Damn Jacey Boi Is Not Receiving ANY Crumbs In This Poll

Damn Jacey boi is not receiving ANY crumbs in this poll

working on ONE oneshot this weekend - help me pick which one lol

Ikaris and Sephia live for the seasons changing, especially during the colder months. It always means that they get a chance to warm up in the morning more...intimately 😘

Fall Family Chaos Fun - An Ikaris x Persephone!Eternal Halloween Oneshot

Pairings: Sephia x Ikaris Word Count: ~2.1k Summary: A lil'l slice of insight to how Ikaris' and Sephia's home life goes in the fall with their three gremlins angels. This fic also introduces a lot of new characters that will make strong appearances in future works of this AU! Warning(s): Heavy petting on Ikaris' part (man's a horndog for our Sephie), Aggie is a menace who takes after her Aunt Kaety, Ikaris is older than dirt and doesn't understand teens, Laurie being a teen, and Sephia & Arthur just being adorable

Notes: Yes, I know that Halloween has technically passed, but I had midterms and projects during the time so I'm using the rest of the season as a Free Fall fics pass until December. So this oneshot was beta read by the ever-so lovely @ethereal-athalia, who has so graciously sacrificed herself agreed to beta read all of my fics for the upcoming future while my usual beta reader @valeskafics, is currently really busy with law school until the foreseeable future! Even so, please go visit her blog because she is one of the best writers on Tumblr, especially if you are a fan of Ewan Mitchell, and the HOTD/GOT universe! If you have read any of my past works, you know that my girl @ethereal-athalia is pretty much the co-parent of this Eternals AU idea, and I absolutely love sharing ideas with her, and making connections to make these fics more interesting. Anyway, please be kind and enjoy!

Somewhere deep in an enchanted forest hidden from most of the world, there stood an impressive house. This house was the home to a very special family. It was built by a beautiful woman and her besotted husband, and became their home for them and their three incredible children. Every day the home was laughter and peace and a calming air-

“DADDDDDDD! HAVE YOU SEEN MY CLOAK?”

-unless it was October, December, summer, or… actually, it hard to remember when the word “calm” could be used to describe their home.

“Which one Aggie?”

“The one that had the pretty gold swirls and stars! I need it to match with Hamy!”

“Aggie sweetie, I put it on the chair next to Pope Butterscotch the Golden Sheep!”

“Thanks mommy!”

“Mama? Have you seen Bun-Bun?”

“Bun-Bun had an accident with the breakfast this morning, so I put him in the wash! But he should be waiting for you in the dryer!”

“Thanks, Da!”

A frazzled Ikaris crouched on top of the stairwell, scrubbing away the evidence of markers and crayons from the wall-paint. When the colored outlines were only just barely visible, he made his way down the stairwell to find the one person whose sole presence would wash away all his fatigue. Standing over the massive sink - bathed in golden sunlight - stood the love of his eternal and immortal life. You were washing the vegetables that came from their gardens. Ikaris saw an array of vegetables – carrots that ranged from yellow to dark purple, deep red beetroots and radishes, a mountain of spinach, and a pumpkin of impressive size (just to new a few).

With sweat running down her brow and small streaks of dirt on your cheek, you was a vision of pure beauty. Ikaris could spend all his time listing all the parts he loved about you, and the Earth would long be dead from war and famine and any other forms of destruction that came from humanity. No time with you would be enough- it would never be enough. Wrapping his arms around your waist, Ikaris lowered his head until his nose was pressed into the crook of your neck.

Taking in a deep breath, your natural essence of clean and fresh aromas overtook his senses as a wave of calm washed over him. Your natural perfume mixed with the notes of your sweat formed a new sweet and tantalizing fragrance that caused a growl to emerge deep from his throat as Ikaris started to lay kisses over your skin. Given your deep connection to the Earth, your scent always seemed to change with the seasons. As the autumn chill chased away the summer breeze, gone were the fresh and soft fragrances of grapefruit and sandalwood. But Ikaris did not mind the loss as he took notice of notes of patchouli and orange. Reaching behind you to stroke your husband’s hair, you let a light chuckle escape under your breath.

“If you’re hoping to get lucky,” you teased with a mirthful smirk, “I would suggest that you wait until I am not sweating like a pig with dirt all over me.”

