A Dragon Is Born

YESSSS I LOVE BOTH PLS TAG MEEE

me waiting on yall to make these sinner fics 😭🧍🏾‍♀️

Literally 😭

when its a true Velaryon reader and not a Strong Velaryon🙏🏾

What Do I Tell My Friends Family - Masterlist

Pairing: Human/Recom/Na'vi Miles Quaritch x Female! Na'vi! Sully! Reader Tags/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, rare pairing, possibly dark content, smut, adult themes, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, lust, older man x younger woman, under age reader (16), degradation, nsfw, dubious consent, dirty talk, orgasm, orgasm denial, foul language, choking, p in v - each chapter will have it's own tags

Author's Notes: Am I going crazy? I can't find the masterlist for this fic so I'm making a new one. Seems like it just *POOF* disappeared! Someone let me know if I'm just blind >_>

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

---

Tags: @mechformers @wwebaby657 @zomerlovesme @girlnred @raving-raven-writing @meeeeep5 @imavaduh @mxn14 @ashy-kit @manymaria111 @johoevi @iamwh0iam @jadesmyname @lvangel98 @watertastesnice1 @belos-simp69 @wren-solos @pandoragalora @strbyallycow @so-this-is-a-thing-noww

YESS

Don't Make It Harder On Me

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: Miguel Galindo x woc!reader

Summary: You broke it off for good reason, but that doesn't mean Miguel is willing to let you go. Especially when he knows you aren't over him either.

Word Count: 9k (bro wtf)

Warnings: my poor attempt at some angst, cheating, violence, general language warning, fingering, pet names, miguel being a lil bossy, also miguel talking a lil shit ayyee, sex in risky places, choking, mirror sex.

A/N: Whew chile it's been a minute but this is me attempting to break my hiatus while also trying to feed yall some good ol mayans content. I was gonna break this up into two parts but then I said fuck it. Hope yall don't hate that. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @firefly-graphics

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.

It was never your intention to get involved with a married man, in fact all your life you swore that you’d never be a man’s mistress. That was before Miguel Galindo came sweeping into the little boutique looking to buy an anniversary gift for his wife. You had been swept up in the tailored suit, suave demeanor, smooth voice, and God was he charming. If you hadn’t known better you could have sworn he had been flirting with you the whole time you assisted him that day. It hadn’t gone further than that, you had insisted on trying not to cross that line. 

He didn’t make it easy for you though, visits becoming more frequent and him insisting you be the one to lead him around the boutique as he shopped for various people in his life. It wasn’t until a heated moment when you almost cracked under the sexual tension that had built to the point that stifling was the only way it could be described. “You’re married.” You had told him, breathless as his mouth peppered kisses along your jaw and down your throat. His beard scratched against your soft skin as his fingers gripped against the curve of your hips. 

“What if I wasn’t?” You didn’t know it but the man had been steadily growing disenchanted with his wife. The love he had once felt for her eventually giving way to resentment and well on its way to being nothing at all. It was her own doing, an inability to stay away from an ex boyfriend, keeping secrets, and not being able to accept his other world. 

“If you weren’t we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” You breathed out, finally finding the will to push Miguel away from you so that you could steady your breathing and smooth out your clothes. “I’m not about to be your side chick, Miguel. And if you’re willing to cheat on your wife then you’re willing to do me dirty as well.” You explained, turning to look at yourself in the dressing room mirror while Miguel stood behind you with a sobering look on his face. 

“I don’t love her anymore, she’s not the woman I thought she was. I’m only with her until the lawyers work out a way to ensure I get custody of my son.” 

Your gaze met his in the mirror, a soft sigh on your lips as you tried to sort out how you felt about the admission. “Don’t make this harder on me.” You whisper, his confession didn’t change anything, he was still married and you were still concerned that he was just talking a good game. One you desperately wanted to believe. Picking up his purchases, you left him there in the dressing room, satisfied that you didn’t look like you had nearly let yourself be seduced by the man. 

“Mrs. Galindo, what a surprise to see you here.” Came the voice of the shop owner, almost a bit too loud as if she were trying to warn you that the wife had just walked in. You sighed, just what you wanted to deal with that day. You stepped into the main area of the boutique, a forced smile on your lips as you took in the blonde standing there at the counter. She regarded you for a moment, almost dismissively with a sniff as she read the name on the badge you wore. It was a name she had seen often, in fact your name was on every single one of the receipts that Emily had pulled from the boutique's bags when she was going through them. Miguel always insisted you ring him up so that you reached your sales quota. Clearly Emily was feeling some type of way now that she was finally able to lay eyes on you. 

You were everything she wasn’t in the looks department, and as confident as she was, you had her shook. Especially when Miguel appeared from the dressing room area of the store and took a moment to place a hand against your shoulder to offer his thanks for always being so helpful. It would have seemed innocent enough had it not been for the way that his hand lingered. Emily’s eyes had zeroed in on it, and Miguel seemed to be oblivious to that fact. You were hyper aware of it, a swell of guilt over taking you at the thought that you had nearly fucked this woman’s husband just minutes ago, and now he was acting like she wasn’t even standing there. 

“Will this be all, Mr. Galindo?” You questioned, stepping away from him and starting to ring up his items while he seemed to take the hint that maybe, just maybe he should not make things harder on you while his wife was standing there. 

“Yes, thank you.” He replied, tone taking on a more reserved quality as he moved to where his wife stood and greeted her with a kiss and a few affectionate words. To your credit you didn’t let yourself glare at the display, even as your stomach twisted with jealousy at the sight. You kept your eyes down, only looking up to give the total which Miguel paid for and then it happened. Emily Galindo found a way to make you feel a little less guilty about wanting to fuck her husband. As you lifted the bag to hand to Miguel, his wife reached out in a flash to snatch the bag from your hands. She had barely had your attention up until that point, but now? Now you were outright staring at her in a way that said the bitch had you all the way fucked up. As if sensing the tension, Miguel was quick to put an arm around Emily and escort her towards the door. Stopping to look over his shoulder to mouth ‘sorry’ at you as he shook his head. 

After that day you were more aware of Emily Galindo’s presence around town, it was almost like she was making appearances just to be seen. Some days even stopping into the boutique to buy something and oh so innocently asking if there was anything to pick up for Miguel. You never assisted her, Emily even going out of her way to have someone else ring up the purchases so your quota would come up short. Of course when Miguel found out about that he found his ways around it, making sure that on the off chance that Emily would make an appearance in the boutique that everything was already paid for and the credit for the sale had gone to you. Things went on like that for a couple of weeks, and you tolerated it. Thinking nothing more of Emily’s behavior as petty, childish, and fueled by jealousy. 

Then came the fateful day that you were working late, and just so happened to catch sight of Emily Galindo in the arms of another man. She even kissed him, on the cheek, the way her lips lingered giving you the impression that there was something more going on. You didn’t know why you did it, but you’d taken a couple of pictures of the exchange between Emily and the man that wore a Mayan kutte. 

The temptation to attach the photos to a text and send them to Miguel was strong, but then the creeping thought of; what if she’s only been chased into the arms of another man because of Miguel’s interest in you? That was the only thing that kept you from setting Emily’s life on fire, but the reprieve would prove to be short lived when a week later Nestor made a rare solo appearance in the boutique as you were preparing to close up. 

“Nestor, you know we’re closing in five minutes right?” You questioned, tone friendly and still welcoming even though you were partly concerned and confused about why he was there. You and Nestor had a cordial and somewhat friendly relationship, it was mostly due to Miguel seemingly insisting that you and his right hand man were on good terms. You didn’t know Nestor well, but you knew he was loyal and cared about Miguel deeply. It was something that you could respect and appreciate, even if you were resistant to starting something with Miguel due to his marriage you had grown to care about him. It was why the pictures of Emily and her mystery Mayan were still burning in your phone and why you’d taken a few more in the days after when her visits became a little more frequent. 

“Yeah I know, I actually wanted to talk to you.” That got your attention, and your hands stilled against the shirts that you were folding. 

“About?” 

“What’s going on with you and Miguel?” 

You took a breath, looking over at the man with an almost tired expression. 

“Nothings going on.” You answered, gaze quickly dropping as you resumed your folding. 

“But you want there to be something.” Nestor was observant, and you supposed you hadn’t been as covert as you possibly could have with your longing glances and wry smiles around Miguel. “You care about him?” 

“Nestor what is this about? Because if you’re here to tell me I should leave him alone then trust me, I already know. Okay? I can’t control what that man does. He’s a cartel leader, he basically owns the town. I have been doing my best to set boundaries, but I can’t make him stop pursuing me. So if that’s why you’re here then you need to have that conversation with him, because I’ve already tried. Alright? I mean I remind him every single time I see him that he’s married.” You were rambling, venting almost as you started to unload all this on Nestor who just stood quietly and listened. 

“Honestly, you don’t know how hard it is for me to see him and pretend that I don’t care about him as much as I do. Or keep things from him because I know it’s not my place to tell him what his wife has been up to.” 

“Wait, what?” 

You shut up then, realizing that in your unburdening you let it slip that you were privy to information that wasn’t known. 

“What has his wife been up to?” 

“Nestor—”

“If you care about him you’ll tell me what you know.” 

That was a dirty card to play, but Nestor didn’t play fair. Sighing heavily you moved behind the sales counter and pulled your phone from where it rested beside the register. “About a week ago I was running a bit late with closing, and I spotted Emily with some guy in a biker kutte.” You explained pulling up the incriminating photos before handing the phone to Nestor so that he could see for himself. His lack of reaction struck you as strange, if anything he didn’t look surprised at all.

“Why didn’t you tell Miguel about it?” He questioned, tapping on the screen and quickly sending the photos to his phone before you could stop him. 

“Well I didn’t think it would be fair of me to blow her up when I’m likely the reason she’s all hugged up with another man. I mean come on, you saw her that day when she came into the shop. I’m sure she’s aware that Miguel has a wandering eye.” 

“He doesn’t have a wandering eye, he just doesn’t love her anymore.” Nestor replied absently as he sat your phone down and focused on his own. “And you aren’t the reason why she stepped out. Miguel’s been suspicious for months now that she’s been trying to rekindle something with her ex.” Your mouth dropped open slightly, brow furrowed as you processed that bit of information. So Miguel hadn’t been lying when he said he was preparing to leave her, and you weren’t the reason why she was seemingly stepping out. That seemed to make any remaining guilt evaporate in an instant. 

“Nestor, could you tell him to call me?” Nestor just nodded, not questioning it as he left you to finish closing up the boutique. 

By the time you got home, Miguel’s name was flashing across your screen and for the first time since he’d manage to somehow get your number, you didn’t chastise him for calling you so late. 

Things only escalated from there, and the two of you began to see much more of each other. There were late night visits, gifts, dates out of town, sometimes even out of state. You’d even been in his house, and around his son and mother while Emily was out doing who knew what. His men had even gotten used to seeing you around, growing fond of you as you always came bearing gifts and a friendly smile for them. Part of you knew that endearing yourself to them would play a big part in them wanting to keep Miguel’s secret relationship with you out of more than just fear of the man. 

Emily still made her appearances, and tempted you to throw it in her face that you knew she wasn’t as devoted and loyal as she tried to pretend she was. You let the truth die on your tongue as you kept up the mask of professionalism while knowing Miguel would be buried inside you by the end of the day.

You put up with it for another month, and in that time things seemed to take a turn for Emily Thomas. First her Mayan ex found himself with a new girlfriend, a pretty girl named Gabriela that you thought was sweet. She’d only come into the boutique you worked at a couple of times looking for a new dress, and you two had chatted easily. You may or may not have told her to leave herself open to the possibility of something blooming between her and the Mayan who you had come to know was named Ezekiel. Apparently Gaby had taken your advice, and now with no other romantic option, Emily was doing her best to try and hold onto her dead marriage. 

Her answer to attempting to stoke the flame between her and Miguel was a resort trip, one where it’d just be her and him while their son remained with a nanny. Jealousy had sparked at that, especially when Miguel agreed to the trip with the excuse of having to keep up appearances. You had been angry, but then you decided to be petty. 

It was just a few pictures, pictures of you wearing nothing but the most recent set of very pricey lingerie that Miguel had gifted you. It was meant to simply remind him what he was missing out on, but apparently it was more effective than you expected. The end of your shift came, and as if on cue Miguel’s black suv came to a halt in front of the building. Before you knew it you were being ushered inside the spacious backseat, and he had you in his arms as he pulled you into his lap with a searing kiss on your lips. 

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with her.” You questioned once you’d caught your breath, and your head had stopped swimming from the kiss. 

“I told her there was an emergency here in Santo Padre, I have to go back in the morning.” He answered, and you didn’t need him to elaborate on what the emergency was. You could feel it pressing up against your core. Something about knowing that the man would rather be with you than on some sunny beach with her stoked your ego in the worst way. Miguel only fed into it as he let his mouth latch onto your neck to leave a trail of open mouth kisses. 

