I'm Locke, I'm 25, and I use He/They pronouns. I am a student, so I kinda have a chaotic schedule at best. I'll try to keep this updated while I'm working on stuff.
I'm currently obsessed with A Knight of The Seven Kingdoms , The Pitt, and Call of Duty (coming soon).
Like to request something? my guidelines and characters I write for are: here
Spot Light:
Guarded By The Stag: here
As your eldest sister approaches thirty, she and your father hatch a plan as a last-ditch effort to see her married off. Masquerading as a simple celebratory tourney, your sister invites eligible bachelors to your house to hopefully secure a husband. What happens when her top pick sets his sights on you instead?
(A Lyonel Baratheon x Fem-Reader Slow Burn Story.)
The Au Pair: here
You've worked for the Targaryens for over two years now, and have been crushing on Maekar for almost just as long. Things grow emotional as your contract with them begins to come to a close. You are heartbroken at the idea of leaving the family you have grown so close to and the man you adore, but what if that feeling wasn't as one-sided as you thought?
(A Maekar x Reader Modern AU Limited Series)
so fucking humbling to be like “no I like that character a normal amount” and then you can literally feel your heart rate spike at a mention of them like a dog that just heard the word “treat”
I've had a really hard time managing my bipolar disorder this summer and have not been able to commit to a schedule of anything. I'm probably due for a med adjustment (Yay). So instead of trying to fit into a strict schedule, I'm just gonna turn into the skid and have loose goals until my next psychiatrist appointment in early August.
So my weekly goals are to:
Update Guarded By The Stag (a chapter a week)
Fulfill 2 one-shot requests (guidelines on my pin posted)
I hope this plan will work out, but it's subject to change if it's not working for me. I hope everyone is having a safe and fun summer 🫰Thanks for bearing with me 🫶
Ps.
The Crimson Glow is going to continue to be on hiatus because it's one of my most treasured fics, and I don't want to ruin it in this headspace.
A/N: Sorry for another minihiatus. With the combo of being bipolar & getting my period (dysphoria central), I haven't really been feeling myself lately. Still very involved with this series and will be working on my one-shot requests for my "Oops All AU" event (I'll make a separate post for that). Very excited for you to read this update tho; I also have been loving writing Lyonel and the Reader flirting lol. Enjoy ^_^
CW: Panic Attack, Family still suxs, Maecy's MVP of this chapter, A lot of crying (but it's valid), Reader is really in her feels, Mention of dead mother, Lyonel is low-key already whipped
WC: 4,404
Everything was static.
You could only hear the pounding of your heart.
You felt like you were drowning.
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t catch your breath.
Suddenly, Maecy’s face crowded your vision. Her cold hands cupped your face, like a flicker of a lighthouse in the distance. You could see her mouth moving, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She removed one of her hands to grip yours as she held the back of your hand to her chest. You copied her chest, timing your breaths with hers as you began to calm down; land was in sight.
“There you are,” she said lightly, “That’s it, you’re doing so well, love.”
You nodded mutely, taking another deep breath; the thundering in your ears started to subside. Ruben was to your left; you could feel his warm palm through the cloth of the back of your dress as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“Here,” he said, pressing his canteen to your lips once your breathing had regulated. You took a deep sip of water as you squeezed Maecy’s hand and let go. Suddenly, the rest of your surroundings came back to you all at once. The loud music continued; you could feel the beat of the drums through the canvas of the tent behind you. The cold air bit at your hot skin, causing you to shiver. And at some point, Ser Ash had arrived. He stood between you and Lyonel; his hand cupping Lyonel’s shoulder to keep him at arm’s length.
“I didn’t mean to cause any harm,” he argued, but didn’t fight against Ser Ash.
“Regardless, you’ve caused her ladyship to have a conniption,” Ser Ash replied firmly.
“I’m fine,” you called out after taking one last deep breath. Ruban gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze before he and Maecy helped you up. You brushed your skirt down to make it sit properly. Despite feeling better, your face felt hot from shame. This was the first time in ages that you’ve had an episode. They were rare, but not unheard of for you. The first being a spiral from stage fright when you were a child. The latest was after an intense argument with your eldest brother over a year ago.
“What caused this?” Maecy asked, holding your chin as she dabbed away stray tears from your face.
“Ser Lyonel was just informing me that there is a rumor spreading of me being with child.” You answered, tone even.
“What?” Maecy said, pulling back and looking at Lyonel for confirmation.
“I heard it in your tent,” he said, hands up and palms forward in a sign of surrender.
“If it’s already made it this far,” Ruban started,
“Then there’s no way of telling when or where it started,” you finished with a sigh.
“I should inform my father,” you said somberly, “If he is not already aware.”
“Are you feeling up to that?” Ser Ash asked,
“Does it matter?” you asked, “We both know it will be worse in the morning.”
“Right,” Ser Ash nodded, “I will escort you to the donjon, then your bedchambers. You should not push yourself any further tonight, my Lady.”
“Alright,” you nodded, already feeling fatigued. Maecy and Ruben immediately fell in line behind Ser Ash. You paused in front of Lyonel. His lower lip was sandwiched between his teeth as if he were struggling to find words. His hesitancy a complete opposition to his confident and unabashed nature.
“My Lady, I am-”
“You are forgiven,” you interrupted.
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“It was not your intention to upset me. Was it?” you asked.
“No, it was not, still most would want me to grovel for forgiveness.” He replied, his confidence seeping back into his words. His tone was lighter, close to a tease.
“Do you wish to grovel?” you replied back lightly, your tone now bordering on a tease as well.
“Perhaps,” he said, failing to hide his smile, “It would help with the guilt.”
You jokily hummed for a moment before replying.
“I doubt I have enough time for an exchange of that nature. If you are amenable, perhaps you could have something prepared for our next meeting.” You offered.
“I look forward to it, my Lady,” he replied, “I hope the rest of your evening goes smoothly as able.”
“Thank you, Ser,” you nodded with a smile, before joining in line with Maecy as Ruban and Ser Ash guided you to the outer edge of the cluster of tents towards the castle. You took a deep breath as your heartbeat began to regulate. Before your thoughts could wander, Maecy was elbowing you softly with a teasing grin. You responded with an affectionate eyeroll as you linked arms. Once you had made it back into the walls of the castle, a knight flagged down Ser Ash and informed him of the request of your summons in your father’s study. You were unsure if it was the fatigue from your episode or the fact that you were surrounded by those who cared for you, but for once, you weren’t scared of being the scapegoat in the meeting with your family.