“Please,” Ikaris scoffed, “you say that if I haven’t taken you in the dirt a thousand times by now, each time leaving you more flushed with sweat than you washing some greens.” He emphasized his point by creeping his hands under your the massive green and cream flannel you stole from his closet until he reached your breasts. His eyes widened slightly at the lack of a certain apparel, until the corners of his mouth curled to a lecherous grin.

“No bra today?” He whispered with a low and husky tone. “Such a naughty flower, I wonder if I touched you down there, would I find your cunt bare and dripping, or your underwear soaked?” He pinched your nipple to emphasize his point, and let his ears drink in your soft mewling.

“Ikaris,” you rasped, “our kids could walk in any moment-”

“DAD! ARTHUR STOLE MY RIBBON!”

“NUH-UH! AND IT WAS BUN-BUN’S RIBBON FIRST, SO AGGIE STOLE IT FIRST!”

“DID NOT!” “DID TOO!” “DID NOT!” “DID TOO!”

“DAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDDDDDD!”

Lightly chuckling at the immediate downfallen expression on your husband’s face in response to their children’s call to him. Turning your head to press a kiss on his furrowed brow, you reassured him that you would play the mediator this time.

“And while I’m at it,” you reasoned, “you can check on our less problematic son.”

“Laurie?” Ikaris’ expression immediately shifted to worry. “Is he alright? Has he experienced any chest pains or breathing troubles? He barely finished his breakfast this morning. Do I need to call Kaet-”

“No, no, no,” you reassured, already on damage control to prevent her husband from hovering over their firstborn like he had when Laurie was still a baby. “He’s just been holed up in his room all day, and I want to make sure that he isn’t overly stressed about anything.” You pressed her palm on his face, and stroked your thumb across his cheek. “Don’t worry so much, it might just be teen angst – Sersi told us that it’s very common at his age!”

Still a bit disturbed at his son’s unusual behavior, Ikaris quickly kissed your palm before making his way up the deep mahogany stairwell. Thinking over the past few months, Ikaris was making mental notes of his son’s strange behavior. He knew that it wasn’t his studies or his athletics at school, but he was acting more secretive. He would come home later than usual, check his phone more frequently, and even finish his meals as quickly as possible to dash to his room.

Quickly flying past the many rooms – including the one that was currently occupied by his two youngest children, who were still arguing over the correct ownership over a particularly shiny ribbon – he finally made it to the end of the hall where his first child’s room was located. On the deep red-stained wood was a little piece of signage that was covered in laurel leaves with the only negative space spelling out “Laurie.” Softly knocking three times twice (a little signal between father and son) before a soft voice was heard through the door.

“Come in,” called out his son as Ikaris gently opened the door, a faint creak screeched out from the worn-down hinge and its pin. At first glance, the main focus of the room would be the queen-sized bed frame with a hand-embroidered eggshell-white cotton quilt, or the thousands of stars that were painted on the ceiling, or even the gilded golden crossbow hanging over his bed. But all the Eternal could focus on was the sight of his eldest child, Laurus Orion Harris, or “Laurie” as was so lovingly dubbed by his glorious wife. And he couldn’t help but feel immense pride in the fact that he had any part (even if it was only genetically) in creating the child in front of him.

“Everything alright dad?” Laurie asked.

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” Ikaris replied, “well, your mother is trying to separate your brother and sister over a very sparkly ribbon. But other than that, everything is fine.” He paused for a minute to notice that his eldest was acting a bit antsy, as if he was expecting something very important. “But are you sure there isn’t anything bothering you?”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just unusual for you to be holed up in your room. It’s usually not because of your studies because your Aunt Sersi always tells your mum and me how well you’re doing. At the very least, you’d probably be outside enjoying the changing leaves with your horse.” Ikaris tried not to seem too intrusive, his son had the right to his own privacy after all, and he trusted him to always make good choices. But with everything he had seen for the past few months, he wanted to make sure that Laurie wasn’t involved in anything dangerous. “I just want you to know that if there’s anything that’s at all bothering you, me or your mum are always going to be there to listen.”

Laurie took in what his dad said, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to tell him a little bit. “Well, now that you mention it. I was just wondering…do you think Uncle Gil and Aunt Thena will bring Mara and Uriel over for Hamish’s birthday?”

And suddenly everything was clear for Ikaris. It was no wonder his child had been acting so nervous lately.

“Laurie,” he began, “are you worried over how you’ll act around Thena’s new ward?”

When his fourteen-year-old son’s face turned bright red, Ikaris knew he hit the nail on the head.

