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jamespotterismydaddy · 6 hours

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The Manor

modern!aegon x neice!reader

A/N: this is based off a short little blurb i did the other day. just thought i'd make it into smth more

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, DUBCON!, incest, exhibitionism perhaps, pervy aegon

WORD COUNT: 1,468 words

There’s nothing you hate more than family gatherings. It’s a pity really because you know you would enjoy them if it wasn’t for one thing… your uncle. Aegon torments you endlessly. It started small when you were younger, tugging on your braids like a schoolboy. Now, it’s the way his touches linger. He gets more and more reckless with each graze… each grope. Your brothers could see, his mother could see if only they looked close enough.

It’s your grandfather’s birthday today, a summertime celebration that you resent because it means a whole weekend spent at the manor and Aegon loves nothing more than a tantalizing, off-limits girl in a sundress.

“You wouldn’t deny your favourite uncle a hug, would you?” He says with a smirk as you walk up the steps. Your step-grandmother is oblivious as she beckons you over.

“Family greets each other with hugs!” She encourages, pulling you into her soft embrace before pushing you into his.

Filthy arms snake around your waist and you hate how your body leans into his. You hate how good it feels when his hand slips up your dress to give your ass a sneaky squeeze, fingertips just barely grazing your clothed pussy. You try not to gasp as you push him away, glaring at him for his perversion.

“So good to see you, little niece.” He gives you a wolfish grin before letting you walk away, if only so he can watch you go.

~~~

You get into your bikini after unpacking, wanting to soak in that hot summer sun before it sets. You venture outside to the pool just to see that you’re the only one there as Daeron and Helaena are down by the beach and your dumbass brothers are probably napping after the long car ride. As for Aemond, who knows what he’s up to. You walk over to a sunchair and lay your towel on it as he sneaks up behind you. You feel the ties of your bikini top undo with one swift motion.

You whip around. “Aegon, you bastard!” You grab the sides of your top to keep yourself covered but that only gives him the chance to tug down your bottoms.

“Ohh someone’s keeping herself well groomed for me.” He muses as you pull them back up and shove him away.

“Keep your hands away from me, perv!”

“If you want my hands off then why did you shave your pussy bare for me?” He smirks, stalking closer to you as you back away.

“Who said it’s for you?” You snark back.

That comment pisses him off a bit and he grabs your arm to pull you back to him. “Yeah? Like you’re fucking someone.” He pushes his hand down the front of your bottoms. “Not when you’re this wet for me.”

“I hate you.” You squirm out of his hold but he still sends you off with a harsh smack on the ass as you storm away.

“Sure you do, sweetheart!”

You make your way to your room, locking your door and changing out of your bathing suit and into a short sundress so you aren’t lounging in swimwear.

Gods, maybe he’s right about you doing things for him. If you were so disgusted by his advances then you would probably want to drown yourself in clothing, rather than dress yourself in such a tiny garment. And more than anything, you wait around for him, eventually falling into a mid-day slumber.

You’re awoken by the feeling of gentle fingertips gliding up and down your navel before fluttering across your collarbones. When your eyes finally open, taking their time because of how groggy you feel, you’re greeted by the sight of him with a hand down his boxers as he strokes his cock, looking as divine as a fucking god. This is when you notice that the bust of your milkmaid dress has been untied to reveal your pert breasts. You say nothing as you flinch away like a spooked mare, only glaring at Aegon with ire in your eyes.

“You were so peaceful when you were sleeping and now you had to go ahead and ruin it.” He gazes at you with such lustful hunger.

“You like to prey on sleeping girls?”

“I like to prey on you.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Nobody’s home… and I like it when you put up a little fight.”

He gives you a little smirk before lunging at you. You slip off the bed but you’re not on the side of the room with the door so there’s nowhere to run. He backs you into a corner but just watches for a moment, wanting to make you antsy. His lack of action makes you take your chance and you try to bolt past him but he just grabs you around the waist. You swing around him slightly but his hold is firm. Both of his hands snake around your struggling body from behind, his left holding your upper torso all the way up to cup your right breast and his right sliding up your skirt.

“You’re fucking sick. I’m your niece.” You spit out at him.

“You’re just as sick as I am.”

You struggle in his grasp but that doesn’t stop him from getting a firm hold on your panties. He tugs on them and you whimper at the slight pain-pleasure as he uses the fabric to rub against your clit.

“Aegon, stop.” You whine breathlessly as he manoeuvres the garment around to start pleasuring you.