Ser Ash and Ruben joined the other knights at the door of the study while you and Maecy pressed on into the room. You were greeted by the sight of your father at his desk, Sowyer and Elyana sat on a daybed, and Stefon, who was leaning against the wall next to the fire. The low light of the fireplace mimicked the intensity surrounding the room. Maecy’s hand found yours with a firm squeeze before you could even register your own anxiety.
“Are you aware of the rumor going around about you?” Your father asked, point blank.
Before you could respond, Elyana butted in.
“Maecy should not be here, should she? This is a family matter.” She said, Sowyer immediately hummed in agreement.
“Really? You wish to speak of family?” Maecy started before stopping as you squeezed her hand,
“Maecy, it’s okay, really.” You interrupt her, not wanting her to catch any strays of whatever in the seven hells was heading your way. You nodded encouragingly as she paused to look at you.
“I’ll be right outside,” she said low so only you could hear, before reluctantly releasing your hand.
“I’ll ask again, have you heard the rumor?” your father probed,
“I have,” you nodded, “Just before turning in for the night, I was informed and came straight here.”
“Is there any merit to this conjecture?” he asked.
“No,” you answered, shocked by his questioning, “I am under near constant supervision and have never left the grounds without an escort. When would I have had an opportunity to be with anyone?”
“And you have no idea where this rumor originated from?” he pressed.
“No, father.” You answer.
“Does it really matter? Her worth to our family is pitiful.” Stefon stated. While his statement stung, it also made you pause. For as long as you could remember, he had never missed an opportunity to find fault in you and rake you over the coals. His attempt at diverting the topic made everything click into place.
“You, you didn’t,” you said, staring at him in shock,
“I have no idea what you are on about,” he scoffed,
“Why would you start such a rumor?” you asked, failing to hide the emotion in your voice. You waited in a pregnant pause, your eyes locked on to each other before he glanced away and responded.
“You don’t deserve Lord Baratheon’s attention, let alone to distract him from Elyana’s advances.” He confessed, staring you down with revulsion you were well acquainted with.
“You fool,” your father yelled, throwing his chalice at Stefon’s head, dousing him in the remaining wine; the splatter caused the flames of the fire to spark upward, “If this rumor spreads, we will have no leverage in marrying her off. There are ten noble families here for the tourney; they stretch from all corners of Westeros. This rumor not only burns the bridges with them, but the entire fucking continent.”
“Regardless of how we have gotten to this point, her gallivanting around the grounds surely has not helped with her reputation.” Elyana cut in as your father lowered himself back into his chair, “I think it is only right for her to stay within the castle walls until the end of the tourney. If we act quickly, we could secure her a match before the rumor has time to spread to the rest of the noble houses not in attendance.”
“But-” you attempt to start before your father cuts you off,
“I think you have done enough for the day. Return to your quarters before you can cause any more problems.” He stated.
“Yes, Father,” you replied, not sparing any of your family a single glance before you turned on your heels and exited your father’s study.
“What happened?” Maecy asked, following behind you as you did not break stride on your way back to your chambers.
“It was Stefon,” you quipped, cursing the tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.
“What?!” she exclaimed, now in line with you. Despite your blurred vision, you knew Ser Ash and Ruben were not far behind from the clinking of their armor.
“I-I don’t know,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I have been ordered to stay within the walls of the castle until the tourney is completed.”
“You're being punished for something your eldest brother did?” she asked at a loss.
“Apparently,” you replied, slowing down as you turned into the hall containing your chambers. You took a deep breath, stopping just short of your door as you wiped your face of tears.
“Oh, sweetling,” she sighed, reverting to the endearment she used most in your childhood. She pulled you into a hug, soothingly rubbing up and down on your back, only pulling back when your breath once again came back to a normal pace.
“Would you like me to stay for the night?” she asked, arms still wrapped around you.
“I don’t want to impose.” You replied hesitantly, still trying to wrap your head around how the evening had soured so quickly.
“You have never, and will never be imposing,” she scoffed,
“I wouldn’t mind the company then,” you replied softly. She nodded with a smile before looking past you.
“Nyra or I will come fetch you in the morning,” Ruban said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he turned and gave your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
“Ser Ash,” he respectfully nodded at the older knight before making his leave down the corridor.
“Rest now, princess,” Ser Ash ordered softly, before opening the door of your chambers for you.
“I will, Ser,” you responded with a tired smile, before following Maecy into your chambers. The familiar sound of your door sliding shut and the creak of his armor as he stood guard comforted you with the knowledge that you were safe.
“My Lady-Oh,” Emilla cut herself off at the sight of Maecy.
“Emilla, if able, would you be able to draw a bath for my cousin and launder her clothing?” you asked,
“Of course, my Lady,” she nodded, “Would you like aid in undressing now or-”
“I’ll wait until she is done, thank you, Emilla,” you replied lightly, taking a seat at the foot of your bed as Emilla set off to fill the tub.
“Is this your way of saying I smell?” Maecy teased,
“Well, I fear it would be a lateral move to sleep in the stables, as next to you.” You joked back, causing her to smile.
“I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” She agreed with a laugh, “It’s been ages since I was able to bathe anywhere outside of a stream. Warm water is a luxury.”
“I’ll never forget how shocked you were when you found out there are no options but a stream while on the road.” She reminisced,
“Maecy, I was only eight.” You sighed,
“You were old enough to know better, though I will admit you did take after your mother well. In a few short days, you had fully adapted to life on the road.” She smiled, “It was a shame that your father forbade any travel after you first flowering.”
“I do miss it,” you agreed as Emilla filled your tub, “It was difficult to return, there was so much to learn and experience outside of these walls.”
“There still is,” Maecy affirmed, “Exploring is in your blood from both sides of your kin. It is cruel of your father to cage you.”
“Would you like any specific scents, my Lady?” Emilla asked Maecy.
“Whatever her ladyship’s favorite is,” she answered, nodding at you.
“Right,” Emilla nodded, sprinkling Epsom salt, oil of peonies, and some dried petals, “Would you like assistance?”
“I’ll manage, thank you,” Maecy answered, stepping around the folded partition that separated your bath from the rest of the room. Emilla helped you undress and collected your and Maecy’s clothing to be laundered while you slipped into a fresh pair of small cloths and an opaque slip. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of Maecy’s over exaggerated sigh as she slipped into the bath.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight, my Lady?” she asked you,
“No, I will be taking my breakfast up here. Please make sure there is enough for Maecy as well.” You answered, Emilla parted with a smile and a curtsy.
“You know this may be a blessing in disguise,” Maecy said after a moment, making sure you both were alone as one can be in your castle.
“How so?” you asked, once again taking a seat at the foot of your bed.