“You know, if you’re really that worried, I can ask Thena and Gil to maybe reconsider coming this year. I am sure they’ll understand, it’s only been a little over a year since-”

“NO! That’s alright!” Laurie was so panicked that he didn’t even notice his voice cracking, “I don’t want to do that to Hamish, he looks forward to all of us coming together for his birthday. And I rarely see Uncle Gil and Aunt Thena that much as it is – plus, Aggie seems to be alright with her, and Arthur is already getting along with Uriel really well. So…I just want to make sure that she knows that she’s welcome and…safe with us.”

“Oh my sweet boy,” mentally sorrowed Ikaris, “that little fire hellion has got him petrified.” No matter how long since it’s been since he last fought, the Eternal would tell when someone was trying to put on a brave face. Not wanting to embarrass his son, Ikaris decided that it would be best to just drop the matter for now. Worst case scenario, he would no issue to take matters in his own hands if that little flame demon tried to pull anything on Laurie like she had the first time.

“Alright,” he relented, “but you shouldn’t worry so much. I’m sure that you two will soon be good friends. But if there is anything that happens with her that makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you tell me or you mum straight away. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah dad, I understand.”

“Good, I want you to know that-”

“DADDDDD! ARTHUR STILL WON’T GIVE ME BACK MY RIBBON!”

“THAT’S BECAUSE IT ISN’T YOUR RIBBON, IT’S BUN-BUN’S RIBBON!”

Letting out a deep sigh before walking over to the foot of the bed next to his son, Ikaris swept aside a bit of his unruly curls to drop a quick kiss on the top of his forehead. A wave of rosemary and frankincense wafted into his nose.

“Seems like your mum needs some help,” he chuckled, “remember what I told you. I love you.”

“Love you too dad,” replied Laurie as he watched his father walk out of his room and closing the door. He tried his best to gather his thoughts for the upcoming holiday, but that was easier said than done.

“Agalia Sersi Harris!” He heard his mother yell out – which happened very rarely. “You tell Germain to lower your brother on the ground this instant young lady!”

Not being able to hold back the laugh escape his throat, Laurie let out a series of soft chuckles. He thought back to all of the comments his friends at his school would make about his family.

They would marvel over how his mum would always make sure his lunches would look so delicious, and laugh whenever he never rejected her hugs and kisses.

Sometimes, they’d jealously gripe over how close he would be with his dad because he would always be there for his games and always act so proud of how he played – even if he did terribly.

There was the occasional snide comment about how Aggie would act so uppity and prissy, and then they’d immediately piss themselves at the sight of her barreling toward them at full speed to deliver her fury.

And then they would talk about how weird it’d be whenever Little Ari would always try to play with them, and Laurie would never brush him off and make sure that there was a way to include him.

It made the young man sad to realize that it wasn’t considered “normal” to be so close to your own parents and siblings. But if being a “normal” meant having to pretend that he didn’t have most incredible family in the history of the world, then he would gladly wear the title “freak” proudly.

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic! Please drop a like if you did enjoy it, and also a reblog or comment if you look forward to reading more!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @3vergr3en, @its-actually-minicika, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @hypnoticmistake, @vikingqueen28, @tacorice, @deanthomaswhore, @angelnyx, @getawaycardotmp3, @redheadspark, @sunphyre, @bambiandbam, @diaryofapillowprincess, @karimac, @spacetalbot, @beananacake, @snowprincesa1, @littledoveofchaos, @prettyvintageafternoon, @themeanestlittlewitch

Let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged!

Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.

I love my mom.

I am risking nothing

I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY

Will not risk.

sorry followers :(

...I made a gif

*Not Makkari and Kaet on their way back to the Domo after robbing Atlantis and accidentally sinking it*

tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @jolixtreesunn, @aphroditesmoon,

@valeskafics Bel, you’re gonna need to get Kyle up in here, I don’t think our shrimp posture boi is gonna make it 😭

Ok, so I’m a little delirious from NyQuil and congestion. But I thought of a possible HOTD fic idea that I would like some opinions on. I haven’t watched the show, but I love reading the fics. Jace and Aemond are my favorites to read about out of all of them.

