes you royal, not your father’s.” 

“And yet there will always be those who call me a Strong. The King cannot take every single one of their tongues,” he says with a heavy sigh, running a ringed hand through his hair in distress. Daenera considers this for a moment, knowing it is true enough, and Jacaerys sighs, turning to face the hearth, planting his hands on the stone and gazing down into the flames. 

“So make it a compliment,” the lady says after a long moment, leaning back on her arm on the settee, her deep amethyst eyes watching the prince. 

“Make the doubt of my paternity a compliment?” Jacaerys scoffs, turning to her. “How in the Seven Hells-” 

“If they shall call you ‘Strong’ no matter what, the more you rage against it the more power the slight has. The only way to take away its power is to show it cannot be used to hurt or diminish you. Take it as your moniker and wear it like armor so all know tis not a weapon they can wield against you.” 

“Jacaerys the Strong?” he asks slowly, the wheels turning behind his eyes, unable to deny the intelligence of her council. He sits down slowly next to Daenera, his eyes fixed on a point on the rug.

“King Jacaerys the Strong, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” she purrs, leaning towards the prince, a smirk on her lips. She watches as a firelight dances in his eyes, his pupils dilating at her proximity. 

“Hm, not bad,” he smiles, and leans down, connecting his brow with Daeny’s, running a finger calloused from years of practice with a blade across her jaw. 

“What is it?” Daenera asks softly after a moment, pulling away to look into Jace’s eyes, sensing he is still feeling troubled. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. 

“Jacaerys,” she chides, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. 

“Just… fucking Aegon… I fear he is right in his jests. I have no idea how to please you as you deserve,” Jacaerys confesses shyly, pulling his face from Daeny’s hands as heat creeps into his face. 

Daeny cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips, of all the troublesome worries that the day has brought, her sweet betrothed worries of her pleasure. Sex is not something the pair have discussed in length yet, even though their wedding is a little more than a moon away. The pair tend to flit around such topics, even when they steal secret kisses in dark corners of Dragonstone and come away with scarlet cheeks and racing hearts. 

“And now even you laugh at me!” He exclaims exasperatedly and stands to move away but Daenera quickly stands as well, stepping in front of him and stopping him from leaving. She pushes him back to his seat and kneels before him, her hands on his shoulders. 

“No, my love, I’m not laughing at you, I’m sorry. Tis just that you should not concern yourself with such worries,” she says gently, running her hand from his broad shoulder to the toned expanse of his chest, feeling his heart beating under his skin. 

“But I-” 

“I have no more knowledge on how to please a man than you do a woman, Jace,” she continues, her voice placating and soft. “We shall learn together and be stronger and better for it.” Jacaerys meets her amethyst eyes, finding comfort in the truth and lack of judgment he finds in them. “Besides, I cannot believe that Aegon knows any more than you do. He has never had any care for anything besides his own pleasures and you heard poor Helaena’s toast. He targets you because he knows you are more generous and loving than he could ever hope to be.”  Jacaerys chuckles at this, knowing she speaks true of his uncle and melts into her touch at last. 

“You truly do not care?” He asks, toying with the ends of her silver hair that brushes against his knee. 

“Shall I prove it to you, my prince?” she purrs, a teasing mischief in her eyes as she runs a hand up his chest to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips in a kiss. He sighs into her embrace, his hands finding purchase on her waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue darting between her lips. Realizing she is still kneeling on the floor in front of the settee, he grips her hips tightly and pulls her to straddle him, pulling a gasp from her lips which eggs the prince on. Jacaerys’ hands brush through Daeny’s hair, pushing it away from her face, and trail down her back to explore her figure; Daenera weaves one hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots and eliciting a groan she feels through her other hand which rests on his chest. 

Without warning, Jace stands and without breaking their kiss carries Daeny with him as he makes his way to the bed, resting her gently on the linen sheets and covering her smaller body with his. All his insecurities and rage momentarily forgotten as he loses himself in her, the only girl he has ever had eyes for, and proves to her, and to himself, just how strong a lover he can be.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Wolf's Betrothed

dark!aemond x niece!reader

summary: prepare to be kidnapped by your delulu uncle

A/N: this is based off a request that asked for non-con so this is the closest i've written to it but i still think it's dub-con??? idk pls lmk what you think

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, incest, smut, knife kink, blood kink,, breeding kink, forced marriage, murder

word count: 1,929

You feel content. Cregan Stark is a good, honourable man and he will make a fine husband, is what you continue to repeat in your head as your carriage makes its way to Winterfell. You travel without your family, being sent early to meet your husband to be and you’re nervous. You met few Northernmen on Dragonstone and you fear the cold, but you know it’s for the best. This alliance could be the thing that puts your mother on the throne. Though, as you get closer to your destination, a sense of dread begins to set in. 