“If your maidenhood has been compromised and your ability to marry for alliance is gone, there is no reason to keep you from traveling with our house.” She expanded, the water shifting around her as she began to cleanse her body.
“I,” you paused, letting the idea sink in, “you’re right,”
“Of course, it would ultimately be up to you, but you will always have a place in our caravan.” Maecy added, “I wish for you to do whatever makes you happiest.”
“I suppose that would be anywhere, but here.” You answered candidly, “But if Stefon has fully soured my stock, then I doubt my father would object to it.”
“Even if he does, it wouldn’t be hard to steal you away,” She commented, “I doubt they’d go after you.”
“You’re probably right,” you agreed, “There is no need to waste the resources of tracking me down if I no longer have use to my father.”
“Is there a contingency plan?” Maecy asked,
“They wish to marry me off as soon as possible, to hopefully outrun the rumor,” you explained.
“That’s asinine,” she scoffed, “Maybe if Elyana hadn’t reached out to families from all over Westeros, it’d be plausible. But for a wedding of this nature, the nuptials and negotiations can take many moons. It also thwarts their whole plan of marrying Elyana off if you must be wed first.”
“Even if they can beat the rumor, it’d most likely be at a deficit." You added, mind still plagued by Stefon’s confession.
“I just don’t understand why he hates me.” You sighed, “I cannot remember an incident; he’s been treated this way for as long as I can remember.”
You heard the water once again shift as Maecy exited the tub and began to dry.
“I just wish I knew what it was, so at least I would have a shot at fixing it.” You added,
“Love, I can assure you that his actions are in no reflection of you.” Maecy comforted, rounding the corner of the partition, now dressed in a fresh slip.
“It never felt like my place to tell you, but with his recent actions, I no longer have any apprehension,” She said, taking your hand and sitting beside you. “He was quite close to your mother when he was still a boy. When she passed away months after your birth from an unknown illness, it must have altered his reality. A once sweet boy flipped into who he is now. I am unsure if he blames you or if you were simply the easiest target for his rage, but I know for certain there is nothing you directly did to invite this kind of treatment.”
“I suppose that makes sense, I just, I don’t know how you could treat anyone, especially kin that way.” You sighed,
“That is because you are nothing like your kin.” Maecy comforted, “You are kind and empathic beyond most who were raised in a position of power. It still shocks me that you have no memories of your mother when you exude so much of her character.”
“Really?” you asked,
“Yes, you are even as noble as she was when it comes to serving your house.” She expanded with a soft smile, “When the sea serpents offered our house protection within the western coast of Westeros in exchange for a wife, your father chose her. She was completely within her rights to reject the offer, but she bravely took on the responsibility, knowing it would protect those she loved most.”
“She did?” you asked softly,
“Yes, dear,” Maecy smiled at you, “She was only able to take her fiddle and Ser Ash for insurance of her health and well being within these walls. I believe it was her own fruition to assign Ser Ash to you before she passed, knowing how it felt to be the only warmth surrounded by those cold-blooded creatures that dwell in the dark and lie in wait. If she were alive today, I know she would simply adore you.”
You took a deep breath as you felt the prick of tears for the third time today.
“Oh, love,” Maecy comforted as she pulled you in for a hug. Thankfully, this time you were able to blink the tears away.
“I think it’s time for you to rest, you had an especially eventful day, and we have yet to know what tomorrow will bring,” Maecy said. You nodded, not trusting your voice as you both got situated in your large bed. Sleep took you the second your head touched your pillow.
The morning greets you surprisingly well, to the point where you almost find it suspicious. You broke fast with Maecy and walked her out to the edge of the drawbridge, where Nyra, the most sought-after voice in Westeros (and another one of Maecy’s paramours), was waiting to walk Maecy back to their tent. You briefly caught up with her before she and Maecy needed to take their leave to prepare for a performance this afternoon.
You reluctantly returned to the castle and made your way up to the library to try to find anything that could distract you from your containment. Stefon’s two children were there to greet you as their governess, the same one who had tutored you, was attempting to keep their attention through a lesson of High Valyrian. They both greeted you politely; thankfully, both took after their mother for now. Feeling inspired by their lesson, you selected one of the few and most expensive books in your family’s collection, written in High Valyrian. You settled in the window seat of a turret and cracked open the tome. You were barely through the preface when a knock sounded at the door of the library.
Your eyes widened as you took in Lyonel Baratheon standing in the doorway.
To say he looked out of place was an understatement. His outfit contrasts with the deep indigo and lilac embellishments around the library. He was dressed in black boots and trousers with a golden waistcoat over a smooth, silk-like black button-down. His hair was curlier than it had been yesterday after being reduced to waves from the constant putting on and taking off of his helmet. Before you could process the juxtaposition any further, your eyes were locked on the deep bruise on his left cheek. A bruise you had given in fleeting rage.
“My Lady,” he greeted with a smile, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to the present.
“Ser,” you responded,
“I would like to chat,” he stated, “If we could have the room,” he asked glancing at your governess.
“Mertha, would you be able to take leave with the boys, perhaps to lunch?” you asked. Both your nephews cheered, while Mertha spared you a sideways glance.
“Or you could play a game?” you offered, immediately catching the young boys’ attention.
“What game?” Asten, the older of the two, asked.
“When I was around your age, my siblings and I would see whoever could speak in High Valyrian the longest.” You explained, “If I’m not mistaken, the winner would get an extra serving of dessert?”
“That’s right,” Mertha said, “although I doubt either of you could outlast her ladyship,”
“I can last longer than Asten,” Barden, the younger of the two, declared,
“Can not,” Asten argued.
You bit back a grin as they took the bait.
“Well, let’s see, starting now, whoever out of the three of us can last the longest will get an extra portion of dessert. Understood?”
“Yes,” Both boys answered in High Valyrian.
“Let us give your aunt some privacy,” Mertha ordered, collecting the slate boards they had been writing on as each boy gathered their books. Lyonel stood to the side as the boys immediately started to antagonize each other in HV, running out of the room.
“The door stays open,” Mertha quipped, eyeing Lyonel with a firm look before she turned and followed at a brisk pace after the boys.
“She’s delightful,” Lyonel commented as he walked deeper into the room.
“To be fair, she was my etiquette teacher.” You replied, “She’s been the governess for our family since my sister started her schooling. Although I think she may request an early retirement once Stefon’s children hit puberty.”
“Do you often trick children into learning?” he asked,
“Only when I can make it seem like their idea, or if Mertha looks especially rung out.” You replied lightly.
“I suppose if I were in charge of your brother’s offspring, I’d need a break too.” He mused.
