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queerfics · 2 months

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(Smut) Captain's Quarters - Yara Greyjoy x CisF!Reader

Summary: Princess Y/N, sibling of Queen Daenerys, has returned with her sister for a visit to the Iron Islands. These visits used to be more commonplace, but the two have not visited the islands since before the Battle of Winterfell. Y/N has a strong attachment to the islands, but finds her attachment has extended to its reigning monarch in a new, unfamiliar way.

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, praise kink (kinda), the works

A/N: Long time no see! I got so sick and tired of there being no reader insert for Yara that I arose from the dead with 4.2K words of yara-posting. Yara-yearning, if you will.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The night was surprisingly warm for the Iron Islands, and the salty mist of the beaches hung heavy in the air and clung to the sway of your hips and undone hair. Your hands clutched your silken robe shut as you leisured through the sand, a soothing waft of lavender from your recent bubble bath hitting your nose with a gentle breeze.

You paused at the base of the shore, where the brine nipped at your toes and you tilted your head back, deeply inhaling into your chest. Your eyes slipped shut.

It wasn't often you and your sister were able to visit the islands, but gods above, you had missed it. Queen Yara had earned a special place in Daeneyrs's heart after her proven loyalty to the Dragon Queen, and thus routine visits were necessary to uphold the alliance between the Greyjoys and the remaining Targaryens. Sometimes it felt like you had grown up here, and sometimes the coldness of Pyke felt more familiar to you than anything back home, despite how long it had been since you had returned.

You would never admit it, but something about the sea and the people on this particular side of the world had consumed you during all these years of visits. Something about the people's wildness and the way it mimicked the ocean that mothered the island spoke to you and whispered to you at night and danced on your eyelids in spirals and swirls.

Some other nights, when the whispers never came, you would hold a large shell up to your ear and pray. The beloved gift had always answered you with the melodic pounding of waves against rocks, against ships, and lured you to sleep. In your dreams, you would sink into your deepest desires.

In this realm, much below the surface level of what was true and probable, you would find yourself standing beside an iron throne. This was not unusual for you -- you had been born to stand behind your brother, and then readjusted to beside your sister. Your duty had always been protecting the honor of this seat and whomever presides in it, and yet this integral piece of your mind, heart, body and soul vanished in these moments, and instead, you found yourself for once atop of the throne.

Well, atop of its monarch.

Clawing at the throne, which was not particularly jagged and sharp like the one your sister sat upon, and clawing at the crowned, whose calloused hands curled inside you and rough lips whispered filthy promises to you in a voice that sounded an awful lot like

"Yara!"

You stumbled away from the shore, whose once soothing pulls had now gone ice cold and stabbed at your feet and at hem of your robe. Your hand readjusted the collar of your robe out of instinct, as your sense slowly settled, though your burning cheeks lingered a bit too long.

Turning towards the disturbance, your eyes caught on the closest (and largest) docked ship, whose windows and deck harbored light and celebration. A group of sailors and soldiers drank merrily and called for a straggling participant, who marched towards the boat and waved them off, enjoying the attention in her own way. In this moment, you were grateful that the shadows of the cliffs behind you hid your so very clearly out of place figure.

Your attention followed Yara as she boarded the ship, and despite the distance, you could make out the way they all greeted her with a clasp on the shoulder, pat on the back, or smack on the bottom. The corners of your mouth turned up at the raw, unabashed display of admiration.

Shudders ran down your back and you ignored the way your stomach turned. For a moment, you thought about heading back to the castle. Nauseatingly, you thought about knocking on your sister's door and spilling these secrets to her and beg for direction, a command, anything.

Daenerys was the closest thing you had to a mother, and the urge to crawl into her arms and wait for guidance on this troubling issue consumed you as it always had, but you were a woman now, a delicate one, but blossomed and bled nonetheless, and you had witnessed your own sister's call to these womanly urges, and it was incredibly reminiscent of this pull you felt to the Ironborn Queen.

Your mind wandered back to your arrival this morning.

"It has been so long since I've returned," you said to Daenerys as you marveled over the aged walls of Pyke. Your hand danced across the slotted stone, digging your finger into chipped areas and rubbing your thumb against the in-between space.

Daenerys smiled knowingly, hands clasped softly in front of her. Missendei, Tyrion, and Greyworm trailed closely behind.

"How long has it been?" You murmured, mostly to yourself.

"Not since before the war, my lady," Tyrion added, and you turned to him, nodding with a solemn smile.

"It has been nearly that long since I have seen the rest of the Greyjoys, as well. Not since Theon."

Tyrion and Daenerys nod respectfully, reminiscing on Theon's death and the bravery that presumed it. A small silence ensued.

"I never understood how you have adapted so well to this cold, my lady," Missendei said, sweetly cutting the silence.

"She is a dragon," Daenerys replied, reaching out to brush a bit of her sister's hair back into place. "She provides her own warmth."

The throne room was modest in size but exuberant in its carvings, luxurious enough to suggest status but rugged enough to represent the people it ruled. You couldn't help but admire it all, it being so vastly different from the outright lushness of Mereen or even Dragonstone.

Of course, the architecture was not the only thing you were interested in. You turned your attention to the throne, and immediately stopped. Your sister continued for only a few steps more, taking her place in front of you.

"Yara," Daeneyrs greeted with a warm smile.

Yara strutted forward with an unmatched level of confidence, and you couldn't help but stare at the way her leather tunic hugged her strong shoulders. You were used to Yara not dressing like any other lady you had known, but couldn't help but always think the natural defiance in her pants and boots exuded power and self-assurance. Yara looked somehow more bold and stronger than you had ever seen her, and it was admirable in an unfamiliar, indescribable way.

"My queen," Yara bowed in her own way, a half-smirk ever-present, "It is an honor."

The two clasped arms, and Daenerys smiled before turning to you.

"I'm sure you remember my little sister, Princess Y/N."

Yara's attention followed, and you couldn't help the way you held your breath and stared up at her with widened eyes. It was like you were seeing her for the first time.

"Princess Y/N."

Yara said your name like she was trying it on, but in truth she had always used formalities in this way, especially towards you. In your aw-stricken mind, you'd like to think that her gaze softened a bit. She had never looked at you like this before.

"Your return has been long-awaited."

She outstretched her hand, and you took it with both of your hands, feeling yourself relax into it. Your eyes watered a bit, and you squeezed, unable to avoid the way you beamed up at her.

"I have missed the islands dearly."

Your sister had given in to her own desires, and she had lived to tell the tale. Perhaps you would too.

The ground seemed to push you towards the ship, and by the time your eyes unglossed and you regained clarity, you found yourself standing at the base of the footway. You of course had been on many vessels that belonged to the Iron Fleet, and you knew the people on board rather well, but you couldn't help but feel nervous now. These men were rather drunk, and you knew you probably should have an escort this late. Not even status could always safeguard a lady from the hands of depravity and sin. Stupidly, you grabbed on to the ropes of the ramp and pulled yourself aboard.

Immediately the overwhelming stench of ale and piss cause you to wrinkle your nose.

"Gods above," you whispered to yourself. Though you had been quiet, the sailors very quickly took notice of your presence.

"Princess!" one called, waving at you with his mug of ale. It sloshed over the sides and splashed, narrowly missing you. The men around him jokingly scolded him.

"Come on Ravos, you don't want to ruin her dress," a dark haired, stout man called Yohn slurred.

"Don't look like she's wearing much of a dress to me."

The men turned to you once more, and your ears burned, now with a much more uncomfortable feeling as they eyed you. One coughed and shifted on his feet.

You wrapped your robe tighter, straightening yourself up like you had been taught. You narrowed your eyes slightly, and responded directly to Ravos.

"Where can I find Yara?" You asked, hoping you exuded more authority than the piece of meat you felt like.

Reacting much more appropriately, he turned and pointing towards the North end of the ship.

"Captain's quarters," he grunted, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, and the fifteen or so men stumbled backwards to allow for a path.

Carefully you stepped over puddles of questionable substances and shards of glass, maintaining as much grace and fierceness as you could muster. Behind you, the men resumed their activities, seemingly already over the drunken encounter. You knocked once on the Captain's door, before hurriedly slipping inside, eager to escape the sailors.

As you shut the door and turned to face her, you had to carefully force out a normal respiration rate. Yara was propped up in her chair with her boots resting on the desk, holding her own stein, though her sobriety seemed much more intact.

"Hello, princess."

Yara didn't bother hiding her surprise. She set her stein down and dropped her arms to the ends of her arm rest. A smirk creeped across her face, and she leaned her head back as she very obviously eyed you up and down, legs spreading a bit for a better view. Despite her brute persona, she did seem to try to hide the way she stuttered over the V of your robe.

You noticed anyways.

"A little far from the dressing room, are we?" She nodded at your outfit. You blushed and nodded with a smile. She smiled back and sat up. "You should know better than to walk around alone at night like that, especially here."