“You just couldn’t resist sending me those pictures could you?” He questioned a moment later, his hands already venturing under your skirt to push your panties aside. By the time the vehicle had pulled off from in front of the boutique he was knuckle deep inside of you, and you were moaning into his neck shamelessly. You were aware of the man in the front seat driving, and to his credit he made sure to keep his eyes on the road and took it upon himself to turn on the radio. It was a false sense of privacy, but you hardly cared as Miguel’s fingers worked that spongy spot nestled in your core that never failed to have your toes curling. 

“I had to remind you what you had waiting on you back home.” You managed to get out, your lipstick smudging against his collar as you moved against his fingers. “Had to give you something to think about in case you had to fuck her.” You added with a mischievous grin that had him growling in the back of his throat. 

“Oh preciosa, were you jealous?” His fingers thrust into you more insistently, bringing a needy moan out of you. “Were you worried that you’d have to share cock this with her?” His question had you pouting for a moment, hating that it was true. “Don’t worry, princesa. It won’t be long before she’s out of the picture, and you’ll have me all to yourself.” It was a promise, you knew it, but part of you was growing impatient with how long things were taking. Luckily for Miguel his fingers inside you were proving to be the perfect distraction from you asking how much longer it’d be before he presented the divorce papers. 

“I’m close, Miguel.” You moaned, hearing his hum of approval as he snaked his free hand up to grip you by the back of your neck as he guided you in for another heated kiss. He worked his fingers against that sweet spot until you were falling over the edge and crying out for him. Miguel swallowed your moans greedily, fingers still thrusting into you as he let you ride out your orgasm against them. 

“That’s my good girl, let’s get inside.” He gave your ass a slap, jolting you back to reality enough for you to realize that he’d brought you to his house. Quickly you moved out of his lap and smoothed out your clothes to be presentable before you got out of the vehicle. There was no need to sneak in, his staff knew you by that point and seemed to like you more than they did Emily. In any case, Miguel wasted no time in getting you into his bedroom and having his way with you. At some point after a couple rounds, and a steamy shower you had pulled Miguel in front of the bathroom mirror to snap a picture with him. It wasn’t the first time you’d taken a picture with him, and just like all the other ones you’d posted on your insta you made sure his face was concealed. 

As the saying goes; No face, no case. 

Except for the fact that you didn’t expect Emily to hunt down your instagram after the vacation was over and she had been stewing with her suspicions. You also didn’t expect her to recognize the setting. More importantly you didn’t expect her to show up at the boutique one night, screaming and raving that she knew you were fucking her husband. Unfortunately that was exactly what had happened. 

Emily blew into the boutique like a storm, making a beeline for you only to be cut off by the two employees that were working while the owner quickly ushered you to the back. You could hear it all though, she sounded insane and she was clearly looking for an altercation. Before you even knew what you were doing you were dialing Miguel. 

“Preciosa, I’m going to hav—”

“How much do you still love your wife?” The question struck him silent for all of a second before you could hear the sound of him moving away from the voices in the background. 

“What type of question is that, you know I don’t.” 

“I’m just making sure, because she’s here making a fucking scene and if I have to put hands on her I’m not about to hesitate.” 

“Mi amor, I’m on my way. Don’t do anything drastic.” 

“I’ll try, but if she doesn’t leave I’m going to make her.” You hung up then, the sound of Emily’s yelling floating back to settle on your ears before you made your way back to the front. You refused to hide from her, and if she wanted smoke you had plenty of it for her. Her yelling ceased for only a moment, just long enough for you to reappear from the back to see her on the phone before she was looking up at you again with an accusing glance. 

“Did you fucking call my husband? You whore! You did, didn't you!” She hadn’t hung up the phone, and you could hear Miguel’s voice shouting for Emily to calm down. It was too late for that, and she had already pushed through the two employees that had been trying to keep you two separated. “You’re so pathetic, you had to call MY husband to save you!” 

And then she slapped you. 

Everything went quiet, so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping. 

“I don’t need a man to save me, bitch. But you’re gonna.” It was the only warning that you gave the bleach blonde before your fist struck out and connected with her nose. There was a crunch but that didn’t stop you from following her down as she fell to the ground. Your fist connected a few more times, before she was grappling with you, having the nerve to pull on your hair before you broke her hold and popped her right in the mouth. Your fist was raised to land another blow before you felt yourself being lifted in the air by strong arms, and your first instinct was to fight until a familiar voice cut through the chaos. 

“¡Cálmate, por favor!” It was Miguel, you had no idea where he had been to get there so fast but you could feel him keeping a firm grip on you as you made an attempt to lunge at Emily as she crawled, stumbled, and dragged herself to her feet unsteadily. 

“Call the police! I want the police!” She screamed, already playing the victim even though she had instigated the ass beating she’d just got. 

“Em—” Miguel had started only to be cut off. 

“No, I want the cops here. Or I want that slut dealt with.” She was bleeding from the mouth, and shaking as she looked around wildly only to find that no one was making a move to do what she wanted. 

“I’m so sorry, Senor Galindo. Your wife, she…” The owner of the boutique shook her head as she glanced between you and the beaten Emily. “She came in here screaming, and then she attacked her. My employee was just defending herself.” The woman explained motioning to you, not realizing that Miguel already knew exactly what had transpired after overhearing the exchange after Emily had forgotten to hang up her phone before she attacked. 

“Is this true?” The question was posed to his men that had accompanied Emily into the boutique and simply stood back and let it all play out. They nodded silently and Emily seemed to realize then that she had no allies. “Nestor, take this young lady and put her in my car.” You couldn’t see it over your shoulder, but you could feel the anger radiating off of Miguel as he glared hard at Emily. Nestor said nothing as he gathered you under one of his arms and guided you past Emily who had the good sense to jump back when you came close. She didn’t move fast enough and Nestor didn’t have as tight of a hold on you as he thought, because as soon as you were close enough you lunged, hands grabbing and latching onto Emily’s blonde hair. 

“Shit!” Nestor shouted, moving after you to drag you back but it was too late. Your grip was already locked in and as he dragged you towards the door of the boutique Emily was dragged along with you kicking and screaming. It took some doing, but between three grown men they were able to get you off of her and outside, but not before you had one last thing to say. 

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two, bitch!” You could hear Nestor sigh as he led you outside, and ushered you into the back seat of Miguel’s car. 

“You okay?” He questioned, sighing again when you didn’t answer and focused your attention on the view outside the window. You were too pissed to speak at the moment, hands still shaking as your body practically vibrated with rage as you fought every instinct to not rush back inside and finish what Emily had started. Just when you were ready to go and do that, Miguel appeared and silently climbed into the back of the vehicle. Carefully he took your shaking hands into his and brought his lips to your aching knuckles to drop gentle kisses against them as he murmured his apologies. 

“I am so sorry, mi amor. This should have never happened, you should have never been put into a situation where you would have to fight because of me.” His words were a bit of a balm to your still simmering temper, and a reminder that you were clearly his priority despite his current marital status. Still that wasn’t enough, and after what had just happened you were done waiting for the right time or the right moment. 

“I’m not doing this anymore.” You said simply, causing Miguel to pause and meet your gaze. “I’m not about to be on the sideline while you play house with that unstable bitch. You either figure your shit out and divorce her or you leave me the fuck alone.” 

You could see the hard set in Miguel’s jaw as he let your words settle in his mind. “Preciosa I—” 

“No! That woman came to my job, called me out my name, and put hands on me. You don’t get to sweet talk your way out of this. I’m done until you show me that you’re no longer a married man.” You hated giving an ultimatum but the events of the night had left you with no choice. “Oh, and if I see her again I’m beating her ass on sight every time. Now take me home.” 

Miguel hadn’t argued with you, letting you stay on your side of the vehicle the entire ride back to your place. His attempt at saying goodbye was cut off by the slamming of the suv’s door as you stalked to the front door of your apartment. 

A month went by with no calls, no text, and no appearances from Miguel. Emily was MIA as well, and life was quiet. Part of you figured that Miguel had turned out to be just another married man who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. So you did the only thing you could, you tried to move on despite the bitter heartache that you felt. You figured it was the price you had to pay for falling for a married man, rarely did they ever actually leave their wives. Especially when there was a child in the mix. You didn’t doubt that he wanted out, but the saying has always been ‘it’s cheaper to keep her’ for a reason. 

By the second month you found yourself in a new relationship with a man who was single when he met you. He was kind, handsome, he had a good job, and he doted on you. He didn’t judge you when you finally told him why your last relationship fell through. Another four months passed and the relationship blossomed, you weren’t necessarily in love with him yet, but you thought to yourself that you could see yourself falling if things stayed that good. At least that was what you kept telling yourself in an effort to bury that little bit of your heart that still yearned for Miguel. 

The fact that he was on your mind when you heard the knock at your front door should have been a warning, but you weren’t expecting any visitors that evening so cautiously you made way towards it. 

“Who is it?” 

“It’s me, preciosa.” It’d been so long that you were surprised enough to immediately open the door just to make sure that voice belonged to who you thought it did. Seeing Miguel standing there had you torn between slamming the door in his face or inviting him in. “Can we talk?” 

He was lucky that you were calmer now that enough time had passed. Seeing him again seemed to rip open old wounds, and as much as you didn’t want to you couldn’t help but stare. He was the last person you expected to show up at your door, and part of you was happy to see him again. Another part of your though was torn and wary at his presence. He wanted to talk, and despite your warring emotions you wanted to hear what he had to say. 

“Yeah, we can talk.” You stepped aside and gave him room to enter your humble apartment. Closing and locking the door behind him you watched as Miguel made himself comfortable on your sofa and waited for you to settle in beside him. You sat yourself at the far end of the sofa, giving him an expectant look that whatever he needed to say now was the time to say it. 

“The divorce got messy,” He started, and you could feel your heart stammer in your chest. You expected him to say that Emily convinced him to stay with her, but his next words surprise you. “It took longer than I wanted once papers were served, but it’s done.” 

“It’s done?” You repeated the words, and he nodded. 

“She tried to use the photos from your social media as proof that I cheated first. The judge threw it out because there was no actual proof that it was me in the photos.” 

Despite the seriousness of the moment you let out a small laugh. No face, no case indeed.

“Ironically enough, her attacking you that night was enough for me to convince the judge to grant me full custody of Cristobal. She still gets supervised visits though.” He continued to explain. 

You merely nodded, accepting that. “She’s his mother, it’d be cruel to cut her out of his life entirely.” You replied, keeping your tone even. “Now that you’ve gotten everything that you wanted, what are you doing here?” 

Miguel shook his head, moving closer to you until he was close enough to pull you against him. “I don’t have everything I want. I don’t have you back with me yet.” It would have been so easy to simply give in right then and there, being in his arms again felt so right, and knowing that all this time he’d been wanting you helped to heal the heartache. But then your mind wandered to your current boyfriend, and you forced yourself to ease your way out of Miguel’s arms and once again put some distance between the two of you. You hated to see the confusion that crossed his features, but the man you were dating now was a good man and he didn’t deserve to have you stepping out on him now that Miguel was choosing to pop back into your life. 

“Look, I’m happy that you’re out of an unhappy marriage,” you started, steeling yourself for what you had to say next. “But when I didn’t hear from you for two months I stopped waiting around.” You told him, and before he could interrupt you continued. “I know you probably couldn’t have come around or reached out personally because of the divorce proceedings, but a man like you has so many resources and you didn’t use any of them. You can’t blame me for thinking you chose your marriage over what we hav—had.” You were quick to correct yourself, but Miguel heard the small slip up and it told him what he needed to know. 

“You’re right, mi amor. I assumed you would wait, and that was unfair to do without letting you know what was happening, but—”

“No buts, Miguel. I’m with someone now, I have a boyfriend that has no attachments to another woman and he treats me really well. He makes me happy,” but Miguel made you feel so much more than happy, and you knew it, but the thought of breaking another’s heart so selfishly had you refusing to acknowledge what you truly wanted. “I...I think you should go, thank you for letting me know the time we spent together was real but I can’t just jump back into bed with you now that you’re free. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve that.”

It wasn’t the answer Miguel wanted to hear, but you were determined to at least try and be a good person this time around. Miguel nodded, jaw set so hard you could see the muscle ticking when he stood to his feet and walked towards the door of your apartment. You hated to let him go, and you knew better than to look over your shoulder in his direction but you still did it anyway. “I’m not giving up on us, preciosa. Your new man might be good, but he’s not me.” 

His words lingered in your mind long after he was gone, and you wondered what he was planning. You found out a week later when you went to pay rent only to be told that it had been paid up for the remainder of your lease. You hadn’t exactly been excited to hear that, and your attempts to call or text Miguel had all led to you being unable to reach him. A week after that a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and a box in a certain recognizable blue shade was delivered to your door, you knew it was from Miguel. Your new man always got you roses instead of your favorites, and the two of you weren’t in the jewelry giving stage of your new relationship yet, and seeing that blue box had you suddenly feeling wary. A quick search on the website had you furiously dialing Miguel’s number, only for him to send you to voicemail. Your texts were left on read, and despite knowing that he was forcing your hand to go to him, you did anyway. You needed to return this damn necklace and let Miguel know that you weren’t about to be swayed by expensive gifts. 