“Is there a reason I’ve been graced with your presence, or did you come just to observe my nephew’s academic endeavors?” you asked,
“I have an ordinance with your father, but I wished to speak with you first.” He responded, “May I?” he asked, nodding at the cushioned seat on the opposite side of the half circle of the seating built into the turret.
“Yes,” you nodded, sitting up from your lounged position so your feet dangled above the floor and your back was pressed back against the window. The light tone in the room shifted to something serious.
“Ruben informed me that it was your eldest brother who started the rumor in the hope that tarnishing your name would draw more suitors, particularly me, to shift their focus.” Lyonel started, “This, however, has drawn negative attention towards your sister as well.”
“It has?” you asked,
“Yes, this morning the gossip has diverted from you to question your sister’s virtue. It has also brought into question the hold your father has over his house, let alone his ability to serve as an ally.” Lyonel summarized.
“It has?” you asked in shock, your posture becoming rigid.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He nodded with an empathetic tone, “All of this is to say is that I have an offer he would be a fool not to take.”
“What kind of offer?” you asked,
“Outside of the Lannister, who now have no interest in merging with your kin, my house has the largest land holdings, wealth, and power out of the remaining houses in attendance.” He started, pausing to take a breath, “I would like to ask him for permission to formally court you.”
“What,” your heart stuttered, “Why would you-”
“I’m aware we have only made acquaintance less than a week ago, but in that time you have shown yourself to have the character of someone I was not aware I was looking for. You have been faithful to your house beyond doubt, you are able to keep up with my spirit, and you are able to handle situations diplomatically with an aura of calmness I'll never be able to possess.” He confessed,
“You also aren’t exactly hard to look at,” he tagged on with a grin as you processed all of what he just said.
“I slapped you,” you blurted out, still trying to comprehend his offer.
“I believed I more than deserved that,” he responded with a laugh, “It only adds to your character that you are not afraid to put me in my place when I am out of line.”
“You're insane,” you replied at a loss, not able to see the situation with his vision.
“Perhaps,” he nodded, “But you are also the first person I have been compelled to ask for their hand.”
“You seriously want to court me?” you asked,
“Deadly serious, I have already sent word of my intentions to my father.” He replied.
“We barely know each other.” You said, still at a loss.
“I do believe that is the purpose of courtship, my Lady,” he replied, grin widening.
“And you have not yet asked my father?” you clarified,
“No, I want it to be your decision if we are to enter into courtship and if we are to wed afterwards.” He said in an even tone, “My ordinance with your father is not until midday. I will leave you with your thoughts. Please alert me to your decision as soon as it is made.”
Nothing had ever been your decision before. Despite your apprehension, you knew well that this was the best option, not only for you, but for your entire house. If you wished to see your family survive the limelight of this scandal, your decision was already made. But, despite your reasoning, there was still an overwhelming part of you craving the anonymity of being a beating drum. The only attention you garnered would be earned through your talent and not by default of your family name. You were at a loss of your heart and mind.
A/N: As always, thank you for taking the time to read 🫶 Hoping to update soon 💛
A/N: Sorry for another minihiatus. With the combo of being bipolar & getting my period (dysphoria central), I haven't really been feeling myself lately. Still very involved with this series and will be working on my one-shot requests for my "Oops All AU" event (I'll make a separate post for that). Very excited for you to read this update tho; I also have been loving writing Lyonel and the Reader flirting lol. Enjoy ^_^
CW: Panic Attack, Family still suxs, Maecy's MVP of this chapter, A lot of crying (but it's valid), Reader is really in her feels, Mention of dead mother, Lyonel is low-key already whipped
WC: 4,404
Everything was static.
You could only hear the pounding of your heart.
You felt like you were drowning.
No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t catch your breath.
Suddenly, Maecy’s face crowded your vision. Her cold hands cupped your face, like a flicker of a lighthouse in the distance. You could see her mouth moving, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She removed one of her hands to grip yours as she held the back of your hand to her chest. You copied her chest, timing your breaths with hers as you began to calm down; land was in sight.
“There you are,” she said lightly, “That’s it, you’re doing so well, love.”
You nodded mutely, taking another deep breath; the thundering in your ears started to subside. Ruben was to your left; you could feel his warm palm through the cloth of the back of your dress as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.
“Here,” he said, pressing his canteen to your lips once your breathing had regulated. You took a deep sip of water as you squeezed Maecy’s hand and let go. Suddenly, the rest of your surroundings came back to you all at once. The loud music continued; you could feel the beat of the drums through the canvas of the tent behind you. The cold air bit at your hot skin, causing you to shiver. And at some point, Ser Ash had arrived. He stood between you and Lyonel; his hand cupping Lyonel’s shoulder to keep him at arm’s length.
“I didn’t mean to cause any harm,” he argued, but didn’t fight against Ser Ash.
“Regardless, you’ve caused her ladyship to have a conniption,” Ser Ash replied firmly.
“I’m fine,” you called out after taking one last deep breath. Ruban gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze before he and Maecy helped you up. You brushed your skirt down to make it sit properly. Despite feeling better, your face felt hot from shame. This was the first time in ages that you’ve had an episode. They were rare, but not unheard of for you. The first being a spiral from stage fright when you were a child. The latest was after an intense argument with your eldest brother over a year ago.
“What caused this?” Maecy asked, holding your chin as she dabbed away stray tears from your face.
“Ser Lyonel was just informing me that there is a rumor spreading of me being with child.” You answered, tone even.
“What?” Maecy said, pulling back and looking at Lyonel for confirmation.
“I heard it in your tent,” he said, hands up and palms forward in a sign of surrender.
“If it’s already made it this far,” Ruban started,
“Then there’s no way of telling when or where it started,” you finished with a sigh.
“I should inform my father,” you said somberly, “If he is not already aware.”
“Are you feeling up to that?” Ser Ash asked,
“Does it matter?” you asked, “We both know it will be worse in the morning.”
“Right,” Ser Ash nodded, “I will escort you to the donjon, then your bedchambers. You should not push yourself any further tonight, my Lady.”
“Alright,” you nodded, already feeling fatigued. Maecy and Ruben immediately fell in line behind Ser Ash. You paused in front of Lyonel. His lower lip was sandwiched between his teeth as if he were struggling to find words. His hesitancy a complete opposition to his confident and unabashed nature.
“My Lady, I am-”
“You are forgiven,” you interrupted.
“Really?” he asked, surprised.
“It was not your intention to upset me. Was it?” you asked.
“No, it was not, still most would want me to grovel for forgiveness.” He replied, his confidence seeping back into his words. His tone was lighter, close to a tease.
“Do you wish to grovel?” you replied back lightly, your tone now bordering on a tease as well.
“Perhaps,” he said, failing to hide his smile, “It would help with the guilt.”