“Give in.” He kisses at your neck. “I know you want to. You’re not saving face for anyone but yourself.” He whispers into your ear.

“Fuck you.” You murmur but it just feels so good.

“You will, whether you’d like to or not. Just give in.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong but you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder giving him better access to your neck.

“Good girl.”

He starts nipping and sucking at your soft skin even harder now as he unzips your dress. You’re only in your panties now as he shoves you back onto your bed, his lips immediately moving to kiss your supple breasts.

“Such nice tits, baby. Maybe i’ll have a turn fucking them after I split open that tight cunt.” He chuckles as your slight shudder and then rips off your panties so he can bury his face in your pussy.

You can hardly think of how to react as he devours you with such fervour. Aegon has been waiting forever for this moment; he couldn’t keep his eyes off you since you flowered and he eagerly wants to taste you. He wants you to fall apart on his tongue, and then his cock.

And so you do. Your high washes over you like you’ve never felt before. That sick feeling that has created a pit in your stomach only makes it hit even harder.

“Mmm, Aegon.” You whine, fingers tangled in his ivory locks. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

He’s over you, pumping his length already before you’ve even had a chance to recover.

“Use a condom.” You pout, legs spread wide for him.

“Little brats don’t tell their uncles what to do.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t even move to stop him before he’s speared himself inside of you. His mouth is pressed to yours and he swallows all your protests before they can leave your lips. He kisses you with the same fervour that he ate you with as he fucks into you roughly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says after breaking the kiss, wanted a good look at your face as he ruins you.

“It’s too much.” You complain.

“Don’t be such a whiner.” He rolls his eyes and lifts your legs to push you into a mating press. If it was too much before, then it’s surely too much now as he somehow hits even deeper.

“Ah ah…” You let out little whimpers at the feeling of being filled so completely.

“God’s, never felt a pussy this tight. Knew you were saving yourself for me, baby.” He says cockily.

You can’t even form a retort, not with how cock-drunk you are from him pistioning his dick in and out of you. All you can think of is how close you are.

“I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t realize you were such a little slut after only one little taste.”

He talks a lot of talk but once he feels your walls clenching around him, he’s done for. He only manages to get a few more hard thrusts in, fucking you through your high, before he finishes inside you.

Once you come down from your peak, you realize what he’s done.

“Seven Hells, Aegon. Did you just cum inside me?”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

#aegon targaryen smut #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon smut #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #hotd smut

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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 day

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Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨ ❤️❤️

You’re an angel 🥺🥺

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 days

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Eeee! Thank you thank you

Lord Husband Masterlist

For young medieval girls who have NO interest in being married

Chapter 1 Chapter 6

Chapter 2 Chapter 7

Chapter 3 Chapter 8

Chapter 4 Chapter 9

Chapter 5 Chapter 10

#reblog replies :)#moots <3

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 days

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I’m so glad you’re liking i sm🥺🥺

Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You hardly see him for weeks. Any new wife would expect her husband to impress his needs upon her frequently after the wedding night in hopes of creating an heir but you almost knew he wouldn’t. There’s something so strange about Cregan Stark; he’s empathetic. It’s not a trait you knew any man could hold. In reality, you should be pleased that your husband doesn’t wish to rape you but you’re more frustrated. He shall want for a son eventually, won’t he? This is only delaying the inevitable and you are a ‘get it over with’ kind of woman.

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I have done all I can to make you comfortable, all I can to make you feel welcomed and at every turn, you insult me! You have spent your entire life as the spoilt daughter of the Queen and for that, I do not blame you but I can only be so lenient. You will no longer take liberties with how you speak to me. I am your husband and you will learn to treat me as such.” He breathes heavily after letting all his emotions go. “Even princesses don’t speak to their spouses in the way you speak to me.”

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“Is that truly what you think? Are you really so naive as to believe that? Everyone of our station marries for advantage. I am no different and neither are you.” Even when he shouted at you only moments ago, he never sounded as hateful as he does right now.

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“It isn’t fair for you to fault me for wanting something more when you’re also unhappy with it… especially when you know it’s more difficult for women than men.” You desperately want him to understand you. You just want somebody to understand.