The guards, and the household staff were all too happy to see you again, and despite your determination to put boundaries in place you couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling of being back there. God you missed him, and this place, and all the people here but you were resolute in your decision to not give in to the temptation of running back to Miguel. 

“He’s been expecting you.” The familiar voice of Nestor informed you once you stepped into the living room. Eyeing the little blue Tiffany’s bag in your hand he merely shook his head and motioned towards the direction of Miguel’s office. You offered up a quiet thank you, heels clacking loudly against the expensive flooring of the Galindo mansion. You didn’t stop at the door, striding in with purpose and confidence that nearly collapsed at the sight of Miguel sitting behind his desk in a suit that only made him look more attractive than he already was. 

“Preciosa, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?” His question caused you to narrow your eyes in his direction. He knew damn well why you were there, but clearly he was going to play games. You huffed, annoyed that you weren’t really all that annoyed as you sat the Tiffany’s bag on his desk with an expectant look on your face. Miguel followed the movement, a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he reached out to slide it towards himself. “So you got my gift, good, but you didn’t have to come all this way just to thank me.”

Rolling your eyes you crossed your arms over your chest and shook your head. “I’m not here to thank you Miguel, I’m here to return that ridiculously expensive necklace.”You shot back, doing your best to stand firm when Miguel stood from his chair and began to slowly circle his way around his desk. A desk that held several memories that you were trying not to think of at the present moment. “I’m not in the habit of taking back gifts, mi amor.” He replied, voice smooth as honey while he kept you in his sights. For a moment you felt like prey being closed in on by the wolf, and truly you might as well have been considering you’d done exactly as Miguel wanted you to by going to see him that day. 

“Miguel, that necklace is over one hundred thousand dollars. I can’t accept something like that from you.” You challenged, gasping when the sudden feeling of Miguel’s hands on your waist all but burned through the dress you wore. For a moment you simply stood there, nails biting into your palms as you curled them into fists to fight off the urge to reach out and touch Miguel. it was all you could do to steel yourself and resist the man that was testing your patience like no one else could. 

“You can and you will.” Slowly he turned you around, making you face his desk while he stood close enough for his body heat to seep into you, and the smell of his cologne to invade your senses. You hadn’t realized that your eyes had slipped closed until they flew open at the feeling of cold metal against your warm skin. Before you could protest Miguel quickly fastened the far too pricey necklace around your neck, leaving the diamond pendant to settle against the hollow of your throat. You didn’t expect the feeling of his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw after that, and the soft gasp that flew from your lips was unmistakable. 

For a moment you just let yourself stay there relishing the feeling of his beard softly scraping against your soft skin as he left a slow trail of kisses along your shoulderblade, but soon enough warning bells began to ring loud and clear in your mind. This was dangerous, and you were falling right into the trap that you swore you were going to avoid. Quickly you stepped away from Miguel, needing space to breathe and distance so you could think clearly. “Dammit.” You cursed under your breath, tears of frustration brimming in your eyes while you tried to avoid looking at the man who you were desperately trying to resist. “Why? Why are you doing this?” You questioned, tone accusing as you motioned between the two of you. 

You knew why, but some twisted part of you needed to hear him say it. 

“Because I love you, preciosa, and I’m not giving up on us when I know you still feel the same about me.” His words cut like a knife right through all the bullshit reasons you’d been repeating to yourself since the day he’d shown up to tell you he was done with Emily, and still wanting you. Every rebuttal that you had died on your tongue, no denial of your own feelings would make its way past your lips. All you could do was rush from the room before he could get his hands on you again. 

You didn’t remember the necklace until later that day after you’d taken a long shower to try and wash away the guilt of being in love with another man while you had a devoted and caring boyfriend. The diamond pendant glared at you from the mirror, glinting brightly in the low lights and reminding you of the moment that Miguel had put it on you. You had half a mind to take it off, you should have taken it off, and yet when you moved to do so you couldn’t bring yourself to remove Miguel’s token of affection from around your throat. Perhaps you were a bad person, the invasive thought trickled in making you turn away from the mirror with a frustrated sigh. 

That night you didn’t sleep peacefully. You tossed and turned all night, memories of Miguel invading your dreams and leaving you on edge and irritable by the time morning came. An early morning text from your boyfriend was left on read, your shift at the boutique dragged on, and by the end of the day you only barely remembered that it was date night. You didn’t want to go, but you knew that your boyfriend had jumped through hoops and saved all so he could treat you to dinner at some expensive restaurant an hour outside of town. For some odd reason the thought of it filled you with dread, like there was something looming just on the horizon that you couldn’t see yet. It had a pit settling in your stomach as you rushed home to shower, primp, and get dressed for something that had you feeling damned. 

The car ride to the restaurant was spent with you engaging in the most minimal conversation while your fingers toyed idly with Miguel’s necklace. When asked what had you so down you simply lied, playing it off as just being tired from having to work that day. Your boyfriend bought the excuse easily enough, and by the end of the drive you were starting to feel guilty for your sour mood. You resolved yourself to be in a better mood for the rest of the evening, reminding yourself that just a month ago you were excited about the prospect of dinner at this place. So with a convincing, yet fake, smile you walked hand in hand into the building with your boyfriend. 

Your smile immediately deflated when you saw that the table you were to be sitting at was only a few tables away from one currently occupied by Miguel and another woman. Instantly you felt dizzy. Thankfully you were already in the process of sitting, otherwise you were sure that you would have fallen over from the shock of seeing the man again so soon, and with another woman in his face. Anger, and bitter jealousy swirled in the pit of your stomach as you glanced over at their table from the corner of your eye. There was no telling what they were discussing, and Miguel’s back was to you so you couldn’t see his expression. All you knew was that he was making this woman smile, and she was laughing a bit too much for your liking. 

With a deep breath in, and a slow exhale out you forced yourself to ignore it and try to enjoy your night. It was easier said than done but you managed to get through appetizers and a couple glasses of wine before everything seemingly came crashing down. It started with your boyfriend nervously gearing up to say something while you worriedly waited for him to spit whatever it was he wanted to say out. 

“I’ve been trying to think of the best way to say this but, um…well the best way to say it is to just say it.” He paused for a moment, and you nervously brought your glass of wine to your lips with the intention of sipping at it. “I love you.” 

You choked and sputtered into your wine glass, some of it spilling out and landing on your dress while you clumsily tried to place your glass back onto the table. It landed on the edge, and soon it shattered on the floor with a crash while you were jumping out of your seat. Your gaze moved to Miguel’s table, meeting his gaze as he watched you curiously before noticing the man on the other side of the table trying to help clean up the mess. His gaze grew hard and dangerous at the sight of your boyfriend, and the only thing you could think to do was leave. “I need to go, sorry.” Words rushed out of you as you turned on your heels and nearly ran to the restroom, choosing to take the individual family stall for a bit of much needed privacy. 

You didn’t see Miguel excusing himself from his own table and following after you at a distance, nor did you expect him to take advantage of you forgetting to lock the door behind you and slipping into the restroom stall. You were caught up in trying to steady your breathing and fight back the wave of nausea that had hit you that you didn’t even notice Miguel there at first. Too busy cursing yourself for being so stupid and selfish and letting things get this far, how had you missed the signs that things had gotten this serious? Were you truly that oblivious to the man you were dating falling in love with you? 

“God dammit.”  You hissed, a hand smacking down on the sink as you resisted the urge to yell in frustration. There was no way you could go back out there and return the sentiment without it being a lie, and now more than ever it was clear that you wouldn’t ever get there with your boyfriend. You were still very much in love with Miguel, and seeing him tonight with someone else only made that abundantly clear. 

“Mi amor…” His voice was both a balm, and salt in the wound. The sound of it had you whirling around to face him, and before you could stop yourself you had stalked over to him and laid a hard slap against his cheek. 

“Who is she?” You demanded, ignoring the hard flash of his eyes when he refocused on you. “Who is that woman out there? Does she know about me? Does she know that you were lying to me just yesterday about still loving me?” You pushed at his chest, anger, shame, and hurt all mixing into one confusing emotion as you lashed out. God you felt so stupid, and suddenly the necklace that hung daintily around your neck felt heavy as an anchor. Miguel caught your hands in an iron grip, quickly backing you up against the restroom's sink, and with his other hand he grabbed you by the chin. 

“Calm the fuck down.” His tone was darker than you’d ever heard it, and laced with something else that you could clearly identify as lust. It had you swallowing thickly, and suddenly remembering yourself. “That woman is a business associate that I’m trying to impress. Nothing more, nothing less.” The explanation was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the outburst, and unable to meet his gaze any longer. “Look at me.” The command was followed almost instantly, and you couldn’t help but squirm under the intensity of Miguel’s stare. “I meant everything I said.” He continued, leaning in close enough to tease you with the closeness of his mouth to yours. 

“I—”

“No. You don’t get to speak unless you’re begging me to remind you who all this,” He emphasizes the word by letting go of your hands to instead grab a handful of your ass. “belongs to.” Clearly you weren’t the only one feeling the jealousy of seeing the one you loved with someone else. Heat swirled in the pit of your belly, and the all too familiar ache that only Miguel could sate settled in. Heart hammering in your chest you let out a shuddering breath and nodded to which Miguel only jerked you forward the smallest bit. “Use your words, mi amor.” 

“Please.” It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to spur him into action. Your dress was pushed up over your hips and in a quick move Miguel had you spun around and facing the mirror. All you could do was brace your hands against the restroom's sink as the sound of a zipper coming down filled your ears. Eyes closed you swallowed a moan when you felt your panties being pulled to the side before his length was dragging against your damp folds. You ground back against him, only for him to catch you by the hips and force your movements to still. Slowly he teased you, spreading your slick arousal over his length until you were whimpering and begging him to fuck you. 

Finally he had mercy on you and began to press his way inside your tight entrance. You bit down on your bottom lip, quieting the moan that desperately wanted to make its way out of you. He sank into you slowly, taking his time in getting reacquainted with the feel of you wrapped around him and sucking him in deeper. You pushed back, already greedy for more of him after denying yourself for so long. Breath rushed from you at the first snap of his hips, and you barely had time to try and catch it before another hard thrust of his cock jolts your hips forward only for you to sink back onto him with a shaky moan that’s almost too loud for your current setting. 

“Not so loud, preciosa. We wouldn’t want everyone to hear you getting fucked like a slut.” Miguel’s taunting had you clenching around him, and when you felt his hand snaking up your side and wrapping around your throat to squeeze you couldn’t help but moan again. Eyes locked on the reflection of the two of you, you felt as if you couldn’t look away from Miguel as he finally claimed what he had been missing for all those months. He wasn’t gentle as he rutted into you, making you take every thick inch while his hand squeezed around your throat just enough to keep your air restricted. 

“Fuck, that’s it…that’s my good girl.” He ground out between his teeth, hips snapping forward hard enough that you were sure anyone on the other side of the door could hear if they were close enough. Not that you expected anyone to interrupt or try to get past whoever was likely guarding the door. Knowing that someone outside possibly knew what was happening inside the restroom only excited you further, and any thought of your boyfriend being the one to hear the two of you was far from your mind. The only man that existed in the moment was the one currently pounding into you from behind. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He said, and you could only nod with a desperate moan when you felt him thrusting into you harder. 

His unrelenting pace had you nearing the edge quicker than you realized, and when you felt his other hand sliding between your thighs so that his fingers could circle against your bundle of nerves you were teetering on the edge. Eyes falling shut you tried to chase your high, but Miguel had other plans.  “Open your fucking eyes, watch yourself cum on this cock.” The growled words had your eyes snapping open to view the lewd scene before he had you cumming with a strained cry. Walls pulsing and clenching down around his cock, Miguel was no match for the way your body milked him for his spend. Spilling every drop as deeply as he could inside of you with a strained curse on his lips. The hand at your throat loosened and you sucked in air, panting and legs shaky when you tried to stand yourself up properly. Miguel steaded you before he silently fixed your clothes back in place and turned you back around to face him. 

“You’re going to go out there with me dripping out of you and break up with him.” 

Suddenly you remembered who you were there at the restaurant with and guilt began to settle in and sour the post-coital bliss.

“No more excuses, now it’s your turn to show me you’re serious. I’m done sharing my woman with some undeserving bastard.” Reaching up to take you by the chin he directed your gaze to his. “Either you end it with him, or I’ll do it myself.” The ultimatum was followed by a searing kiss that left you stunned for a moment. “Your choice, mi amor, but one way or another you’re coming home tonight.” 

Miguel left you then, exiting the restroom and leaving you to grapple with what you’d just done, and what he expected from you now. Taking in a deep breath you knew you had only one option, so you made the awkward trip back to your table. Sitting back down you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of arousal and guilt as Miguel’s spend continued to drip from your core while you sat there preparing to break up with your boyfriend. 

“I don’t love you, and I don’t think I ever will and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize that but it’s over.” You rushed your way through the words but you could tell that your now ex boyfriend had understood each and every one. He sat in silence for a moment, jaw working as he did his best to keep his emotions in check. You simply sat in silence, watching him as he stood up abruptly, threw a few bills on the table to cover the dinner, and with a glace over his shoulder glared at Miguel who was now alone and watching it all play out. Part of you suspected he might have said or done something in the time it took you to get yourself together before returning but you didn’t care to ask. 