You jokily hummed for a moment before replying.
“I doubt I have enough time for an exchange of that nature. If you are amenable, perhaps you could have something prepared for our next meeting.” You offered.
“I look forward to it, my Lady,” he replied, “I hope the rest of your evening goes smoothly as able.”
“Thank you, Ser,” you nodded with a smile, before joining in line with Maecy as Ruban and Ser Ash guided you to the outer edge of the cluster of tents towards the castle. You took a deep breath as your heartbeat began to regulate. Before your thoughts could wander, Maecy was elbowing you softly with a teasing grin. You responded with an affectionate eyeroll as you linked arms. Once you had made it back into the walls of the castle, a knight flagged down Ser Ash and informed him of the request of your summons in your father’s study. You were unsure if it was the fatigue from your episode or the fact that you were surrounded by those who cared for you, but for once, you weren’t scared of being the scapegoat in the meeting with your family.
Ser Ash and Ruben joined the other knights at the door of the study while you and Maecy pressed on into the room. You were greeted by the sight of your father at his desk, Sowyer and Elyana sat on a daybed, and Stefon, who was leaning against the wall next to the fire. The low light of the fireplace mimicked the intensity surrounding the room. Maecy’s hand found yours with a firm squeeze before you could even register your own anxiety.
“Are you aware of the rumor going around about you?” Your father asked, point blank.
Before you could respond, Elyana butted in.
“Maecy should not be here, should she? This is a family matter.” She said, Sowyer immediately hummed in agreement.
“Really? You wish to speak of family?” Maecy started before stopping as you squeezed her hand,
“Maecy, it’s okay, really.” You interrupt her, not wanting her to catch any strays of whatever in the seven hells was heading your way. You nodded encouragingly as she paused to look at you.
“I’ll be right outside,” she said low so only you could hear, before reluctantly releasing your hand.
“I’ll ask again, have you heard the rumor?” your father probed,
“I have,” you nodded, “Just before turning in for the night, I was informed and came straight here.”
“Is there any merit to this conjecture?” he asked.
“No,” you answered, shocked by his questioning, “I am under near constant supervision and have never left the grounds without an escort. When would I have had an opportunity to be with anyone?”
“And you have no idea where this rumor originated from?” he pressed.
“No, father.” You answer.
“Does it really matter? Her worth to our family is pitiful.” Stefon stated. While his statement stung, it also made you pause. For as long as you could remember, he had never missed an opportunity to find fault in you and rake you over the coals. His attempt at diverting the topic made everything click into place.
“You, you didn’t,” you said, staring at him in shock,
“I have no idea what you are on about,” he scoffed,
“Why would you start such a rumor?” you asked, failing to hide the emotion in your voice. You waited in a pregnant pause, your eyes locked on to each other before he glanced away and responded.
“You don’t deserve Lord Baratheon’s attention, let alone to distract him from Elyana’s advances.” He confessed, staring you down with revulsion you were well acquainted with.
“You fool,” your father yelled, throwing his chalice at Stefon’s head, dousing him in the remaining wine; the splatter caused the flames of the fire to spark upward, “If this rumor spreads, we will have no leverage in marrying her off. There are ten noble families here for the tourney; they stretch from all corners of Westeros. This rumor not only burns the bridges with them, but the entire fucking continent.”
“Regardless of how we have gotten to this point, her gallivanting around the grounds surely has not helped with her reputation.” Elyana cut in as your father lowered himself back into his chair, “I think it is only right for her to stay within the castle walls until the end of the tourney. If we act quickly, we could secure her a match before the rumor has time to spread to the rest of the noble houses not in attendance.”
“But-” you attempt to start before your father cuts you off,
“I think you have done enough for the day. Return to your quarters before you can cause any more problems.” He stated.
“Yes, Father,” you replied, not sparing any of your family a single glance before you turned on your heels and exited your father’s study.
“What happened?” Maecy asked, following behind you as you did not break stride on your way back to your chambers.
“It was Stefon,” you quipped, cursing the tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.
“What?!” she exclaimed, now in line with you. Despite your blurred vision, you knew Ser Ash and Ruben were not far behind from the clinking of their armor.
“I-I don’t know,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I have been ordered to stay within the walls of the castle until the tourney is completed.”
“You're being punished for something your eldest brother did?” she asked at a loss.
“Apparently,” you replied, slowing down as you turned into the hall containing your chambers. You took a deep breath, stopping just short of your door as you wiped your face of tears.
“Oh, sweetling,” she sighed, reverting to the endearment she used most in your childhood. She pulled you into a hug, soothingly rubbing up and down on your back, only pulling back when your breath once again came back to a normal pace.
“Would you like me to stay for the night?” she asked, arms still wrapped around you.
“I don’t want to impose.” You replied hesitantly, still trying to wrap your head around how the evening had soured so quickly.
“You have never, and will never be imposing,” she scoffed,
“I wouldn’t mind the company then,” you replied softly. She nodded with a smile before looking past you.
“Nyra or I will come fetch you in the morning,” Ruban said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he turned and gave your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
“Ser Ash,” he respectfully nodded at the older knight before making his leave down the corridor.
“Rest now, princess,” Ser Ash ordered softly, before opening the door of your chambers for you.
“I will, Ser,” you responded with a tired smile, before following Maecy into your chambers. The familiar sound of your door sliding shut and the creak of his armor as he stood guard comforted you with the knowledge that you were safe.
“My Lady-Oh,” Emilla cut herself off at the sight of Maecy.
“Emilla, if able, would you be able to draw a bath for my cousin and launder her clothing?” you asked,
“Of course, my Lady,” she nodded, “Would you like aid in undressing now or-”
“I’ll wait until she is done, thank you, Emilla,” you replied lightly, taking a seat at the foot of your bed as Emilla set off to fill the tub.
“Is this your way of saying I smell?” Maecy teased,
“Well, I fear it would be a lateral move to sleep in the stables, as next to you.” You joked back, causing her to smile.
“I suppose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” She agreed with a laugh, “It’s been ages since I was able to bathe anywhere outside of a stream. Warm water is a luxury.”
“I’ll never forget how shocked you were when you found out there are no options but a stream while on the road.” She reminisced,
“Maecy, I was only eight.” You sighed,
“You were old enough to know better, though I will admit you did take after your mother well. In a few short days, you had fully adapted to life on the road.” She smiled, “It was a shame that your father forbade any travel after you first flowering.”
“I do miss it,” you agreed as Emilla filled your tub, “It was difficult to return, there was so much to learn and experience outside of these walls.”
“There still is,” Maecy affirmed, “Exploring is in your blood from both sides of your kin. It is cruel of your father to cage you.”
