Jacaerys The Wise

part time writer, full time jace simp and tommen defender 🦁 elliot grihault stan 🫶🏻

[targaryencore]

me writing this jacaerys x reader fic with a little hint of aemond angst and smuttyness, reader is the youngest daughter of viserys 🫠 and alicunt, would y’all read it? if so, smut or no smut ? 🫢 cus im just starting out but I think i could use the practice.

posting the first part soon

[ghostlybfgf]

thinking abt freaked out!lyonel baratheon and his equally freaked out!wife inviting poor sweet dunk to bed after a night of festivities and him being sooo shy but so turned on so he just lets them take care of him (yes i am pushing the bi lyonel agenda)

okay say no MORE— i haven’t written for him yet but i love lyonel already and i only picture him with a freaked out wife i mean come on.. it would be an honour indeed in this dunk sandwich 😤🥹💗

fire in my heart

summary: lord lyonel baratheon and his beloved wife become taken with the same night he'd met nights ago, offering him company in their friendship and their bed.

pairing: lyonel baratheon x wife!reader x ser duncan

word count: 6.2k

warnings: SMUT, threesome, lyonel and his wife are freaky asf, shy dunk, pinv, anal, mlm, bisexual love, both you and lyonel are switches because i said so, dunk gets taken care of..

a/n: this isn’t proofread.. so i apologise if there is anything off but it should be okay!! though i had so much fun writing this omg 💗

The clamor of the tourney lingered like a persistent headache, the cheers and clashes of the day giving way to the raucous feast in the Baratheon tent. You sat at a sturdy oaken table near the heart of it all, the crimson banners overhead swaying gently in the draft from the entrance flap. Your hands still trembled faintly from the close call in the lists—Lyonel's charger rearing just inches from disaster against that sly Reach knight. He'd claimed the victor's wreath, but the fear had etched itself into both your faces, a shared shadow beneath the forced merriment. Ale flowed freely, and you nursed a goblet of mulled wine, watching the swirl of dancers and drinkers with a detached eye, the music a distant thrum.

Lyonel, your husband, moved through the crowd like a storm in human form, his broad frame cutting paths among the lords and knights. His laughter boomed over the din, drawing eyes and slaps on the back, but you knew the edge of unease that mirrored your own. He'd been restless since unhorsing his final opponent, the splintered lance a stark reminder of how fragile glory could be. Now, he was hauling around a new acquaintance, a towering hedge knight who'd turned heads with his unyielding stand in the melee. Ser Duncan the Tall— Dunk he'd announced himself— towered over everyone, his simple tunic stretched taut across his massive chest, face flushed from the heat and perhaps the unexpected attention.

You were no quieter however. 

Gold silk a little crooked, cheeks warm from wine, your eyes bright with mischief as you observed from your seat, chin resting on your hand, as Lyonel clapped the giant on the shoulder and dragged him from group to group. "Back here, tower!" Dunk followed with awkward steps, his long legs navigating the press of bodies like a ship in shallow waters, nodding politely to introductions you couldn't quite hear over the pipes and shouts. There was something endearing in the knight's discomfort, his blue eyes darting as if seeking an escape, yet he endured it with quiet grace. And your husband, ever the generous host, seemed oblivious to the man's unease, his voice carrying snippets of praise for Dunk's prowess— "Fought like a bloody giant from the old tales!" —and proceeding to offer more drink.

Pity stirred in your chest for the poor soul being paraded about, but it warmed into amusement as you watched your husband in his element, the day's tensions easing through this boisterous camaraderie. Finally, after what felt like an age of mingling, Lyonel's gaze locked on you across the tent. A grin split his bearded face through the crowd to find yours, and he steered himself and Dunk directly toward your table, the giant trailing like a reluctant shadow. "And now," Lyonel announced as they approached, his arm slung around Dunk's waist in a possessive hold, "you must meet someone special."He pulled out a chair beside yours for the knight, plopping down on your other side with a satisfied huff.

Dunk lowered himself carefully onto the seat, the wood creaking under his weight, his cheeks reddening further as he met your eyes. Up close, he was even more imposing— scarred hands wrapped around his goblet, stubble shadowing a jaw that clenched with nerves. He was certainly an understated beauty to behold. "My lady," he said, voice low and earnest, dipping his head in a bow that nearly upset his drink. You smiled, offering your hand for a brief touch, feeling the calluses that spoke of hard roads and harder fights.

The three of you settled into talk then, the noise of the tent fading to a background roar as Lyonel poured fresh rounds, his enthusiasm undimmed. He regaled Dunk with tales of Storm's End's wild hunts and the tourney's finer points, drawing the knight out with questions about his travels. Dunk responded haltingly at first, flustered by the attention— stammering over a story of a river crossing gone awry, his ears turning pink when Lyonel laughed heartily and squeezed his knee under the table. You chimed in gently, asking about the hedge knight's life on the road, your presence a steady anchor that coaxed more from him; whispers of lonely inns and forgotten tourneys, his honor shining through the reticence with a humble smile.

As the goblets emptied and refilled, the ale's warmth seeped into your veins, loosening tongues and limbs alike. Lyonel's stories grew more animated, his gestures sweeping wide enough to nearly topple a candle, and you found yourself giggling at the exaggerated flair of his recounting a stag chase through thunderous storms. Dunk, too, began to thaw, his deep voice rumbling with tentative chuckles at first, then fuller laughs that shook his broad frame. He shared a mishap from a Dorne tourney— tripping over his own lance in the mud, only to win the favor of a merchant's daughter with his sheepish grin— and the three of you dissolved into mirth, your hand briefly touching his forearm in shared amusement, his respectful nod returning the gesture with a spark of ease.

The air between you tensed with subtle currents with Lyonel's hand brushing yours, then Dunk's arm as he gestured; the knight's gaze lingering on you both with growing warmth, his fluster softening into intrigued smiles. You felt a pang of sympathy for Lyonel too, now that the giant sat wedged between you, swapped in your chairs by being spun around by you, the poor man still catching his breath from the dragging about. But the shared glances spoke of mutual draw, the freaked-out remnants of the day dissolving into this intimate bubble at the table.

“This is him,” Lyonel said suddenly, pointing with his goblet at Dunk, who blinked in surprise, mid-sip. “The tall one I spoke of nights ago. Gods, I like him.”

You followed the gesture with a soft smile, your eyes meeting Dunk's shy ones across the table. Broad shoulders now slouched in soft lidded eyes. That gentle giant energy.

“Oh,” you said softly, teasing. “I like him too.”

Dunk's flush deepened, but he ducked his head with a loose grin, the alcohol granting him a rare playfulness. "High praise from the storm lord and his lady," he rumbled, raising his cup in a mock toast, his usual reserve cracking further as another round prompted tales of hedge knight woes— blistered feet and beggared purses— that had you all roaring with laughter again.

After a particularly boisterous exchange, Dunk shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. "If you'll excuse me a moment," he said politely, rising with care to avoid bumping the table. "The ale's taking its toll— I'll be back shortly." He nodded respectfully to you both, his steps steady but unhurried as he wove toward the tent's edge, disappearing into the shadows beyond the flap.

Lyonel's gaze followed him, a fond smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping low amid the din. "See? Told you he'd fit right in. That one's got heart—fought clean today, no dirty tricks like that Reach bastard." He took a swig, eyes gleaming. "And you, my darling? What do you make of our giant?"

You traced the rim of your goblet, warmth blooming in your chest from more than the drink. "He's... genuine. Shy, but strong in that quiet way. I like how he listens. Makes the whole tent feel smaller, warmer." Your hand found Lyonel's under the table, squeezing lightly, humming at the thought, your eyes shining under the deep yellow of the candles. "We could use more like him around."

Lyonel chuckled, pulling you nearer by the waist in agreement, breath at your shoulder. "Aye, we could. Imagine the hunts we'd have.. or the nights" His tone held promise, chuckling into your skin with a tempting kiss. The shared spark between you flaring as Dunk's absence stretched just long enough for the idea to settle, anticipation humming in the air.