So let’s say that reader’s mom was a childhood friend for both Alicent and Rhaenyra, and she was actually a very talented seamstress. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent were lowkey obsessed with reader’s mom and wanted her for themselves. But one day, reader’s mom got sick and died, and the only person that comes close to having the same talent in designing and sewing is the reader, her daughter. Alicent and Rhaenyra kind of latch onto reader bc they remind them so much of their mother. It goes to the point where Jace and Aemond have also developed obsessive feelings of love toward the reader. But the reader is very aware of the Royal family’s obsessive tendencies, and does everything she can to avoid them. She isn’t grateful for the attention, she’s terrified. She doesn’t want to be noticed, she just wants to do her work quietly who taking care of her ailing father. But as time passes, Jace and Aemond continue to obsess over the reader and keep trying to put her in compromising positions so that the reader would have no choice but be their personal seamstress that would stay by their sides at all times.

Jace is a very soft boy who wants to woo the reader. He wants nothing but you. Seducing you with warm kisses and kind words. Sometimes reader thinks he’s too soft, but he has his moments where he’s in command and truly like a dragon. It brings him into a whole different light. Reader can’t help but long for his warmth and wonder what it would feel like if he placed his beautiful and warm lips on her skin.

Aemond is a tremendous storm with a powerful temper, and he wants nothing more than to possess the reader’s everything, body and soul. He calls the reader horrible names, “slut,” “whore,” etc. He’s horrible, but sometimes he will be so vulnerable and let down the walls he puts up. Reader can’t help the ache she feels between her legs at the thought of his hands on her body.

Sexy times ensues, there may be some dp-ing, who knows?

Also Alicent and Rhaenyra don’t like reader’s dad, because her mom fell in love with him and they blame him for her dying.

Any thoughts? I’m very tempted to write this out, but what do y’all think?

Tagging: @valeskafics, @aphroditesmoon, @jacevelaryonswife, @barbiedragon, @its-actually-minicika, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @foxyanon

…, if you don’t write a sequel of this with grown up Aemond and Daemon dp-ing almost-septa!reader

"No One But Me" - Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

a/n: combined a few requests into one - enjoy!! 💕

Summary: Daemon lusts after you, Viserys and Alicent's eldest daughter who is set to become a septa.

TW: DUBCON, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, canon-typical incest, corruption kink, innocence kink, religion kink, dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, oral f receiving, overstim, p in v sex, loss of virginity, breeding kink

Word Count: 2,515 words

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Daemon Targaryen never thought much of you, the eldest daughter of his brother and Alicent Hightower. You were a plain, mousy little thing the last time he saw you, at Rhaenyra’s wedding before he eloped with Lady Laena. You were sweet enough, curtsying and greeting him politely when you met him, thanking him for fighting so valiantly in the Stepstones. But that was the extent of your interaction.

After his second wife’s passing, he comes to Driftmark to lay her to rest. And that is when he sees you again. You are a woman now, he realizes as he watches you rest a hand on Helaena and Aemond’s shoulders, Aegon already off in his cups. There is something so sweet about you, your gentle disposition as you bend down to fix Aemond’s tunic, tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. The boy, who has been dour the entire length of the funeral, comes alive with a bright smile at your attention, something Daemon finds quite interesting. You’re beautiful, the curves of your body evident despite the somewhat conservative dress you wear, no doubt hand-picked by your mother.

You approach him, a kind, sweet smile on your face as you offer your condolences, “I am so very sorry for your loss, kepus. I did not know Lady Laena well, but she will be dearly missed by many.” (Uncle)

Daemon simply nods and you step aside, taking Aemond and Helaena with you. He muses to himself that you seem more like their mother than Alicent does, too busy tending to his brother. It stirs something inside him as he watches you, those lilac eyes never once leaving your form. You have piqued the interest of the Rogue Prince, and he has every intention of claiming his sweet little niece as his prize. He stares after you as you retreat into the castle, your siblings trailing after you, like little ducklings in a line. And, as if you could be any more perfect, he watches you interact with his daughters. The kindness you show them, the affection you shower them with in the wake of their devastating loss.

The gears in Daemon’s head begin to turn and he realizes that you are the perfect woman for him. And that he is going to do anything to make you his. There is only one small problem. That is, when your mother announces your intention to become a septa at dinner. You beam with pride as your father, in a rare moment of care for you, leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. Aegon says something to you that causes you to slap him hard on the shoulder, that tiny spark you’ve shown lighting a flame inside Daemon. He saw the way your eyes danced with mischief. No, you cannot waste your days away as a septa, locked away from the world, your beauty never to be admired. He is most certainly going to have to do something about that tonight.