"I'm not alone now," you replied softly. Here in the candlelight, she was able to see you fully.

Yara took notice of the way you wrung your hands together, the way your eyes were glued to the loose laces of her tunic, the rose hue of your cheeks and ears, and your long, snow-white hair falling in loose curls around you.

Yara had known you for half a decade at this point. When she first met you, you were a scrawny, timid little girl who watched from Daeneyrs's shadow. To be fair, you were still quite shy, but you were a woman now, not nearly the little bird of a lady that you used to be. Now, in the warm lighting, she could see that these days you were more of a snow leopard than a cub, and you looked almost regal.

For a moment, Yara wondered what you would look like on the throne instead of your sister. Her hands squeezed at her chair at the idea, and she concluded that that was an image that would inspire millions.

Yara's eyes returned to your face, recomposing her commanding demeanor. She shrugged and stood, traipsing leisurely towards you.

Your eyes' followed each other, studying the other until they met. Yara had never looked at you this way, not that you could recall, and the curiosity in her face sent a thrill down your spine and fueled your ego.

"Oh, but I am as much as of a predator as any man out there, princess," Yara countered.

Peculiarly, you stepped forward, taking Yara by surprise at this newfound confidence. She watched you, and noticed something lurking behind your irises, something Yara was very familiar with and could feel exuding off of your body, but ten fold. She knew why you had come.

"And I am a dragon," You murmured, meeting her eyes without hesitation. Up close, you looked even more feral than before, with the sea spray making a wild mess of your hair, and each rock of the boat interrupting your breaths.

Yara backed up to sit on the edge of her desk, and you followed, keeping the distance small but not yet close enough. Yara waited for you to make a move with unusual patience. You raised your hand to caress the open area of her shirt with your palm, then push it aside just a few inches to trace her collarbone with your index and middle finger.

"Are you scared of dragons, Yara?"

"Anyone in their bloody right mind is scared of dragons," she replied, watching your hand as her breathing grew heavy. You giggled, reaching your hand around to cup the space between her ear and neck, letting your thumb rub her jaw.

"Are you scared of me?" You spoke quietly, like it was a secret meant to be kept safe between the two of you.

"I'm hungry for you," she growled, eyes heavy with desire. You felt your core throb in an entirely new way, letting out a small whimper at the feeling.

Finally, Yara reached out, hand splaying across your lower back, where she could finally feel that the robe was the only thing preserving your modesty, and she could've fainted at the realization.

"I've never been with a dragon before," Yara confessed, halfway a joke, yet halfway entirely all too true. You brought up her other hand to truly cup her face, bring her attention to you.

"I've never been with anyone before," You whispered, and for a second Yara could see that familiar timidness she knew of you flicker between the lust clouding your vision. "You are the only person I've ever wanted."

Yara let out a small noise at this. "Then you must be starved."

You nodded, eyes falling to her lips.

"Can I?"

"Please."

The first thing Yara noticed was how warm you are. Your lips against hers were like fire, and your soft whimpers made her want to crawl inside the flames and be burnt alive. You practically fell against her, knees going week, but she grasped you with both hands and held you up.

This alone was like nothing you had ever experienced. Your ears rung from the intensity and your nails dug into Yara's skin ever so slightly, illiciting a gasp from her that you greedily swallowed.

Yara reached back with one hand, pushing herself off to stand, keeping you slotted between her legs. She turned you both, pushing you against the desk until you were sitting atop it now. You raked your hands over her shirt, grasping at it and pulling her as close as you could. Yara put her hands between you and undid the tie to your robe, hurriedly pulling it off your shoulders. She reached under your thighs, lifting you up by them and letting the robe fall on to the floor.

As Yara angled you on to the desk, you propped your arms behind yourself, baring your legs to her. She paused, staring at your bare form and licked her lips.

"Gods below," she growled, running her hands up your body. You shivered as they danced over your thighs and ghosted over your breasts. "You're fucking stunning."

Yara pushed back between your legs. The warmth of her skin against yours and the cold leather of her pants pressing against your bare sex made you moan. Yara shoved her hand back behind your back and laid you down flat.

"Such a pretty cunt," she whispered, tracing her thumb over you. You gasped at the touch, and watched as she brought it up.

"Do you know what this is, sweet girl?" Yara watched the way the wetness glistened on her finger, and you nodded your head.

She grinned, then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked it clean. You whimpered at the sight, nearly panting now in desperation.

She leaned down to kiss to you and forced her tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the feeling and at the taste, grabbing on to the back of her head and pushing back with your own tongue. Yara groaned into your mouth and grabbed you by the neck, deepening the kiss, if that was even possible.

Yara's scent and touch and taste consumed you, feeding into every one of your senses and bleaching them until all that was left was her.

Finally, Yara put her hand against your chest and pushed you back against the desk.

"Be a good girl and open your legs a bit more for me," she commanded, and without a single underlying thought, you obeyed, gasping at the way your stomach turned at the petname. You watched with slightly parted lips, panting, as Yara sunk to her knees, staring into your eyes so intensely that you couldn't even think about looking away.

She settled between your legs and brought her hands to rest up on your thighs, just in case. You pushed up on your elbows, trying to see what she was going to do, when she pressed a firm kiss to your sex. You groaned, cheeks going pink, and Yara reacted similarly.

She kissed again, this time open mouthed, and gently sucked on your growing bud. You could feel your cunt pulsing, and your thighs quivered around Yara's head, but she held firm.

She licked stripes around your clit, teasing you before giving it a direct swipe that had you balling your fists and curling your toes.

"Yara!" You gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, because the voices outside of the room suddenly quieted. You froze, looking down at her in panic, but she didn't share the same concern.

Instead, Yara chuckled, murmured your own name against your cunt almost tauntingly, and without any warning, eased her tongue inside of you. Your whole body stuttered, and you slammed your hand against the desk. Yara gripped your legs even tighter and repeated the motion, and you couldn't find it in you to keep quiet, not with the way Yara was working you like she was eating her last meal.

"Fuck," you groaned, back arching. You head fell back, curls falling with it, and Yara swore she had never seen anything more stunning or satisfying. Yara's own cunt throbbed impossibly hard, but she continued her merciless assault, drawing curse after curse from you, until Yara was certain the men outside knew exactly what was going on and with whom.

Yara stood and pulled your hips closer to the edge of the desk. Holding you by your hips, she rocked her hips against your core, and you gasped at the new sensation. You grabbed her shoulder, holding yourself up.

Yara cradled your face with one hand, and you buried yourself in her arm, ear pressed against her chest, whining and whimpering. She pressed kisses into your neck, nipping at it and bruising it. Slowly, Yara stopped her hips, and just as you started to get question it, she spoke.

"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?" She teased, and you cried out, nodding desperately into her arm. Yara laughed, and then when you felt her middle and ring finger prodded at your entrance, you clenched down, gasping.

"Relax, sweetheart," she whispered, kissing right behind your ear. "I'm going to take good care of you."

You shuddered against her, but tried your best to settle down. Yara started pushing in again, and you clenched again out of instinct, this time clamping down on her fingers. She groaned into your ear.

"You're so tight," she whispered, and you pulsed around her fingers, whining. Once she was entirely inside, Yara curled her fingers, and your whole body reacted.

Your legs wrapped around her, holding her in place, and your fingers dug into her lower back while you saw stars. You bit down on her arm, at least still attempting to keep quiet, and Yara moaned loudly. When you finally loosened you grip on her arm, she pulled your face back by your hair.

"Does that feel good?" She whispered against your lips, and you panted, pressing kisses between each breath.

"Yes, y-yes," You cried out, and she pressed a knowing kiss to your temple.

"I'm going to move them," she warned, and you nodded, eyes glassed over and lips parted. She kissed your fiercely, then held eye contact as she started pumping her fingers. You groaned loudly, then started moving your hips to meet her hand. As your body adjusted to the foreign feeling, you grew confident.

The sound coming from it was obscene, and you pulled Yara down to sloppily kiss her. Yara pushed harder, and so did you. Soon, you developed a rythym, and you could feel a pressure building up in your stomach. Yara glanced down at her hand, then back up at you, eyes unbelievably filled with even more lust. You followed her gaze and practically melted at the sight.

Thick, hot cream spilled out of you and on to Yara's hand, and gods above, her hand was huge. Her palm practically framed your whole cunt, and the sight made you dizzy.

Yara flicked her thumb over your clit, and you choked, grabbing her neck to hold you up from falling backwards. Your whole spine tingled, and your vision started to blur.

"Y-Yara, I'm," you gasped, but you weren't entirely sure what was going on. "I'm, I think I'm gonna -"

"Cum, sweetheart," Yara groaned. "You're going to cum for me." She pumped her fingers harder, and you sobbed into her arms, feeling your stomach ball up tighter, tighter, tighter, and then burst.