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

You stare into the mirror when you arrive. Would your mother be disappointed by how disagreeable you are, how disobedient? Daemon wouldn’t. But you aren’t Daemon Targaryen. You’re just a girl, a girl that might ruin an alliance if you can’t make nice with your husband. Should you care? Your stepfather wouldn’t. Dragon riders don’t obey societal norms… but you do care… ever so slightly.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“I should not have shouted at you. I just feel as though I’m not heard when I’m quiet but that is no justification.” He stares at the back of your head. You don’t turn to face him, looking out the window instead of at the mirror. This is your home now. He will become your home - he could become your home.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

#moots <3 #reblog replies :)

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 days

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Thank you for giving me little ideas in the tags hehe

Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

#reblog replies :)

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jamespotterismydaddy · 4 days

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Requests are open!

Omg what I can’t believe I’ve his 2000 followers!! Thank you so so much💕

Requests are open in celebration 🎉

#aemond targaryen #luke castellan #aegon targaryen #daemon targeryan #cregan stark #jacerys velaryon #rhaenyra targeryan #michael gavey #tom bennett #luke castellan x reader #aemond targaryen smut

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jamespotterismydaddy · 8 days

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Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

#lord husband #cregan stark fic #cregan fic #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan stark #hotd

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jamespotterismydaddy · 8 days

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hii! don't mean to be a bother... just wondering if part 10 of lord's husband is in the works? thnx ☺️

Yes it’ll be the next thing I post!

#lord husband

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jamespotterismydaddy · 9 days

Text

I need this man in the most disgusting, intense ways

"Matter Of State" - Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

a/n: combined two anon requests - one for atreides!reader dreaming of feyd and offering her hand to spare paul and one for free use with atreides!reader hehehehe 🩷

Summary: You meet the man of your dreams under less than ideal circumstances.

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, feyd rautha's black cum oop, inkpie, breeding kink, cousin incest, oral f receiving, overstim, p in v sex, paul gets stabbed RIP but he lives!

Word Count: 2,500

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune 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 🩷

All your life you’ve dreamed of him. You can’t remember a time when you didn’t know him, in whatever strange way this is. It always starts the same way. He stands in the desert, one arm extended toward you, his hand reaching out for you to take it. He pulls you into his embrace, staring down at you with those intense, dark eyes. His hands are rough as they caress your face, and yet? He’s tender. It’s as if he’s afraid you’ll break if he doesn’t handle you with enough care. You don’t know his name. You only know his voice. Every time you wake, the memory of his face fades from your mind, until you fall asleep once more.

The dreams only grow more intense during your time in the desert with the Fremen. Paul had similar dreams of Chani. The two of you confided in each other about these dreams growing up - it would seem that the Atreides twins had more in common than many realized. But while Paul now has Chani in his life, your mystery lover remains just out of reach. His voice is a low rasp as he murmurs how beautiful you are, as he makes love to you in your dreams, as he promises to keep you by his side forever and make you his queen.

Perhaps your dreams aren’t like Paul’s at all. Perhaps they truly are just that. Dreams. Maybe you saw this mystery man passing in the crowd back home on Caladan and your mind ran away with itself. But your mother, wise woman that she is, always smiles at you sagely and tells you that all will be revealed when the time is right. Ever since transmuting that damn poison and being able to chatter away with your unborn sister, the woman has become insufferable.

When you, Paul, and the others storm the castle at Arrakeen, intent on avenging your father’s death, you feel the world around you come to a standstill. As Paul buries his blade in the Baron - your grandfather’s neck, your gaze meets his. The man of your dreams. You recognize him at once, your lips parting in a silent gasp as he stares back at you. It’s as though a dam breaks in your mind and every memory of every dream comes flooding back to you. Every kiss, every touch, every sweet word.

You know who he is immediately. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. The nephew of the Baron. Your cousin. He is the man you have been dreaming of all this time, the man whose fate yours is entwined with. As Paul stalks over to the Emperor, Feyd makes his way to you, too close for comfort as he leans in to whisper in your ear, taking advantage of your brother’s distraction.

“We meet again.”

His voice is exactly as you remember it, that low, seductive rasp. You open your mouth to speak, but Paul notices that who he perceives to be the enemy has cornered you and is seemingly harassing you. Your brother grabs you by the hand and keeps you at his side, demanding that the Emperor bow to him. You continue staring at Feyd, unable to tear your eyes away from him. And he seems just as keen on ignoring the politics currently at play, finding his way to stand beside you yet again.

“Did you…” You trail off, your voice echoing in Feyd’s mind as you communicate without words, taking advantage of the skills having a Bene Gesserit for a mother has afforded you, “Have the dreams too?”