That’s when you hear it, the beating of wings, shortly followed by screaming. The carriage comes to a halt so swift that you’re thrown from your seat.

“Princess!” One of your handmaidens exclaims as she helps you back up.

“I-I’m alright.” You say as you find your footing. You make your way to the door. “We must go.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the guards?” The other girl says nervously.

“They’re as good as dead.” You say as you throw open the door. Your men that are left, fight for their lives against the few green soldiers. They don’t need many when they have a dragon. You glance up to the sky and see her… Vhagar.

“Fuck.” You murmur as you hop to the ground, your handmaidens on your tail as you begin to run towards the forest.

You pant as you go, trying not to trip on your long skirts, snow filling your boots. You know you need a plan but the only weapon you have is a small dagger and you’ve never been a great talent in hand-to-hand combat.

You’re close to the treeline now, barely 200 yards away. You know Aemond won’t torch it if he thinks you’re in there. All you have to do is make it. To. The. Treeline.

But you don’t. It goes up in flames in front of you and you have to turn and shield your face from the heat. Your handmaiden, who was in a much less elaborate dress than you, made it further, and she goes up in flames with it. You turn, grabbing the hand of the other girl and begin to go south before you see three men waiting for you. You turn north and begin to run but you don’t make it far before Vhagar lands in front of you.

“No…” You breathe out as you backup, your handmaiden clinging to your arm. You know you’re caught now.

Two men catch up to you and grab you each by the shoulders, giving you no time to draw your dagger as Aemond descends his dragon.

“Dōna mandianna.” (sweet niece) He says as he approaches. “Sepār hae gevie hae nyke mōrī ūndan ao.” (just as beautiful as I last saw you) He tilts your chin up gently.

“Release my bride. You can do as you wish with that one.” He says to his guards as he glances at your handmaiden. The two men grab her.

“Princess, help me!” She cries out as she’s taken away.

“She’s no threat.” You say to your uncle, glaring up at him.

“My men deserve a reward.” He says offhandedly and you begin to wish she had died in the fire as well. You wish you died in the fire. His hand comes up to caress your face. “I have missed you.”

“I miss my brother.” You say with hate in your eyes.

“Hmm, an unfortunate circumstance.” He replies.

“Kinslayer.” You spit out at him.

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back. He is courteous with you, for now, as he leads you toward Vhagar. You let him, biding your time. He straps you in in front of him, his fingers gentle with you, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever laid his hands on.

No chance to jump then. You think to yourself, wishing you could’ve taken him with you once Vhagar was high enough to make the fall fatal.

You don’t speak to each other as he takes you closer to Winterfell. You look solemnly at the scorched land. It’s a pity to see, especially since it is the start of Spring. It should have been the start of new life, not the end of it. He holds his hand out to help you down the dragon and you accept it, glad that he chose not to make you grovel. You know he could. You know he’s not above such things. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you through the castle, the place crawling with Greens.

You arrive at Lord Stark’s chambers, Aemond letting you in. You’re slightly surprised when you don’t see Cregan but you think perhaps that your uncle is keeping him in the dungeons instead. “And what of my husband?” Aemond freezes when you use the word. 

“That cunt wasn’t your husband.” He says lowly.

“Wasn’t or isn’t?” You ask, not fully believing that he would kill the lord of Winterfell. You back up slightly. Aemond may be in front of the door but you wish to put some distance between you.

“I would not let them trap you with that mutt.” He says as he steps forward. You step back. “You deserve someone worthy of your status.”

“Aemond…” You breathe out, your eyes well with tears.

“It was always meant to be you and I. I’ll take care of you… I love you.” His eye gleams, his words full of possession.

You’re aware that you’ll only have this one chance so you reach for the sheathed dagger. You know you can’t kill him, but you can break him. You lift the blade to your throat in one quick motion but it’s too late, Aemond’s hand is on yours before you can break skin. He yanks the dagger from your hand and throws it to the side.

“Why would you do that!” He looks manic, frightened as he holds your wrists in his hands.

“Cregan!” You cry out as a last resort. You know it’s futile but it’s the only thing you can think of. “Cregan!”

Your uncle slams a hand over your mouth, hot rage in his eyes. “Stop screaming for him! He’s dead! I killed him.” His other hand falls to your waist. “If it is a husband you yearn for, I can fix that.” He takes the hand off your mouth to grab his own dagger.

“I don’t want any husband. I want him!” You slam your fists against Aemond’s chest.

“No you don’t!” He shouts back and he shifts behind you, pulling your back to his front, holding his dagger to you with one hand and your chin with the other. “It is that silly feminine loyalty. But don’t worry, it will be towards me soon enough.” 