Soon enough you were left at the table by yourself, and moments later joined by Miguel who stood by your chair with his hand outstretched. Silently you slipped your hand into his and let him guide you up from your chair and towards the entrance.

me in the theater when I saw this scene 😫🤭

he’s so sexy i can’t even

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen-Velaryon!Reader. Yes, this is targcest!! Mostly centered around Everyone x Reader, tho. Set in HOTD S1x7: Driftmark.

Traits/Features: i usually keep the readers descriptions ambiguous/unspecific but for obvious reasons, reader is mixed (though, her skin color - as well as her eye color -- isn't mentioned, it's heavily implied) and she has the traditional Targ/Velaryon white/silver hair.

Warnings: Includes the use of Y/n. As it says above, this contains TARG-CEST, arranged by marriage!!! You have been warned. Twice. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Though, unlike other fics, I don't find it necessary to point out how they're related (if that makes sense). Brief mention of a major character death!! (Aka Laena's death). As this is set in the episode Aemond's eye was taken, his mutilation is also included (nothing too graphic tho). Despite all these warnings, the fic as a whole is more on the fluffy/general side.

Disclaimer: I dont own ASOIAF/HOTD or it's characters, nor do I claim to own them. Nor do I own the dividers/images used. All credits goes to their respective owners.

Targ Divider Credits: @/dingusfreakhxrrington.

Inspo for this fic: [X] | Click this Link to see more Velaryon!Reader works.

Imagine... Being Rhaenyra and Laenor's trueborn daughter and earning the title, 'The Realm's Light'.

Or... In which, everyone witnesses the first acts of diplomacy, displayed by the makings of a future Queen.

To say, you were the last bit of light to grace the stone walls of Driftmark and its peoples, was an understatement.

The fight that broke out between the two Targaryen houses, was enough to test anyone's patience, but with the death of their only daughter - and unborn grandchild - still fresh in their hearts, Corlys and Rhaenys had little energy to fight back with, much less, to attempt at settling a score that had long-sinced been brewing.

But it's with the collective gasps of shock, emitting from those closest to the entrance of the halls' double doors, did everyone evert their eyes from the damage Viserys' ignorance was gonna ensue, in favor of looking upon the beauty, whose sleep was rudely interrupted by her families' quarreling.

A gasp of her own, leaving her lips. "What's going on here?!"

There, at the center of all the chaos, came an angel in the form of Rhaenyra and Laenor's only true born daughter, and rightful heir, Y/n Velaryon.

The array of candles that lined the walls of the great hall, lit the path behind her, and formed a halo-like glow around the silver of her hair -- the sight akin to that of a dragon hatching from the flames, of its incubation chamber.

This dragon, however - although young and just a girl - was one many adored, and favored the most, over her siblings, not just because she was the only legitimate child of the Princess and her Lord Husband, but for her compassion and devotion to those who needed it.

Her betrothed, especially, being the one of many to be graced with such kindness.

Though, it had been a union, cultivated by King Viserys, purely on the bases that his crumbling and dying house be better fortified, it wasn't until now, did people - and Aemond, more importantly -, realize that initial kindness you paid the king's second son, wasn't out of obligation but out of the kindness of your heart.

The level of protectiveness and empathy you had shown the mutilated boy, and even better, the diplomacy you'd shown your brothers and cousins, and your good mother, Queen Alicent, in letting them each speak their truth - as the adults had lacked to do - in getting to the root of the problem, having turned every ill thought, Otto had engraved into Alicent's mind - and by extension, into Aemond's - about Rhaenyra and her brood being 'entitled little pricks', completely on its head.

The events that followed the infighting at Driftmark, having convinced everyone well enough, that the true Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, lie not with Rhaenyra, or even the kings firstborn son, Aegon ll, but with you.

The Realms Light.

A/N: Sorry for the month long wait (wait-- A MONTH?!! HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN, lol?!), I was in the middle of moving. More chapters will be out soon.

(This fic was written and posted by ©️noonesgoneuntiltheyregone, previously known as nightowls-multifandom-imagines on: 28/05-27/06/23). Please don't copy, claim or repost my works!! You may like and reblog my works tho!!

Empty/Sus blogs will be blocked upon interaction!!

“There,” you let your sisters know. “She’s barren no longer. She’ll have a child now and fear my pain. Soon she’ll pay. Son for a son. “

THIS GAVE ME CHILLS SHE ATEEEE

Chapter 12 Pretty when I cry

Chapter 12 of Sandstorm

A/N- I'M SO EXCITED FOR WHAT'S TO COME!!!

Warning- Sswearing, fluff, incest, violence, ANGST, death!! Dark magic and sacrifice, talks of pregnancy and THERES ALSO CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There’s a ruined Red Keep that you stand in, two cradles stand in the middle. Snow falls through the gaps on the ceiling, this time albeit it’s slow and so life-like, the bitter breeze that swirls the snowflakes on the ground actually feels cold. Once again just before you can see the babies inside their cradles, the fire begins to grow around you, but this time it's flames actually provide heat and slightly blind your eyes.

You expect the dream to end there and then as it always does, but this time the fire lingers, you don’t abruptly wake up, the fire only grows taller almost as if trapping you inside. The heat intensifies, making you turn your head away and shield your eyes. The silence lingers thereafter and the fire's heat doesn’t change anymore, so you slowly turn your head and put your arm down, that’s when you catch a figure in the fire, it grows taller as it gets closer.

This hasn’t happened before, you never stayed this long. This is…different, something new. Is it the meaning behind this dream?

You narrow your eyes out of curiosity even if your heart is beginning to race out of fear. The figure grows taller the closer it gets, and then when it reaches the edge a shadow casts on the ground before an armored metal boot breaks out of the fire wall. Instead of stepping away even if you have nowhere to go, you stay put and watch the rest of the figure walk out of the fire, revealing herself as a slim woman with silver-gold hair; braided and bound in golden rings. Her eyes are an intense and unique pale lilac color that almost seems to burn as hot as that fire as her glare pierced in you. She shouldn't be unfamiliar but you do recognize her now as the fires light basks her intense majestic face.

It’s Queen Visenya Targaryen.

She is your namesake.

What is she doing here? In this dream? This isn’t an answer, it's only more confusion.

Yet before you can grow mad with confusion, from the corner of your eye you catch another figure emerging from the firewall at your right side. this time it’s a man, a very tall man with a thick and broad appearance, he’s built like a bull. His hair is blond, and his eyes are a deeper lilac. His gaze is as intense as the Queens, but he looks even more intimidating. And just like before, you recognize him too, he’s King Maegor Targaryen.

But why?

“What’s going on?” You ask the pair, the mother and the son.

But there’s no answer, instead a third person appears this time from your left side. It’s a woman, she’s older than the others, slimmer than Queen Visenya, she has a fair complexion and a high forehead. Her eyes aren’t the same color as the others, they’re blue. And like the others there is a name that comes to mind, Queen Alysanne Targaryen.

“What’s—” this time you don’t finish your repeated question because another figure emerges from the fire between Visenya and Alysanne, it’s smaller and the moment their face shows your face falls with disbelief and your eyes fill with tears, and your heart….that shattered thing begins to fill with joy and warmth.

“Rhaenar?” Your voice quivers.

He moves his arm away from his brown eyes and finds you in the middle of the fire circle, and instantly smiles. “Mother!” He exclaims, and before you knew it you were both running towards each other to meet with a tight embrace.

“Oh my sweet boy,” you cry and hold onto him, you draw in a deep breath and take in his scent. “My Rhaenar.” Your breath shudders.

The boy laughs softly and holds onto your neck with force.

“I’m sorry,” you interject and pull back to grab his cheeks and face him, now you notice that his face isn’t burnt, his face is okay here. His curls are so neatly formed and all over his face. “I’m sorry. I failed you, I’m so sorry.”

Rhaenar wipes your tears away and shakes his head with a sweet smile on his face. “It’s alright mother. I’m okay, I’ll be fine. Don’t cry please. I’ll always be with you.”

You shake your head and now grab onto his shoulders. “No. No I’m not ready to be without you, I need you with me in real life. Not here, not in my dreams.”

Rhaenar draws out a deep breath. “They’re not dreams really.” He scoffs. “It’s all real in a way. This place, it’s just been different for everyone, but for you, grandfather says it’s different, you’re the only one who’s seeked far enough to reach all of us. This plane.”

Your eyes narrow slightly, and your eyebrows furrow in comfuson. But the first thing you question is what he mentioned moments ago. “Grandfather?”

Rhaenar’s grin widens. “I’m not alone here mother, I have so many people here, family. But most importantly my grandfather! He’s been with me the entire time.” He nods and then looks back, when you follow his line of gaze you see the man he speaks about with so much glee, Rhaegar Targaryen, your father. He emerges from the fire too, with his long silver-gold hair, his deep blue eyes, and a faint smile on his pale face.

His presence fills you with nostalgia, familiarity, and there is a spark of joy, but that soon gets overpowered by the anger, burning fury.

“I know,” he says in that voice you’ve missed hearing sing to you. “I know you’re upset my girl, but—”

“No!” You cut him off and stand up to your feet to stride towards him. “No! You!” You sneer and point at him. “It’s your fault! It’s your fault I grew up without my mother, it’s your fault my sister and brother died!” You reach him and shove him back with that same anger. “It’s all your fault this all happened to us! To our family! You left me! You left us! You left! How could you do that?!”

Your father ducks his head out of shame and swallows thickly. “I will never forgive myself for what happened to your mother and your siblings, but it’s something I won’t regret.”

You scoff and step back.

“It had to be done. To complete the prophecy. Which it has, Jon, Daenerys, you.” He lifts his head and meets your gaze with awe. “Three heads to our dragon, my darling. We did it.”

You clench your jaw and shake your head. “At what cost?” You snap at him. “My son is gone. He’s dead! Daenerys killed him! He was only 10!” You rebuttal. “It’s true the dead are gone and I’m glad that they are, but nothing else matters anymore because so is he. So I ask what now?”

“Now you rule,” a different voice cuts in. When you snap your eyes to where it comes from you notice that it was Queen Visenya. “You will revive the Targaryen dynasty. You will take back what your father destroyed.”

You swallow thickly and rebuttal. “Daenerys rules now. Isn’t that enough? I can’t lose more, Jon, my children that have yet to be born.”

Footsteps step forward from your left side and a sweeter but still rather stern voice speaks. “You stay there in Winterfell and you’ll die too. Your children will always be a threat to her, will you see them die too?”

You snap your eyes to the left and meet Queen Alysanne’s gaze with a glare. “Like hell. I won’t lose them. But you have her, let her rule, it’s not like our family hasn’t killed their own kin before, why not her? Why me?”

“Because she killed your son,” a different voice adds from the fire.

You look towards the flames again and see a different women come out from within them, this woman had a thicker waist compared to the other two, her silver-gold hair was in a long braid as well. She was ethereal as all the others, but also intensity followed within her gaze. You knew her too, a lot quicker than the others, after all she was one of your favorites, that is before she actually ruled; Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“Because you are the one meant to restore our glory, rule like we couldn’t,” she says and begins to approach you. “If she rules, she’ll commit the same mistakes and wipe out the Targaryen name. It’s you who is meant to sit on that throne, your children shall follow, the ice and fire that our prophecy foretold. I know,” she mutters softer now. “What it is like to lose a son…but you aren’t me, use your anger, use your power, use your kindness and take what belongs to you, for your son. For all of us.”

You let out a shaky sigh, but don’t let anymore tears fall now since you’re beginning to be filled with inspiration and anger once again at the memory of what Daenerys did.

“You have a good heart my dear,” your father interjects, pulling your attention to him again. “Use it, be noble, don’t lose what you already have. Those you keep close will carry you through this, but remember to be firm, fearless, stern and unforgiving to those who truly deserve it.”

You sigh but nod. You then look at Rhaenar, but before you can speak your last words to him, a deep husky voice cuts in from your right.

“Don’t be like your father, girl,” Maegor says and begins to walk around you, as if he’s stalking you, a prey. “Don’t be foolish, and don’t live in the clouds,” he scoffs and shoots your father a dirty glare. “Use your fury, your dragon is your best friend, use your strength and power. Take care of business like me.” He stops by his mother and shoots you a malicious smirk before he looks at his mother with a smirk. “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You offer him a nod and shoot him a faint smirk before you face Rhaenar one more time. “I will always, always love you my sweet boy. I’m sorry.”

Rhaenar smiles at you and wipes away that stray tear that falls from your eye. “I love you too, mama. Tell Jon that it’s okay, that I’ll be okay, yes?”

You grin and nod. “Of course.”

He then throws his arms around you and you don’t hesitate to hug him back with all your might. You don’t close your eyes in hopes you’d stay, and it’s why you notice Queen Visenya approaching you one last time. She meets your watery gaze with an intense and burning determined glare.