He finds you that evening, walking toward the humble Driftmark sept, no doubt going for your evening prayers. He heard your mother declaring to Rhaenyra with no little amount of pride that you have never missed a prayer. He steps out of the shadows, taking you by surprise, your hand flying to your chest as if to calm your heart. It’s adorable, really. You’re like a little rabbit, and he is a wolf going in for the kill.

“Uncle,” you greet in a soft voice, bowing your head in greeting before nervously fiddling with your fingers, “If you will excuse me, I am on my way to evening prayers.”

“Too busy to chat with kepa?” Daemon asks as he falls into step beside you, eyes roaming your frame, his thoughts growing more and more lustful with every passing moment, “I am sure that you aren’t too busy for a walk.”

“Perhaps another time, Uncle,” you say, gazing up at him with those doe eyes of yours, so innocent and unassuming, “I know you have never been religious, but my faith is something I hold quite dear.”

Daemon hums in acknowledgement, still walking beside you, glancing down at the subtle bounce of your breasts with each step you take, his mouth nearly watering at the thought of how you look under the fabric of it, the way your hair dances in the wind, “How old are you now, sweetling?”

“Nine and ten,” you inform him as you enter the sept, lighting a candle.

“Nine and ten,” Daemon repeats, “You are a woman grown. It is a shame that you’ve chosen to throw your life away and rot in a sept somewhere. You are very beautiful, you know.”

He watches with bated breath as you bite your lip nervously, “I… Um…”

“What does the faith even have to offer you?” Daemon continues, trailing after you as you kneel down before the altar of the Maiden, “A life of modesty and praying?” He leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “A life of never knowing the touch of a man?”

He sees the way you shiver, the way you gaze up at him with wide eyes as you ask him if he wishes to pray with you. He kneels beside you, gazing into those sweet, innocent eyes, so ripe for corruption, those soft, full lips, your hair framing your face. He wonders if anyone would even hear if he claimed you, here and now, in the eyes of the Seven. You bow your head and close your eyes, beginning to pray. Daemon bows his head for show, but simply continues staring at you, eyeing the swell of your breasts as your chest rises and falls with each breath. Your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. The urge to claim you grows with every breath you take. You’re so innocent, naive to the desires of men. He can teach you. He will teach you what it is to be pleasured by a man.

Your eyes flutter open after a moment and you give Daemon a polite smile, “Thank you for praying with me, Uncle.”

“You’re such a sweet little thing,” Daemon murmurs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, thinking to himself how much he can teach you, “Might I ask you a question, little one?”

You nod slowly, “Of course.”

“How would you feel if a man kissed you?” Daemon’s nose brushes against yours, close enough to press his lips against yours if he so desires, “Would you hate it? Would you be disgusted? Or, perhaps, you would find yourself not hating it, rather enjoying it.” He watches as your eyes widen, “You know, it isn’t just your body that is beautiful, those lips are almost irresistible.”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, turning your face away as you mumble, “I must go find my brother. Please excuse me, Uncle-”

He gently grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him, your chest flush against his as you gaze up at him, “No need to run away, little one. You know, your skin is so soft and smooth,” he says, caressing your cheek with his free hand, “Just like the rest of you, I imagine.”

You let out a soft gasp as Daemon presses his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. He feels you stiffen and then relax into his grip. His kiss is rough, aggressive, hungry even, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it, moving against your own. After a few more moments, you pull away, eyes darting around.

“I am a maiden, Uncle, I… I cannot do this…”

Daemon gathers you in his arms, his hand moving up and down your back in a motion you could almost consider soothing, “I don’t believe that, sweetling. I can see it in your eyes that you want this.” His gaze travels to your lips, slightly parted and swollen from the kiss.

“We can’t…”

He cages you in against the wall with his body, pressing up against you, “Oh, I believe we can, little princess.”

You whimper as Daemon’s lips along your neck, his hands moving to squeeze at your breasts, kneading the soft, supple flesh between his hands. He has fire in his eyes as he all but tears your dress from your frame, admiring how you look in just your smallclothes, the flimsy shift that does little to hide your curves from his lascivious gaze. You try to cover yourself, averting your gaze, and the innocence of your actions drives him nearly to the brink of madness.

He sits on one of the pews, pulling you onto his lap so that you straddle him, your weak protest coming, “Uncle, we could be seen-”

“Let them see,” he rasps.

His hands are all over you, squeezing your ass, moving up your body to your breasts again, his sweet little princess, there for him to fuck, to defile, to corrupt. You whine softly, grinding yourself against his hips, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he continues feeling your body.