“Would you like any specific scents, my Lady?” Emilla asked Maecy.
“Whatever her ladyship’s favorite is,” she answered, nodding at you.
“Right,” Emilla nodded, sprinkling Epsom salt, oil of peonies, and some dried petals, “Would you like assistance?”
“I’ll manage, thank you,” Maecy answered, stepping around the folded partition that separated your bath from the rest of the room. Emilla helped you undress and collected your and Maecy’s clothing to be laundered while you slipped into a fresh pair of small cloths and an opaque slip. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of Maecy’s over exaggerated sigh as she slipped into the bath.
“Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight, my Lady?” she asked you,
“No, I will be taking my breakfast up here. Please make sure there is enough for Maecy as well.” You answered, Emilla parted with a smile and a curtsy.
“You know this may be a blessing in disguise,” Maecy said after a moment, making sure you both were alone as one can be in your castle.
“How so?” you asked, once again taking a seat at the foot of your bed.
“If your maidenhood has been compromised and your ability to marry for alliance is gone, there is no reason to keep you from traveling with our house.” She expanded, the water shifting around her as she began to cleanse her body.
“I,” you paused, letting the idea sink in, “you’re right,”
“Of course, it would ultimately be up to you, but you will always have a place in our caravan.” Maecy added, “I wish for you to do whatever makes you happiest.”
“I suppose that would be anywhere, but here.” You answered candidly, “But if Stefon has fully soured my stock, then I doubt my father would object to it.”
“Even if he does, it wouldn’t be hard to steal you away,” She commented, “I doubt they’d go after you.”
“You’re probably right,” you agreed, “There is no need to waste the resources of tracking me down if I no longer have use to my father.”
“Is there a contingency plan?” Maecy asked,
“They wish to marry me off as soon as possible, to hopefully outrun the rumor,” you explained.
“That’s asinine,” she scoffed, “Maybe if Elyana hadn’t reached out to families from all over Westeros, it’d be plausible. But for a wedding of this nature, the nuptials and negotiations can take many moons. It also thwarts their whole plan of marrying Elyana off if you must be wed first.”
“Even if they can beat the rumor, it’d most likely be at a deficit." You added, mind still plagued by Stefon’s confession.
“I just don’t understand why he hates me.” You sighed, “I cannot remember an incident; he’s been treated this way for as long as I can remember.”
You heard the water once again shift as Maecy exited the tub and began to dry.
“I just wish I knew what it was, so at least I would have a shot at fixing it.” You added,
“Love, I can assure you that his actions are in no reflection of you.” Maecy comforted, rounding the corner of the partition, now dressed in a fresh slip.
“It never felt like my place to tell you, but with his recent actions, I no longer have any apprehension,” She said, taking your hand and sitting beside you. “He was quite close to your mother when he was still a boy. When she passed away months after your birth from an unknown illness, it must have altered his reality. A once sweet boy flipped into who he is now. I am unsure if he blames you or if you were simply the easiest target for his rage, but I know for certain there is nothing you directly did to invite this kind of treatment.”
“I suppose that makes sense, I just, I don’t know how you could treat anyone, especially kin that way.” You sighed,
“That is because you are nothing like your kin.” Maecy comforted, “You are kind and empathic beyond most who were raised in a position of power. It still shocks me that you have no memories of your mother when you exude so much of her character.”
“Really?” you asked,
“Yes, you are even as noble as she was when it comes to serving your house.” She expanded with a soft smile, “When the sea serpents offered our house protection within the western coast of Westeros in exchange for a wife, your father chose her. She was completely within her rights to reject the offer, but she bravely took on the responsibility, knowing it would protect those she loved most.”
“She did?” you asked softly,
“Yes, dear,” Maecy smiled at you, “She was only able to take her fiddle and Ser Ash for insurance of her health and well being within these walls. I believe it was her own fruition to assign Ser Ash to you before she passed, knowing how it felt to be the only warmth surrounded by those cold-blooded creatures that dwell in the dark and lie in wait. If she were alive today, I know she would simply adore you.”
You took a deep breath as you felt the prick of tears for the third time today.
“Oh, love,” Maecy comforted as she pulled you in for a hug. Thankfully, this time you were able to blink the tears away.
“I think it’s time for you to rest, you had an especially eventful day, and we have yet to know what tomorrow will bring,” Maecy said. You nodded, not trusting your voice as you both got situated in your large bed. Sleep took you the second your head touched your pillow.
The morning greets you surprisingly well, to the point where you almost find it suspicious. You broke fast with Maecy and walked her out to the edge of the drawbridge, where Nyra, the most sought-after voice in Westeros (and another one of Maecy’s paramours), was waiting to walk Maecy back to their tent. You briefly caught up with her before she and Maecy needed to take their leave to prepare for a performance this afternoon.
You reluctantly returned to the castle and made your way up to the library to try to find anything that could distract you from your containment. Stefon’s two children were there to greet you as their governess, the same one who had tutored you, was attempting to keep their attention through a lesson of High Valyrian. They both greeted you politely; thankfully, both took after their mother for now. Feeling inspired by their lesson, you selected one of the few and most expensive books in your family’s collection, written in High Valyrian. You settled in the window seat of a turret and cracked open the tome. You were barely through the preface when a knock sounded at the door of the library.
Your eyes widened as you took in Lyonel Baratheon standing in the doorway.
To say he looked out of place was an understatement. His outfit contrasts with the deep indigo and lilac embellishments around the library. He was dressed in black boots and trousers with a golden waistcoat over a smooth, silk-like black button-down. His hair was curlier than it had been yesterday after being reduced to waves from the constant putting on and taking off of his helmet. Before you could process the juxtaposition any further, your eyes were locked on the deep bruise on his left cheek. A bruise you had given in fleeting rage.
“My Lady,” he greeted with a smile, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to the present.
“Ser,” you responded,
“I would like to chat,” he stated, “If we could have the room,” he asked glancing at your governess.
“Mertha, would you be able to take leave with the boys, perhaps to lunch?” you asked. Both your nephews cheered, while Mertha spared you a sideways glance.
“Or you could play a game?” you offered, immediately catching the young boys’ attention.
“What game?” Asten, the older of the two, asked.
“When I was around your age, my siblings and I would see whoever could speak in High Valyrian the longest.” You explained, “If I’m not mistaken, the winner would get an extra serving of dessert?”
“That’s right,” Mertha said, “although I doubt either of you could outlast her ladyship,”
“I can last longer than Asten,” Barden, the younger of the two, declared,
“Can not,” Asten argued.
You bit back a grin as they took the bait.