“Burn your dead, mourn your losses. You are Queen now.” She mutters before the darkness quickly surrounds you at one second before you’re thrown back to the cruel reality, back to your room, back to the coldness.

At least the sun is out today, it’s light is soft but not warm since it is still dawn. It should’ve provided an ounce of happiness, but the natural light finally breaking from the clutches of the winter clouds doesn’t affect you now.

You sigh deeply and wipe your tears away before you look at the bed and find the spot next to you empty, and when you touch it you notice it’s cold, letting you know that Jon has been gone for a while. And since he is your only source of motivation to keep going right now you get up and change to go look for him.

Yet when you reach the crypts he’s not there. You walk to the gates since maybe he’s out with Rhaegal, yet you don’t want to walk all the way over to hills where the dragons are if he isn’t, so you look up and speak to the guards at their post. “Excuse me?!”

A man reaches the rail and looks down. “Princess,” he calls out in surprises and straightens up.

“Has Lord Snow passed the gates?” You ask.

The guard shakes his head. “No, but I did seem him walk towards the Godswood earlier today.”

You hum and nod. “Thank you, sir.”

The guard nods, and you then head towards the Godswood. When you arrive you see the new planted trees begin to sprout where the ashes of the olds ones once stood, leaving a clear view of all the Godswood, and Jon kneeled at the front of the Heart tree.

As to not interrupt his moment of prayer you make sure to slowly approach him, but stop by the frozen lake that’s by the red leaved tree.

Nevertheless, Jon hears your footsteps and turns around. When he notices it’s you his gaze softens for a moment before the sadness on his dark eyes returns.

“Good morrow,” he greets.

You offer a small smile. “Good morrow,” you return and meet him in the middle of the snow covered field. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Jon takes your hands and shakes his head. “I was…done already. What are you doing out here? It’s cold.” He touches your belly and smiles. “Are they giving you fuss?”

You grin and shrug. “Always, but that’s not what got me to awake up.”

Jon lips pull to a bigger smile and he scoffs softly before he drops his gaze and stares at the snow below his feet with a deep sorrowful frown that makes your sadness return, and brews curiosity.

“What is it?” You probe.

Jon lets out a deep sigh and then meets your gaze with a watery look. “I asked for forgiveness from the gods, but it’s you that I truly need to apologize to.”

You slowly knit your brows together in confusion.

“Please,” he continues with tears escaping out of his eyes. “Forgive me. I’m the reason your son is dead. I didn’t reach him in time, I didn’t get rid of the men fast enough. I’m sorry.” Jon drops to his knees and keeps holding your gaze. “I can never make up for what you lost. I’m sorry.”

Tears threaten to come out of your eyes, but you hold them back and just feel your throat sting more as you slowly get on your knees, and cup his cheeks. “What happened is not a guilt you need to carry on your shoulders Jon...” you pause and swallow back thickly. “My life will never be the same without my boy. It is true, but don’t blame yourself. He’s okay.” You muster a soft smile. “He appeared in my dreams, he said he was okay, he told me to tell you that it’s okay.”

Jon slowly grows perplexed, but he knows better now so he accepts what you say is true. “But you—”

“I’ll…heal soon, but I do know that I have nothing to forgive because I don’t blame you, nor should you blame yourself. Please.”

Jon hesitates, so you press your forehead against his and whisper.

“It’s okay, my love. It is. I need you for what’s to come.”

Jon lets out a shaky breath, and then slowly cups your cheeks and keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he stays silent. You know he won’t doubt you, or try to discourage your new plan so you don’t explain what’s on your mind, you linger in the silence and relish in the warmth that radiates from his hands, from his lips, and from his body.

You don’t linger long though since it is cold and the funeral is today. Since you don’t have the stomach to eat so much breakfast is quick, it’s the getting ready that takes time. It’s not easy for you, no matter if you did see Rhaenar in a dream, to get ready for his…funeral, to mentally get ready to say goodbye one more time. But you still do it, you let the handmaidens dress you in a white dress that is dipped in red at the bottom, so the white-beige color flows to a blood red. You let them put on light makeup and fix your silver-white hair, you put on your gold jewelry, and then before you walk out of your chambers you grab Helios from his cage.

His eyes search the room for the boy he was once bonded to, he calls out for him in soft cries that only smash those heart fragments to smaller pieces. And there’s nothing you can tell him to comfort him. Absolutely nothing because you know he also knows deep within his little heart.

“Come on,” you whisper to Helios. “Let’s go.”

Once you step out Jon is waiting outside of your shared quarters, he holds your gaze for a moment before he takes your hand to interlace it with his before you begin walking outside, past the gates, to the top of a snowy hill. People begin to part once they see you approach, the Starks and your sisters then break away from their spots behind the crowd and follow you towards the funeral pyre where Rhaenar’s body lays wrapped in a white shroud.

Time moved normally before you walked through the crowd, but once you begin to walk past the people gathered to reach the pyre time began to move slowly as your mind still tries to comprehend that this is all real. That you’re going to say goodbye to your boy forever.

Tears even fail to fall at those moments you walk forward, even when you reach him your tears don’t break out from your eyes, no. Even if your heart sinks and a shaky breath escapes from your chest, you don’t cry. Instead you let Jon’s hand go and place Helios on Rhaenar’s chest one more time.

The dragon knows, he knew the moment Rhaenar drew his last breath that he was gone and they’d never see each other again. But the dragon like you held onto hope. It’s why Helios crawled to Rhaenar’s neck and sniffed him before he began to nudge his jaw so he’d wake up.

You knew you were being foolish, but you waited for a response. When it doesn’t come and Helios lets out a broken whine, is when you can’t hold back anymore and let a sob escape from your mouth.

Eraxis feeling your sorrow, cries out and fills the silent air with her melancholy song. Helios follows and sings about his own grief, and Rhaegal then joins them too and all three dragons fill the winter air with their sorrow filled songs.

You then drop your forehead on Rhaenar’s and clutch onto his shoulders, you cry and cry until you can’t breathe properly, until you can’t even stand. That’s when Eraxis leans her head forward and tries to wrap her neck around you for comfort and support. It startles some people from the crowd, after all, all they knew about dragons was that they’re fierce, not that they were also comforting and filled with many complex emotions. It got those who weren’t crying already, to shed tears for a boy they hardly knew.

And it was thanks to your dragon's comfort that you were ready, so you scoop up Helios, and as Eraxis raises her head in the sky you turn and walk down the pyre to hand Arya the orange dragon. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “He won’t harm you.”

Arya pulls the dragon back towards her and holds him fearlessly and with slight pride. Now, as you face Rhaenar again, you take Jon’s hand again and lift your chin to sniffle before you part your lips. Yet you can’t muster the word, only sobs.

“It’s okay,” Jon whispers and begins to rub your back. “Take your time.”

Your bottom lip wobbles, and your chest begins to feel tighter and heavier to the point you can’t breathe anymore, you turn to Jon and bury your face in his chest. He quickly wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head as he caresses your back softly.

“May he soar the skies in paradise,” Jon interjects. “May he rest and find peace, may he watch over his family. I’m sorry Rhaenar…”

A moment longer passes before you can face the pyre, before you can part your lips and mutter out the right words that tore at your heart. “Dracarys.”

The white dragon draws in a deep breath before she opens her mouth and breathes out fire, bathing the pyre and Rhaenar in her hot and bright red-orange flames.

You stand there in front of the fire, you bask in its heat and let more tears fall out before the anger returns, before that burning fury begins to boil your blood again, bringing back that dream you just had and everything that was said, especially those venomous words spoken by Maegor; “Burn her. Burn Daenerys Targaryen.”

You won’t hold onto hope for your rekindling anymore, you won’t ask for forgiveness. You’ll seek revenge and what truly belongs to you.

Which is why you slowly turn and face the crowd still gathered in front of the pyre. You meet the gaze of Jon before you face them all with a scowl. “I was asked to fight for the throne by all of you,” you interject loud enough so they can all hear. “I declined out of hope, and a dream that I would know a peaceful life and receive Daenerys forgiveness for my future, for the future I carry within me. But now, after she took what I held so dear in my heart, my first born. Now she will know my wrath, and I hope you all can follow me in my path to the throne. It will be another war, devastating no doubt, but once it is done we will finally know peace because she is just like those that came before her, a tyrant lost in her way.” You sigh, but muster a malicious smirk.

“I hope you all follow me. For my son, for you, for me.” You finish.

And thus, without hesitation the crowd begins to cheer, shouting out only one phrase. “Queen Y/N!”

——

*DAENERYS. KING’S LANDING*

A knock raps on her door, echoing in the tense silence that filled her quarters.

“Come in,” she welcomes the visitor, hoping it was successful news of the ambush. Waiting for the news has been keeping her on edge, she could hardly sleep, or keep in one place, she needed to know.

“My Queen,” a familiar voice she hasn’t heard in a long time cuts through the silence.

Daenerys turns quickly on her heels and comes face to face with Daario Naharis, a man she had left long ago in Meereen to enforce peace, a man who’s appearance hasn’t changed, and someone who she can’t deny is happy to see. After all he is one of few who hasn’t betrayed her, he’s remained loyal even after she broke his heart.

“Why wasn’t I advised you arrived?” She responds with a quirked brow and a faint smirk playing on her lips as he doesn’t fail to make her body ignite with lust.

Daario smirks wider and pulls his hand from behind him to show her the wildflowers he held in his hand. “I came on a faster ship apart from the others because I wanted to surprise you.”

Daenerys hums and watches the man slowly begin to approach her.

“I’ve brought these,” he says and pushes the flowers towards her.

Daenerys breaks away from her spot to slowly walk towards him, stopping just before she can reach him to let him get close to her instead. He offers her the flowers and she hesitantly takes them from his hand to then raise her chin and hold his warm gaze.

“I would just like to say that you look even more beautiful than before,” he adds. “The crown suits you.”

Daenerys places the flowers down on the table beside her and crosses her arms over chest to now press him with her gaze alone.

“Ah,” he says and clasps his hand behind him. “Right. The ambush happened, yet I’m disappointed to say that Lord Snow managed to escape with a couple of his men. The ship burned, most of his men aboard died, and a boy traveling with them perished in the fire.”

Daenerys blinks and furrows her eyebrows. “A boy?” She queries.

Daario nods. “Yes, I’m not sure who, but Lord Snow made great effort to take his body.”

Daenerys lips slowly begin to fall, and her arms slowly unfold from her chest as a name begins to circle her mind.

“Were there dragons in the sky?” She asks him with her gaze begining to narrow.

Daario nods. “Yes. The creatures burned our ship and helped them escape. There was three of them, a white one, Rhaegal, and a small orange one.”

Daenerys swallows thickly and turns around abruptly to look out at the gloomy white sky, and sighs deeply as sorrow begins to stab at her heart and pain fills her mind.

“What is it?” Daario instantly asks and takes a step towards her.

“Wheres Greyworm?” She avoids his question.

“I let him take a second break so I could deliver the news to you personally.”

Such a radiant boy he was, young prince Rhaenar. Regardless of the tension that existed towards the end of the relationship between you and Daenerys, he never was rude to her, he was kind and caring. No matter how short of time she had with the boy, she still cared for him because he was family, and now he’s gone and you're heartbroken.

And she can’t cling onto the hope that the dead boy is someone else, why else would Jon be so desperate to the take the body, why else would Helios be with Jon. Helios is a small dragon still very much attached to who he’s bound to, that dead boy is Rhaenar.

“That boy who perished,” Daenerys mutters and approaches her window with tears clouding her eyes. “Was the son of my niece. It was y/n’s son. How did it come to be? I said just kill Jon and the men he was with.” She stops and exhales deeply before she turns to face him.

Daario stays in his spot and shrugs. “I can’t be certain. You know how battles are? Unpredictable. All I know is that a fire started on the ship. It was an accident.”

Daenerys scoffs and shakes her head. “She won’t see it that way. No one on her side will. If she was ready to make peace before, now we can forget about that, especially with Sansa whispering in her ear.” Daenerys clasps her hands in front of her and drops her head.

“You sit on the throne now,” Daario interjects and steps forward. “They’ll follow you.”

Daenerys snaps her head up to face him. “No,” she snaps. “They won’t. The Reach will rally behind her because of what she gave them, and the future commitment that once bonded them. We can’t even count or try and sway Dorne, even dead they’ll never follow another king or queen that isn’t her or descended from her bloodline.” Daenerys turns and approaches the balcony to gaze out at the city below.

“The Vale of Arryn will follow her because of Sansa, meaning the North is also supporting her,” Daenerys continues to tell Daario. “And the Riverlands…they’ll follow the Starks, making for Five great houses rallying behind her, leaving us with two, the Westerlands if I keep Tyrion alive, and the Stormlands...” she pauses and sighs deeply. “That is if I make our commitment periment with a marriage proposal to the new Warden.”

“And so you shall have it,” he assures her with no argument, and finally closes the gap between them to grab her shoulder and turn her to face him. “You have a fleet, more men. And a dragon experienced in war. You can win this, you only lose if you give up, and I know you’ll fight with fire and blood before that happens.”

Daenerys holds his gaze and hums, feeling relieved that she once again had someone she can trust and talk to.