You screamed into her shoulder as your cunt gushed over her hand, and Yara moaned your name into your ear at the feeling. Your hips stuttered, but Yara kept pumping until you were shaking uncontrollably and babbling nonsense. Then, she eased out of you.

She tilted your head up with one hand, then brought the other soiled one between the two of you. You looked up with watery eyes and red cheeks, and watched as Yara licked your cum off of a few of her fingers. Then, she prodded your lips with the remaining two, and you opened your mouth, accepting it gratefully.

You pushed her fingers farther and farther down your throat, chasing that high and letting the bittersweet flavor swirl and cloud your taste and mind. You looked up at Yara through wet lashes, and she swore she could've creamed herself.

"Fucking hell," she groaned, and pulled her fingers out of your mouth, worried you'd probably suffocate yourself on them if she let you work at them any more.

You coughed and gasped, and regained your breath just before she pressed a firm kiss against your mouth. When she pulled away, you stared at her with wide eyes and she panted down at you. You couldn't pull a single word to say off your tongue.

She kissed your temple, then the side of your head, and rested her forehead against yours. "Gods below, are you sure that was your first time?"

You nodded breathlessly, swallowing thickly.

"You fuck like a-"

"- I want to do it again."

Yara pulled back, studying your face. Her face was expressionless, and for a moment during the silence, you were worried you had angered her, or somehow shamed her skill. Then, the corners of her mouth curved into a smirk.

"You want to do it again?" She asked, tilting her head until her lips were almost slotted against yours. You nodded your head.

"Is that okay?" You asked, no shyness left to spare.

Yara laughed loudly and kissed you. She stepped away, running her hands through her hair.

"Yes, fucking absolutely," she assured. She reached down and grabbed your robe. "But not in here, I have other things to show you."

You quickly got dressed. Your body shook, so Yara helped you with it extensively, and kept you steady. You looked up at her quizzically. "Other things like what?"

She grinned wickedly before pulling you up into her arms, one arm under yours and the other under your knees.

"You'll see, princess," she assured.

In her brutish style, Yara kicked open the door to her quarter's. The soldiers remaining on deck went absolutely silent, staring at the two of you with both terrified and amused expressions.

Yara coughed loudly and you buried your face into her shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

"If you gentleman will excuse me, me and the lady are going to retire for the night."

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claymoresword · 10 months

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You Make A Mess Of Me

Daenerys Targaryen x Missandei

Summary: An alternate universe where Daenerys Targaryen is Queen of The Seven Kingdoms and Missandei of Naath is her Queen Consort.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, just filth, alpha daenerys, omega missandei, you know how i love my crackships

Note: i really have no explanation for this literally wrote it in 20 mins but they deserved so much better in show canon which is why i have not stopped thinking about them since!

"My dragon Queen, come back to bed." Missandei practically whines as she begrudgingly watches Daenerys get dressed for the day.

The alpha hums in acknowledgement, but ultimately does not comply, her back still towards Missandei as she fixes her breastplate.

"Later, perhaps." She responded simply, but the omega was not satisfied.

She comes up behind the silver haired woman, with only a sheet covering her frame.

Missandei wraps an arm around the Queen, stilling her movements, as she rests her front against Dany's back.

"You smell of dragon." Missandei quips.

"You flatter me, my love." Daenerys responds, a smirk playing on her lips.

Missandei doesn't respond, instead she tilts her head, tracing open mouthed kisses up the Queen's neck.

Almost instinctively, Daenerys leans back with a contented sigh, allowing the other woman further access.

The curly haired woman lets go of her grip on Dany's hand so she may reach down. With a single bold move, she eagerly palms the alpha's bulge over her slacks.

Daenerys lets out a low groan of approval as her lover continues massaging her cock over its confines; in a few short moments Missandei feels it harden underneath her touch.

"You have gotten very bold these past few moons, my love." The Queen states, and her tone only works to further excite her wife.

Dany finally turns around to look at the omega and Missandei languidly lets go of the sheet that was covering herself, deliberately leaving her naked body exposed.

Upon seeing this, something in the Targaryen snaps, her gaze darkens as she crashes her lips against Missandei's.

The curly haired woman reciprocates with as much despair and need.

Her fingers getting lost in silver locks, tugging and pulling. The kiss is open mouthed and messy, Daenerys greedily inhales every breath her omega exhales. The Queen soon guides the other woman further back onto the bed, prompting her wife to lay her head on the pillow.

Missandei introduces her tongue mid kiss and the Queen takes the opportunity to capture it in between her lips, sucking it on it harshly. She doesn't pull away until her wife is gasping for air.

Dany finally retreats so she may begin taking off her clothes, Missandei watches as she hastily removes her breastplate, along with her doublet and breeches. Finally she takes off her small clothes, and her cock is finally released, Missandei immediately takes notice of its erect state, thick and heavy.

The curly haired woman parts her legs instinctively; licking her lips as she observes Daenerys stroking her length, her steely gaze does not falter, only growing darker by the second.

"What have I told you about touching me without my consent?" The alpha's tone betrays no notion of a jest, but her lover decides to push her luck anyway.

"That I should do it?" Missandei responds cheekily.

Dany's expression merely hardens at her wife's audacity, and Missandei's entire body hums in anticipation.

"I think you deserve a punishment– for disobeying your Queen." Daenerys states, bending down to retrieve something off the floor.

Missandei only recognises what the alpha had in her hand as she climbed onto the bed.

The curly haired woman attempts to capture the Queen's lips with her own but she is distracted as she feels cold metal against her skin, followed by smooth leather wrapping around her wrist.

Dany tugs on the belt and Missandei's arm is lifted up until it reaches the bedpost.

It was then the omega finally let herself acknowledge what was happening; she was being restrained to the bed.

Dany wordlessly does the same to her wife's other arm. Once she was satisfied, she leaned down to kiss her, it's a hefty kiss that leaves Missandei wanting more, but the new restraints prevent her from attempting to chase the alpha's lips.

She whines in clear protest, and Daenerys only smiles.

"I am going to make you regret disobeying me, my sweet omega– so that you will never do it again." The Targaryen says, placing a chaste kiss on the other woman's cheek.

Missandei does not know what her wife intends to do for certain, but she is partially sure that it will do nothing beyond urge her to further act against the Queen's wishes.

Although, she does not admit this, instead the omega bites her lip, suppressing a look of exhilaration.

Dany soon begins licking her way up Missandei's body; her thighs, her navel, her neck.

Her wife finally reaches the familiar spot on her neck; her mating mark, she deliberately bites down, nearly breaking skin, and Missandei lets out a hiss at the sensation.

The pain only causes a thrill of arousal down her body, straight to her core.

Missandei tugs on the restraints again.

"Please– touch me–" The Queen consort pleads, embarrassed at just how needy she sounded.

"I am touching you." Dany casually states as fact, gently swiping her tongue across one of her nipples, and her wife's moan was involuntary.

"Daenerys.." Missandei groans, swiftly earning a harsh pinch on the same nipple.

It makes the omega yelp in pain, but the pleasure she feels immediately after overpowers it.

"Stop teasing me– please– Your Grace." Missandei whines, she was already dripping for her alpha, certain at this point, her arousal has already soaked the mattress underneath.

"You've been very bad, Missandei." Daenerys quips as she continues to nip at her wife's sensitive skin.

"Why should I give you anything you ask for?" She adds, licking her way down the omega's thighs, reveling at the feeling of her wife's goosebumps forming on her tongue.

"Because you love me." Missandei replies simply and the alpha stills.

The look her wife is giving her is unfamiliar, perhaps it was due to her current state of arousal and inability to think of much else, but Missandei cannot decipher it.

Is it fury? Desire?

The omega doesn't get the chance to ponder a moment longer, as her wife settles quickly herself on top of her, Dany holds herself up by her forearms as she lines up the tip of her cock to the other woman's entrance.

With one rash movement of her hips, Daenerys is fully sheathed inside of her wife's cunt.

Missandei half screams and moans at the sensation; it is deep relief, pain and pleasure.

She tugs at the restraints again, a reflexive urge to pull her alpha closer.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dany growls, her thrusts continue to be purposeful and rough, her thick cock stretching the omega's cunt deliciously, hitting every spot within her, leaving her lightheaded and gasping.

"Yes.. yes.." Missandei manages through her moans, she wraps her legs around the alpha's waist, an attempt to hold her as close as she can.

"You drive me mad, did you know that?" Dany grunts, punctuating her words with every thrust.

A compliment or an insult, Missandei could not say for sure, but still, she nods her head vigorously in response, her eyes shut tightly.

Daenerys places her open mouth over the mating mark once again, this time allowing her warm tongue to soothe the earlier bite.

Missandei mewls as she feels a familiar tightening in the pit of her stomach, her release fast approaching; the alpha is not far behind as she deepens her strokes.