He holds your face tightly and lifts the dagger to your lip, cutting ever so gently. Just enough to get a drip of blood. He lets you break yourself free and run to the door so he can slit his own lip. You yank on the door handle but it’s locked and before you can even turn, Aemond’s hand is in your hair, pulling your mouth towards his. The kiss is messy and bloody but by Old Valyrian standards, you are wed. Your uncle barely gives you a chance to come up for air as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper slightly as he sucks on your lip, mixing your blood further. 

“You didn’t think I was going to bed you without making you my wife first, did you?” He says so softly, the kind look in his eyes misplaced. “I would never do that to you.”

“Please don’t.” You beg him.

“Why must you look so frightened? I only want to make love to you, to my bride.” He moves behind you, nimble fingers undoing your dress. “I don’t like it when you fight with me. I want us to be happy.” He tugs the gown down so you’re only in your shift. Just the sight of your ankles, your shoulders is enough for him to go crazy with lust. He can feel himself growing in his trousers the longer he looks at you. “My beautiful girl, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” (my bride) He coos, mesmerized by you.

You’re pulled in for another kiss and you nip at his lip. He groans as he parts his mouth from yours.

“Be gentle with me and I shall do the same with you.” You know it’s a warning, a warning that you should most definitely heed. “We will have more time to play later, darling but for now, we must consummate immediately.” He says as he leads you to the bed by your hand. He places a palm on your tummy. “I shall pray to the Gods’ that my seed takes tonight.”

“Of course, husband.” Your voice is emotionless but he still seems pleased by your words.

He smiles and then lifts off your shift. His cold fingertips trace over your breasts and collarbones, and down to your navel before he hooks them on your small clothes and pulls them down. “Your beauty is unmatched, my love” He says as his eye runs over your body. “Lie down on the bed for me.” He watches you walk and obey as he undoes his trousers. Your husband doesn’t take any of his clothes off, only pulling his cock out and beginning to pump it as he gazes at you. You’re nervous as he is incredibly well-endowed but you are inclined to believe that he won’t be rough with you.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says as he climbs between your legs, noticing your fear. “It won’t hurt for long.” He takes a moment to rub his cockhead over your cunt, using his precum as lube before slipping in.

You gasp at the intrusion, the feeling of your maidenhead breaking as he defiles you but he doesn’t move at first, only peppering kisses across your face that are almost… comforting?

“I’m going to move now.” He says and begins to slide in and out, causing you to wince.

“Not yet, it hurts…” You say to him but he just runs his thumb over the cut on your lip.

“You can take it, darling.” He replies as he thrusts in and out of you. He licks the blood off his thumb before using it to rub your clit. You hate how you enjoy the feeling. “Good girl.” He says as he begins to pick up speed. He rubs harder, clearly far too close to cumming himself and not wanting to be the only one. “I love you.”

You turn your head away as he says it and he begins to fuck into you harder, pinching your clit now and causing you to scream. If he can’t make you love him, then he can just make you cum. 

As soon as he feels you begin to squeeze your walls around him, he finishes, sheathing his cock as deep as he can inside of you in hopes of breeding you.

“My perfect wife.” He admires as he runs his fingers through your hair. He presses a kiss to your lips before resting his head on your breasts so he can listen to your heartbeat.

You lie there, confused. Part of you wants him to fuck you again, the other part hopes he falls asleep so you can drive his own dagger through his heart.

Oh the woes of newlyweds.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter II : The deal.

Summary: Viserys proposes a deal to undo the drift between the families.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, SPOILERS FOR S1 AND S2, nothing serious, mildly suggestive (extremely mild to the points it's unnoticeable) + not proof read.

A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

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The ride to King's Landing was tough, you were not used to riding a dragon after all. You were surprised when you found out that the dragon you bonded with was Vermithor, he was a free dragon in the original show.

There have already been changes in the plot by your existence, the petition hearing was delayed because of you, will it change anything? It likely will.

Your mind was preoccupied with all these unnecessary details to the point you were unaware that you had already reached the keep, rhaenyra, your mother, had to call you out from your daze to get you off the carriage.

Weren't you just on your dragon a moment ago?

Time passed weirdly for you.

You lifted your skirt slightly before stepping on the carriage steps, reaching out your hand to hold the awaiting guard's hand to step down. The sand and rocks beneath you looked unfamiliar, you were more used to seeing asphalt and concrete.

You fix your skirts, letting go of the guard's hand, before you look up, and the sight shocked you. It was the red keep, in its glory, right in front of you, standing tall and erect. A castle that you merely saw in a show was now real and it was standing right in front of you.

Soft dizziness overcomes your body when you realise this, a sense of feeling trapped begins to bloom in your heart when your mind spirals to compare the world you knew with the world you are in.