"He’s sweet,” he murmured. “Very,” you whispered back, head curling into the warmth of his breath as you watched on, the tent still very much alive. “And strong.” “Very.” You shared a look then, him looking up to great you with that familiar feeling. Dangerous.

That moment hung between you, your fingers still intertwined beneath the table, the warmth of his touch mirroring the heat in your cheeks. The feast hall buzzed around you, but in that pocket of space, it was just the two of you, eyes locked in a silent understanding that spoke volumes. Dunk's return pulled you from the reverie— his broad frame weaving back through the crowd, a faint flush on his cheeks from whatever brief errand had taken him away. He settled into his seat with a quiet nod, his eyes flicking between you both, catching the undercurrent but saying nothing, ever the picture of humble restraint. Gods he was cute.

There was no room for silence even just as he sat, Lyonel already leaning forward, clapping a hand on Dunk's shoulder with easy camaraderie. "Come now," he said, his voice low and inviting, laced with that roguish charm that always made your pulse quicken.

"The hall's grown stifling with all this noise. Far too loud, what say we take our leave? Our tent's got better company—and quieter corners." He winked at you, then at Dunk, the suggestion hanging light but loaded, like the promise of rain on a summer eve.

Dunk hesitated, his callused fingers drumming once on the table before he nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. "If you're sure, my lord... my lady. I'd not impose." But there was a spark in his eyes like your own, a genuine warmth that betrayed how much he welcomed the invitation. Despite the short time you'd known him, you'd seen the way he lingered on your words, the quiet strength in his gaze when he thought no one noticed. He liked you both, and that much was clear— drawn to the easy affection you shared, the way you pulled him into your fold without question. The way it was not obligation, but a pure passion.

You rose first, smoothing your skirts with a smile, and extended your arm to Dunk. He took it gently, his touch firm yet tentative, as if afraid to presume too much. "No imposition at all," you murmured, your voice soft against the din. "We've taken a shine to you, Ser Duncan. Consider it an honor to be in such company." His arm linked with yours at last, solid and reassuring, feeling the subtle tension in his frame ease as you walked together, the three goblets and the full chalice of wine balanced in Lyonel's hands behind you.

Lyonel pranced ahead with a laugh, his steps light despite the load, leading the way through the camp's winding paths to your private tent. The night air was cool, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and distant sea, but the anticipation built warmer with each step. Candles flickered within the tent's flaps as you approached, their golden light spilling out like an embrace. Lyonel pushed the entrance aside with his shoulder, setting the wine down on a low table strewn with furs and cushions. "Make yourselves at home," he called, pouring generously into the goblets, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper— care, woven into the invitation like thread in cloth.

You guided Dunk inside, your arm still linked with his, releasing it only to take a goblet from Lyonel's outstretched hand, fingers brushing at Dunk's wrist as you pulled away. The knight stood a moment, surveying the intimate space, the plush rugs, the single wide bed draped in silks of gold he hadn't ever seen before, accepting his own drink with a murmured thanks. "This... it's kind of you both," he said, his voice rough around the edges, his gaze holding yours steadily, affection blooming there unspoken.

Your lord husband settled beside you on the cushions, his hand finding the small of your back, thumb tracing lazy circles. "Kindness is the least we can offer a man like you," he replied, raising his goblet in toast. "To new friends... and warmer nights." The clink of metal echoed softly, and as you sipped, the wine's richness spread through you, mingling with the growing hum of possibility. Dunk sat across on the cotton throw chair, close enough that his knee brushed yours accidentally— or perhaps not— and he coughed under his breath at your touch, hands reaching to refill glasses, fingers lingering just a beat too long.

You leaned into Lyonel's touch, the steady rhythm of his thumb sending soft ripples up your spine, "Warmer nights indeed," you echoed, your voice a gentle lilt, eyes meeting Dunk's over the rim of your goblet. The knight's gaze held yours, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth that made your chest tighten with quiet attraction. He wasn't one for bold words, but the way his fingers curled around the stem of his glass, the subtle shift of his thigh against yours, spoke of an ease settling between you all, one deeper than before.

Lyonel poured another round, his laughter low and inviting as he handed Dunk his goblet. "Tell us, Ser Duncan, what's a man of your mettle do when he's not tilting at tourneys or charming the hall? Got any tales from the road that'd make a lady blush?" His tone was light, teasing without pressure, drawing Dunk out like coaxing a flame to life.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, his frame relaxing further into the chair. "Blush? Me? I've seen my share of rough camps and wilder inns, but nothing worth repeating in polite company." His eyes flicked to you, a spark of playfulness there. "Though, I've one about a river crossing gone awry— ended with me soaked to the bone and a merchant laughing so hard she nearly toppled her cart."

You smiled, giggling softly at the thought, shifting closer, your knee now pressing deliberately against his. "Sounds like the kind of mishap that leads to better memories. I'd wager you handled it with that quiet strength of yours." The words hung soft, laced with a warmth that made the tent feel even more enclosed, the candlelight dancing shadows across his face.

"Aye," Lyonel added, his hand sliding up to rest at your waist, fingers splaying possessively yet openly. "He's got a way about him, doesn't he? Makes a man glad to have him near.. on the field or off." He raised his goblet again, this time gesturing it towards Ser Duncan.

The conversation flowed like the wine, more tales weaving between jests and quieter admissions— Dunk sharing snippets of his earlier hedge knight days, you recounting a hunt gone merry with Lyonel's mishaps, laughter bubbling up unforced. Flirtation threaded through it all, subtle as a brush of fingertips: your gaze lingering on the line of Dunk's jaw when he spoke, Lyonel's arm draping casually over your shoulders now, drawing you nearer while all eyes meeting. The air hummed with it, freeing in its honesty, no edges sharpened yet, just the slow build of connection.

After a while, you set your goblet down, the wine's glow settling deep in your limbs. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," you said, rising with a soft smile, your hand trailing lightly over Lyonel's shoulder before brushing Dunk's arm in passing. "I think I'll slip away for a moment to freshen up. Don't let the night grow too dull without me." The words carried a playful ambiguity, a promise unspoken, and you caught the way both men's eyes followed you, one with familiar heat, and another with budding curiosity.

As you tugged the wooden divider closed behind you, Lyonel turned to Dunk, his voice dropping to a soft, reassuring timbre. "You're a good man," he said, leaning forward slightly, goblet cradled in his hands. "Nothing wrong with noticing beauty."

Dunk swallowed, his throat working as he stared into his wine, cheeks warming under the candle's glow at his oblivious eyes wandering, yet the man opposite saw it all. The way he watched you walk behind him, following your curve. "She's... very kind."

"She is," Lyonel agreed proudly, a genuine smile softening his features. 

"And she likes you."

Dunk looked up fast, surprise flickering in his eyes. "She does?"

Lyonel grinned, placing a hand on the knight's knee. "You're hard not to like." That small reassurance stuck with Dunk far longer than the teasing ever did, easing the knot of uncertainty in his chest with Lyonel's confession of his own, leaving him with a quiet bloom of hope as the wood rustled again.

You returned moments later, smirk light on your face at overhearing their exchange. Tiptoeing lightly back around to them as the sheer silk of your gown clinging to your curves like a second skin, translucent in the flickering light, hinting at the lines beneath without fully revealing, yet. Lyonel's gaze sharpened with appreciation— he'd known, of course, your choice deliberate— and Dunk's breath caught, his eyes tracing the fabric's drape before he schooled his expression, though the flush on his neck betrayed him. It pulled at you beautifully, goddess like, your hair cascading around the soft plush of your covered breasts. You settled back among the cushions, closer now on Dunk's side, the night's possibilities unfolding like the cloth against your body.

"You alright there, big man?" Lyonel asked, soft murmur as you leaned into him, the scent of your skin— warm vanilla and faint wine— drifting toward him.

Dunk nodded, his eyes darting up to meet yours before dropping again, fixed on the way the silk shifted with your breath. "Yes—I mean—yes, my lord."