With a few deep thrusts the omega finally comes undone around the other woman's cock, her wife following swiftly behind her, releasing thick spurts of her seed deep inside her wife's wanting cunt.

"Seven Hells." Daenerys cursed, breathless and disoriented, as she continued the movement of her hips, riding out her peak.

Her wife remained trembling underneath her, gone totally slack, yet content as she felt the aftershocks of her orgasm.

The Queen finally musters the strength to reach up, releasing her wife's arms from the restraints.

Once freed Missandei's hands immediately move to her wife's back and neck, pulling her in for a deep, lingering kiss.

"I love you." Daenerys whispers against her wife's lips as they parted.

Missandei rubs her nose against the alpha's affectionately before answering.

"I love you too." She says, and the smile that appears on Dany's face is instantaneous.

"Well you have succeeded in making me stay, I am afraid I will not be able to move for the next few candle marks." She adds, not making an effort to pull out of her wife, only laying her head against her shoulder.

Missandei grins at that.

"Good. Stay forever." She replies.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #missandei #missandei of naath #g!p #crackship #daenerys targaryen smut

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liaa--qb · 7 months

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'WRONG DECISION'

[ Dark yan (male) Arya x Daenerys

WARNINGS : DUB con, possessive, Dark, Yandere (male) Arya, obsession, fingering, oral, explicit, cheating, manipulation, angst

Summary : Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to rule with John but things may not go well planned as her strange brother in law takes some special interest in her, extremely special interest.

Part 2

( Young Garret hedlund is boy Arya fancast here; U can have ur own✌ or may be Harry Gilby is my other fancast)

Once I saw in suggestions, i liked idea of this ship, I want you guys to tell me how was it before I continue this further ! would love likes and share ❤ Thankyou

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Dany arrived at Winterfell, and she couldn't help but sense an unfamiliar tension in the air. The villagers and city folk did not seem particularly welcoming, which heightened her unease. John, on the other hand, appeared less concerned, and she considered that he might be right. It was likely because she was a newcomer, and history had shown that outsiders often brought trouble with them. Perhaps John's approach of allowing time was the wise one.

As she neared the main palace gate, she spotted two figures standing there. A striking young woman with long, luscious red hair stood next to a young man in a wheelchair, lost in his own world. Their gazes upon Dany held different expressions.

John dismounted his horse and greeted her with a smile. "Come meet my family, my sister and brothers," he said. Dany nodded and walked alongside John to meet them. After a brief introduction between her and John's sister Sansa, Sansa responded, "Winterfell is yours, Your Grace," though her smile appeared uncertain and forced.

Thankfully, Bran was more approachable, and a short conversation with him eased Dany's nerves. Meanwhile, John asking Sansa, "Where is he?" as he scanned the surroundings, to which Sansa merely shook her head and smiled, replying, "You know him, John."

As the temperature dropped and darkness settled in, they made their way inside for dinner. Dany couldn't help but conclude that her journey to the winter-ridden North was not as picturesque or thrilling as she had anticipated.

The place exuded gloom and a lack of joy, and the people's welcome seemed lacking in enthusiasm. Along the way, John was accosted by unkempt individuals who seemed to have an urgent need to speak with him. Dany found herself once again left alone, her attendants and friends having gone inside. She initially decided to wait for John to join her, but his conversations with his old friends seemed interminable.

While waiting, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone's eyes were fixed on her. She scrutinized her surroundings, but there was nothing to suggest anyone was there.

It was likely just her imagination may be, but the persistent unease began to wear on her. Annoyed, she eventually approached John, urging him to come inside with her, but he politely declined, suggesting she go ahead and rest, assuring her he would join them later. Her irritation grew; it was only her first day in Winterfell, and she was already disenchanted with her new surroundings.

As she walked down the corridors, the sensation of being watched and closely observed persisted. She tried to dismiss it, attributing it to her unfamiliarity with the place and its inhabitants. To combat her unease, she focused on her surroundings and tried to maintain a cheerful facade. Nevertheless, the feeling of someone's unwavering gaze bore down on her, sending shivers down her spine.

As Dany ventured further into the labyrinthine passages, she found herself in a towering, cave-like hallway. Its obscurity was offset by massive square-cut windows etched into the grey stone walls, offering a panoramic view of the exterior. Her heart quickened as the human presence dwindled, leaving her in a haunting solitude.

In this dim expanse, she suddenly perceived an elderly woman engaged in a haunting chant, reminiscent of a sacred invocation. She ceased her incantation and turned her gaze upon Dany, a faint but eerie smile gracing her lips.

The woman's attire was unremarkable, typical of the denizens of Winterfell, but her conduct unsettled Dany. It was evident that the woman's attention was not fixed on Dany herself but rather on something concealed behind her.

The elderly woman tenderly took hold of Dany's hand, her eyes reflecting warmth and kindness. Although the sudden gesture alarmed Dany momentarily, she found solace in the idea that an old woman's blessings were preferable to the disconcerting silence of strangers. Her anxiety grew as the woman continued to peer beyond her, prompting Dany to inquire, "What troubles you? Is there something amiss?"

With grace, the old lady replied and, for a moment, lowered her gaze, not releasing her grip on Dany's hand. She then presented a necklace adorned with dark beads. "Take this," she murmured, "for you are the Dragon Queen. May my ancient gods watch over you. I pray for your well-being, our radiant queen."

Dany hesitated as she accepted the small trinket, yet the genuine warmth displayed by the elderly woman, unlike others, persuaded her to retain it. "Thank you," she replied with an uncertain smile, "I hope to win the favor of all here."

Eager to depart, Dany bid her newfound acquaintance farewell. However, the old woman clutched her hand firmly and, with widened eyes, whispered urgently, "Listen to me. Trust no one here too readily; people are not what they appear to be. They wear many faces. Be vigilant."

This sudden shift in demeanour startled Dany, and she quickly withdrew her hand, nodding her acknowledgement before hastening her steps. Regret washed over her for venturing alone, compounded by the plummeting temperatures and chilling gusts that did nothing to alleviate her growing unease.

Dany quickened her pace as she approached the grand hall's entrance, determined not to squander a single moment. Many well-wishers sought to greet her, but she merely acknowledged them with a nod and a fleeting smile. Her mind was abuzz with questions about how people perceived her—wondering if they thought of her as a queen racing about like a madwoman. Thoughts raced through her mind: "Would these people accept her? What did Sansa make of her?"

With unwavering determination, she resolved to win Sansa's favor in the days to come. Having endured her fair share of hardships, Dany believed that Sansa, too, would empathize with her. They would undoubtedly form a deep bond over time. However, one thing was certain: tonight, she would not grant John access to her bedchamber. A mischievous smile naturally crept onto her lips at the mere thought of it. He deserved this playful retribution, for he had kept his queen waiting for far too long. Dany envisioned the delight on John's face when she teased him or, even better, when she whisked him away on a dragon ride. His startled expression would be a sight to behold.

though lost in her tender thoughts of John, she failed to notice a treacherous broken pipe beneath her, resulting in an impending stumble. However, in the nick of time, strong hands grasped her waist firmly, preventing her from meeting an unfortunate fall.

Dany opened her eyes, her breathing slowly returning to normal, while attempting to discern the nature of this timely intervention. She found herself on the brink of tumbling onto unforgiving rocks due to her misstep on the shattered pipe. A pair of rugged, calloused hands held her securely.

As she gingerly touched those hands, her gaze shifted upwards to encounter the face of her savior. A breath, momentarily held in suspense, now hitched in her throat. It was a man, a rather young man by her estimation. His profound, obsidian eyes scrutinized her with an intensity as though she were an enigma he was diligently trying to unravel.

Only then did Dany realize the potential awkwardness of her situation, a woman cradled in the arms of a man in such close proximity.

A quiet cough from the man snapped her back to reality, prompting him to readjust his stance.

In a moment of self-consciousness, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't help but ponder the judgments that others must be passing, wondering if she should have conducted herself differently. Despite the scrutiny of onlookers, she maintained her composure and attire, maintaining eye contact with her rescuer.

"It was exceedingly kind of you to save me," Dany replied with a gracious smile.

The man was slender but possessed a commanding height, surpassing even John in stature. His jet-black hair complemented the darkness of his attire. He gave a subtle nod and responded, "It was a mere duty, Your Grace. Queens must be protected, especially a queen as auspicious and exceptional as yourself." His voice was youthful, crisp, bearing a certain frigidity, yet oddly soothing to the ears.

Dany was confident that he was much younger than John, perhaps even herself. His attire resembled that of a skilled warrior, absent armor yet markedly superior to the typical resident's clothing, reminiscent of what a prince might wear. She thought he appeared to hail from a noble court, evident not only in his demeanor but also in his visage. His face exuded a striking beauty—different from John's but characterized by a wild, captivating allure.

Observing her contemplative gaze, he couldn't resist a smirk that carried a hint of cruelty and intrigue. "Is scrutinizing my face providing you with any insights, my queen?" he quipped with a challenge in his eyes.