Your breathing grows heavy as you try not to break down due the overwhelming feelings, when will you get used to this? Can you truly ever get used to this? You wish to return to your world.

“..sis…..si... sister!” The voice of Lucerys wakes you up from falling into the abyss of your mind, “Yes?” You face him, “Are you okay?” He asks, with a frown on his face and a genuine look of concern. You give him a tight lipped smile, “Yes, I am fine.” You reassure him.

“Let's go inside then, mother and father have already left.” Jacaerys grabs your hand and drags you inside. You stumble behind him, trying to catch up with the fast paced walking.

He lets go of your hand once all of you are inside, and your body suddenly moves according to its own will, taking you forward. You were unfamiliar with the inside of the red keep, yet it seems that your body knew the way, and soon you found yourself in a strange hallway, where at the end, laid two big doors.

Your body continued forward, the hallway seemed strangely deserted because everyone was focused on preparing for the petition, and the guards that were likely guarding this room might've gone to watch over important areas.

Wait, how do you know this?

You could only watch as your hands pushed the door open, revealing shelves upon shelves of books, every literature piece in the westeros could be found here, perhaps this was the keep's library.

You look behind to see if anyone has followed you, yet nobody did, why did your body bring you here? You finally seem like you are in control of your body again, so you move around the library, looking through the shelves.

“Niece.”

The voice sends chills down your spine, and you immediately turn around to the direction where it came from.

There he was.

Aemond Targaryen.

He was sitting, looming over the books on the table, but he was now facing you with an expression of intrigue, he eyed you curiously.

“Have you come to read?” He asks and you suddenly get an odd sense of deja vu.

Character encounter has changed.

Your mouth went dry trying to come up with a response, it seemed as if there was a big lump in your throat which you couldn't swallow. There was an odd sense of anxiety that did not belong to your consciousness on your body, his presence intimated you.

“Hmm?” He tilts his head in a questioning manner, waiting for your answer.

“I- uh.” You stumble your words, hands curling up into fists as you try to stop them from shaking so much.

Aemond gets up from his seat, his feet taking a few steps forward to you. He stood in front of you, his eye roaming your form, taking in every bit of your details. “It has been a while since we saw each other.” He speaks once again, and you close your eyes wondering why your body is behaving this way around him.

You take heavy breaths before forcefully putting on a small smile on your face, you look at him once again, “Yes it has been, uncle.” You spit out the words in a hurry.

He raises his eyebrow slightly before returning a small yet condescending smile back. You lick your lips, wetting them. Aemond eyes the action intently, his lips parting slightly before he too mimics the action of licking his lips.

You clear your throat.

“I have to go, bye.” You give him a small bow, and before he could respond you turn around and bolt in the other direction, leaving the library immediately.

Your hurried footsteps echoed among the hall, and once again your body took charge from there and took you up the stairs, making you halt in front of a room. The guard gave you a bow before he opened the door and you wasted no time entering.

You gasped at the interior design.

And as expected, you weren't familiar with this place at all yet you didn't feel out of place or foreign, this room provided you comfort more than anything. It had a bed, and oddly, all the furniture and everything were in the shades of your favourite colours, excluding the wooden furniture.

It must've been this body's room in the keep.

But isn't the body yours?

Yet at the same time, it didn't feel like yours.

Even earlier, you knew where to go, though you've never been in this place before.

What is going on?

You felt internally conflicted, your head began to spin rapidly, your heartbeat pounded in your ears, your skin felt all prickly and you felt your knees buckle and soon your body was thrown off balance.

You fell to the floor with a loud thud, you attempted to grab the table nearby to prevent you from hitting the floor; only for the table to fall along with you, hitting the floor with a shattering pierce, spilling all of the contents onto the floor next to you.

“Princess! Are you alri—” The last thing you heard was the guard's voice before you drifted into unconsciousness.

Muffled voices of concern could be heard, they sounded so distant yet so nearby, you furrowed your brows, annoyed at the fact that you were being woken up from your slumber, you didn't want to wake up, you wanted to sleep a bit more.

But the noises got louder and you got frustrated and opened your eyes, sitting up straight.

You deep down hoped that you would wake up on your sofa again— only for it all to come crashing down when you heard Rhaenyra's troubled call.

“Y/N! Oh seven hells! You scared us.” She rushed to your side and you looked at her confused, you looked at your surroundings, noticing a maester and your siblings spread across the room.

Oh right, you fainted.

“It seems that it was nothing serious, your grace, she must've fainted. Her body showed signs of insomnia, she must not have been able to fall asleep these few days.” The maester speaks up, and Rhaenyra just nods at him. She grabs you and hugs you tightly, “Oh my sweet daughter.” She kissed your hair, her hands were shaking, she must've been really anxious.