“It feels strange in my stomach… Between my thighs…”

He chuckles, meeting your gaze, moving one hand to your hair, tugging it, “You aren’t as innocent as I thought, little one. I think you’re just a little tease. Look at you, rubbing yourself against my thigh like a wanton little whore. Come now, little one, make yourself peak. I know you can.”

His hands are all over you, calloused and warm, touching you places only a husband is meant to touch. You feel your pleasure building like a tidal wave as you continue moving your hips against him, rubbing your bare cunt against his thigh, feeling his muscles flex under you, how he bounces his leg ever so slightly to spur you on. His hands move to your hips, moving you faster and faster, listening to the sound of your breathing, coming out in soft, desperate pants as you reach your peak, eyes rolling back, body collapsing against his.

“What if someone walks in?”

Your voice is a hushed whisper as Daemon places you on the altar to the Maiden, tearing your shift in half, his eyes now nearly black with lust as he takes in the sight of your bare body. He pushes your knees apart, letting out a quiet laugh, admiring the sight of your bare cunny, already wet for him.

“That’s part of the excitement, little one. I’m sure any man would die to be with you, but you’re all mine, little princess. You were a maiden when you walked in here, but let’s see what you will be when you walk out.”

“This is blasphemous,” you say as he sinks to his knees, gazing up at you.

Daemon presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before burying his tongue inside your cunt, reveling in the whine of pleasure you let out, your hands gripping the altar so hard that your knuckles begin to go white. He laps at your folds, fucking you with his tongue, hiking your thighs over his shoulder as he tastes you, the lewd slurping and sucking noises he makes echoing throughout the sept. You whimper pathetically as he brings you closer and closer to your peak, his thumb rubbing against your pearl, your toes curling as you feel the pressure build in your stomach. He senses your climax is close and moves faster, his face moving from side to side as he devours you, his nose pressed against your nub, your arousal coating his tongue when you reach your peak once more with a cry of his name.

He moves to stand, cupping your mound, biting back a laugh at the way you try to shrink away from him, “It’s too much, Uncle…”

Daemon ignores your words, leaning in to kiss you, his free hand pinning your own above your head. He pushes one finger inside you, feeling the way you squeeze around his fingers, pumping it in and out ever so slowly, your entire body trembling as he continues his onslaught of pleasure. You gaze up at him, eyes watering from the overstimulation as he continues, his arousal only growing when fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Gods, you look beautiful when you cry. He adds a second finger, listening to you moan, your head falling back against the altar as you reach your peak yet again. But he has no intention of having mercy on you, wanting you to be nothing but a whimpering, sobbing mess beneath him as he adds a third finger, his thumb circling your swollen pearl. His fingertips brush against that rough patch deep inside you that has your eyes going wide, lips parted in a silent scream as you manage to murmur his name. He moves his fingers, curving them so he can hit that spot with each movement, bringing you to your peak once more, feeling you soak his fingers.

Your entire body shakes and Daemon pushes his fingers between your lips, arching his brow in a silent demand for you to lick his fingers clean. He watches as your plump lips wrap around the digits, thinking to himself how lovely they’ll look wrapped around his cock, your eyes watering as you choke on it while he fucks your mouth, but he’ll save that for another time. He needs to be inside you right now. He needs to breed you, to make you completely and utterly his. For everyone to see your stomach, swollen with his babe, knowing that he fucked his seed into you.

Daemon quickly undoes his breeches just enough to free his cock, already achingly hard, giving himself a quick stroke before slapping the head of it against your cunt. You let out a surprised cry, your breasts bouncing as you jump slightly. He pushes inside of you, his thick length feeling as if it’s splitting you open in the most delicious way. He sheathes himself to the hilt inside of you, bottoming out inside you with a low moan. Daemon moves like some sort of feral beast, feeling your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him so tight, so wet for him. He ruts against you, pounding into you at an animalistic pace as you gaze up at him wide-eyed. It doesn’t take much for your poor, oversensitized body to reach your peak again, but he fucks you through it, chuckling as you pray to the Maiden for forgiveness.

“Little princess, we both know it’s me who you worship now. My cock.”

You don’t bother denying it, only wrapping your legs around him, allowing him to fuck into you harder, deeper, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak, making sure to spill his seed inside you, plugging you up with his fingers so not a drop spills.

“After you have recovered, we will go to Dragonstone, where I will make you my wife, little princess. You belong to me now, not your mother, not the gods, no one but me.”