“Well, let’s see, starting now, whoever out of the three of us can last the longest will get an extra portion of dessert. Understood?”
“Yes,” Both boys answered in High Valyrian.
“Let us give your aunt some privacy,” Mertha ordered, collecting the slate boards they had been writing on as each boy gathered their books. Lyonel stood to the side as the boys immediately started to antagonize each other in HV, running out of the room.
“The door stays open,” Mertha quipped, eyeing Lyonel with a firm look before she turned and followed at a brisk pace after the boys.
“She’s delightful,” Lyonel commented as he walked deeper into the room.
“To be fair, she was my etiquette teacher.” You replied, “She’s been the governess for our family since my sister started her schooling. Although I think she may request an early retirement once Stefon’s children hit puberty.”
“Do you often trick children into learning?” he asked,
“Only when I can make it seem like their idea, or if Mertha looks especially rung out.” You replied lightly.
“I suppose if I were in charge of your brother’s offspring, I’d need a break too.” He mused.
“Is there a reason I’ve been graced with your presence, or did you come just to observe my nephew’s academic endeavors?” you asked,
“I have an ordinance with your father, but I wished to speak with you first.” He responded, “May I?” he asked, nodding at the cushioned seat on the opposite side of the half circle of the seating built into the turret.
“Yes,” you nodded, sitting up from your lounged position so your feet dangled above the floor and your back was pressed back against the window. The light tone in the room shifted to something serious.
“Ruben informed me that it was your eldest brother who started the rumor in the hope that tarnishing your name would draw more suitors, particularly me, to shift their focus.” Lyonel started, “This, however, has drawn negative attention towards your sister as well.”
“It has?” you asked,
“Yes, this morning the gossip has diverted from you to question your sister’s virtue. It has also brought into question the hold your father has over his house, let alone his ability to serve as an ally.” Lyonel summarized.
“It has?” you asked in shock, your posture becoming rigid.
“Unfortunately, yes.” He nodded with an empathetic tone, “All of this is to say is that I have an offer he would be a fool not to take.”
“What kind of offer?” you asked,
“Outside of the Lannister, who now have no interest in merging with your kin, my house has the largest land holdings, wealth, and power out of the remaining houses in attendance.” He started, pausing to take a breath, “I would like to ask him for permission to formally court you.”
“What,” your heart stuttered, “Why would you-”
“I’m aware we have only made acquaintance less than a week ago, but in that time you have shown yourself to have the character of someone I was not aware I was looking for. You have been faithful to your house beyond doubt, you are able to keep up with my spirit, and you are able to handle situations diplomatically with an aura of calmness I'll never be able to possess.” He confessed,
“You also aren’t exactly hard to look at,” he tagged on with a grin as you processed all of what he just said.
“I slapped you,” you blurted out, still trying to comprehend his offer.
“I believed I more than deserved that,” he responded with a laugh, “It only adds to your character that you are not afraid to put me in my place when I am out of line.”
“You're insane,” you replied at a loss, not able to see the situation with his vision.
“Perhaps,” he nodded, “But you are also the first person I have been compelled to ask for their hand.”
“You seriously want to court me?” you asked,
“Deadly serious, I have already sent word of my intentions to my father.” He replied.
“We barely know each other.” You said, still at a loss.
“I do believe that is the purpose of courtship, my Lady,” he replied, grin widening.
“And you have not yet asked my father?” you clarified,
“No, I want it to be your decision if we are to enter into courtship and if we are to wed afterwards.” He said in an even tone, “My ordinance with your father is not until midday. I will leave you with your thoughts. Please alert me to your decision as soon as it is made.”
Nothing had ever been your decision before. Despite your apprehension, you knew well that this was the best option, not only for you, but for your entire house. If you wished to see your family survive the limelight of this scandal, your decision was already made. But, despite your reasoning, there was still an overwhelming part of you craving the anonymity of being a beating drum. The only attention you garnered would be earned through your talent and not by default of your family name. You were at a loss of your heart and mind.
A/N: As always, thank you for taking the time to read 🫶 Hoping to update soon 💛
my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day
making friends via fandom is inherently hilarious because in many ways it's like a regular friendship and sometimes you'll share stuff that's going on in your lives and offer support and talk about food or pets or random cultural stuff because you live on opposite sides of the damn planet, but also some of your interactions are like "hello beloved friend whom I cherish deeply, I have brought you a deceptively platonic gift of lovingly crafted star wars porn"
Warnings: Smut, Sacrilegious, Oral (F & M Receiving), Corruption Kink, Coercion, Masturbation, Misuse of a Confessional, Power Imbalance, Age Gap, Inexperienced Reader, Virgin Reader
A/N: I think this is the most sacrilegious thing I've ever written. If you're not into this, please skip. I only felt chill writing this because of years of catholic school trauma lol.
WC: 1,743
Request by the lovely @nocturnalrorobin
It was a late rainy evening when you entered the church. Only a handful of parishioners were scattered amongst the pews, praying their penance. The quietness was unnerving, a direct juxtaposition of the lively masses held twice every Sunday. Although you supposed it was fitting for Silent Saturday, the altar was still stripped of all the normal floral embellishments. The large crucifix stood out against the far wall of the altar, lit with a spotlight after its unveiling during yesterday’s Good Friday Mass. You were relieved that they were holding confessions in the evening today, so that you could receive the body of Christ with a pure soul during Easter Mass tomorrow morning.
You cursed the squeak of your shoes as you made your way to the opposite side of the church, where soundproof confessionals were built into the wall. You could see that only one priest was receiving confessions tonight from the lone red light above the middle confessional. You hoped to God that it was not Father Baratheon. He made it feel like God was testing you in a way you could not cope with. You were ashamed of the lust you felt for the priest. A shame you could not share outside of confession, out of fear of being shunned by the only community you knew. A community that already interacted with you hesitantly because you had not wed or become engaged during college. For the better part of the last year, your romantic life has been under a microscope since you moved back after receiving your degree.
The small light above the door turned green as an older man, whom you recognized as an usher, stepped out. You shared a polite smile as you silently looked around to make sure no one else was in line. Over half the people praying had left as the service came to an end. Leaving only the usher, one of the parish’s nuns, and an older couple.
After finding no one else in line, you took a breath before opening the confessional door and closing it softly behind you. You hiked up your dress slightly and kneeled on the small free-standing kneeler positioned in front of a partition, hiding you away from the sight of the priest. Diagonal to you was a chair set up for those brave enough to look the priest in the eye when recounting their sins.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” a familiar voice rang out from the other side of the partition.
Fuck
You internally cursed as you blessed yourself in time with his prompt, adding profanity to your list of sins. You gulped, trying to control your nerves as you responded.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last confession, and these are my sins:” You paused to take a breath before getting into it.