Your head was on her chest, you could hear her heart beating loudly and frantically, and for an odd reason you felt a sense of comfort in that, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, wanting to feel comforted.

She must've been really scared.

“I- I am alright.” You speak, voice hoarse and scratchy as you just woke up, and she caresses your hair, “I'm glad you are.” She replies and you bite your lip, trying to hold back tears.

Your feelings brew up a storm everytime, you do not know whether you can truly accept this life now because you don't belong here, but that doesn't mean you can distance yourself from the characters as well, because as you just witnessed, your existence is very real to them.

You are Rhaenyra's daughter.

Didn't you wish she had one to fix the plot?

You might be the key to prevent a lot of loss if you play your part right.

“Princess, The petition is about to begin soon.” A guard announces, “Already? But my daughter is sick.” She asks, letting go of you, you stare at her. “The hearing was already delayed further, they do not want to waste anymore time.” He replies and Rhaenyra sighs loudly. “Very well, we shall head over in a bit.” She informs him and he doesn't leave, “Is there anything else?” She asks and he bites his lip, “The queen has also commanded that princess Y/N also be present in the throne room for the hearing.” He answers shakily.

“What?! My sister is sick—”

“Jace.”

Jace tries butting in but Rhaenyra stops him, “Oh don't worry, tell her I'll be there.” You reply with a smile, not being able to read the room as you were excited over the idea of witnessing the iconic Vaemond scene live.

“What do you mean—? You're not well—” Your mother tries arguing with you but you stand up immediately, “I'm fine, I just didn't get any sleep.” You rub your eyes and fix your hair, ready to leave.

Rhaenyra lets out a heavy sigh.

The sound of a mother's disappointed sigh.

The hearing was pretty boring, realising you're in a moment of unnecessary dialogue and argument, the fun part of Vaemond bluntly calling your siblings bastards hasn't arrived yet.

So you zone out.

Aemond couldn't stop looking at you, in fact, he stared at you throughout the entire session, not looking away once, Alicent noticed this and immediately became uncomfortable and fidgety.

He tried not to show it, but he was feeling excited deep down, his gut churned with giddiness, you looked so frail and out of place, he noticed your lack of attention to the hearing which made him smile slightly.

He heard you had fainted right before the trial, and expected you to take rest but you were standing in front of everyone as if nothing happened.

You were still stubborn.

‘So how do people poop here?’

‘Are they all naturally hairless on their bodies?’

You look at your arms, concluding they are.

Those stupid questions circle your mind, your thoughts keeping you entertained.

You jumped when you heard the doors open as the entry of the king was announced, your heart pounded in your chest as you witnessed the king enter.

You were a bit bummed that there was no background music.

You witnessed the original script of the scene take place with Viserys reaffirming Jace's claim to the driftwood was settled.

Wait what.

Jace's claim? Wasn't this Luke's plot?

What the fuck is going on?

This could only mean one thing.

You were the next heir to the throne.

After Rhaenyra, your mother, being the eldest daughter and the oldest child of hers. ‘What the genuine fuck.’ You think, realising how much of a big deal your existence is.

You couldn't really focus much on the next conflict since you already knew what would happen, so you excitedly waited for the iconic scene to occur and it did.

It left you traumatised.

You forgot that this was your reality, it was only reconfirmed when you felt Vaemond's blood spurt out onto the floor.

Viserys falls down on his chair tiredly.

“One… more thing.” He wheezes, Alicent rushes over to grab him but he protests. “My second son Aemond… and my granddaughter shall be wed by the next moon.” He announces randomly and your eyes widen.

What.

You can tell it was unexpected and unplanned by the way both of the families reacted, Alicent and Rhaenyra immediately wanting to protest.

“Father—”

“Husband—”

“It is not a request, it is a command, a King's command, protest against it and you will pay the consequences.” He breathes heavily before he stumbles forward, the guards immediately rush over to him and take him out of the room.

Everyone is left silent.

You turned to look at Aemond, and his face held no expression, not even surprise, so you immediately looked away.

“It is a "King's command," he said! How foolish.” Daemon mutters, frustrated under his breath, “Your father is willing to sacrifice your daughter for the sake of undoing the rift amongst the families.” He grits his teeth.

“We cannot disobey the word, for it would be disobeying the law.” Rhaenyra sighs, trying to calm daemon down.

“I don't mind.” You chime in and they all turn to look at you.

You were currently back in your chambers, with your family members pacing back and forth, Daemon sitting down on the table frustrated at his brother's decision whilst you stood nearby the door.

“It would be beneficial.” You shrug, hoping to convince them that it will be alright, perhaps this is a major sign that's confirming that you'd be the one fixing the plot.