You reached out, your fingers grazing the collar of his tunic, adjusting it with intentional care, the pads of your fingertips brushing the warm skin of his throat just briefly enough to feel his pulse jump. "Relax," you whispered, letting your hand linger there a second longer, tracing the line of his collarbone before pulling back. "You are safe, Ser."

His breath hitched, a low sound that filled the quiet space between you, and you saw the way his chest rose and fell quicker, tensing under the weight of your nearness. Lyonel watched with a grin that slowly softened into something more thoughtful, his eyes flicking between you and the knight. He shifted closer on Dunk's other side, closing the gab over the small table, the cushions dipping under his weight. "You ever been taken care of?" Lyonel asked quietly, his tone steady, like an offer extended without demand, the knight now between you once again.

Dunk shook his head, his voice rough around the edges. "Not much."

"Well," Lyonel said warmly, his hand moving to rest lightly on Dunk's arm, squeezing once in quiet solidarity, "you should be."

The room hummed with tension— not rushed, not wild, or as much as your lord husband could contain, just a slow awareness creeping in like the candle flames stretching higher. You chose to stay near Dunk, your body angled toward him, the nightdress whispering against your thighs as you crossed your legs, the fabric pulling taut over your hips. Your hand found his leg then, resting there with a gentle pressure, thumb circling in lazy patterns that mirrored the ones Lyonel had traced on your back earlier. Dunk's eyes flicked down to your touch, then up to your face, and lower still, drawn to the shadowed outline of your chest beneath the sheer layer, the faint peaks of your nipples pressing against the silk as the air cooled.

He swallowed hard, his gaze lingering, gravity pulling taut between you all, loud in its silence— the way his fingers twitched against his goblet, the subtle lean of his body toward yours. You felt it too, the heat building low in your belly, but you kept your movements unhurried, easing him with the steady warmth of your palm on his leg, sliding just an inch higher, testing the give of his muscle beneath the rough fabric of his breeches.

Lyonel's hand settled on Dunk's shoulder now, a firm grip that grounded him, fingers kneading lightly into the knot of tension there. "Easy," his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air. Dunk's breath came faster, his eyes flicking between you both— yours soft and inviting, Lyonel's steady with encouragement. The knight's free hand came up, putting the goblet down now, hesitating before covering yours on him, not pulling away but holding, as if anchoring himself to the moment.

"I… I don't want to do wrong by you," he said softly, his voice cracking just a fraction, eyes searching yours with that earnest vulnerability that made your heart ache. You smiled, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting his ear as you let your fingers intertwine with his. "There's nothing wrong here." Your other hand rose to cup his jaw, thumb stroking the stubble along his chin, guiding his gaze back to the curve of your neck, the silk dipping low enough to tease the swell of your cleavage.

"Just three people who like each other," Lyonel added, his hand sliding from Dunk's shoulder to the nape of his neck, thumb pressing in a slow circle that drew a quiet exhale from the knight. The touch was intimate, a subtle press that spoke of shared ease, his fingers tangling briefly in Dunk's hair before releasing. Dunk turned his head slightly toward Lyonel, their eyes meeting in a beat of understanding, thickening further as Lyonel's gaze held his, unyielding.

The tension flowed deeper now, a current pulling you all under— Dunk's eyes dropping again to your body, tracing the cling over your waist, the flare of your hips, his hand tightening on yours as if to steady himself against the pull. Ever the gentleman. You pressed your thigh against his, the heat of your skin seeping through the thin barrier, "You can touch, Ser. If you want." Your words were a gentle nudge, your free hand trailing down your own arm, drawing his attention to the way the fabric molded to you, inviting without force.

Lyonel's grin returned as he leaned in from the other side, his hand moving to Dunk's thigh, mirroring your touch but higher, fingers splaying over the muscle there. "She means it," he said, voice husky with the shared heat. "As do I.. No rush.. just what feels right." Dunk's breath stuttered, his body caught between your warmth and Lyonel's steady presence, the attraction blooming loud and undeniable, easing into the night's deeper unfolding.

The flicker of candlelight dancing across the rumpled sheets of the wide bed that dominated the room. Dunk's gaze lingered on you, his callused fingers flexing against yours as if testing the reality of the invitation. You rose slowly, tugging him gently toward the bed, your body brushing against his side with deliberate warmth. The mattress dipped under your weight as you sat, pulling him down beside you, his broad frame settling close enough that his knee nudged yours.

Lyonel moved like a shadow, circling behind Dunk with a predatory grace that belied the tenderness in his eyes. He pressed against Dunk's back, lips brushing the shell of his ear as his hands slid over his shoulders, "Look at her," Lyonel murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Dunk's body. "So eager for you, love. She's always been like this— wild under that sweet smile. Let her show you how she melts when you take what you want." His words wove heat into the tall man's veins, stirring the mutual pull that had simmered between them for so long, unspoken but electric.

Dunk turned his head slightly, catching Lyonel's gaze over his shoulder, a flicker of vulnerability mixing with desire. Something he hadn't ever had before. But then his attention snapped back to you, enchanted by the way you leaned in, your hand cupping his jaw to guide his mouth to yours. The kiss started soft, tentative— his lips pressing against yours with a careful reverence, tasting of ale and restraint. You parted your lips, inviting his shy tongue to explore, and he did, slowly at first, his breath hitching as the kiss deepened. His free hand found your waist, fingers splaying over the curve of your hip, tracing the dip of your spine through the thin fabric of your shift. He touched you like something precious, thumbs stroking the soft skin just above your hipbone, pulling you closer until your breasts pressed against his chest.

You sighed into his mouth at the touch, your fingers threading through his hair, urging him on. Dunk's touch grew bolder, sliding up to cup one breast, his palm rough against the peaked nipple that strained against the cloth. He squeezed gently, eliciting a soft moan from you that made his cock twitch in his pants. Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down your neck, nipping lightly at the pulse point there, his breath hot and uneven. Lyonel watched for a moment, taking you both in, his own arousal evident in the way his hips ground subtly against Dunk's back. Then he leaned over his shoulder, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all fire and familiarity— his tongue delving deep, claiming you with the ease of a husband who knew every inch of your responses. And he knew how to use them. You arched into it, one hand reaching back to grip Lyonel's thigh, feeling the hard line of his erection pressing through his clothes, already aroused in your company. Ser Duncan paused, is hand still on your breast, eyes darkening as he watched the two of you, the sight fueling the ache in his gut.

"No need to stop," Lyonel breathed against your mouth, eyeing him from behind. His hand left Dunk's shoulder to join in, fingers hooking under the hem of your shift and lifting it slowly, exposing the smooth expanse of your thigh. "Touch her, my knight. She's dripping for it already." You nodded, spreading your legs slightly in invitation, and Dunk's hand obeyed, sliding up your inner thigh to cup your pussy through the damp fabric of your undergarments. He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling the heat and wetness seep through, his own groan muffled against your collarbone.

The three of you shifted on the bed, clothes shedding like unnecessary barriers. Lyonel helped you out of your shift first, his mouth following the path of the fabric down your body, kissing your shoulders, sucking a nipple into his mouth until it hardened under his tongue. Dunk mirrored him on your other side, his lips latching onto your free breast, as he followed your husband's trail, tongue flicking the sensitive bud while his fingers pushed the cloth aside. You let out a moan as he dipped two fingers into your slick folds, stroking your hole with careful thrusts, learning the rhythm that made your hips buck.

You reached for Dunk's breeches, unlacing them with trembling fingers, freeing his thick cock. It sprang out, falling hard into your hand as you wrapped around it, stroking from base to head in firm pulls that had him thrusting into your grip. Lyonel shed his own clothes quickly, his erection brushing against Dunk's arm as he positioned himself closer. "That's it"' he encouraged, his voice rough as the other man groaned under your fingers. "Fuck her with your fingers first.. feel how tight she gets."

Dunk added a third finger, curling them inside you, his thumb pressing your clit in tandem. You cried out, the sound pulling a hungry look from both men. Lyonel's hand found Dunk's cock then, joining yours in stroking him, your fingers overlapping. Dunk's eyes locked on his at that, the touch igniting something deeper, a pleading confession in his eyes that ached for more, his free hand covering Lyonel's on his shaft. 