Dany, somewhat flustered, shook her head in a mixture of embarrassment and self-deprecation. "Please forgive me, it's just that I have a peculiar habit of assessing people. As a queen from a distant land and a newcomer... it helps alot?" she stammered, concluding her words with a self-conscious, almost awkward laugh.

"Indeed," he responded, his tone swift and frigid. His demeanor exuded an air of unshakable confidence as he stood tall, his posture erect, and his folded hands behind his back. Their eyes met, and within his gaze, there sparkled a glint of curiosity, as if he were peering deep into her soul with a trace of amusement.

Internally, Dany grappled with the overwhelming sensation of nervousness he invoked in her. She had just met him, yet his presence was exceptionally daunting. This unfamiliar unease was unsettling; no one before him had ever stirred such profound trepidation within her.

"I would appreciate an introduction," Dany uttered, a warm smile adorning her face, despite the fact that her breaths hitched beneath the weight of his penetrating gaze. He tilted his head, his response delivered with an air of nonchalance, "I thought my queen possessed the magical ability to discern everything about me with nothing more than her prolonged and enchanting stare."His words flowed with a soothing cadence,

and Dany found herself incapable of sustaining eye contact with him. She frequently glanced around as she conversed, feigning composure. "Yes, it is regrettable that I lack such a power... I do wish I possessed it. Alas, you'll have to offer this new queen an introduction of yourself," she conceded, her voice a gentle, measured tone, her eyes returning to meet his as she toyed with her fingers.

She longed to meet his gaze directly, but her inability to do so weighed upon her as she sensed his intense scrutiny, patiently awaiting her response. Her tongue seemed to falter as she struggled to form even the simplest of words. In an effort to gather her composure, she gradually raised her eyes to meet his, delving deep into the bottomless depths of his own.

Undoubtedly, she mused to herself, he possessed a striking countenance. Yet, Dany couldn't help but believe that he likely viewed her as a fledgling queen, unable to produce even the most basic reply. Internally, she felt the weight of impending defeat pressing down upon her.

Their silent exchange was mercifully disrupted when John's voice rang out from behind, shattering the oppressive tension. Dany was profoundly grateful for the interruption.

John warmly embraced the young man and then turned to Dany, introducing him with unbridled enthusiasm. "Dany, allow me to present Arya !, Arya Stark, second son of Eddard and Catelyn, Prince of House Stark and Winterfell and my little brother," John announced, patting Arya's back while grinning broadly.

Arya acknowledged Dany with a brief smile and a nod, introducing himself as John's brother continued. Flustered by the sudden revelation, Dany managed only a hurried apology. "Oh... I didn't know, pardon me, Prince," was all she could stammer.

"No need for such formality, my queen. You may call me by my name if you so desire. I find little pleasure in such titles," Arya interjected. John intervened, taking charge of the situation, "I intended to introduce you, but it seemed you had vanished into thin air." With that, he guided both Arya and Dany into the hallways, where their dining awaited, thankfully dissipating the tension.

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The chill in the air continued to intensify, and while the snowy landscape outside exuded its own unique beauty in the nocturnal stillness, a prevailing sense of gloom and silence also hung in the atmosphere. Dany reclined on her bed, wrapped in a long, loose, and thin gown, her fingers gently toying with the strands of her cascading hair.

After the passing of two or three days, it became increasingly evident to Dany that the task of endearing herself to her newfound northern family was proving to be quite arduous. No one extended themselves to her; no one inquired about her well-being, her contentment, or her happiness.

She found herself isolated, even though it was only her fourth day in this place. Her second day had largely been consumed by rest, much like everyone else who was fatigued by the extended journey. Dany couldn't hold anyone at fault for this, especially considering the frosty weather, which only encouraged her to remain within her chambers, ensconced by the warmth of a crackling fire.

One aspect that deeply perturbed her was John's minimal presence. He only appeared during supper or dinner, never taking the time to meet or engage with her privately in her chamber. Had he become so engrossed in reuniting with his old friends that he had inadvertently neglected her? Dany admonished herself for allowing such thoughts to fester, reasoning that it was only natural for him to require time to reconnect with them after enduring so much suffering.

She yearned for the moments when he would take her along with him during his work or reunions with his old friends, rather than leaving her on the sidelines as if she were invisible, bearing witness to their animated conversations.

Although she acknowledged the irrationality of her sentiments, she still found herself feeling isolated during their gatherings for supper and lunch. However, she steadfastly believed that with time, they would all come to cherish her, and she drew strength from that conviction.

Remaining idle in her quarters wasn't contributing positively to her mood. Dany concluded that if she truly desired the affection and admiration of the people, she would have to actively engage with them, getting to know them on a personal level and earning their regard through her actions. With this newfound resolve, she rose from her seat and exchanged her attire for a beautiful blue gown, a dress that evoked memories of her early travels and felt intimately familiar.

Emerging from her chamber, Dany ventured outdoors, her steps accompanied by Missandei. The surroundings appeared vast, resembling a sprawling expanse, except for the blanket of snow that enveloped everything. There, she spotted John and Arya engaged in conversation, with children playfully darting around them. As she approached, it was evident that they were discussing the training of these young ones.

"Greetings to both of you. What's happening? Any noteworthy developments?" Dany inquired, her demeanor exuding a bright and sweet smile. John responded with a warm smile too, while Arya, displaying a hint of irritation, distanced himself and began preparing his bow and arrow. Dany found this change in demeanor unsettling for a bit.

"It's merely a minor discussion. Arya suggested that we continue training the children, but I proposed that, thanks to the dragons, our situation has improved considerably. We need not risk the lives of these little ones; they are unprepared for the impending war," John explained.

Dany nodded in agreement, asserting, "Yes, I believe children should remain unharmed at all costs. Their lives are precious, as it is their safety for which we are all fighting." She gazed at John with profound admiration and leaned in for a passionate kiss, their moment interrupted by the resounding thud of Arya's arrow hitting its mark.

Arya, his tone chilled, addressed Dany, "So, are you not precious, and are your dragons not precious to you, my queen?" He pointed his arrow toward its intended target.

"What do you mean my prince ?" Dany replied to Arya's assertion.

Arya, his bow now lowered, fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Yes, you heard me correctly, my queen," he continued, his tone unwavering.

"Do you genuinely believe that anyone's life among us holds less significance than another's? I, for one, do not share that opinion. Regarding your heartfelt concern for these children's safety, let me remind you that I, too, was once a child, and I faced some of the most perilous trials. So did Sansa. I don't believe you were much older yourself when you were sold to Khal Drogo's Dothraki horde."

Those words acted like pointed daggers, thrusting into Dany's consciousness and summoning the shadows of her painful past. She felt vulnerable, her humiliation laid bare by those memories, now exposed so openly in front of everyone by this boy. The urge to shout or shed tears swelled within her, but she remained speechless, her gaze cast downward. But she had made a vow to herself to rise above these emotions.

"Let me correct you, Prince. I was not sold. I was Khal Drogo's wife, their queen, just as I am yours. I chose to go to them, and I ruled them. I was not their slave. Yes, my marriage was far from a dream, but I was their queen. They worked for me, and they killed for me," Dany replied, voice tinged with a sigh, conveying the weight of her complex history. In the midst of it all, she felt John's reassuring touch, his hand gently rubbing her back.

now Arya's expression had shifted, no longer bearing the edge of provocation but now displaying a genuine sense of admiration. It appeared he had something to say but held back.

John intervened with a diplomatic tone, saying, "She's right, Arya and please I understand that your intent wasn't to hurt her, but it would be more gracious to use polite words in her presence. She's new here and unfamiliar with your straightforward demeanour. I am confident that you'll find common ground with time. Let's set this topic aside for now and return to it later, shall we?" He offered a small, reassuring smile to ease the tension in the air.

Dany found herself reveling in this moment, for it felt far more gratifying than the others. She was now with all of them, nestled close to John, and embraced by his warm hands, basking in the semblance of a harmonious royal family.

She held John a bit closer, her eyes filled with affection, as she playfully inquired, "Will you visit my chambers tonight? I've been missing you." A shy, yet wide smile began to form on John's face, which he attempted to conceal while casting his gaze in all directions. "I have some important matters to discuss, but if you want it, I shall certainly come."

Just then, the extreme resonant thud of Arya's another arrow hitting its target again shattered the moment, jolting both John and Dany slightly. "Oh, my prince, it appears you're poised to break everything around us in mere moments," Dany quipped, her voice steady.

Arya regarded her with a sly smile playing upon his lips. "It appears, my queen, that you may be unfamiliar with the intricacies of defence and weaponry, aside from your dragons," he taunted, a challenging confidence gleaming in his youthful and notably handsome countenance.