His lips curl up into a smile as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear as he whispers, “Yes.”

The tension between the two of you is palpable, even as he readies himself for battle with your brother. Your attention is only on him, unable to stop thinking of the dreams you have shared with this man, this enemy of your house. His eyes lock onto yours as he makes his way to the circle, his shoulder brushing against you as he moves.

Your brother and Feyd-Rautha are evenly matched. Skill, speed, strength. It is a battle for the ages. You glance over at Chani, who seems just as nervous as you are, your nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in the skin of your palm. Your heart pounds in your chest, so hard that you fear it may burst out of your body, watching with anxiety as your beloved brother fights the man who has haunted you for so long. Feyd is every bit a specter as he moves, his motions quick and graceful, his form long and lean. You gasp in horror as he manages to bury his blade in Paul’s shoulder.

Just as he is about to strike the killing blow, you speak, just loud enough for him to hear, “Stop.”

Feyd heeds your command, though he has little choice to do so, dropping Paul to the ground along with his knives and taking a step back, meeting your gaze, his head tilted to the side as if to ask why you have deprived him of the glory of his kill. You look between your brother, who lays bleeding and wounded on the floor, though thanks to you it is not mortal, and Feyd, who stands there staring at you. You turn to the Emperor, taking a deep breath, doing your best to hide the tremble in your voice.

“If… If I offer myself to Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen… A willing bride in exchange for my brother’s life, will my lords accept?”

The Emperor looks surprised, as does your brother, but neither of them even has a chance to speak. Feyd is already stalking toward you, using the blunt edge of his blade to force you to look him in the eyes. He seems… Intrigued by the proposition.

“That was bold, little one,” he murmurs, staring down at you, “But how do you know I will spare him if I agree to your terms?”

He begins to circle you, as if appraising you, grinning to himself when you speak, “You may be cruel. But you are a man of honor. I know that if you give me your word, you will keep it.”

It surprises him, really, how well you know him despite only having met in your dreams. He lets out a hum of approval before nodding at the Emperor, indicating that he accepts your offer. The Emperor heaves a sigh and announces that the wedding is to take place in ten day’s time, that as Duke Leto’s heir, your brother will retain control of Arrakis while you and Feyd will take control of Giedi Prime.

The room begins to empty out, your brother being taken away to have his injuries cared for, Chani ever present at his side, your mother giving you a quick nod as she walks past. You absently wonder to yourself what Alia has had to say about the whole thing. Part of you doubts that she actually speaks to your mother, but you digress. Soon, it is only you and Feyd left, standing in front of each other. There is nowhere to hide from him, from his hungry gaze. All he can think is that soon, you will belong to him. When you glance at him, he is already staring, and you quickly look away. He chuckles to himself at your nervousness.

“Do you remember them?” You blurt out suddenly, “The dreams?”

He nods, his fingers brushing against yours as he speaks, “I do. Every single one is burned in my memory.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

The silence lingers for a moment before Feyd moves to stand in front of you, resting his finger under your chin, “Do you remember what we did in those dreams? The things I made you feel?”

“I,” you take a step back, stuttering slightly, “I’m not sure if it’s really appropriate for us to talk about that.”

Unwilling to let you get away so easily, he takes another step toward you, and another, until you are backed up against the wall, his forearm resting above your head, effectively caging you in. And yet? You don’t feel scared. You simply feel a warmth rising to your cheeks, a fluttering in your stomach as you meet his gaze once more.

“Why not? We did quite a bit in those dreams, didn’t we?” Feyd teases, moving his blade to stroke your hair, his breath warm against your face, “I remember everything. How your lips felt against mine. The way your body moved against mine. The way you tasted. It’s haunted me, tormented me for years now. And here you are, in front of me.” He moves his free hand to rest against your cheek, making your breath catch in your throat as he caresses your skin, fingers trailing down to your throat, “Just as soft as I remember.”

“Feyd…” You trail off, “I…”

Before you can finish speaking, his lips capture yours in an intense, passionate kiss, one that leaves those you’ve shared in your dreams so far behind. He’s hungry, wanting, desperate as he crushes you against him, his lips moving to your neck, biting down on your skin, his tongue soothing the tender, abused flesh moments later. Your arms wrap around him, losing yourself in his embrace, in his touch. And you wonder to yourself how in the world the Emperor expects the two of you to keep your hands off each other in the days leading up to your wedding.