“I have been disrespectful to my parents.” You started, he hummed lightly to prompt you to continue, “While I know their hearts are in the right place, we have been arguing about my future, and I have been unjustifiably short with them. I have used the Lord’s name in vain.” You continued to list, “I have been too focused on vanity and have been vain while using social media. I have lied to others when the truth was harder to tell. I have held grudges against those who have wronged me.” You paused again, taking a deep breath, “I have had impure thoughts and have fallen to lust.”
“How have you fallen to lust?” he prompted, causing you to pause. You have not had a priest prompt you for additional details since you were a child during your first confession. It was so off script that you found yourself answering without any further prompting, your face heating up from embarrassment.
“I have touched myself while thinking of someone who is above their own mortal vices.” You said, hot shame flaring at the back of your neck.
“How have you touched yourself?” he once again prompted,
“How?” you asked back, confused.
“Are you still pure? Or have you penetrated yourself?” he asked.
“I-” you paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I have never penetrated myself,”
He paused once again, humming in thought,
“Show me,” he prompted,
“S-sorry?” you asked,
“Show me so that you have remained pure, or I will not allow you to have the Catholic wedding your parents wish for you.”
“But-”
“You are a good girl, you must know that you will only be absolved if you bare your heart to God.” Father Baratheon said, leaving no room for argument.
“Okay,” you said, voice trembling.
“Stand and sit in the chair,” he prompted. You rose off the kneeler, impressions of the cushion pressed into your knees. You bit your lip nervously as you stepped around the partition and sat face-to-face with Father Baratheon. He was in his day-to-day black outfit, comprised of slacks and a long-sleeved dress shirt with his clerical collar. You couldn’t tell if his eyes were dark from lust or from the dim lighting of the confessional as he shamelessly looked you over. You sat in the plastic chair across from him as he rose, only to immediately kneel at your feet.
“Father,” you gasped, as he gently cupped each of your knees and pressed them apart,
“Shh,” he shushed you softly,
“Be a good lamb and stay quiet,” he husked, prompting you to sit up enough to bunch the skirt of your dress around your waist. He groaned at the sight of your white panties.
“Show me how you touch yourself,” he prompted,
“I-” Your argument dies in your throat as he smirked up at you,
“I think I deserve to see how you sin with me on your mind, don’t you?” he asked, your face enflamed. Slowly, you reach between your thighs as Father Baratheon's eyes lock in on yours. You swallowed as you spread your thighs a bit farther and began to slowly stroke your clit through your panties as your wetness seeped through the thin material above your core.
“Do you touch yourself clothed or bare?” he asked,
“Bare,” you choked as you pressed harder into your clit. He hummed as he gently wrapped his hands around either side of your underwear and slipped them off you. He slipped them into his pocket without looking away from your core.
“Do you always go right for your clit?” he asked,
“Mhm,” you hummed, speeding up your strokes as your wetness lubricates your fingers.
“Hmm, we can work on your technique later,” he said to himself, causing you to whine, “Are you always this wet for me?”
“Always, Father,” you nod, breath starting to stutter.
“And you can cum without any penetration?” he asked, hands resting on your inner thighs to keep them apart.
“Yes, Fathe-ngn,” You cut yourself off, getting close.
“Stop,” he ordered, his dominant hand wrapped around your wrist. You bit your lip to contain a whine as he gripped your thighs and pulled you forward until your cunt was directly in front of his face.
“If you want to cum, you will do so on my tongue from now on. Understood?” he asked, looking up at you.
“Yes, Father,” you agreed, body thrumming from your impending orgasm.
“Good, girl.” He praised, parting your lower lips. He kept them apart as he examined you.
“Your penance will be helping me release,” he said, looking up at you, “say your act of contrition.”
“O My God,” you started, whining as he licked up from your opening to your clit,
“Go on,” he encouraged, lightly licking your clit. You force a breath before continuing.
“I am heartily sorry for having offended-YOU” you gasped as he began to prod at your opening with his tongue, while he simultaneously began to play with your clit with his fingers.
“And I detest all of my sins because of your just punishment,” you panted, Lyonel, creating a rhythm between playing with your clit and thrusting his tongue in and out of you.
“But, but most of all because they offend you, my GOD-,” you groaned, and he thrusted deeper, tonguing at your tight walls, “Who are all good and deserving of all of my love.” You rushed out, “I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of SIN-” you cry out, cumming as he licked back against your front wall, while pinching your clit. He worked you through it, shuddering as he pulled his tongue out.
“Amen?” he prompted you to finish the prayer as he wiped your cum off his face with the back of his hand.
“Amen,” you panted.
“Go in peace,” he said, while blessing you with the sign of the cross.
“Thanks be to God,” you reply automatically, thighs shaking as you come down from your high.
“On your knees, sweetling,” he ordered, sitting back on his chair. You slid off the chair, falling to your knees in front of Father Baratheon as he undid the button and unzipped his slacks. Your eyes widened as he pulled out his member.
“Hold out your hand,” he told you, guiding it in front of his mouth so he could spit on it.
“Go on,” he encouraged you, “Earn your penance.”
Hesitantly, you grasped his member, causing him to hiss at the contact.
“That’s it,” he praised, wrapping his hand around yours and guiding you up and down his length.
“Try tasting me, little lamb,” he prompted you, moaning as you hesitantly licked the head of his cock.
“That’s it, good girl,” he groaned, speeding up your pace and encouraging you to swivel your wrist.
“I-” he paused with a moan, “I want you to swallow my cum. Stick out your tongue”
You immediately comply, opening your mouth wide, with your tongue sticking out.
“GOD,” he groaned at the sight, “such a good girl,”
He tightened your grip, only lasted two more pumps before cumming down your throat. He moaned, still guiding your fist up and down his length. You did your best to swallow until his cock hit your uvula, causing a coughing fit. He cupped your jaw gently as he slipped out. Stroking your cheek softly as you recovered.
“Good girl,” he praised again, you still kneeling between his thighs, “My perfect little lamb.”
I do my best to write for all gender readers and all sexualities. While this is an R18 blog, I do love writing a good asexual reader insert or just non-smut fics in general. I currently only write "x-reader" fics, but I am happy to include character x character if the reader is included. My only hard stops that I won't be writing are incest, proper BDSM (I'm not part of the community and don't want to misrepresent it), and fetishes not listed on my kink list.
Rule For Ask Requests:
Your Requests Should Have:
1.) Reader's Gender
2.) The vibe. Basically, whether or not it's smut (or fluff or angst)
3.) Any details of kinks or tropes you like :))