"Inside her now," Lyonel whispered, guiding Dunk's hips forward as you lay back against the pillows, legs parting wide. The knight positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the wet heat enveloping him as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He started thrusting, careful at first, building as you tugged at his wide waist, pulling into you, his hips snapping against yours with each plunge.

Lyonel knelt beside you, kissing you deeply as Dunk fucked you, his hand roaming to pinch your nipples. Turning to Dunk, pulling him into a kiss over your body, lips crashing together in a messy, heated exchange of tongues and teeth. Dunk moaned into it, his pace faltering for a second before continuing to fuck into you, the sensation of you both too much. You watched them, the sight of your husband and your lover entwined pushing you closer to the edge, your cunt clenching around his cock sharply as you arched into the sheets.

"Harder,' you gasped, and the big man obliged, pounding into you with raw need, thick arms flexing by your sides. Lyonel broke the kiss to slide behind Dunk again, his cock pressing against Dunk's back as he reached around to stroke your clit. The three of you moved as one, Dunk's thrusts driving deep, Lyonel's fingers circling fast, and your body arching to meet them both. Through lidded eyes you didn't see your husband tap at his shoulder, urging him aside for his turn and Dunk pulled out just enough for Lyonel to take his place, your whine not lasting long enough as he slid into you with a familiar groan, fucking you in long, deliberate strokes while Dunk watched, hand around his slick cock, still aching with the feel of you.

But Lyonel wasn't done guiding, fucking into you at a pace that shoved you up onto the pillows, your arms curling into his as he braced above you, smirking into your lips as he swiped his teeth at your tongue pulling it gently, teasingly into his mouth. "Easy husband.." he chuckled into you as he pulled Dunk close again, their mouths meeting in another kiss as Lyonel thrust into you, the giant falling into his touch, letting him take him through the rush, tongue slipping against his. "Your turn to feel him big man," he rasped out against Dunk's lips, and you nodded eagerly, the freakish thrill of it all making your blood sing. Dunk hesitated only a beat before turning, letting hands spread him, fingers slick with your arousal probing his ass. It was tentative— Lyonel's cock pressing in slowly, inching past the tight ring until he was buried deep as Dunk gasped, pushing back, the fullness mixing with the ache of wanting more.

You watched, transfixed, your fingers slipping deeper into your own slick heat they eased into each other, spread out just before you. Lyonel's hips rolled with deliberate slowness, his cock buried to the hilt in Dunk's ass, each thrust measured and deep, stretching him open with a care that spoke of long-held affection. Dunk leaned over you, his broad shoulders tense, sweat beading along his spine as he braced on his forearms, mouth agape and eyes. screwed shut at the newfound fullness. His thick shaft plunged back into your cunt with erratic urgency, driven forward by Lyonel's unyielding pace behind him, the push-pull creating a symphony of slick sounds and shared gasps that filled the adorned tent.

The bed groaned beneath the shifting weight, the wooden frame protesting as bodies moved in tandem once more, with Dunk's eyes locked onto yours, dark with a vulnerability that mirrored the raw openness in his thrusts. You met his gaze, your free hand reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, thumb brushing his lower lip as if to anchor him through the overwhelm. "That's it," you whispered, voice breathy and encouraging, your cunt clenching around him in response to the sight of the veined hand gripping Dunk's hip— fingers digging in with possessive tenderness, pulling him back onto his length before driving forward again.

Lyonel's breath fanned hot against Dunk's neck, his lips grazing the skin there in soft, intermittent kisses that contrasted the firm snap of his pelvis. "Feel her around you," his voice rough with restraint, one arm wrapping around Dunk's waist to splay fingers over his abdomen, holding him steady. "So wet for us both. You're doing so well, love— taking me like this while you fill her." The words wove through the haze, igniting the undercurrent of longing, Dunk's body shuddering as he pushed deeper into you, "Fuck.. my lady, my l—", his cock dragging along into the depths of your belly with each spurred movement.

Your fingers circled your clit now, the added friction building the coil in your belly tighter, but you savored the slow unraveling— the way Dunk's thrusts grew more desperate yet still careful, his tip nudging that spot inside you that made your head roll back against the ruined silk. Lyonel sensed the shift, his own pace quickening just a fraction, the wet slide of his cock in Dunk's tight passage growing more insistent, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours, his hips stuttering as pleasure bordered on too much. You arched up to meet him, legs wrapping loosely around his waist, urging him without words to chase the edge together.

The musk of arousal and the heat of breaths filled the room, mingling in ragged harmony, yours quickening, Dunk's deepening into moans, and Lyonel's steady and commanding. Such devotion in every guided touch and the shared thrill that bound the three of you in the intimate dance left you all teetering on the edge. Climax creeping in like gathering thunder, your body trembling first as waves crested. "Duncan... Lyonel..." you gasped, walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning cock as their names tumbled into one, pulling them under with you.

The man above you came with a broken cry, his release surging hot and thick into your cunt, flooding you in pulses that overflowed with each final thrust. His body sagged forward, forehead pressing to your shoulder as he rode out the aftershocks, muscles quivering with Lyonel holding him through it. Hips grinding deep one last time before he stilled, a guttural groan escaping as he came inside Dunk's ass, warm spurts filling him, marking as he lingered there a moment, buried fully, his hand stroking Dunk's side in soothing circles, breaths evening out against sweat-damp skin.

They separated slowly, the air cooling the slick trails left behind. Lyonel easing out of him with care, a soft hiss from Dunk at the loss, guiding him to roll off you gently, both men flanking your sides on the rumpled sheets. You lay there, spent and glowing, cum leaking from your well-fucked cunt onto the linens. Lyonel's eyes darkened with hunger as he shifted down, settling between your thighs. "Let me taste you my storm," he said, voice husky, lips already brushing your inner thigh before his tongue delved in— lapping at the mingled mess with broad, thorough strokes. He sucked your folds into his mouth, tongue swirling to gather every drop of Dunk's spend mixed with your arousal, the sensation drawing fresh whimpers from you as oversensitive nerves sparked anew.

Dunk shifted onto his side watching you, chest still heaving, his cock still semi-hard and glistening from your release. You turned your head toward him, a teasing smile curving your lips despite the haze, your hand at the salt and pepper hair beneath you. "Come here," you whined, hand reaching for his thigh to draw him closer. He shifted obligingly, kneeling beside you, and you guided his shaft to your mouth, your lips parting to take him in slowly, tongue tracing the underside as you savored the salty tang of you both. His hand tangled in your hair, not pushing but holding, a soft moan escaping as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking gently to coax any lingering drops.

Lyonel glanced up from between your legs, his mouth still working you with lazy precision, eyes meeting Dunk's over the curve of your hip. A wicked glint sparked there, and he pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with you. "Look at you two— already greedy for more. She's got you hooked, hasn't she?" His tone was playful, affectionate, as he nipped your clit lightly, making you hum around Dunk's cock in response. Dunk flushed, a shy grin breaking through the overstimulation, his fingers tightening ever so gently. "Aye... both of you," he admitted, voice rough, the admission hanging warm between them.

You released Dunk with a soft pop, licking your lips as Lyonel resumed his attentions, his tongue delving deeper to ensure you were thoroughly tended. The teasing wove through the languid touches— Lyonel's chuckles vibrating against your skin, your hand stroking Dunk's thigh in lazy patterns, their shared glances laced with promise. Exhaustion finally claimed you all, bodies collapsing into a tangled heap. Dunk in the center as he was at the beginning of the night, you curled against his chest, Lyonel spooning him from behind, arm draped possessively over both.

"Our brave ser," you mumbled sleepily, fingers tracing idle circles on the man's chest. "Think you can handle us again come morning?" Lyonel's laugh rumbled low, his lips brushing Dunk's shoulder. "He will. Won't you, love?" Dunk's eyes drifted shut, a contented sigh and smile escaping as he pulled you closer, the night's bonds wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Already giving you the awaited answer. 