They ignore you and whisper amongst themselves, making your jaw drop in offence. You realise that your attempt of assurance only made it worse so you turn around and leave the room, nobody questions you or bothers to stop you as you leave the room as they were occupied with the matter at hand.

So you decide to trudge through the corridors, making your way to the gardens, wanting some fresh air.

Of course, to your luck, you ran straight into Aemond at a turning corner. He grabbed your arm so you don't fall, balancing both of you. He immediately lets go, clearing his throat.

“I was looking for you, niece.” He breaks the silence, to your surprise, your body isn't behaving weirdly around him anymore, which means you get to be in full control, so you smile at him before you grab his hand. “Let's go for a walk, Aemond.” You tug at him.

He feels nostalgic when he sees your form dragging him, it reminds him of the time when you both were young, you always used to drag him around with you, asking him to spend time with you.

He grabs your forearm and pulls you into a secluded hallway, taking control before he pushes you up against the wall. You let out a surprised squeal when you feel the cold wall hit your back.

He trapped you in his arms.

He hand travelled up towards your face caressing your cheek, your eyes widened.

No way.

Are you two about to kiss?

Did you both have a thing in the past?

Your mind spiralled with these questions.

Aemond presses his thumb against your cheek bone, increasing the pressure slowly.

Is this a type of foreplay he enjoys or what?

He distances himself from you and immediately leaves, stranding you confused.

You rub the spot he pressed harshly against and felt a cut that was leaking blood. What the fuck did he does this for?

You wanted to curse him, what if his nails were dirty and you got an infection? There isn't even proper treatment for infections in this era, you'd die.

You shrugged it off and left the hallway as well.

Aemond hurried back to his chamber, his heart drumming against his rib cage violently as hot lava courses through his veins, his fists were curled up as he was reminded of something very bitter.

How could he ever forget?

Was he so happy that you'd woken up to the point he had forgotten everything?

He hates you.

He despises you.

Of course anyone would.

After all, you were the one that took his eye on that eventful night.

TAGLIST <3

@intheheartoftheking @dracaryxzs @ladyoffandoms @spear-bearing-bi-witch @myheartfollower @jom3leo @zoleea-exultant @saturnssrings @uniquecutie-puffs @aleemendoza2425-blog @marvelita85 @feelingfaye @anaya-rhys @visenyareads @sylvievil @cypherpt5fttaehyung @ttysmfwna @void21

[arpicityandneed]

Asking for a friend re: dark content Bucky, are we talking Bucky-Bucky, or like, are you also down with some Winter Soldier? Because WOW what a great look. Scared my ovaries so good.

Like, imagine the Soldier gets a bodyguard assignment to the daughter or wife of some SHIELD official. You're annoyed about having this mostly silent, kind of unsettling hottie shadow you constantly. So you get bratty, act out to try and crack that ice wall. "Kay fine, you need to keep an eye on me, I'll leave the door open to shower!" or "hey they said to pretend you're not even here, guess that means I can masturbate!" And you're not really sure what you expected to come of it, but it definitely wasn't getting railed because you managed to wake up half a century of repressed lust.

author's note: I mean all the dark content, Winter Soldier, Bucky-Bucky, dubcon, incest, all the good stuff. please ref my rules and guidelines <3

18+ Dark Content. Winter Soldier!Bucky. brat!reader. dirty talk. creampie. dubcon (mainly 'cause hydra). rough sex.

"Новая миссия Солдат." New mission, Soldat. The HYDRA handler handed the assassin the file, your seductive smirk in your profile photo making his stomach tighten. The sensation was new to him. But his response was the same it always was, a low husky rasp with no intonation.

"готов подчиниться." Ready to comply.

~

You didn't like your new bodyguard.

No matter how hot he was, he never spoke two words to you. All you got was da or net. He followed you everywhere and carried your bags and never seemed to sleep. You knew your dad was important to some big guys, but to think it would mean you'd be stuck with this ghost of a man with no way to sneak off wasn't what you had in mind.

He was just a big, hunking, idiot. With a metal arm. (You may have had a thing for the metal arm.)

He wouldn't let you drink since you were technically only 20, and killed any party just by standing there- not dancing, not moving, just watching you with his icy blue eyes.

It made you want to crack that perfect control he had.

"So you're really not going to leave that spot while I shower." You looked up at him as he stood at the threshold of the large ensuite bathroom in the hotel you were staying at while your father was having a business meeting.

"Da." He didn't smile, didn't frown. His handsome face was just always deadpan.

"Then I guess its not a problem if I leave the door open right?" You grinned, impish and bold as you started stripping. You new you looked good. It was the utter shamelessness of it all that had the Soldat's eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Bending over to drag your panties down your legs, letting him see your bare pussy before unhooking your bra. You sighed with relief as your breasts bounced free.