“We’ll get to work right away, fortifying the walls, whipping the men to shape, and making alliances.” Daarios continues to assure her. “No one will take that throne from you.”

——

*WINTERFELL*

Jon’s voice echoes out from the hall, his words are passionate you know they are because he gives good speeches, but right now his words just don’t register in your mind, all that you can think about is Rhaenar, the new future that you are now paving with this choice. Anger still fuels you and it's what’s pushing you, whilst that motivation after seeing your father and ancestors burns in your veins, waking up something that was dorement before, determination to take what’s yours once and for all.

It’s why you don’t frown, you don’t express sadness in your eyes either as Dornish guards make a path and line up across from each other all the way to the end of the hall where Jon, and the maester awaits with your crown. It’s that burning determination, and that grief that brings you pride as you stand at the end of the lined up guards, with your head up high.

Horns begin to play inside after Jon finishes his speech, letting you finally break away from your spot and create a footprint on the sheet of snow as you begin to stride ahead in between the guards.

The blades they hold above your head begin to fall when you pass them, leaving them to see only your back and the tail of your red dress. When you step inside the warm hall, slowly the people viewing your coronation kneel as you walk past them.

Being here was something you never dreamed about, at least you always thought you’d stand on the platform waiting for your husband to get crowned. Now that you’re here though, now that you see all the people kneel, as you see the guards metal blades glistening against the firelight, you can’t help but smile inside. And the moment you take Jon’s hand as you reach the platform a faint smile finally forms on your lips.

Jon mirrors your gesture and then leans forward to press a kiss on your cheek before he shifts to the side and helps you to your knees. Once you’re secured he moves to the side and lets the maester step forward.

“May the Warrior give her courage,” his voice booms throughout the hall before he daps oil on your forehead. “May the Smith lend strength to her sword and shield,” he continues and adds more oil on your forehead with each saying. “May the Father defend her in her need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light her way to wisdom.” With that last saying instead of oil he dabs blood on your forehead by your request as a sign of your goals, battles to come, and revenge.

When the maester finishes he turns to set the bowls down to instead grab a golden crown forged partly by the gold jewelry that Rhaenar owned so you’ll always carry him with you through this journey as Queen. The maester then turns with the shining gold crown in hand, causing the red shining rubies that are decorated around the crown to twinkle against the firelight. As he lifts the crown you see two small winged dragons holding the red ruby at the center. The moment he places the crown on your head you feel the heavy weight fall on your head, bringing some discomfort.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Visenya Targaryen second of her name is the true heir to the iron Throne,” the Maester adds, causing the crowd behind you to quietly agree.

After that is over Jon leans over and offers his hand, you gladly take it and let him help you to your feet. He then quickly lets you go and kneels before you. It catches you off guard for a second, but you have to remember that you are Queen now and it’s going to happen more often.

Alas, Jon then stands up and drifts his gaze to the crowd. “All hail her grace!” He exclaims. “Visenya, second of her name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm!”

You draw out a small breath and turn, catching the crowd and the guards kneel. You drift your gaze to the right front row and see Elia and Sarella kneel, Sansa curtsy whilst Arya kneels too. You then look to the left front row and see Ser Jaime kneel, Ser Brienne and her ward kneel, Ser Davos takes goes down too, and then as on cue, Eraxis fills the silence and air with her prideful roar, making you finally smirk.

“Long live the Queen!” Elia is the first to exclaim.

“Long live the Queen!” Ser Jaime follows before everyone inside repeats those words as they get up and clap.

Those who carry swords lift their blades in the air and shout. “Queen Y/N!”

Those words fill your ears and bring happy tears to your eyes as you tug your lips to a smile. When you sit on the wooden chair that was placed on the platform more people cheer, and Ser Brienne approaches the stairs that lead to the platform. She gets on one knee and meets your gaze.

You throw your hand out to silence the crowd, and they don’t fail to listen, letting Ser Brienne speak.

“I swear toward the Queen,” she interjects in a loud confident voice. “With all my strength, and give my blood for hers. I shall take no husband, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side and defend her name and honor.”

Chills travel down your spine, and a soft smile tugs on your lips. You rise up again and bow your head, letting her stand.

“I appreciate your loyalty and devotion, Ser Brienne. I’d trust no one else but you to be my Lord Commander of the Queensguard.”

Ser Brienne breath draws in a small breath and can’t help her proud smile at the mention of the title you just bestowed upon her.

“I leave it to your judgment to choose the other six who should join the Queensgard. When you have chosen the right people you may bring them to me.” You let her know.

Ser Brienne nods in comprehension and stands back up to return to her spot, leaving you to address the crowd to give them an announcement. “Every ruler needs their most trusted advisor at their side, a friend to confide in. A hand when one’s pair is full. Someone who is not afraid to hide their thoughts or pass judgment. There are many here that I trust to be that with me, but there’s one person who I know won’t fail me, Lady Sansa Stark.”

It was a choice that you had discussed before, and one she took with the condition that when this war is over, and if it is you who sits on the throne then she would step down to be Warden and Lady of the North.

“Lady Sansa, I name you hand of the Queen.” You finish saying, making said person head to the front to kneel. You then turn and grab the pin from Jon to walk towards his sister and hook the golden pin on her chest.

The crowd makes commotion in support of the choice.

“You honor me, Queen Y/N,” Sansa says and stands back on her feet.

You offer her a smile and watch her return to her spot so you can continue to announce to the people who else will be a part of your court. “Now with these battles to come I trust no one else to be my Master of War but my dear husband, and your King Consort, Jon snow.”

At the announcement of both new titles the crowd cheers for Jon, while you look over at him and grin. He breaks away from his spot to stand before you and bow his head. Your smile widens, and you’re filled with glee as you get to finally reveal your gift.

“Arya,” you call out and meet her dark gaze. “If you may please.”

Jon looks back at his sister in confusion and follows her every move as she makes her way to you. You fill with more joy and excitement as she reaches into her sack and pulls out a silver crown that looks similar to yours, but is a bit thinner, and has a golden dragon and a golden wolf holding a ruby at the center.

“Now,” you continue and take the crown from Arya. “I know that you aren’t one to be so flashy, and you’d be content without one, but it is gift from me to you.”

Jon holds your gaze and sighs softly, but he can’t help his faint smile before he kneels, letting you carefully place the crown on his head.

“There,” you say and clasps your hands before you. “Handsome.”

Jon scoffs softly and then stands back up to fall back at your side, letting you continue so you can finally finish and announce your master of whisperers, Bran Stark of course, and lastly your Master of coin Lord Ben Ashfords son, the heir of the Reach, Bernard Ashford. As to the other positions well, you still have yet to fill. Hopefully you’ll get to find the right people soon.

With that said you turn away and head to a different chamber where you will have your first small council meeting that consists of your sisters, Jon, Ser Brienne, Sansa and her siblings, and Ser Jaime.

“You know you did not have to get me this,” Jon breaks his silence as he walks by your side to the meeting quarters. “This crown is not necessary.”

You glance at him and smile. “You are my King Consort, my love, a King needs his crown.”

“I would’ve been fine with a ring,” he counters, making you giggle for the first time since Rhaenar passed.

“I told you,” you retort and hook your arm around his. “It’s a gift. You don’t need to wear it all the time, I just wanted you to have one.”

Jon meets your gaze and hums softly before his gaze softens. “You need to rest, you’ve been on your feet for far too long.”

You roll your head to the side and draw out a deep breath. “Yes, perhaps I should, but there are meetings to be had now. You know this isn’t easy. But for your comfort after this meeting is over we can retreat to our chambers and take a warm bath together, hm?”

Jon nods softly in agreement. “Sounds like a plan,” he assures you. “Not like I could actually refuse you now. You are the Queen.”

You scoff and shake your head. “Don’t start with me Jon.” You chuckle softly, causing Jon to watch you with a soft and admiring gaze and smile since he likes the look of your smile and the sound of your laugh after seeing how much you’ve been suffering.

Yet it is short lived since that sweet look on your face fades away, and gets replaced by a sad confident look when you all enter the meeting quarters.

Now the burden falls on you, after so much that your family did to try and get you on that throne, and after trying to avoid the burden, you wear the crown now and lead thousands. Now rather than listening on the sidelines you sit at the center and have all eyes on you.

“Thank you all for coming,” you address the group as they find their seats around the table. “You’ll have to pardon me for the next couple of meetings. As much as I have studied I still am not used to ruling,” you huff softly and clasps your hands together.

The people around the table don’t say anything to you so let out a deep sigh and continue.

“Let’s get to business then. I know not so long ago I turned down Ser Jaime’s requests of retrieving his brother from the clutches of Daenerys, but now with the sides being drawn, the Westerlands are left undecided. The Lannister’s may not be a strong house, but their name still holds much value, having both men at our side can benefit us. So,” you say and look at Jaime sitting in the middle.

“Ser Jaime, I grant your leave. You won’t have men though, it will attract too much unwanted attention.”

Ser Jaime’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you begin to smirk. “Sarella,” you name, causing the woman to straighten up. “Arya, you are clever, discreet and able to hide well. Will you accompany Ser Jaime to smuggle his brother out?”

Sarella without a fault nods. “Of course, sister.” She assures you, letting you shift your gaze to Arya. And when your eyes land on her a small smirk tugs on her lips.

“I will,” Arya agrees. “Thank you, Queen y/n.”

You offer her a smile and a small nod.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Lord Royce cuts in. “The plan is great and all, the Westerlands may not be the largest land, but they are the richest. It will benefit us well, but with sides set, and Daenerys with a patch of new soldiers, entering the city will be difficult.”

You nod and can’t help your smirk from widening. “Yes. I know. It’s why while the three of them enter the Red Keep, I will lead a distraction.”

The members of the council all share confused and concerned looks at the mention so you explain your plan, and assure their worry. “It won’t be a big army, there won’t even be men, the distraction will consist of only women. I unfortunately won’t join the battle at the ground, I cannot,” you scoff and reach down to caress your swollen belly. “I’ll be in the skies with Jon, while the women go in pretending to seek refuge and help from Daenerys. Her army will come out and provide assistance, they won’t suspect such brutal attacks from women,” you begin to smirk smugly. “They’ll think of them as weak, fragile. That’s when the army women will strike, I will go in later and burn what remains of the small army. After that Jon and I will lead them out before more men can come.”

“If it pleases your grace,” Ser Brienne interjects as she takes a step forward so you can see her. “I would like to lead the attack on the ground in your stead.”

You catch the disbelieved stare of Lord Royce, but you have faith in her; just because she isn’t like every other typical woman doesn’t mean a thing. It’s sad that men here don’t see such a thing.

“Of course you can, Ser Brienne, the army will consist of Dornish women warriors and northern women who volunteer. Any other woman from the other armies of different houses can also join if they please, but we need to keep the numbers small.”

“Understood,” Ser Brienne agrees.

You drift your gaze back to the other members. “We will make that our first attack after the lords pledge their loyalty. With that said, Sansa, what can we expect from the Riverlands?”

Sansa raises her head and parts her lips. “My mother was a Tully. Our uncle still lives and rules now in my grandfathers stead. I expect we will gain their allegiance, but I think we should still go in person and ask.”

You nod. “Alright. We can go after our first attack, that way Daenerys doesn’t get word of our attempts until after. What about the Stormlands?”

“Given Daenerys gave the Stormlands to Gendry and declared him a legitimate Baratheon,” Jon interjects. “I doubt we can count on his allegiance.”

“But the boy doesn’t know a thing about ruling a kingdom or people,” Jaime argues. “Nor does he have the right connections.”

“But he has the Baratheon name now, he may be a bastard but some people will follow his family name,” Ser Davos defends the man. “Surely the staff at the castle would help.”

“I assume not long, any lord could usurp him,” Jaime counters. “We can use that to our advantage.”

“Aye,” Lord Royce agrees.

You look over at Sansa and ask her a question. “Could we send an envoy to any of the other lords?”

Sansa sighs. “We could, but we have to think about the risks, if Gendry bends the knee it would benefit Daenerys to strengthen the alliance with a marriage. She’d burn any rebellion attempts. We have other kingdoms that take priority if it comes down to a battle .”

“We could get rid of Lord Gendry,” you suggest. “That breaks the alliance—but also turns the Stormlands against us.”

“Then we leave them,” Jon adds. “As far as resources, it’s only fighters they provide. We have the numbers, we don’t need them. If a lord reaches out to us then we can think of a plan, until then we count them as traitors.”

“Anyone disagree?” You ask without trying to argue Jon’s suggestion.

The people around the table shake their heads in disagreement, letting you continue on. “ Bran, do you know anything?” You ask the quiet boy.

Bran nods stiffly. “Only confirmation that Daenerys plans to marry Lord Gendry. As soon as he arrives at the capital.”

Just as Sansa mentioned.

“Smart girl,” you comment. “With the Stormlands off the table, we also can’t count on the Iron Islands. With luck we will gain the Westerlands and the Riverlands.” You let out a small breath and then continue. “Anything else someone would like to discuss?”