His youthful face radiating a kind of wild, captivating beauty. Yes, he was, indeed, pretty she thought. Dany now felt certain that Arya possessed the same sort of "wild beauty" that Viserys had spoken of, the attraction that had captivated Rhaegar with Lyanna Stark.

She recalled Viserys describing Lyanna as not an extravagantly glamorous princess, yet undeniably possessing an alluring quality that had ensnared many a prince, including Baratheons. There was no denying it—Arya exhibited precisely that captivating allure that Viserys had attributed to Lyanna Stark, and the familial bloodline seemed to cast a striking imprint upon his features

Dany was not one to readily back down from playful challenges, especially not when it involved her future brother-in-law. "Indeed, my prince, I may not be well-versed in the ways of weaponry, but I am eager to learn and would greatly appreciate it. While I may not wield a sword like a seasoned warrior, I do engage in daily discussions about warfare with my army," she responded with a childlike grin, snuggling closer to John's side.

Arya emitted a wry chuckle, and John chimed in, "Would you like to give it a try? It's not all that difficult, really," his lips curving playfully.

"Do you think I should?" Dany asked John with an innocent, childlike curiosity.

Arya, however, interjected, "One can only fully grasp the art of weaponry when they know how to wield it. There have been many kings who shy away from the battlefield, hiding like cowards. But I know you're not like that. While it might be a challenge for someone as extraordinarily beautiful as you, perhaps those around you have unintentionally discouraged you—indirectly pointing at Ser Jorah," Dany's heart swelled with appreciation for Arya's words, though she couldn't help but feel sorry for Jorah, who stood nearby.

"But I wholeheartedly endorse your acquisition of even a modicum of expertise in weaponry. It's for your own benefit. A person cannot fully understand their possessions until they know them—how to hold them, how to use them to the fullest. Simply listening to armies and commanders is insufficient. It would serve you well, my queen," Arya said confidently, his words resonating with a truth that struck a chord with Dany.

She felt a tinge of regret for never having shown an interest in defense training, solely relying on her dragons and armies. What if, someday, there were no dragons?

With confidence etched across her face, she turned her gaze towards John and Arya. "I would love to try. You're absolutely right, Prince," she affirmed. John enthusiastically nodded in agreement, saying, "Go for it."

Dany made her way toward Arya, gently slipping out of John's warm embrace as she approached the bow. However, uncertainty shadowed Arya's expression as he cautioned, "I hope you'll be able to handle this..." Before he could complete his sentence, the hefty bow and arrows began slipping from her grasp—too heavy for her to manage. She attempted to maintain her composure, but it was proving to be quite a challenge. John couldn't help but laugh. "Doing well?" he teased.

Dany, feeling irritated by his playful taunt, retorted, "Yes, yes, laugh all you want. Perhaps later, it'll be my turn to have a good laugh at your expense." She struggled to manage the unwieldy weapon, contorting herself into bizarre positions in her determined efforts.

At that moment, Ser Davos and Tormund, a massive man whom John referred to as his friend, joined them, engaging John in a conversation. Dany's focus shifted from the bow and arrow to their discussion. Ser Davos, after exchanging glances with Arya, turned to him and said, "Prince Arya, we require your presence. I wish to share something with you and John. I would appreciate it if you could join us."

Hearing this news left Dany feeling a bit disheartened. She couldn't help but wonder why John always had to leave her alone among strangers, and why these northern men seemed hesitant to share their matters with her. "Not right now, but I will join you later. Thank you. In the meantime, feel free to share everything with John," Arya replied to Ser Davos, his attention focused on polishing his sword.

"Certainly, my prince, as you wish," Davos responded with a nod. He swiftly set the bow and arrows aside and made his way over to John. Dany took John's hand with a sweet, pleading expression. "But what about our practice? I thought we were going to have some family time."

John shook his head, asserting, "It's important. Arya is there to guide you; he's exceptionally skilled with swords and bows. You are having a family time, and both of you will spend time together." Dany nodded, her gaze lowered.

"Listen, I know he can be a bit brusque with outsiders at first, but believe me, no one will adore and protect you within the family like he will. You two will get along well, and we'll have our time together alone later definitely," John assured her, offering a warm and comforting smile. As Dany moved back towards Arya's direction, not before turning and calling out to John, "I'll be waiting, and we need to discuss our important matters as well." She flashed a mischievous smile at him, to which John bashfully bowed and departed.

Arya instructed her, "Pick it up and give it a try." Though he shouldn't have been so commanding with her, his tone bore more authority than request. Annoyance flickered across Dany's face as she replied, "As you wish, my prince."

After enduring Arya's continuous barrage of instructions like "pick it up," "you're holding it wrong," and "wrong again," Dany finally summoned all her strength, a force she rarely exerted even during her dealings with her dragons. She managed to grasp an arrow and the bow, taking aim at the target board.

The bow proved too heavy; its long wires pinched her skin, causing her to lose her balance on the weapon once again. However, this time, it didn't fall. Arya swiftly moved behind her, snatching the bow and steadying Dany's hands, holding onto the weapon more firmly. They stood close, too close, now. His cold breath brushed against her neck, making her even more nervous and causing her to shiver.

"Don't shiver. Why are you moving again? Stay in the position I showed you," Arya whispered into her ear. She understood it was part of a teaching lesson, but she wasn't accustomed to such proximity with anyone. Not even John had been this close to her in their early days. His warm breath tickled her, something she desperately wanted to ignore but couldn't. It distracted her once more, and she lost her balance on the bow, but Arya promptly caught it and forced his hands on her even tighter onto it.

Now he was so close that no air could pass between them. He pressed her body tightly against his, not allowing her to move, his other hand holding her waist firmly. "Yes, this is the correct position. Now, see and feel," he whispered again near her ear.

Dany wanted to move away from him, but how could she convey that it was too much for her to bear—this closeness, this proximity? He would surely mock her for having such thoughts. In the end, she felt she had no choice but to go with the flow; at least she might learn something. She struggled to keep her focus on the bow, arrow, and target. However, her concentration was constantly shattered by his whispered commands, his breath caressing her neck, and his firm grip on her waist, pulling her back against him to improve her balance. The sensation made her cheeks flush. Even lovers rarely held each other this closely in open.

Once, Dany suggested, "I believe I've learned enough, and you should go to John. He might need you." However, Arya rejected the notion, murmuring in her ear, "What about your needs?" as he adjusted her hands on the bow and positioned the arrow.

She began to turn and face him, yet his firm hands halted her, compelling her to remain in her current position. In a composed tone, he reassured her, "Don't move, be still. You have no reason to hide or be shy around me and I have no intention of leaving you alone."

Dany couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a mixture of shame and an uninvited desire that coursed through her. Some part of her body reveled in this intimate closeness, the strong possessive hold, and his seductive whispers. Her whispered "Thanks" didn't sound like gratitude but more like a suppressed moan, which only deepened her sense of shame.

Abruptly, Jorah interrupted, saying, "I believe they're summoning our queen for dinner. Missandei informed me to bring her." Dany gazed at Jorah, who kept his eyes away from their direction, wearing an expression of discomfort and avoiding any acknowledgment of their closeness.

She quickly moved away from Arya's grasp, in her hurry to set aside her sharp arrows, inadvertently cutting her skin in the process. A whimper escaped her lips, which prompted Arya to grab her injured wrist once more, his eyes fixed on the bleeding cut. "Oh, I'll tend to it myself. Ser Jorah, please ask Missandei to prepare a herbal paste; this is a minor injury," she replied to Arya, though it seemed he wasn't even listening to her.

Dany felt a shiver run down her spine as she observed him place her injured finger in his mouth and begin to suck on it which she wasn't expecting. Her heart raced at the intimacy of the moment. Ser Jorah appeared clearly annoyed but remained in place. The situation was highly gross, particularly for two individuals who were essentially strangers, especially considering the potential future relations between them. He held her wrist firmly, engrossed in the act as if he was savoring it more than anything else.

Finally, he released her finger, and Dany hastily withdrew, saying her goodbyes. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze properly. In that moment, she realized that Princess Sansa was also present, watching the scene from the upper floor of her chamber. Dany nodded at Sansa, who reciprocated the gesture, and then quickly departed with Ser Jorah.

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 9 months

Text

Legacy of Fire (I)

Chapter One: Awakening

Summery: Rhaenys Targaryen learns of the truth

Warnings: Cursing, death by sword, death by fire, death by hanging, war, humiliation, betrayal, violence, use of the word bastard, incest, angst, fluff, burning, threatening, future smut, P in V, fingering, cunnilingus, scissoring, blowjob, handjob, anal sex, girl x girl, boy x girl, boy x boy, dragons

Word Count: 1,5K

Rhaenys Targaryen knelt beside the small cot where her elderly wet nurse lay, frail and gasping for breath. The chamber was dimly lit, the sunlight struggling to penetrate the heavy curtains that shielded them from the harsh Dornish sun. Rhaenys dipped a cloth in cool water and gently dabbed it against the wet nurse’s fevered forehead.