The wedding comes and passes with great pomp and ceremony. You and Feyd drink of each other’s blood and, as is the Harkonnen tradition, he hunts you down within the walls of Arrakeen. You find yourself wanting him to find you sooner than later, however, and make little effort to run from him, the two of you grinning at each other when he catches you, taking you then and there on the floor of the palace, vowing to fill you with his seed, vowing that it is not your brother who is the Chosen One, but the child you will bear him, as was always intended. Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter, because all you can think of is the pleasure he’s busy bestowing upon you as he fucks you over and over and over again.

Married life with Feyd is more than you ever could have hoped for. Your days on Giedi Prime are spent getting lost in each other. And this newlywed bliss is supported by all on your new home planet. After all, the more you couple with Feyd, the sooner the Kwisatz Haderach will be brought forth. He has no qualms walking into your meetings with the nobility of Giedi Prime and demanding everyone leave so that he can take you then and there. And you’re all the happier for it. Feyd can and will have you whenever and wherever he pleases. He is the Baron now, he holds all power over the planet. And you, his Baroness? His desire for you, his love for you renders him powerless only before you. You consume him - his thoughts, his desires, his very being.

When your mother and brother come to visit for the first time, accompanied by Chani and your newborn sister, Alia, you wonder if Feyd’s desires will continue to be so ravenous. His lust for you must be somewhat sated by this point - it’s been three months of this, after all. However, you have no such luck. In the middle of having tea with your mother and Chani, Paul off doing whatever it is that Paul does, Feyd barges into the room.

“Lady Jessica. Chani. I apologize but,” his eyes focus on you, “I require the Baroness for urgent matters of state.”

You furrow your brow, “Did something happen?”

Wordlessly, he walks toward you, heaving you over his shoulder, and stalks out of the room, making you yelp with surprise, quickly blurting out some excuse to your mother and Chani. Chani looks mildly horrified by the whole situation while your mother? Well, she seems rather pleased. After all, if Paul isn’t the Kwisatz Haderach, it will most certainly be your and Feyd’s child.

Feyd rather unceremoniously tosses you on the bed, crawling over you as he removes his clothes, smirking to himself as you protest, “You can’t just grab me like that! What the hell will my mother think of me, Feyd? That was embarrassing!”

Despite your words, he can feel the way your body reacts to him, the way he knows it better than you do, every brush of his fingertips against your sensitive skin making you shiver with desire. Feyd pushes your skirt aside, his lips immediately latching onto your core, already wet for him. He knew it. You wanted this just as bad as he did. You prop yourself up on your elbows, his gaze locked on yours, his lashes fluttering as he moans and mouths at your sensitive cunt, groaning at the taste of you, as if you’re the finest ambrosia and he grows drunk with every movement of his tongue. And when he’s made you peak, he shows no signs of stopping. Feyd’s mouth is sloppy against you, eager to taste you, devouring you completely.

“Feyd, no more,” you whine after he’s brought you to the edge for the third time, his hands grabbing at your thighs eagerly, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting you again, “It’s too much…”

“Need more,” he rasps, burying his tongue inside you again, his head moving from side to side, fucking you deeper with his tongue than before, moaning against you, the sensation making your head fall back against your pillow as you let him continue.

Finally, Feyd decides that his cock is too hard for him to resist any longer and with one fluid movement, he pushes inside you, feeling you squeeze around him impossibly tight. Even with how many times you’ve taken him, every time feels like the first, he muses as he pounds into you, his hips pistoning at a near inhuman pace, your arms wrapped around him.

“Are you going to breed me again, my Baron?” You ask breathily, your eyes locked on his, “It’s your duty after all.”

He nods eagerly, his voice a low growl in his chest as he declares, “I am. Over and over and over. I’ll fuck you so full of my seed that it drips out of that pretty little cunt, stuff you full. My pretty little wife.”

And true to his word, he fills you yet again, holding you close to him as you come down from your respective highs.

And when you walk back into the room where you left your family, your mother merely gives you a knowing smirk when you state that you were busy dealing with state matters, while Chani pointedly eyes the black stain on your dress.

#dick me daddy #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen

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jamespotterismydaddy · 9 days

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🌈 💖 ✨ Send this to the nicest people you know and that have a good heart ✨ 💖 🌈

Always out here making my day, bel

#moots <3

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jamespotterismydaddy · 9 days

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I've been re-reading The House of Hades (right after I had re-read The mark of Athena) and I just thought of a brilliant A.U/concept:

Reader and Luke going on a quest or something and falling into Tartarus 👀 maybe even some of the enemies to lovers trope👀

God this is such a good idea for enemies to lovers

As he falls in, Luke pulls you down with him. Partly because he with his last grasping breath, he wants to cause your suffering and partly because there’s nobody he would rather die with. He claims to hate you with every ounce of his being but in reality, you’re cut from the same cloth; you’re just like him.