[ghostlybfgf]

i can’t help that i need it all

summary: prince maekar targaryen’s younger wife is the feature of many a man’s fancy in the court, but more particularly her closest kin.

pairing: maekar targaryen x wife!reader, aerion targaryen x reader (step-mother), baelor targaryen x reader (sister in law), valarr targaryen x reader (auntie)

warning(s): SMUT, targcest, age gap relationship, stepcest, alludes to a fivesome, threats, rough sex, biting, mommy kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: this is sort of short..but pure filth, and im wanting to do another part honestly where baelor and valarr feature more.. let me know if you'd want it.. 👀👀😤

Word didn't come simply when you came to court.

When you married Maekar Targaryen.

There were endless murmurs from courtiers, and you felt their eyes like brands on your skin. As Maekar's second wife— younger and vibrant, with the silver-gold hair and violet eyes that marked you as true Targaryen blood— you drew attention you neither sought nor fully rejected. Questions came about how such a match would suffice, let alone withstand time, but neither of you seemed to care, Maekar loved you fiercely, his rough hands gentle in private moments, his body claiming yours with a hungry adoration that mirrored your own. And yet the court was a viper's nest, and your presence seemed to stir more than just one dragon.

The whispers started the moment you stepped into the Red Keep, a fresh-faced bride from a lesser branch of the family, wed to the stern prince after his first wife's passing. Maekar had been a widower for years, his heart armored in grief and duty, but you thawed him slowly, like a winter's grip melting in spring. At first, your union was met with skepticism— too young, too bold, they said, a match born of politics more than passion. Yet in the quiet chambers away from prying eyes, Maekar showed you otherwise. His touches lingered, callused fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he pulled you close, his breath hot against your ear.

"You're mine now, as I'am yours," he rasped at your skin with heat, and you believed him, even as the court's shadows lengthened.

Months passed in a haze of stolen glances and building tension, the intrigue of you thickened like smoke from dragonfire. Baelor Breakspear, Maekar's own elder brother, watched you during council meetings, his princely smile hiding sharper intentions in politeness. He'd comment on your choice of dress, how the fabric clung just so, and what a fine partner his brother had been blessed with, his voice carrying across the hall with a pride that dripped in more than just wishing you well. And Valarr, his eager son, and now your nephew, couldn't help himself around you, a younger woman mere years older than himself married to the family, a beauty you were indeed. He sought you out in the gardens, offering compliments wrapped in boyish charm and offering flowers you'd been eyeing moments earlier, blush heavy on his cheeks as he eyes the deep neckline to your gown.

And then there was Aerion, Maekar's second son from his first marriage, was the thorn that pricked deepest amongst the rest. He wasn't distant and cordial like Daeron, nor sweet and kind like little Aegon, or loving like the girls, and you had only met Aemon a few times, an ambitious and gentle boy. Instead he was intent on you, more so intent on plaguing you. He called you 'Mother' with a twist of irony, his violet eyes, only mirrors of yours, lingering too long when he brushed past you in the corridors, fingers ghosting at your bodice enough to make you gasp. It was a game to him, testing your boundaries, and stirring the pot of family rivalries.

You navigated it all with careful grace, believing it would wear off in time, but you were wrong, and your husband's jealousy grew like a storm on the horizon. He noticed every look, every word, from each one of them. His hand finding yours under the table or tightening around your arm as you walked the halls, he felt he could keep you, protect you better that way. And in bed, he only poured that possessiveness into you, his body a shield and a claim.

But the court wore on you both. The original murmurs evolved into bolder advances— invitations to private audiences, gifts left at your door. Your love deepened through it, a slow burn that forged steel from fragile flame. Maekar confided in you during late nights, his head on your chest as you stroked his silver hair as his did yours, sharing burdens of succession and family fractures. You became his anchor, and he yours, the passion between you a fire that warmed against the chill of intrigue.

Though, it wasn't strangers or professionals who remained fixed on you. It was from blood.

Baelor's compliments turned gently flirtatious, your nephew's jests laced with longing instead of char,, and Aerion. His own teases carried an undercurrent of something darker, more insistent. It all came to a head at the grand feast in the hall, months into your marriage, when the air hummed with unspoken challenges.

—

The space echoed with the clamor of the Targaryen feast, silver goblets clinking and laughter mingling with the strum of lutes. Maekar sat at the high table, his hand draped carefully over your thigh, fingers pressing into the red silk of your gown. You were a vision in crimson, the fabric hugging your curves, your hair braided with rubies that caught the torchlight, even he knew it. The court's gazes burned hotter than ever, but Maekar's touch grounded you.

Jealousy flickered through his shield in his violet eyes as Baelor leaned across the table, his voice a low rumble. "The gown suits you, dear sister, brings out the fire in those eyes." His stare cast over your face down to your body before looking away with a soft smile, and Valarr, beside him, chimed in with a grin, "To beauty that outshines the stars," he toasted, his young eyes tracing your throat as the others followed in agreement, not much notice of who it was directed to. You'd smiled back, raising your cup and bowing your head onto Maekar's shoulder, shrugging off what could well be innocent praise. Though part of you knew better.

Moments passed as Aerion, at the table's end, watched with that predatory gleam. "More wine, Mother?" he drawled, the word a velvet blade as he reached past you, his arm brushing yours deliberately. Maekar's grip tightened around you at that, a warning growl low in his throat as his thumb rubbed soothingly over your knuckles. The evening wore on, tensions simmering amid the revelry through laughs and harmless jibes, exchanging looks from every angle of the table until Maekar could bear it no longer.

He pulled you from the hall quickly as everyone else had departed to bed, his stride purposeful as he led you to your chambers. The door slammed not even for a second before he was on you, yanking the laces free with urgent hands. "They stare like wolves," he snarled, teeth baring your shoulders, mouth descending to suck bruises into your collarbone. "My brother with his false gallantry, Valarr like a pup in heat, and Aerion— fuck, that insolent brat."

You gasped as he shoved the gown down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His palms cupped them tightly, thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened, pinching enough to draw moan from you. "Only I worship this body." He backed you to the bed, stripping the rest away before shedding his own clothes, hands still gripped tightly around you. His cock stood rigid, tip glistening, and he pushed you down, climbing over to capture your mouth in a devouring kiss. "I've heard all the whispers, enough of them."

You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders. "They're nothing to me. Only you—" But he silenced you with another kiss, tongue thrusting deep into your mouth, mimicking what his body craved. The furs soft under your bare back as he loomed over you, "Mine," he repeated, voice rough as he knelt down the bed between your thighs, spreading them wide. His mouth descended without fuss, his lips latching onto your clit, sucking hard enough you cried out, hips bucking as his tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your wetness with possessive strokes. He was no gentle lover, his beard scraping your inner thighs, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh as he ate you out like a starving man, fingers plunging into your cunt to curl against that spot that made you clench.

"None of them touch this," he muttered, the words vibrating against your core as he thrust his tongue deeper, fucking you with it while his thumb circled your entrance, slick with your arousal. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him closer, the pressure building until you shattered, thighs clamping around his head as you came with a sob, juices flooding his mouth. But he still didn't stop, licking you through you shaking around his head, then rising to shove his cock with your dripping hole. You whined out until you were begging for it, and he wasted no more time, sheathing himself deep, stretching your walls around his girth. You moaned at the fullness, nails raking his back as he moved inside of you, hard and relentless snaps of his hips that shook the bedframe.

"Say it," he demanded, one hand pinning your wrist above your head, the other gripping your hip to angle deeper, his balls slapping against your ass with each drive. "Who do you want?"

"You.. only you, Maekar." The words spilled out amid gasps, your cunt fluttering around him as he hit that deep, perfect spot over and over, tears threatening to prick at your eyes.

He flipped you at that, pulling out of you only to yank your hips up, bending you over as he shoved his way back in, cock driving deeper with your face to the mattress. His hand fisted in your hair, arching your back as he fucked you like he owned every inch, because he did. "Aerion can tease all he wants, call you whatever twisted name feeds his demons. Baelor and his boy can lust from afar. But this—" His other hand came down, connecting to your ass with a sting, redness blooming into heat as he thrust harder, dragging along your walls, building you toward the edge again. "This cunt is mine. Your body, your heart.. mine to fuck, mine to love."