Everyone looks around, but no one adds anything, thankfully leading this meeting to an end for today.

“Alright, well you all are dismissed, thank you for attending.”

Everyone disperses out of the room, and you wait for them all to leave before you can. However, Ser Brienne, Ser Jaime, Jon and your sisters linger behind.

“Excuse me, your Grace,” Brienne directs and bows her head as she addresses you. “But is it okay if I take my leave for today? I would like to start finding the other members for the Queensguard.”

Right that.

“Of course uh, Sarella, Elia,” you call out. “May you introduce Ser Brienne to some of the commanding officers of the Dornish army. There are some great fighters there you can choose from.”

“Yes!” Elia exclaims all too excitedly. “I would love to go.”

Of course she would, she likes to gawk and flirt with the men.

Regardless, they leave but Ser Jaime stays behind still. He takes a moment before he says anything, first he slowly makes his way towards your chair before he finally reveals his thoughts.

“I know I have probably said this, but, thank you. You have been too kind, more than I deserve. You have given me a second chance, and it’s one I don’t deserve and one I will live my life repaying. So thank you, Queen Y/N.” He reaches for his sword and then kneels with his hands on his pommel. “My sword is yours, my Queen. I may not be a great fighter anymore, but I have experience that can be just as valuable. I want to serve you.”

You share a small glance with Jon before you stand on your feet. “Then you shall. I need all the help I can get. And I value your thoughts, Ser Jaime. Just promise that when you see me straying from my moral path that you will help rather than betraying me. Remind me of the people I fight for because some rulers tend to forget who really keeps them in power.”

The corner of Jaime’s lips tug upward before he nods in agreement. “I will. I swear.”

“Great. Then if Jon wants you can help him with the armies. You may also help train the soldiers.”

Jaime gets to his feet and accepts before finally leaving Jon and you alone.

“Now,” Jon says and take your hand. “Can I have you to myself?”

You grab onto his arm and drop your head on his shoulder. “Please, I beg you.”

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

With the anger fueling through your blood, with fury clouding your mind, sleep was impossible, that hunger for revenge kept you awake and raised a desire in you for something to be done. Something that you haven’t touched in a long time, dark magic.

Rhaenar was your son, he was your little boy, and Daenerys took him, she will pay with blood, you will rip everything she has ever loved from her hands so she can feel what it is you feel.

So while the castle is sleeping, while no one can interrupt you, you use the chambers where Daenerys had stayed in to conduct a spell.

“Did you bring it?” You ask Sarella.

Sarella nods and unhooks her cloak to show the small baby in her hands.

You trusted no one else but them, besides the others would only judge you for this dark magic. Elia and Sarella won’t.

“It’s sick,” she mentions. “Mother dead, father drunk and with no love for this child.”

You nod stiffly and take the blade from the flames, and watch as the metal gleams red and orange with how hot it is.

“A dragon will never compare to the love you have for your own children. I want her to feel that love, that joy when she holds her child in her arms for the first time. I want to see her care for that child so much more than her own life so she feels an ounce of what I feel.” You sneer to the flames. “Blood for blood. Son for a son.” You glare at the flames and clench your jaw.

You then turn to grab the bowl off the floor, but just before you can you come to a sudden stop as you swear you see Rhaenar’s face in the flames, you swear you see his sweet brown eyes. And a small frown on his face. It’s only for a second, but you swear you do.

“I’ll use my blood that connects us,” you mutter and put the bowl over the fire. You then put your palm in front of you and use the sharp edge of the blade to cut a slash on your palm.

The pain stings and burns, but you just clench your jaw and keep quiet as the blood begins to spill out of the cut. After the slash is made you put the blade down and put your hand over the fire and fist your hand to make the blood pour over the bowl.

“Now, Elia give it to me,” you interject and put your uninjured hand out.

Without hesitation the girl comes to you and hands you a brush. One Daenerys had left behind when she left Winterfell.

“Now I’ll use her hair to connect this spell to her.” You add and pull the strands of hair off the brush and throw it in the bowl. “Now,” you sigh deeply and feel some hesitance and regret. But your pain is much deeper, so you turn regardless, and Sarella hands you the sickly baby.

“The sacrifice to complete this spell,” you continue and pick up the knife from the floor. You swallow thickly and without thinking deeper into what you’re going to do you slice.

The blood trickles out so you push it towards the fire and let the thick scarlet liquid spill over the bowl. Once the bowl is full you hand the lifeless body back to Sarella. “Feed it to the dragons.” You tell her.

“Now it’s time to finish.” You put the blade down, and put your arms out, you close your eyes and lift your head to begin chanting the needed spell in High Valyrian.

At first you start off quiet, but you get louder and louder, whilst the fire suddenly enrages and sends off sparks and thick smoke as it engulfs the bowl and what it contains inside.

The heat intensifies, bringing sweat to break out on your face, making the dress stick to your skin. The fire's light brightens, making Elia and Sarella shield their eyes.

But the act doesn’t last long, it then ends and the heat and brightness fades back to what it was before. Now nothing remains in the bowl anymore. Now the spell is complete.

“There,” you let your sisters know. “She’s barren no longer. She’ll have a child now and fear my pain. Soon she’ll pay. Son for a son.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Now do you guys think Daenerys will have a child with Daario? Or one with Gendry?

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie e @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99 @starwarsslut @stargaryenx x

No fr like it's annoying 😭

You know when you get the urge to write a fic? Why do I have the urge to smoke a bowl and do all my black femmes with toxic favs a solid and make a Tywin/Velaryon!reader or Aemond/TruebornVelaryon!reader.

Because let me be candid for a second…I have seen no true Velaryon fiction. It’s all been Strong bastards. And I can only read so much white Y/N (no offense to anyone who writes those) 😭

Like idk maybe it’s just ME but I think Aemond falling in love with Rhaenyra and Laenor’s ONLY true born child would be interesting. Mostly because Alicent and Otto would try to get her to be a Green one way or another.

Tywin Lannister holding a Velaryon hostage because they sided with Stannis during the war (we all kno he needs an heir because he ain’t giving Tyrion Casterly Rock) and this being a power move because they’re literally the only major Valyrian house left and they literally control Driftmark and one of the largest navy’s.

TAKEEEE MEEE

TWO STEP TRAP | SMOKE STACK TWINS X F!READER |

You are one of the best dancers at the Midnight Blues joint in Chicago; it was only a matter of time before you encountered the Smoke Stack Twins. Their names linger in the club like perfume and cigars. If you are in the scene, you know them… and of course, they knew you.

contains: 18+ mdni, prequel to sinners, dancer!reader, porn with plot, smut, oral (Stack is a eater), threesome, p in v, pet names, man handling, body worshipping?? talking you through it, fingering, fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time.

You picked up your pace as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. It was nearly ten pm, and Marcus would threaten to lock your ass out if you didn’t arrive on time. He knew better though, you were the one that everyone came to see. Word spread quickly in the streets of Chicago, but there’s a place folks whisper about but rarely name out loud for fear of the White man hearing. It ain’t on any map called The Last Two Step, but if you know the right knock and carry enough heartbreak in your shoes, it’ll guide you behind an unmarked door at the edge of South Parkway Boulevard. In the joint, velvet smoke curls through the air, and every note from Ambrose’s piano drips slow and sticky, like honey off a blade. The Last Two Step is where time forgets itself in the sway of hips and the clink of glasses filled with bourbon. Nobody stumbles in by accident. If you find yourself there, something or someone wanted you to. And once you cross that threshold, baby, the night decides what happens next.

At the corner of your eye, you could see a slightly older, light-skinned woman shimmying her body down the alley to the hidden doorway of the club. “Miss Felicity! Wait up & hold the door, will you?” You hollered. Her head whipped to look behind her in alarm, but her glare softened once she saw you quickly following after her. She laughed at you as you tried to steady your breath.

“When will you learn your lesson and stop rushing at the last minute?” Felicity shook her head as you hurried inside and double-checked to see if anyone followed after y'all.

You flashed her a grin and said, “Probably right after you stop pretending you don’t love the thrill. Chaos builds character. Have you ever heard that?”

“Girl, you’re practically asking for trouble,” she muttered. Ambrose and the boys were still setting up the stage and tuning their instruments when you passed the wooden dance floor towards the changerooms in the back. Their eyes tracked the way you walked and paused to sneak a peek at your backside when they thought you wouldn’t notice. They were never slick enough to avoid getting caught. “Y’all are no better than little boys!” Felicity swatted at them as she climbed onto the stage and straightened her skirt. Felicity’s voice carried throughout the establishment even when she wasn’t singing and harmonizing with the band.

“Can’t blame us for admiring!” one of them defended.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed into the changeroom, more like a storage closet the dancers used to store their things and prepare for the night. Soon enough, the floor out there would be packed with sweaty bodies, hungry eyes, and a swanky beat that was hard to resist. And you? You’d be right in the middle, moving like a snake, soaking up the spotlight like it was poured just for you. Showing off your sultry moves, enticing the eyes of whoever looked upon you.

You weren’t just entertainment. You were a magnet. Marcus, the owner, knew it too. He would give you some of the shares to keep the crowd thick and thirsty, which is why he called you “eye candy.” A walking advertisement, you were good publicity for his juke joint. The three other girls in the room with you, Jacqueline, Deborah, and Ann, had the same deal. They didn’t care for me much, never had been. You drew too much attention, and it didn’t help that you didn’t come from the same background as them. You were the daughter of sharecroppers or “cotton pickers,” they say. Your skin was dark and smooth, shimmering in the light and under sweat. Your full lips, tantalizing gaze, and body that bloomed too fast for your age made you all the more unforgettable. Slim, sultry, and curved just right were the words used to describe her.

Looking into the handheld mirror as you finished the last touches to your makeup, you could see Marcus in the corner of your eye. “Baby, I ain’t paying you to doll yourself up and hide away!” His tone was playful, but there was an edge to his voice, and you knew that if you said the wrong thing, Marcus’ temper would appear. That is probably why he still ain’t been able to keep a woman. He’s only truly satisfied when he's drunk.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” you whined as you hiked up your skirt higher to show more of your bare legs and patted down any stray hairs on your head from the finger curls.

“I gotta handle some business with the twins. Show ’em this is the kinda spot they wanna put their money in,” Marcus said, smoothing down his vest with a wink. The mention of the twins made your ears perk up. Smoke & Stack weren’t just names; they were similar to legends, stitched into the underbelly of Chicago. You didn’t just meet the Smoke Stack twins, you survived an encounter with them. If they were sniffing around Marcus’s place, it meant money was about to flow, and trouble wasn’t too far behind.

The music thrummed through your body and travelled to your chest as you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm and blues. All around you, a sea of Black bodies moved as one to the voice of Felicity and Ambrose’s band. In the night, they became a living and breathing entity under the heavy and melliferous air of the juke joint. The outside world slipped away in this moment, and all that mattered was the here and now. This is why you always answered the call of The Last Two Step, chasing the high of being free and being a person who is looked up to and not down upon. So far, there were no signs of the twins, and Marcus was growing more antsy by the minute. He’s resorted to pouring you more alcohol than he could offer, anything to make the party look wild and enticing to anyone who came inside.

Anticipation is the sweetest form of torture, and when the identical twins strolled through the entrance, it seemed as though the room truly came alive. Your eyes met with one of them. It wasn’t easy to tell them apart. He flashed a crooked smile, revealing a set of grills over his canines and front teeth. You twirled lightly, letting your waist roll slowly and deliberately. A glance over your shoulder caught the twins approaching Marcus at the bar, who suddenly looked boyish beside their commanding, muscular forms. Marcus was tall, handsome, and fit, but the twins had a figure that only one could have achieved by working hard in the fields.

Jacqueline broke you out of your thoughts when she walked beside you, “If one of those twins so much as smiled my way, I'd be slippin' outta my panties without a second thought.” She looked at the group of men with hungry eyes, drinking them in. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be damned if any of the other dancers got a taste of the twins before you did. If the rumours were true, the twins were hung like a horse and knew how to eat a girl out so well that she could start humming in colours she had never seen before.

You watched as Deborah and Jacqueline positioned themselves near the twins and got brutally ignored. Better them than you. It’s better that you learn what not to do through them than make a fool of yourself. Moments passed as you danced amongst the crowd, and the music began to slow into a two-step dance, and people began to couple off. Scanning the crowd, you could see a man making his way to you. He’s been ogling you for most of the night and didn’t look too rough. Shit, one dance won’t hurt, right? It’s not like it’ll be your first or last.

Mid-stride, one of the twins drawled, “Ease up, kid,” bumpin’ his shoulder with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, see?”

The young man screwed up his face, about to give the southern gentlemen a piece of his mind but thought better of it when he saw the twin flash him a crooked smile. Smoothing out his button-up shirt, the young man puffed out his chest and recovered quickly. “No worries, boss.” He gave me a once-over before nodding his head in dismissal. The unnamed twin didn’t even bother to turn his head to ensure he was gone before extending a hand in your direction.