Two sides of the same coin doomed to the same fate.

#luke castellan #yay somebody wants to chat with me #I live for dark!luke #percy jackson

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jamespotterismydaddy · 9 days

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hello, i hope your day is going well. i just had a realization, you know how Helaena sort of speaks in riddles?? she's like this character Madeline Hatter from a show i watched like a decade ago, both speaking in riddles.

Stoppp that’s so true! My cousins used to love ever after high sm😭😭

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jamespotterismydaddy · 12 days

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💐🌷spread the love to the people you’re glad you’ve found in this corner of the internet 💐

Love you pumpkin pie 💕

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jamespotterismydaddy · 15 days

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Sorry I’ve been posting like nothing

I’m on vacation rn😭

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jamespotterismydaddy · 20 days

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Aemond is so sweet and gentle in this, I love it so much

"Red Thread of Fate" - Aemond Targaryen x YiTish!Reader

a/n: from an anon request. this fic means a lot to me and i hope you all enjoy it 🩷

Summary: The future Empress of YiTi is nothing like Aemond expected.

TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 2,620 words

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 🩷

Aemond had never been one to believe in fate or destiny. He had always been a firm believer in reaching out and taking what one wants for themself. He did so with Vhagar, and has had to do so almost every day of his life. Every day he has had to fight to make himself heard, make himself seen. To feel validated and important. He resigned himself to the fact that he would be married for advantage and not for love long ago, back when he watched Aegon wed Helaena. He realized that he too would be forced to marry for political reasons and found himself dreading the day that his nuptials would arrive.

Everything changed when he met you.

He is sent to greet the delegation from YiTi. After a copious amount of correspondence between King Viserys and the Jade Emperor, a representative was dispatched to King’s Landing to discuss trade, treaties, and all manner of things to bring the two nations closer together. Aemond knows little of the mysterious land of YiTi, but he has always had a thirst for knowledge. So, he looks forward to meeting the representative, learning more of their culture. He watches as the soldiers disembark, marching in unison, their armor beautifully weaved and artistically decorated, much unlike those of the Westerosi troops. Then, his heart stops in his chest. He sees you.

Aemond had not expected to see the most beautiful woman in all of creation walking toward him. No. Not walking. Gliding, with all the grace of a fairy, light on your feet, your skirt billowing around you, your fan in your hand. You wear a dress that he assumes to be the traditional garb of your people, and it is like nothing he’s ever seen before. The dress is made of silk, the embroidery so fine he wonders if it was even done by human hands. You look every bit a princess, supernaturally beautiful with your long dark hair and almond-shaped doe eyes. You greet him with a bow of your head, introducing yourself as the Princess of YiTi, the future Empress of your homeland.

“And you are Prince Aemond, yes?”

The second son of King Viserys is almost too stunned to speak, too busy getting lost in admiring you in all your splendor. However, he forces himself to snap out of his trance and immediately gives a low bow, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Indeed, Princess. It is a great privilege to host you and your delegation.”

You gesture to one of your soldiers, who steps forward and presents Aemond with a beautiful sword, a jade dragon encrusted on its pommel. Aemond admires it, awestruck at the craftsmanship.

“A gesture of goodwill, from my family to yours. This is one of our ancestral blades, given to you in the spirit of friendship between our houses.”

Aemond nods his head, appreciating this gesture greatly, “I am grateful, Your Highness. It is a fine blade indeed, we will treasure this gift.”

He holds out an arm to you, and you take it, your body pressed against his side as the two of you make your way from Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep. Your ladies in waiting and soldiers follow close behind, but leave enough distance to allow for you and Aemond to continue engaging in conversation.

“My father sends his apologies that he could not be present for the negotiations, but it is a long journey and the kingdom could not afford to be without its Emperor for that long.”

Aemond admires the way you smile at him, those eyes of yours seeming to sparkle like diamonds. Are you betrothed? Why is he even thinking of such a thing? Gods, he feels like a fool. And you’ve just spoken. He needs to reply before you think of him as a complete idiot.