“Please, you must get better,” Rhaenys implored, her voice trembling with worry. “I cannot bear to lose you, especially now.”

The old woman’s eyes, once bright with life, gazed up at Rhaenys with a mixture of sadness and determination. “My lady,” she rasped, her voice barely audible, “there is something I must confess before I depart from this world.”

Rhaenys leaned closer, her heart heavy with anticipation and dread. “What is it? What troubles you, dear friend?”

The wet nurse’s chest heaved with a labored breath, and she clutched Rhaenys’ hand weakly. “You are not who you think you are.” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You are not Rhaenys Targaryen. You are…”

Rhaenys felt her pulse quicken as she waited for the revelation, her world hanging on the precipice of truth.

The wet nurse continued, her words a fragile thread of disclosure. “You are Jon Snow’s twin. Your true name…is Vaeloria”

Rhaenys’s heart seemed to stop as the weight of those words settled upon her. She couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of the secret her wet nurse had carried, a secret that had been buried in deceit for all her life.

“But why?” Rhaenys choked out, tears filling her violet eyes. “Why was this kept from me?”

The wet nurse’s grip on Rhaenys’ hand tightened, and she summoned the last of her strength to respond. “Your father, Rhaegar Targaryen, believed it was the only way to keep you safe. And your uncle, Eddard Stark, swore an oath to protect you both.”

The sands of Dorne whispered secrets, their shifting grains echoing tales of forgotten bloodlines and concealed destinies. Underneath the scorching sun, the coastal breeze carried the faint scent of salt and the distant promise of adventure. It was here, in this land of fierce beauty, that a young woman known as Rhaenys Targaryen began her journey.

As dawn painted the horizon in hues of pink and gold, Rhaenys stood atop the battlements of Sunspear, the ancient seat of House Martell. Her silver-gold hair cascaded like liquid fire down her back, and her violet eyes glistened with determination. She had awakened to a world forever changed, a world where her true identity as a Targaryen had been unveiled.

The revelation had been both a curse and a blessing. It had set her on a path she could not deny, a path fraught with secrets and treacherous ambitions. She knew that the road ahead would be perilous, but she was resolute in her purpose—to find her twin brother, Jon Snow, and to seek out the last living heir of House Targaryen, Daenerys, whose vision she believed in with unwavering conviction.

In her heart, a burning desire smoldered, a desire to fulfill the promise of fire and blood, and to continue the legacy of the Dragon. Her journey had begun, and it would take her across the Seven Kingdoms, through the treacherous landscapes of power and betrayal.

The world of Westeros awaited her, with its intrigues, rivalries, and hidden dangers. But Rhaenys Targaryen would not falter. She had awakened to her true self, and she was determined to shape her own destiny.

As Rhaenys gazed out over the shimmering waters of the Summer Sea, a sense of both excitement and foreboding coursed through her veins. The sprawling palace of Sunspear, with its sandstone towers and hidden courtyards, had been her home for as long as she could remember. But now, it felt like a gilded cage, its walls closing in on her.

She had learned much from her kind “uncle” Doran Martell, the ruler of Dorne, and her time in Sunspear had been one of safety and tutelage. Yet, the secrets that had been kept from her had become a weight too heavy to bear.

Rhaenys Targaryen stood in the lush gardens of Sunspear, wondering what her beloved uncle Oberyn would have thought of her if he were still alive this day after the revelation, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the salt-tinged breeze from the nearby sea. The sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the palace grounds. She was no longer the young girl known as Rhaenys, but the memory of her childhood with Oberyn Martell remained etched in her heart. Oberyn despised the Lannisters for what they did to his sister, he raised her to hate them as well but would he have hated her more if he knew she was one of the fruits of his sister’s husband’s betrayal? A result of what had caused the rebellion and eventually his sister’s death. The woman he raised her to love and care for even when she did not know thinking she was her true mother.

As she strolled along a cobblestone path, her mind wandered back to a simpler time. She had been a spirited child, her silver-gold hair flowing like a river of fire as she ran through the gardens. Her uncle Oberyn, the Red Viper, had been her playmate, his sharp wit and fierce determination a constant source of fascination.

One particular memory stood out—a day when Oberyn had taken her to the Water Gardens, a sanctuary of cascading fountains and crystal-clear pools. They had laughed together as they splashed in the water, carefree and oblivious to the weight of their names.

“Rhaenys,” Oberyn had called her, unaware of the secret that hid beneath the false name. “You have the spirit of a true Dornish woman. Fearless and untamed.”

She had grinned up at him, the innocence of childhood in her violet eyes. “Like you, Uncle.”

Oberyn had chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Yes, perhaps you take after your old uncle more than you know.”

In that moment, as they had shared their laughter and the warmth of the Dornish sun, the world had felt like a place of endless possibilities. The looming shadows of politics and secrets had been distant, and Rhaenys had reveled in the love and companionship of her family.

Now, as she walked those same paths, her uncle’s words echoed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would have reacted when he learned the truth of her identity. The thought weighed heavily on her, but she was determined to face the inevitable revelation with the same courage and spirit that had defined her as a child.

The memory of Oberyn, blissfully ignorant of her true heritage, remained a bittersweet reminder of the innocence she had lost. She would carry it with her as she embarked on her journey to reunite with Jon Snow, seek out Daenerys Targaryen, and rewrite her destiny in the ever-complicated world of Westeros.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Rhaenys descended from the battlements, her mind racing with plans and questions. How would she find Jon Snow, a brother she had never known? And what of Daenerys Targaryen, the last living ember of House Targaryen’s once-mighty flame? Could she convince the world that the Dragon must rise again?

Her first step led her to the chambers of her loyal confidante, the servant who had revealed the truth. There, she found the older woman with eyes red from weeping.

“Are you certain about this?” Rhaenys asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

The servant nodded. “I have no doubt, my lady. The blood of House Targaryen flows in your veins.”

Rhaenys’ resolve hardened. “Then it is time. I will begin my journey.”

With a heavy heart, the servant handed her a small, ornate chest. Inside lay a dragon pendant, a symbol of her true lineage. It was a reminder of the legacy she carried, a legacy she intended to honour. The other side of the had pendent a dire wolf was engraved, a dragon and wolf she was, a rare gem she was.

As she fastened the pendant around her neck, Rhaenys knew that the path she had chosen would be fraught with danger. She would be hunted by those who sought to extinguish her family’s name, and she would be tested in ways she could scarcely imagine.

But she was ready. With each step she took, the sands of Dorne whispered secrets of power and destiny, and she would follow their call.

The Dragon had awakened, and its fire would burn brighter than ever before.

As her wet nurse’s breathing grew shallower, Rhaenys felt a torrent of emotions—anger, confusion, and a burning desire for the truth. The revelations that had come to light had set her on an unexpected path, one that would lead her to confront her true identity and reshape her destiny.

As the wet nurse’s eyes closed for the final time, Rhaenys held her close, vowing to honour her memory and fulfil the legacy she had unknowingly carried all her life.

The Dragon had awakened, and with the weight of her true name, Vaeloria, Rhaenys would forge her own path in the world of Westeros.

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qyburnsghost · 11 months

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“You don’t know every fucking detail,” Dany told him. “You can’t. You weren’t there. Whatever you read, it’s not the same as living it.”

- In The Shadow of Hell by @likexporcelain

While Dany is stuck wading through the darkness of her past, Jon is haunted by the sins of another. A shared obsession brings two broken souls together on what could be the last night of their lives.

***

This is moodboard I was supposed to make for my friend like 6 … no, like 9 months ago but I decided to go have a nervous breakdown instead. Please go read @likexporcelain , In The Shadow of Hell and the update ! Perfect for Summerween!

#ao3 #game of thrones #targaryen #jonerys #jon snow #jonerys smut #jon x daenerys #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #summerween #dark jonerys #got #jonerys fanfic #moodboards

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fantasydreamland · 2 days

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Lonely Nights

khaleesi x fem reader

Summary: You were her handmaiden in Pentos. You followed her and the khalasar when she married Khal Drogo. You have been by her side through all the heartbreak after he died. You all continue your travels and one lonely night Daenerys invites you to her tent for comfort.

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY!!!! soft khaleesi, wlw, inspired by that doreah scene, smutttt, some spoilers

Other fics:

Handmaiden - Margaery

Secret Admirer - Margaery

“You called for me Khaleesi?” You say as you enter her tent late at night.

“(y/n), yes… I just cannot find sleep. Truthfully it has been difficult sleeping alone.” She says sadly, “An odd request to ask of you but- would you just lay with me?”

“Uh, yes, of course, Khaleesi.” You say a bit timid.

She moves to make room for you as you climb into her bed and lay beside her. She sighs, stuck in thought.

“If you want to talk with me Khaleesi, you know I am here to listen.” You gently say.