His voice dripped in possession, in meaning and it tipped you over. You came again, harder this time, moans muffled into the sheets as you pushed back into him, feeling him more. Maekar groaned, pace faltering as he buried himself deep, fucking hot spurts of cum back into you as he let go, marking you inside as thoroughly as his words did.

He collapsed over you, still buried inside as his chest hit your back, lips pressing to your shoulder in a tender kiss. And he shifted, strained and strong arms reaching you into his grip as he shuffled back against the pillows, "Stay away from them, and if they don't I'll make sure of it.." he admitted into your hair, voice sated but edged with warning. But in the quiet aftermath, as his arms wrapped around you, you knew the pull of the others lingered— a dangerous web of desire that threatened to ensnare you all.

Yet for now, in your shared bed, with him leaking from between your thighs and his heartbeat now steady against your side, it was enough.

—

Sleep came heavy and fast, and better yet; dream-haunted. The court's pressure weaving into visions of violet eyes and grasping hands. You stirred in the dead of night, throat parched from the wine and the heat of Maekar's body pressed to yours. A faint thirst clawed at you, pulling you from the depths of slumber as you sat up. Maekar's arm lay heavy across your waist, his breath even and deep, but as you shifted, he murmured softly in his sleep, fingers tightening briefly in a tender hold before loosening when you kisses his temple. He rolled away with a sigh, curling into the pillows, lost once more to much needed rest.

The chamber felt stifling, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. You slipped from the sheets, careful not to wake him, and donned a loose robe over your naked form. The stone floor chilled your bare feet as you padded to the door, craving the cool draft of the halls to clear your head. The labyrinthine corridors stretched out like a maze of stone and secrets, torchlight flickering to cast long shadows that hid sins as ancient as the Targaryen bloodline. You hurried through them, even with knowing many servants would be in their own chambers, but your heart pounding from the remnants of your dream— the day's endless intrigues blurring with forbidden touches from others, the weight of Maekar's love a warm anchor in your chest. But anchors could drag you under, and tonight, the pull came from much darker waters.

Aerion had been watching you all evening during the feast, eyes gleaming with that feral hunger masked as jest. You knew him well enough by now, he was a whirlwind of unresolved rage and desire, his mother's death leaving scars that twisted his affections into something profane.. and you respected it, from all of them. But he toyed with it, toyed with you. And gods help you, part of you— the forbidden, tugging part low in your belly— responded when he called on you.

You shook your head as you flexed your fingers around the candle you'd picked up, trying to rid yourself of such thoughts, and turning a corner toward empty chambers, seeking solitude, but he was there, materializing from the gloom before you could notice.

"Running away again, Mother?" You jumped. His voice was a silken taunt, laced with mockery that sent a shiver down your spine, stalking towards you before you could speak. He closed the distance, his body slamming yours back against the cold stone wall. The impact stole your breath, his hands pinning your wrists at your sides in an iron grip, his lean frame pressing flush against you. The candle slipped from your hand with a crack to the floor, the flame flickering wildly.

"Aerion.. stop this," you gasped, but your voice lacked conviction, your body betraying you as heat pooled between your thighs. His smirk widened, feeling, as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck.

"Stop? But you don't want me to, do you? Little stepmother, playing the faithful wife while you get wet for your husband's son." 

He ground his hips forward, letting you feel the hard length of his cock straining against his cloak, rubbing insistently against your core through the thin fabric of your own. Shame burned your cheeks, but so did desire, twisting like a knife.

He released one wrist only to tangle his fingers in the strings of your robe, exposing your breasts to the chill air. Your nipples hardened instantly, and he chuckled low, his free hand cupping one roughly, thumb flicking the peak, eyes running over them intently. "Look at you, already aching. My father's not enough, is he? You need someone to fill that empty place his first wife left in me." His words dripped venom, making you feel filthy, complicit in this depravity. Why did it make you clench, your thighs pressing together to ease the throb?

"You're twisted, Aerion," you whispered pleading with him, but he only laughed, his mouth descending to capture your nipple between his teeth, biting just hard enough to draw a whimper from your lips.

"Twisted? That's rich coming from you. Say it.. call yourself what I need you to be. Play the part, Mother. Make me forget she left me." His voice cracked then, vulnerability flashing in his eyes before the mask of dominance returned. He sucked hard on your breast, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, pulling it deep into his mouth with wet, obscene sounds that echoed off the walls. Your head fell back against the stone, a moan escaping despite yourself as he lavished attention on one bud, then the other, sucking, licking, nipping until they glistened with his saliva, swollen and tender. But you couldn't move, pressed there against the stone. 

"Please... someone might hear," you continued to protest weakly, but your hands, free now, tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing away. He growled in approval, his hand sliding down to hike up your skirts, fingers finding your soaked folds.

"Hear what? How Maekar's precious wife begs for her stepson's cock? How she spreads her legs like a whore for the boy she should mother?" He plunged two fingers into your pussy without warning, curling them to stroke that spot inside you that made your knees buckle. You cried out, bracing yourself against him, slick sounds filling the air as he pumped them in and out, thumb grinding against your clit.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he demanded, his mouth returning to your breast, sucking greedily as if drawing sustenance from you. "Tell me you don't want this.. don't want to be my mommy, fixing all the broken parts Father couldn't." The need slipped through his taunts, making you feel worse, dirtier, for the way it ignited something primal in you. You were no mother to him, yet here you were, arching into his touch, whispering the words he craved.

"I... I'll be your mother, Aerion. Just.. gods, don't stop." The admission burned, humiliation flooding you even as pleasure coiled tighter and he groaned against your skin, teeth grazing your nipple as his fingers fucked you harder, stretching your dripping hole.

"Good girl. Mother's so wet for her boy. But you're bad, aren't you? Letting me pin you here, tits out for anyone to see."He backed you harder against the wall, his body a cage of heat and muscle, cock now freed from the confines of his pants— thick, veined, just like his father, the tip leaking that smeared against your thigh.

You felt the shame now, the wrongness of it all crashing over you like a wave. Maekar's love was real, possessive; Baelor's gazes promised chivalrous rivalry; even young Valarr's bold advances stirred at the undercurrents. But Aerion, he weaponized your guilt, making you complicit in the fall.

"Fuck, you're tight," he hissed as he thrust into you, burying his cock to the hilt in one stroke. You stretched around him, biting your lip to stifle the scream from your already aching hole. He didn't give you time to adjust, hips snapping forward in a punishing rhythm, each drive pinning you deeper into the wall.

"Say it again— tell your boy how much you love his cock inside you." His mouth latched onto your breast once more, sucking harshly as he pounded into you. His tongue on your tits, his length dragging into you, pushed you toward oblivion, and more towards his web.

"I love it, Aerion— Mommy loves her boy's cock," you sobbed, the words tasting like ash and ecstasy as they came tumbling out. He made you feel worse with every thrust, every pull on your nipple, reminding you of the betrayal, the taboo. And still your body betrayed you fully, hips meeting his, pussy clenching as orgasm ripped through you, juices soaking him in a white ring.

He followed with a guttural moan, spilling deep inside you, hot cum filling your womb as he bit down on your breast, teeth marking you near enough to draw blood. When he pulled back, spent and smug, he tucked himself away, leaving you slumped against the wall, gown disheveled, his spend trickling down your thighs.

"Clean yourself up, Mother," he scowled, pressing a mocking kiss to your forehead. "Before Father smells the sin on you." Your breath shook as you clutched the wall, his frame vanishing into the shadows, leaving you alone with the ache of guilt and unsatisfied hunger, this web of desire tangling tighter. 

—

The next morning dawned with a deceptive calm, the hall of the keep filled with the clatter of plates and the murmur of voices as the family gathered for breakfast. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows across the oaken table laden with fresh bread, cheeses, and steaming bowls of porridge. 

You sat beside Maekar, your gown modest and pristine, every trace of the previous night's debauchery scrubbed away— though the faint bruise on your breast and aching in your core throbbed beneath the fabric. 