“Of course,” Aemond nods in understanding, “How long was your journey? I trust the trip was pleasant?”

“It was a month by ship, but it was pleasant indeed.” You pause before giving him a playful smile, “Perhaps the time could have been halved if the dragons of YiTi flew as yours do, but alas they do not have wings.”

Aemond arches a brow, smiling at you, fascinated by your words. So the rumors are true. There are flightless dragons in YiTi. He has so much to ask you, so much he wants to know. He wonders if you are just friendly by nature or if there is any chance you might be… Flirting with him. He has always shied away from female attention, self-conscious of his eye, his scar. But you seem all too willing to stare him right in the eye.

“I apologize for staring, Prince Aemond,” you giggle slightly, as if reading his thoughts, “It’s just… I have never seen someone with such light-colored hair before. And your eye is so blue. Like nothing I have ever seen.”

Aemond blushes at your words and he tries to play it off by turning his face away, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling like a fool, “Thank you, Princess.”

“Do you know much of my country, Prince Aemond?”

He shakes his head, meeting your gaze once more, “Not very much at all, Princess. Though I must say I am very eager to learn more.”

“I will gladly tell you anything you wish to know under one condition.”

Gods, he thinks, please let that condition be a kiss…

“And what condition would that be, Princess?”

“You agree to come visit YiTi and see it for yourself one day,” you smile, “And allow me to serve as your guide.”

Aemond’s heart skips a beat at that smile of yours, “I gladly accept.”

The two of you reach the Red Keep and he watches the way you conduct yourself with elegance as you greet his mother and father, the kindness with which you speak to Helaena, and the grace with which you ignore Aegon’s leering and maintain your polite demeanor.

Everything about you is impressive. You are the epitome of what a princess should be. You turn to Aemond after the king, queen, and his siblings have taken their leave, a smile on your face as you ask if he could lead you to the Godswood, that the religions of Westeros have always been fascinating to you. Aemond nods eagerly, taking your arm once again.

“You do not venerate your ancestors, correct?” You ask, eyes gleaming with curiosity, a thirst for knowledge not unlike his own, “Only your Gods?”

Aemond nods, “Yes. Most follow the Faith of the Seven, but the Northerners mostly keep to the Old Gods. The Godswood honors them. We worship the gods while our ancestors are more venerated by the stories and lessons left down for us.”

The two of you reach the Godswood and you stare at the Heart Tree in admiration. Aemond takes the moment to admire you, the soft smile on your face, the kindness in your eyes.

“We honor our ancestors in their shrines, but we worship gods as well,” you inform him, the prince listening intently, “There are hundreds of gods in YiTish culture, each with a different, important purpose.”

The two of you take a seat on the bench before the Heart Tree and Aemond turns to you, asking curiously, “Do you have a favorite?”

“Yùe Lǎo. There is a beautiful legend about him.”

“What is the legend, Princess?” Aemond asks, his voice filled with genuine interest, wanting to learn anything and everything you have to teach him.

“Well, they say when we are born, he ties a red thread to our little finger,” you begin, “They call it the Red Thread of Fate. In my tongue, we call it hóng xiàn.” Aemond repeats the phrase, struggling with the pronunciation, but you smile, making him feel at ease as you continue, “The thread connects you to your true love. The person you are destined to be with. And no matter what happens, no matter what trials you face, the thread may stretch, it may tangle. But it will never break.”

Intrigued by the legend, Aemond finds it fascinating how similar the concept is to the western one of soulmates, questioning, “Do you believe in the Red Thread of Fate, Princess?”

“It is a lovely notion, but I fear those in our position must always marry for the good of our people rather than for love,” you say wistfully, “So the point becomes moot.”

“But what if your thread is tied to that of your betrothed? There are stories of arranged matches turning to those of love.”

You hum thoughtfully, “People who experience that are very fortunate indeed. I wish that for you, Prince Aemond.”

His heart warms at the sentiment, and he finds himself replying, “I wish that for you as well, Princess. I wish for the gods of my people and yours to bless you with all the happiness in the world.”

Weeks go by and the negotiations continue. Aemond spends much time with you, showing you around the city, teaching you of the customs of his people while learning of your own. You teach him YiTish and he returns the favor by teaching you High Valyrian. The two of you share so many interests - from history to philosophy and even swordplay. Aemond is surprised at how graceful you are with the blade, and it makes him admire you all the more, all too glad to allow himself to be knocked down by the latest in a long line of prestigious YiTish warriors.