"Be a good boy and do what daddy paid you for. Watch me." You grinned when you saw him take a step towards you, your pussy gushing as you imagined him grabbing you and fucking you senseless. But he seemed to remember himself and stepped back. Firmly planting both feet and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Coward~." You sang as you stepped into the shower leaving the door open, its glass side walls fogging up as you lathered up your body. Touching every inch of yourself as slowly as possible making damn sure he could follow your hands with his eyes. His pupils were blown wide but it was the only sign he as affected.

You'd have to try harder.

~

"Ah!"

The Soldat was in your room in an instant the next morning even though you never heard the door unlock or open. He was ready for a threat, door locked so there was one less escape route for any intruders.

But all he found was you, on the bed with your legs spread- naked as the day you were born. A pathetic excuse for a plastic cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls as you fucked yourself over and over. One tiny hand was twisting your nipple and you were crying out loudly with every intention of making sure he could hear.

"Fuck!" You moaned as you met his eyes, pure mischief in your gaze. "Shouldn't be a problem, right Soldat? Just, nngh, watch me."

You never even saw him move, but suddenly he was on you. Snatching the dildo and dragging it out of your pussy before throwing it across the room.

"Этого будет недостаточно для такой шлюхи как ты." That won't be enough for a slut like you. He growled as he quickly undid his zipper, you barely had a glimpse of his girthy length before he was lining himself up. He didn't even bother to take off his tactical suit before fucking into your slick hole in one overwhelming thrust. It knocked the air out of your lungs.

"M-more!" You whined as you clawed at his back uselessly, your tiny pussy stretched almost painfully wide as you strangled his cock.

"Заткнись и возьми это." Shut up and take it. He was hissing in your ear with ever balls deep thrust, groaning as he felt pleasure for the first time in over 30 years. Your pussy was heaven he was sure. And he was never letting you go.

Every squelch and slap of his hips on your ass filled the room until it was a symphony of decauhery. You were being used, and somehow the knowledge made your blood burn with desire.

"Use me, fuck, cum in me please-" you begged as you felt your orgasm growing. The blunt head of his cock was dragging against the spot inside you that you'd barely been able to reach with the dildo. Your eyes were crossing every time his fat cock bottomed out inside you, and you knew you were going to cum harder than you ever had before.

"Просто теплое место которое я могу использовать по своему усмотрению." Just a warm place for me to use. He purred the words in your ear, and you cried out when you felt his skilled fingers making quick tight circles over your sensitive clit.

You bit down on his throat, the only skin you could reach to stop yourself from screaming as you gushed around his cock. (It was only later, much later when you were being interrogated about where the Asset had gone, that you realized the bastard had made you squirt.)

His grip on your hip became bruisingly tight but you didn't care, not when his thrusts were getting sloppy.

"Do it, cum in me, get me pregnant I don't care just-" His other hand, still slick with your juices slapped over your mouth as he growled at you.

"Я сделаю тебя матерью. Я сделаю тебя своей." I'll make you a mother. I'll make you mine.

You shivered, not understanding anything but the possessiveness in his tone. Your hole clenching around him and he was done for.

His load was endless. He fucked you through it, stuffing his seed as deep inside as his cock could reach. In your lustful haze you realized you truly wouldn't mind having the child of a man like him. You knew he'd protect you both if it ever came to that.

You must have fallen asleep after that because when you came to the window was open, and there was a pillow under your hips.

He was gone.

(pt 2?)

[thewritetofreespeech]

tags: targaryen incest [aemond/younger sister Daeron twin], fingering, masterbation, pinning (equal pinning)

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Aemond stalked back to his chamber. Still fuming from his talk with Helaena.

How dare she speak to him that way?! How could she not want vengeance after what Daemon did to her son?! How could she sit ideally while every day their doom crept closer and closer to their door?!

His eye set on the maps & plans on spread over one the tables and he flung them off with one swift swing of his arm. “Useless!” It was all useless now!

Aemond’s hands braced against the wood. Staring into the grain as if a scrying pool. Looking for answers. In truth, he was heartbroken. He knew his death was coming for him, one way or another, but to have his sister turn her back on him when they needed her most, when he needed her most, broke him.

“Brother,” Aemond turned to look at the door as his other, younger sister peaked her head in, “are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” He told her. Standing at his full height again, even as his little sister invited herself in and looked up at him. Those big, pale violets staring up at him until he eventually cracked and told her the truth. “No. It’s all gone horribly wrong. The Pretender has let the dragonseeds claim her remaining dragons. We are outnumbered. And Helaena won’t take Dreamfyre into battle.”

“Oh….” That was all his sister said at first. Seeming to process this information. “You asked Helaena and not me?”

Aemond looked at her in surprise from her comment. “Your dragon is too young. Six times younger that Dreamfyre, and just taken to wing.”