Maekar, ever the dutiful husband, squeezed your hand under the table, his touch warm but distant, his brow furrowed as if wrestling with unspoken worries. He glanced at you now and then, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but he said nothing, none the wiser to the storm brewing around you, much less that had occurred after he fell asleep.

Across the table, Baelor and Valarr caught your gaze during a lull in the conversation. As the others, servants and lesser kin, drifted away to attend to morning duties, leaving you momentarily isolated near the hearth, they both approached with purposeful strides. Baelor's presence was commanding yet gentle, silver-streaked hair framing a face etched with quiet admiration. Valarr, mirrored his father's poise, his eyes alight with genuine reverence.

"You've outdone yourself this morn, my lady," Baelor said softly, his voice a low rumble as he leaned in, close enough for you to catch the scent of leather and spice on him. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles. "The way you command this hall, even in silence—it's a grace that binds us all. You're the heart of this house, stronger than any crown."

Valarr stepped forward, his hand brushing yours in a feather-light caress, his touch igniting a spark of warmth low in your belly. "And your beauty... it's not just skin deep," he claimed, his tone earnest, eyes locking onto yours with unwavering sincerity as your face flushed, nodding sincerely. "You carry burdens we can only imagine, yet you shine through it all. Let me ease one, if you'll allow— your presence alone makes this day bearable."

Their words wrapped around you like a velvet chain, praising not with empty flattery but with a depth that stirred the guilt coiled in your chest, mingling it with a fresh wave of forbidden longing. You felt exposed, desired, even as Aerion lounged against a pillar in the distance, his smirk sharp and knowing. He watched, arms crossed, saying nothing,and he didn't have to, hanging back and savoring the tangle from afar.

Maekar's voice cut through from the table, pulling you back. "Wife? The meal grows cold." He rose, extending his arm to you with a puzzled and careful frown.

As you excused yourself from Baelor and Valarr, their gazes lingered, promising more than words could convey. The dance of desire and shame twisting into something unbreakable, the morning's light doing little to dispel the shadows of what was to come.

Because all of their eyes were very much on, you.

[brucie-deactivated05092020-deac]

how i sleep knowing i will pirate every single thing released on disney plus

[bebe-benzenheimer]

how y’all gonna sleep after your computers are infected with a bazillion viruses and the feds gon’ bust your asses

[onemoretallymark]

how i sleep when I'm pirating disney with a vpn and anti-virus protection.

[ms-demeanor]

How I sleep after pirating everything from D+ while using an antivirus, VPN or proxy, and a cantenna to rip off the free wifi at Downtown Disney. If you can’t get wifi directly from the house of mouse McDonald’s will do.

[chocolatechipbutterflyprincess]

How I sleep knowing I’m pissing off all the Disney bootlickers by pirating:

[gothmisspyggie]

Oh no! What a terrible thing to do, this information should't be spread by reblogging it, that's for sure.

[anarchistmemedistro]

piracy megathread

[thezatannaprint]

Lipstick On Your Collar

Lucy Gray x Coriolanus x Y/n Rose

was listening to some oldies while writing chapter two and “lipstick on your collar” by connie francis came on and it reminded me of my fanfic and my imagination just took over my brain so i did this to hopefully force myself to keep writing this idea cus i quite like it but idk if I wanna make y/n rosè betray lucy gray like this😭😭🥲

fanfic: the other baird girl chapter 2 (coming soon)

[ainzee]

"My son, Jacaerys, will inherit the Iron Throne after me. I propose we betroth him to your daughter, Helaena.... Let them rule together."

Jacelaena wedding ♥

[badasgirlfriend]

“as long as i’ve got the gays and the women then that’s all i care about” SHES SO REAL😭😭

[targaryencore]

love Olivia Cooke ‼️

[thezatannaprint]

A GOLDEN LION AND A BRONZE DRAGON

jacaerys targ x lannister reader

this is meant for my hotd blog @targaryencore but it’s shadow banned ughh, ill take it down if it flops.

you were the daughter of lord jason lannister, you were just like him but in a female form. you were smart and cunning and full of ambition but alas you were born a noble women. “father, is it true princess rhaenyra is coming back to court.” you knocked down his king on the chest board and he groaned in annoyance, he could never beat you. “yes she’s coming to defend her sons claim. i suppose you heard through court gossip?” he cleared his throat and reset the chess board. “princess haelena told me. she doesn’t say much but when she does..” you raised your brow and drank from your goblet.

“glad to know you’re enjoying being her lady in waiting. she doesn’t have many friends.” jason always had a reason for every single thing. “are you still pestering otto for aemonds hand? he’s a second son.” you put emphasis on “second son” you faked a yawn. “i simply suggested it, you should be more grateful he’s a targaryen prince.“ jason chuckled

you sighed and just nodded, you didn’t want to push him to his limits just yet. “father. may i visit the dress maker and have some new dresses made?” you hide behind your perfect smile. “fine. a lannister should look their best after all!” he picked up his goblet and raised it towards you. one could say you were a bit spoiled. “how many sons did you say rhaenyra had?” you asked nonchalantly like you just thought of it but you’ve been wondering for ages. “tw- five.” he rolled his eyes there was no point of slandering her bastard sons to his daughter. “again.” you pointed at the chess board. “go easy on me” he snickered.

a week passed and all the bits of your plan were coming together, you tried on one of your new gowns and it fit perfectly. the gown was a dark red with golden details it had lions embroidered by the bust. you heard through your source and unexpected ally, varys strong that queen alicent had no means to greet or allow anyone to greet rhaenyra and her children. “i suggest you go lady lannister, and as i told you earlier jacaerys is the elder. lucerys is the little lord of driftmark.” larys hands you a bouquet of yellow roses and a black flower that was rare within the kingdom called “dragons breath, you planned on giving them to rhaenyra. “thank you lord varys, this will not go unnoticed” you smelled the flowers and smiled. you made your way to the courtyard.

just as varys said nobody was out there to greet the princess, it wasn’t safe to be out alone but without risk there’s no reward. soon after rhaenyras carriage rolled in, you fixed your hair and put on a smile. a squire called out her name as she and her children stepped out, you bowed and she looked confused. “i’m y/n lannister. i heard the queen wasn’t planning on greeting you so i took it upon myself.” you approached her and handed her the flowers, daemon looked angry. you looked at her children and waved.

“you are as beautiful as you are gracious.” rhaenyra took the bouquet and slightly smiled, her eyes were glued to the black flowers. “dragons breath.” you smiled and daemon glared at you. “that’s what the black flowers are called. i must go but on behalf of house lannister, welcome back to the red keep” you bowed to rhaenyra and then to daemon. you spotted prince jacaerys. he had beautiful purple eyes and a head full of brown hair. he looked at you and grinned.

a day passed and you grew impatient with how your plan was progressing. “princess haelena? if you ever have dinner with your nephews do mention me.” you held baby jaehaera in your arms and she cooed. “gold be your crowns, green be our shrouds.” haelena frown as she whispered. she often said little riddles like that but you could never tell what she meant. “just if you ever have a family dinner of sorts- tell jacaerys that your lady in waiting is fashionable and pure.” you winked at her and smiled. “you could come. i don’t think i would like to dine without you.” she reached for your hand and you let her hold it.

after your time with haelena and her children you excused yourself and began to walk through the halls, you raised your head high and walked confidently. lords and ladies bowed to you as you walked by. your smile grew when you saw prince jacaerys talking to his mother, the pair were walking down the hands private hall. you walked towards them and smiled. “your highnesses.” you bowed almost embarrassingly low. “lady lannister.” jacaerys looked at your lion emblem necklace that rested on your neck or maybe he wasn’t looking at your jewelry.

“that hall is occupied by the hand. otto hightower.” rhaenyras face crinkled when you said that. “that hall used to be me and my children’s private chambers” she said angry. she hates otto? noted. “the red keep changes very frequently.. sometimes i wonder if our queen and hand mistake the keep for old town perhaps they should reside there?” you didn’t want push to far out of your place but you wanted to test the waters. prince jacaerys chuckled. “lady lannister might be right mother.” jacaerys tilts his head to you.