Aemond introduces you to Vhagar, who takes to you immediately, even taking you for a ride atop her, your arms wrapped around his waist as the streets of King’s Landing grow further and further from view. And the more he gets to know you, the more he falls in love with you. The more he finds it painful to be away from you; the thought of you marrying someone else is almost unbearable to him.

The two of you discuss the subject in the library one day while he is informing you about the Westerosi courting and betrothal process. You question whether any noblewoman has caught his eye. He cannot exactly say he has fallen hard and fast for you, so he simply clears his throat and blushes.

“Ladies are not all that interested in me, Princess. The lack of an eye and my scar tends to scare them off.”

“If a woman is scared by something so trivial as a scar, she is not worthy of you,” you reply sagely, “Our scars make us more beautiful. They map the stories of our lives. Reminders of the battles we have faced and triumphed over. Reminders that we are still here. You lost your eye claiming your dragon as a young boy. You are as brave as you are handsome, not in spite of your scar but because of it.”

He knows then and there that he is in love with you, madly so. That his Red Thread is bound to you. That he is bound to you, now and forever.

When the time comes for you to return to YiTi, Aemond immediately offers to escort you back. Unbeknownst to you, he has asked his father’s permission to offer himself as your husband, a plan King Viserys wholeheartedly agreed to. His mother is sad to see him leave, but she knows with Vhagar flying alongside the two of you, he can come and go as he pleases. And you? You make him so incredibly happy, she could never rob him of that.

Aemond is utterly fascinated when you arrive in YiTi, feeling you take his hand in yours, your touch so soft and gentle it makes his heart ache. You lead him to the imperial palace, your home where you grew up that you speak so fondly of. He meets your father, the emperor, a man with a stern face but a kind demeanor who takes to him quickly. You show him the wingless dragons of your country, all so beautiful with colorful scales and fearsome faces. Everything is so beautiful, so different.

Just like you.

In the evening, he sees you dressed more casually than normal, in a dress you call a cheongsam, one that is more tightly fitted and shows off your curves. He cannot help but stare after you as you lead him through the city, buying him a skewer of braised meat, feeding it to him like a wife would feed a husband. He closes his eye, chewing slowly, the taste of it filling his mouth, surprised at how delicious it tastes. Then, all of a sudden, the spice hits him and he begins coughing, his face turning red. You giggle, rubbing his back, the gesture so sweet and intimate that he thinks he could faint.

“Easy. You have to eat it slowly.”

He smiles at you, taking the jasmine tea you extend to him, sipping it before taking a small bite, savoring the spiced meat’s taste.

Aemond falls in love with YiTi. The sights, the sounds, the hidden canals and street markets, all of it.

And more than any of that? He falls deeper in love with you. You take him to your family’s ancestral shrine, your hand in his as you speak to him.

“I lost my mother when I was young. I come here to pray for her guidance and that of those who came before her.”

He listens quietly as you confide in him, knowing it is a delicate topic and wanting to listen to whatever you feel comfortable enough to disclose to him. The two of you sit on your knees and you light a candle in her honor, saying a quiet prayer for her soul himself. You have opened up to him so much in the time he has known you, that he feels he has known you all his life. The two of you rise, walking back outside. The moon is half full tonight and you sit by the lake, on a bench, gazing up at it. Aemond takes your hand, squeezing it gently as if to comfort you. And you squeeze back, turning to face him, a soft smile on your face.

“Do you remember the legend I told you the day we met? About the Red Thread of Fate?” Aemonds nods, remembering it with perfect clarity. “It was the last thing my mother taught me. Before the fever took her. I did not think much of it then, but now…” You meet his gaze, “I think my thread leads to you.”

Aemond’s heart skips a beat at your words, gazing upon you with a vulnerability he has never shown anyone else as he whispers, “And I think mine leads to you as well. I have never felt like this before. This is what I always imagined love to be. And yet you are so much more. In you…”

“I have found my dearest friend as well as my love,” you reply, finishing his train of thought with a gentle smile. Aemond takes your hands in his own, pressing a kiss to them, “The betrothal our fathers have suggested… I will agree to it if you will.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, biting back the tears of happiness that threaten to fall from his eye, murmuring, “Nothing would make me happier.”

Under the waxing half moon, Aemond’s lips press against yours in a tender first kiss, so pure that even “Yùe Lǎo himself smiles upon it.

And a fortnight later, under the light of the full moon, you are wed, tying your fate to his forever more.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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