“She’s been to wing longer than Dareon’s dragon.” She snapped back at him. “And you asked him to fight!”

“Mandia,” Aemond replied in a soothing manner as he cupped his sister’s cheek, “Dareon is a young man now. It is reasonable for him to fight for his house.”

“But not women?”

“In most cases no. Women’s duties are suited to other aspects in war.”

“Yet you still asked Helaena?”

Aemond growled and pulled his hand away. Annoyed he’d been so easily circled into a corner by his own logic and irritating little sister. “I wished to spare you.”

“I do not wish to be spared.” She insisted. Her hands reaching out for Aemond’s larger one. “I wish to fight for our family too. To keep us safe. To keep you safe.” She let his hand go and dejectedly looked down at the ground. “Yet you still choose Helaena over me….”

The hand she had been holding lashed out towards his sister to pull her in close. His lips claiming hers like they had many times before. “I would never choose Helaena over you.” Aemond told her.

True, there had been a time when he had wanted his older sister for himself. Her uniqueness and sweet light was wasted on their eldest brother, as well as her common beauty. Aemond loved her, as a sister and then as more, but it was never reciprocated.

With his younger sister, it was different. She loved him. Unconditionally. She had been away with Dareon in Oldtown since a young age. The twins to be in service of his mother’s family for a time away from the capital. When she had flourished into a beautiful young woman, she returned while Dareon stayed to train as squire for Lord Hightower. All his mother’s plan to find her a suitable match from court. To strength their claim & allies for Aegon, but also set her youngest daughter up beautifully in the Realm.

What his sister had found instead was Aemond’s open, waiting arms.

“I need Dreamfyre. That’s the only reason I went to her.” He assured her. “She should fight.”

“Helaena doesn’t have it in her though.” His sister urged. Speaking the truth. “I do. Let me come with you.”

“Is that what you truly want?” He asked. Aemond pulling her close by her hip. Letting her feel, even through his leathers, how thrilled he was that she wished to be by his side. No longer rejected. Openly adored. “To come with me to crush the Pretender and their brood.”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded soft. Entranced, even. “Let me come with you. Let me be your Visenya. Your Rhaenys.”

Aemond swooped down to capture her lips again at her words. In the months since she had returned, that was all he wanted. They talked of secret plans to flee like his grandsires, and wed in secret, should his mother betroth her to another. Their bond not a chore like his brother made it seem with Helaena, but one of true love. Like their forbearers before them.

“Sit up for me.”

The princess obediently hopped up on the edge of the table. Reaching for him, even as Aemond came to her to stand between her knees. “I want to keep you safe. That’s what all this is for.” His hands slid up her skirts. Thin and pliable, as it was the middle of the night, they bunch up around her hips easily. “To keep us all safe. To build our future.” His beloved sister sighed as his hand reached between her legs. Her soft opening there, wet with desire. “Dareon will be with me soon. Do you trust your twin?”

“Yes.” His sister hissed as his fingers spread her open. “But I want to come too. Let me…Let me come with you.” Her voice stammered as his thumb brushed over her nub at the word ‘come’. His fingers continued to play with her until no words were spoken. Just his sister’s needy pants as she clung to him. And a desperate plea now & then of, “take me.”

Aemond wished that he could. Just spread her legs that much further and spear her open on the table where all his plans had been. But he couldn’t. She was still young. Her bloom only just coming upon her. And he would not sully his good sister by claiming her like a whore for his own amusement.

When he bed her, and he would soon, they would be married. She would be his wife. She would be their Queen. And all this, this work, this heartbreak, this rejection, would all be worth it.

His fingers continued to thrust into her with quick succession until her walls quivered around him in release. Aemond drew them out and licked them clean. The taste just as sweet as her disposition. “You should get back to your chambers. Before someone comes looking for you.”

“Will you take me with your to Harrenhall?” She asked again. Clinging to him.

It takes every bit of Aemond’s restraint to just sigh in the face of those bright eyes and tell her, “I will think on it.” Denying her harder than anything he had had to do in recent months.

His sister just smiled and gave him a kiss. She hopped down off the table, righted her skirts, and saw herself out. Aemond watched her go and waited until the coast was clear before opening his breeches to relieve himself across the table. Imagining her still there, under him, and his seed spilling into her instead off across the rich mahogany.

Relieved but not sated, Aemond took himself to bed for the evening. He needed his rest. There would not be many more moments for it soon. As he laid in his bed, he thought of Harrenhall. What would be waiting for him there, and what he might find.

If his death was truly waiting for him, like Helaena predicted, then he couldn’t bring their sister. Subject her to that. She would have to wait for him, and she would pout, but as long as he didn’t have to see it he could remain strong.