“perhaps they should!” rhaenyra said sternly. “please allow me to escort you to the king? im not sure he’s aware that his beloved daughter and heir is still resting in a chamber not fitting her status.” you knew damn well why alicent made rhaenyras private wing of the castle ottos, it was a power move. “yes! i believe you could be helpful.” rhaenyra smiled. jacaerys stuck out his arm for you to hold and you took it and began walking with them to viserys.

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YALL CAN GO READ MY NEW HOTD FIC ON MY OTHER BLOG?!!! @thezatannaprint

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MILLIE BRADY AS SARA SNOW

the bastard sister of lord cregan stark (the wolf of the north.)

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ONE HEART, ONE SOUL, NOW AND FOREVER (fanfic concept trailer)

this is only a trailer 😋 pls don’t judge the edit im not rlly experienced at editing i am a writer!

synopsis: the sudden death of otto hightower has alicent feeling alone and paranoid, to secure her families safety she sends her youngest child y/n targaryen to dragonstone so she can discuss a marriage pact between herself and prince jacaerys.

if you see this on my side blog just know it’s me 🥳

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Sweetheart when u are going to post again? Ur fic are so gorgeous i miss it too much

Hey Honey! I do want to continue my writing for hotd and goT soon, which fic did u want continued 🥹🥹

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okay i’m supposed to be offline but i just had to say something.

people who are new to tumblr. hi, here’s how this works: you read a fic/see a post, you like it, you reblog it. if you don’t reblog, you’re not contributing to the tumblr community and therefore have a hand in the decrease in content/content creators leaving. please reblog and SAY SOMETHING. it’s like a quote retweet. let the person know you liked what they wrote. don’t be shy. it’s all anonymous here. who’s gonna judge you? we’re all in the same boat.

people who have been here for a while. you’ve seen how many times writers have begged for reblogs and feedback. i’m sure you even understand how tumblr works at this point. why haven’t you been reblogging then? you like the content, yes? you want more? then reblog and comment. please.

tumblr veterans who don’t reblog. yo… you guys upset me the most. you’ve been here for a long time. you’ve seen the community when it was thriving. and i know you can see now that it’s dying. why are you not reblogging and giving feedback? why are you not supporting other content creators? just because someone else will, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. do it.

writers. i’m sorry you’ve been going through demotivation. you are not alone. but hey, if all of us reblog and give each other feedback… something good can come out of it. support your fellow writers. even if you didn’t read the fic, just reblog it for your followers to see. promote other people’s work. it’ll help. some of us have a huge following. one reblog means multiple new eyes get to see a post. it helps.

for the people who don’t wanna spam. here’s a lovely tip: you can queue and schedule reblogs. literally it can keep your blog alive for days even when you’re busy. just write a little message and queue the reblog after you read/see something. it doesn’t have to be anything profound. just something small is already good enough.

if you consume the content, support the content creator.

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walk through fire for you

jacaerys velaryon x targ! reader x lucerys velaryon

“princess.” lucerys kisses your hand trying to remain a friendly distance but you pull him into a hug, not caring about anyone seeing. “lucerys we have missed you- some of us more than others” you chuckle and his eyes land on little aemma, your second born child. “she’s beautiful y/n…” he’s in awe of his little niece and aemma coos at him. “indeed she is.” he’s cut off by jacaerys velaryon prince of dragonstone and unfortunately your husband.

“she looks a lot like me.. doesn’t she?” jacaerys kissed the top of your head and you cringe at his touch. “yes brother. she has your hair and smile.” aemma had light brown hair and striking violet eyes, her nose was that of a pug but it suited her well. “her nose resembles yours… it’s strange.” jacaerys voice had a hint of jealousy. “well queen rhaenyra disagrees she says aemma looks just like you my love.” you hand him your daughter and jace smiles.

“how’s rhaena? i hear she’s at driftmark fighting off a sickness.” jacaerys examines lukes expression, surely if luke is so in love with his wife he’d be worried and not trying to get lovey with his wife. “rhaena is with child so the maesters believe that’s why she’s been feeling ill.” lucerys smiled. “what joyous news brother, your first child.” jacaerys hands baby aemma back to you, you bite the inside of your mouth and fake a smile. “surely we should host a ball to celebrate.” you hug aemma closer. “we should get inside, corlys is waiting to see you.” you instruct a maid to take baby aemma. “yes go brother-“

“i’ll stay and greet our uncle aegon.” he notices the way you perk up, how you take lukes arm quickly. “ill see to our future lord of driftmark.” you and lucerys link arms and jaces nose scrunches. “yeah im sure you will… wife.” your taken aback at his sudden change in tone. “you should be grateful for having such a dutiful wife and future queen.” luke rolls his eyes and continues to walk with you. “thank you.” you whisper once your out of earshot. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there for her birth.” you shake your head.

“don’t be. your letters and gifts were enough.” even though you sounded sincere he still felt bad for missing your labors. “i hear the whole kingdom was cheering for you.” he chuckled. “they were cheering for aemond- he dedicated his victory to me.” aemond was there for you while jace was not. “that tourney was for you.” you passed another lord in the halls so lucerys nodded and the lord bowed deeply to the two of you. “princess, my lord-prince.” lord glover was a bit of a kiss up. “evening lord glover.”

you both kept walking and didn’t say a word more to him. “how did jace react? i pray to the seven that he didn’t take aemma being a girl to badly.” his voice was soft when it was just the two of you. “he had a better reaction at rhaegars birth but he was happy enough for aemma.” you clutched the gold necklace on your neck. “about rhaena..“ he whispered and you stopped walking. “i rather not know about you and your wife’s late night habits.” your voice sounded so bitter. “it was only for the purpose of an heir- grandsire was getting suspicious. corlys is a hard man to handle.” he rubs your cheek with the back of his hand. “it’s been hard since you left:” you sighed.

“i know but im here now and i’d walk through fire for you…. and our child.” lucerys whispered in your ear.

END OF BLURB

😧ME WRITING FOR HOTD AGAIN? I would’ve never guessed

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you make me do too much labor

jacaerys x reader inspired by labour - paris paloma

“lord stark wishes for his sister to be your lady in waiting.” jacaerys cut up his meat and shoved a piece in his mouth. “i already have two loyal ladies, surely sara can find a husband without my help.” you picked up your goblet and drank every last drop. “i wasn’t asking. she’ll arrive in days time.” he sarcastically chuckles. “very well im sure my ladies will treat her kindly.” you force a smile. “good.” he snaps at a servant to fetch him more dornish wine.

“what did the maester say about rhaegar?” jacaerys lived in fear, he was worried his perfect heir would die before he even reaches his first names-day. “rhaegar is fine jacaerys.” you let out a sharp sigh. “he’ll need a sibling- we need an heir and two spares.” the servant pours more wine into his goblet. “perhaps we should wait.” jacaerys scoffed. “it’s not that hard of a task to bare my sons- i’ll get you more jewelry if you succeed.” after rhaegars birth he gifted you a ruby ring, you wear it to remind yourself to never push this life on your future daughter. “i would like to name our second son aemond.” your mind flashes back to a time where he was alive and well.

“aemond? you want to name my son after your traitor brother?” he slammed his fist onto the table. “i have nothing left to remember them by- daeron is another name i have in mind.” jacaerys just shrugged. “the greens were all traitors- you’re lucky i took mercy on you and decided to marry you.”

ENJOY THIS BLURB

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might delete this blog im fckin shadow banned

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DROPPING MY JACE X READER street off silk oneshot tonight and jace won so he’s going to be making the moves 😏😏😏 prepare for a darker jace

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hige??

hi anon 👋 im still working on it so it can be the best it can be, i’ve just been a little sick lately so i haven’t really been on tumblr but i will definitely have at least 2 chapters out very soon. thank you for not forgetting about h.i.g.e 💋🖤

side note: sorry for responding so late ❤️‍🩹 I rlly do appreciate you liking my story and taking the time to write me a message