“May I have this dance?” His smile revealed the notorious grill the twins were famous for, shining faintly in the dimly lit venue. You couldn’t recall whether it was Smoke or Stack who wore it. Ultimately, did it matter? You paused and accepted his hand. His warm, large, and calloused grip completely enveloped your hand. Aside from counting cash, your thoughts drifted to what else his fingers might be good at. He instantly pulled you in closer with ease. Your bodies were flush against each other, now chest to chest. You peered up at him.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” You countered. The chuckle that left his throat vibrated throughout his whole body. It didn’t help that when you took a breath to calm your erratic heart, his cologne and natural fragrance evaded your senses. As the two of you fell into rhythm with the music, the thoughts running in your head were anything but holy. It was rare for a man to elicit such a response from you on the first encounter.

“A lady always has a choice,” he rebutted, voice like molasses slow drippin’ off a spoon.

“Who said I was a lady?” you challenged, chin tilted and your cheeks filled with heat. Once it slipped out of your mouth, there was no snatching it back. You've always been reckless with how words leapt past your lips without permission. He didn’t as much as blink at your question and didn’t smirk either. Just stepped in closer, real close, until the scent of smoke, cologne, and something else curled in your nose again. His thigh rose between your legs, stopping just shy of making contact with your center, enough to make your breath catch in your throat, dipping you down and pulling you back up in time with the strums of the guitar that played aloud.

“Then I reckon I ain’t gotta treat you like one,” he murmured, voice pitched low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving yours. “But I do like a woman who talks back.” You swore your knees might buckle right there. “S’wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” he joked to lighten the obvious tension that grew quickly between you two. You could hear your heartbeat over the hum of the blues and chatter surrounding you. His thigh lingered, firm and deliberate, almost making you forget your damn name. But you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. Not entirely.

Leaning in just a little, with parted lips and sharp eyes. “And what do they call you, stranger?” your voice came out strong and daring like you weren’t already trying to keep your head on straight.

He didn’t answer right away, dragging his gaze from your eyes to your lips, then down to the space between you that barely existed anymore. “They call me Stack,” he finally said, a slow smile began curling at the corner of his mouth. “But you can call me Elias Moore.” He said it like a promise as he lowered his deep red fedora hat, his eyes never leaving yours. His name hung in the air, impossible to ignore. The kind of name a woman didn’t forget, even if she wanted to. The Elias Stack Moore stood before you. Being his girl could open up more doors for you than you could count.

“Come on,” he drawled, his hand brushing the small of your back. “Dance floor’s gettin’ too damn crowded for what I got in mind.” You felt him guide you, firm but unhurried, through the sea of moving bodies, past the haze of cigar smoke and spilled bourbon. Nobody paid y’all any mind. Juke joints were built on secrets and sideway glances anyway.

The changeroom door creaked as he pushed it open with his shoulder. The low bulb above our heads flickered like it knew what was coming. Inside, it smelled like lavender powder and dust. The old velvet curtains were draped over crates, hiding booze and our valuables. The crooked mirror watched us from their respective corners. He closed the door behind you with a click that felt louder than it was.

He leaned against it for a beat, arms crossed, watching you like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or ruin you slowly. “Now,” Stack’s voice dropped to a sinful hush, “where were we?”

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. This boy must’ve lost his goddamn mind if he thought the two of you were going to get hot and heavy in this sorry excuse of a change room. You weren’t a lady, but you had class and respect, very little of it, but it was there nonetheless. The two of you stood in the quiet room, and the silence stretched thick with possibility. Stack pushed off the door and lazily strolled toward you like he had all the time in the world. His boots barely made a sound on the old wooden floors. Every inch he closed made your skin feel tighter.

“You always this quiet when you want something?” he asked. Stack stopped shy of touching you, his hands at his sides like he dared you to lean in first. The nerves in your body buzzed like a live wire. You were all too aware of how your desires practically had you ready to drop to your knees. But you kept your face unreadable, and it was your best defence. You’d been raised to survive men like Elias Stack Moore. The smooth talkers with heat behind their eyes and a storm tucked inside their smiles.

“Depends on what I want,” you finally said. “And whether it’s worth the noise.”

“Oh, I’m worth it,” he replied. Stack threw his hat on the dressing room counter to reveal his face. But I ain’t cheap.” You gave him a steady look up and down. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a sliver of his skin. Everything he wore appeared nicely tailored to his physique, too.

“Neither am I,” you shot back.

Stack was now an inch away from your face, his warmth wrapped around you like steam off a kettle. His hand reached out, not to grasp nor to grope, but to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, rough fingers grazing your cheek like an invitation.

“Trust me, sugar, you keep carryin’ on as you do, and Chicago gon’ be hollerin’ your name louder than they ever did mine or my brother’s.”

“Well then,” you said, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers trailing the buttons of his shirt like you were counting sins, “guess it's a damn good thing I don't mind how my name sounds in another’s mouth.”

Shifting your hips just enough to make your intentions loud and clear without a single word more. Stack’s breath hitches just a little, but you caught it. You always did. You knew that taking it further would be a reckless mistake, but Lord, it’d feel like salvation. The end of a prolonged drought, giving in, would feel like the first rainfall. Wet, overwhelming, and too damn good to stop. Stack’s eyes told you he was ready to drown in it, and hell, you might just let him.

She didn't have to speak, just the slow roll of her hips were enough to knock the wind out of him. She knew how deep she could cut without drawing blood. His breath caught in his throat, bare and ragged. God help him. He wanted to ruin you in a way that leaves a mark and memory.

Stack knew better. He knew this would get messy. With a glance at your slicked thighs, Stack knew you'd provide no mercy.

Leaning in close, lips just shy of his ear. “Still quiet, Stack?” you whispered in a sweet and teasing voice. “I figured by now you'd know how to beg.” You loved turning his words and spinning them against him. His raw reactions were entertaining to see.

Stack’s jaw tightened, but his eyes didn't waver. “I don't beg, sugar,” his tone changed to a quiet and threatening one. “I take.”

You flashed him a wicked smile and hooked a finger around his belt buckle. “Then come take it.”

He didn't wait, with his hands on your waist, before you could exhale. His rough palms and fingers dug in as if he meant to claim something, or he already had.

“You sure about this?” He muttered against your neck, voice hoarse. Hot breath dragging over your skin. “Cause once I get started, I ain't stopping till I’ve wrung every drop outta yah.”

“Make good on allat talk,” you replied. That was all it took. Stack kissed you like he was desperate. Teeth and tongue felt like a little too much and not nearly enough. You moaned into his mouth as he pressed you up against the old brick wall, grinding against you with slow, punishing friction. His hands found the hem of your skirt, bunching it up, and slid a hand underneath with practiced ease.

“Fuck,” Stack groaned when he felt how soaked you already were. Two fingers slipped along your folds. “You tryna kill me, baby?”

“I ain't even started yet.”

He dropped to his knees like he'd been praying for the chance. Pulling your thighs apart and pushing your back against the cool wall. With a tongue hot and desperate, he licked up your pussy, groaning like you were his last meal. Your hand shot to his head, gripping tight, guiding him just as you liked it. He didn't need much. He was already lost in you. Every moan sounded like praise.

“That’s it,” you hissed, rocking yourself into his mouth. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

“I won’t,” Stack promised. Not until your legs were shaking, and his jaw was slick with you. Not until your pretty moans turned into curses and your body tried to escape, then pleasure only could chase you.

When he finally stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you, a man completely undone. Stack spun you around like it was second nature, pressing you into the wall with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head. His belt clinked open behind you, the soft grating of his zipper loud in the stillness.

"You sure you can take it, girl?" he muttered. Looking back, you could see Stack grip his thick length in his hand, pumping it up and down before lining his dick against your soaked entrance, teasing but firm. "Ain't no holding back tonight."

“Give it to me like you mean it,” you snapped.

Stack slammed into you in one cunning and possessive thrust. You gasped when your forehead hit the brick. He didn't give you a second to adjust, just wrapped an arm around your waist and started working his hips in a relentless tempo. The room echoed with sounds of skin meeting skin, moans, and his low curses. His other hand found your clit, and began rubbing small circles to make you fall apart all over again.

“You feel that?” he panted in your ear with pride. “This pussy is mine.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy. “Stack… fuck—” was all you managed to get out before he began grinding himself deeper inside.

Your orgasm was intense and all-consuming, tearing a high pitched outcry to escape your lips as you clenched your walls around him. Stack’s thrusts began to be uneven and passionate as he chased his own high. And just when he was on the edge, body trembling, and his muscles taut against yours…

“Well, goddam!”

Both of your heads snapped to the door. Stack froze inside of you, jaw clenched, with wide eyes at the sight of his twin brother.

Smoke stood there, curtly closing the door behind him and leaning against the doorframe like he walked in on a business deal instead of his brother balls deep in another’s soul.

“I come lookin’ for Stack and come to find this.” He gestured between the two of you with an amused look. “Y’all ain't even had the decency to lock the door?”

“Get the fuck out, Smoke,” Stack sounded feral.

Smoke smirked in return, kissing his teeth. “Don’t let me interrupt,” his fingers slipped behind him to turn the lock on the door. “Finish where you left off.”

Stack didn’t pull out. He didn’t even make a move as Smoke’s laughter faded. His grip on your hips tightened like he was claiming you harder now that he’d been seen. He was practically primal, yet there was a hesitation, a shift between the three of you.

“Good. Thought I might stick around this time.”

“You got one fuckin’ second to turn around,” Stack growled, still buried inside you, his chest rising and falling against your back.

“Relax,” Smoke said, voice smooth as whiskey and twice as dangerous. “Ain’t here to fight. I just figured if you were gonna fuck her like you mean it. You’d also let her choose who she wants.”

You turned your head slowly, pulse thrumming like a drum. Smoke leaned in the doorway again, one brow raised, hunger in his eyes like he already knew the answer. Stack’s jaw flexed. His hands never left your skin.

“This ain’t a game, Smoke.”

“Never said it was.” His gaze dropped to where your bodies were still joined. “But I seen the way she looks at me, too. Don’t play like you didn’t notice.”

It was the truth, they were identical twins after all. The thought had crossed your mind if they were also the same down there. Smoke had always been the smoother one. The devil that smiled back at you when you flirted with danger. And now, with Stack buried deep and your body still trembling from the last orgasm, part of you wanted to see what it’d be like to be stretched between both of them.

It’s up to her,” Smoke said, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Ain’t it?” Stack didn’t speak. His silence was a storm ready to break.

You turned to face them both, hips still pushed back. You looked at Smoke through your eyelashes, and said, “You better double check that the door is locked this time.”

Smoke jiggled the door handle before focusing his sights on you, bent forward as if committing the sight to memory.

“ Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured. “Didn’t expect you to be so generous.”

Stack remained silent. He just thrust into you once, hard enough to make you gasp and grip the wall again.

“She ain’t yours,” Stack burst, but his voice lacked conviction. He knew what this was. I knew it wasn’t just about possession.

“Ain’t tryin’ to take her,” Smoke replied, stepping near.

His hands were on you before you could think, one sliding up the nape of your neck, the other tilting your chin to face him. He kissed you softly at first until you deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, feeling Stack start to move again behind you, his speed staggering with every second.

“And you’re just lettin’ him have all the fun?” he mumbled against your mouth.

Stack growled low in his throat. “You want a turn, Smoke? Take her mouth. But you better be sure she can handle both of us.”

“Oh, I can,” you whispered, drunk on the moment.

Smoke stepped out of his clothes, his dick already thick and ready. He guided you down to your knees with his hand. You opened your mouth, lips wrapping around him just as Stack banged back into you from behind.

The stretch of both was overwhelming, one in your mouth and one buried deep. Stack fucked you harder now, his hold bruising on your hips, while Smoke let you control the pace with your tongue until he lost his patience and started to thrust into your mouth.

“Look at you,” Smoke groaned. “Takin’ us both like it’s what you were made for.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you moaned around him, the vibrations making Smoke’s jaw clench. Stack was close, you could feel it in the way his rhythm stuttered and his breathing picked up.

“She’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” Stack gasped. “She’s gonna make me—fuck—” He pulled out just in time to spill across your back, thick ropes of cum marking your skin while Smoke slid out of your mouth and lifted your chin again.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Smoke growled, hauling you into his arms like you weighed nothing. He laid you down flat on the velvet covered crates nearby, pushing your knees back and plunging into you with a groan. The angle was brutal and somehow filthier. His eyes locked on yours the whole time, making it impossible for you to look away.

Stack leaned nearby, watching, still catching his breath, chest slick with sweat.

“Don’t think she’s ever been full till tonight.” Smoke said between thrusts.

You cried out, the pressure building fast and hot, your nails scraping down Smoke’s back. He fucked you through it, didn’t stop even as your body shook and your thighs tried to close. You came again loudly and broken open for Smoke to finally bury himself and release inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound was your breath and heartbeat, all three of you covered in sweat and something that felt dangerously close to obsession. Then Stack muttered lowly, “This doesn't change shit.”

“Oh, it changes everything, brother.” Smoke chuckled, pulling out slowly, the evidence of what you had just done dripping down your thighs.

taglist: @marley1773 ➴ feel free to send me more thots

OH?!!!!

you’re welcome