“I don’t know. I have just been feeling so dreadful after everything that has happened.” She confesses. “My nights have been restless.”

“Of course Khaleesi. You have been through so much of late. It is no wonder your mind won’t silence.” You say as you both slightly turn to face eachother.

“It has felt rather lonely…” she sighs. “You are truly the only person I feel I can trust (y/n)”

“I am glad to be the one who you can depend on.” You give a soft smile.

She smiles at your words and gazes into your eyes creating unknown tension between you. Her beauty was even more breathtaking up close like this.

You clear your throat to break the tension.

“Hmm,” she smiles turning her face. “I suppose I should try and get some rest.”

“Of course, Khaleesi. I will be right here.” You give a soft smile.

You both drift off to sleep until she gasps waking from a nightmare. You jolt awake.

“Are you alright Khaleesi?” you ask, concern in your voice.

“Yes. Yes. I-I’m fine.” She pants. “Just another dream.”

She turns to you and her startled face softens.

“It is nice to see your face when I wake though.” She lightly brushes hair from your face. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“Of course, Khaleesi.” You almost whisper, lightly touching her arm.

She lightly touches your arm in response, giving you a grateful look. This leads to delicate appreciative touches on eachothers arms, hair, cheeks. The electricity between you becoming more intense. She holds your cheek for a moment, her soft doe eyes looking longingly into yours. You feel your heart stop for a moment. You watch her quickly glance to your lips and back to your eyes. You do the same, your stare lingering on her lips for a longer moment before meeting her gaze again.

She slightly shuffles closer to you, and you do the same, her hand still on your cheek and your eyes never parting. You both continue to slowly move closer to eachother until you’re merely a breath away.

Her eyes continue to gaze into yours, with a more heated look. The moment is unbearably slow as you inch your faces closer until you connect with the lightest kiss, lips barely touching. After parting you both look at eachother, eyes full of lust and excitement, before meeting your lips again. You moan as your tongues gently dance together, it slowly builds into a deeper more passionate kiss. She pulls your body closer against her and you move to straddle her, lips never parting. Her breath hitches as you begin to grind against her, she grabs your hips to aid your movements.

Your lips part as you sit up, rhythmically moving your body on her creating friction of pleasure. The new position adding more pressure. You both breathe heavily as you now move back and forth faster, harder, her fingers digging into your hips and yours into her legs behind you. She gazes up at you admiring all of your beautiful features. You do the same admiring her golden beauty below you.

As your heavy breaths turn into whimpers and moans her hands wander slowly up and down your body. You both let out a long final moan as fireworks explode within your bodies. The whole khalasar able to hear but neither of you could find care in that moment.

With heavy breaths your lustful eyes meet once again. You both break into a small smile and giggle until her eyes turn heated once more. You gasp as she quickly grabs you and flips you over, laying on top of you. You moan as she boldly kisses your lips hard before moving down your neck and chest. She moves below your shirt and kisses down your stomach as her hands push up your skirts. Without hesitation she moves her mouth onto your core drawing a loud whimper from your throat. Your hands nestle into her golden hair as her tongue expertly licks your bundle of nerves. She slowly slips in her fingers causing a long groan from you. She moans against you at the way you tighten around her. Her tongue hits the perfect rhythm as her fingers move slowly in and out of you. You pant and moan as you begin to reach your second peak, grinding against her face. Her fingers suddenly speed up causing wave after wave of pleasure to hit you. You cry out her name before letting out a final heavy breath.

She gives a shy smirk as she moves back up and lands her lips on yours, tasting yourself on her tongue. You quickly push up her skirts and she yelps as you pull her onto your face. Before you’ve really even begun she already cries out, quickly hitting her own second peak as she rides out the wave of it against your mouth. She looks down at you with heavy eyes before plopping down on the bed beside you.

You lay face to face and give bashful smirks and giggles. She looks at you like she wants to speak but doesn’t know what to say.

“Goodnight Khaleesi.” You smile and brush her hair from her face.

“Goodnight (y/n).” She blushes and gives a soft smiles back.

You watch her quickly drift off to sleep before you follow right after. Khaleesi had the first peaceful sleep in a long time. No longer awakening to nightmares, but waking up to the relief of seeing your lovely face laying beside her.

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springdandelixn · 2 years

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Stormborn

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41952342/chapters/106688625

Jorah x Daenerys

Summary: In the midst of the storm, something is born.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming

Note: This story is part of my Jorleesi Smut Series: Eonian. Stories included in this series may or may not be connected with each other unless stated otherwise.

“Over there, Khaleesi,” Jorah says with urgency. He wraps an arm around his queen’s waist while his other hand rests on the pommel of Heartsbane as he guides her off the path they were walking and towards the small woodcutter’s cottage sitting a few feet deep from the edge of the forest.

He ushers her in as soon as he pushes open the door. His eyes survey the cramped space in an instant for any firewood that could have been left laying around by the owner when relief floods his senses upon seeing a pile sitting in the corner, striding to it almost immediately, intent on building a fire to warm his queen.

But he curses under his breath when he sees notices them be damp, Jorah already knowing it's from the cold that continues to seep in through the wooden walls. They wouldn’t be good enough to start a fire, and even if he attempts in doing so, all his efforts will be for naught.

“Jorah—” He hears Daenerys call to him, her teeth chattering and her body shivering when he turns to face her. The door of the cottage was still wide open, allowing the winds to come through.

Quickly walking towards her, he shuts the door closed and takes his queen gently by the hand. He sits her down on the lone mattress on the other side of the shack. Taking both of her small hands in his gloved ones, he presses them to his mouth and blows out hot air to her skin, trying his best to warm her up.

He knew he shouldn’t have given in to his queen’s demands to walk through the forest, especially without any guards or even Grey Worm in tow. He already noticed the dark clouds from the distance as they left the Keep, even heard the smallfolk chatter about a storm brewing as they passed them along the path. But still, he turned a blind eye, seeing how his queen looked happy to be relieved of her royal duties, to roam freely without judgment or fear in the northernmost island of the seven kingdoms.

Even so, he should have suggested turning back earlier. Should have been adamant about it too. To make their way to safety before the first cloud reached Bear Island. That a short midday walk would have sufficed yet each time he tells her to head back, she gives him that look they both know he cannot resist and walks on with her arm around his, deeper into the forest and farther away from the Keep, missing the danger that was fast approaching.

And now, they’re trapped in a small cottage with his queen freezing and surprisingly, himself too. How he curses the years he’s spent in exile in the East, causing him to be used to the heat and sensitive to colder climates.

He continues to blow on her hands, pressing them against her cheeks as he puts his in his effort to keep the heat within her body. But seeing the way she continues to shiver, it’s useless to push on. Dragons hate the cold. He thinks to himself and kneels upright upon the mattress to unclasp the pin that holds his bear fur cloak to his body. He drapes it around her shoulders and folds her within, glad for their size difference as the cloak almost swallows her whole when he cocoons her in it.

“Is that better, Khaleesi?” He asks.

She simply nods, a small smile forming on her lips and then on his as he watches her nuzzle her face against the fur. The pink in her cheeks and nose grows deeper, and he asks himself if it’s because she’s blushing or because of the cold. He chooses the latter.

Once he notices Daenerys’ shaking subsides, Jorah undoes the belt that holds Heartsbane to his hip, leaning the sword against the wall before taking a seat beside her but keeping almost a foot or two between them for the sake of propriety. He turns to look at his queen and watches her sit in silence and bury her face into the cloak. And all of a sudden, it’s like he’s transported back to the Red Waste, the both of them stranded in the blazing desert with her small khalasar, waiting for either help or death to take them. Except now, they’re no longer in the barren wasteland but in the clutches of a winter storm. And it is no longer the heat they are up against but the cold. And freezing to death is not something he wishes to bestow upon his queen, or even himself.

Time passes by in a daze and Jorah finds himself lulling into sleep. His mind is filled with white and gray, fog clouding his vision that he cannot see past his hands when he holds them out in front of him. He’s walking aimlessly, trudging through the knee-deep snow and when he notices that he’s alone, he jolts awake.

He’s freezing. It’s the first thing he thinks of when he opens his eyes, his teeth now chattering uncontrollably and his body shaking almost violently. He feels his face, along with his fingers go stiff, and worry starts to creep into him as the feeling of his toes seems to be dwindling. Fear takes over upon thinking that this is the beginning of his end.

He startles when he feels a weight atop him. Relaxing when he sees that it’s only his queen sitting, or more like straddling, his lap and wrapping the cloak around the both of them. Yet his body stiffens just as quickly when he notices just how close she is to him, his heart beating hard against his chest as his blue eyes meet her amethysts.

“We must keep warm, Ser.” She says in almost a whisper. “And I think this way, our lives would be saved.”

There is a slight shiver in her voice but he couldn’t agree more with her words. That sharing each other’s body heat will be their best chance of survival. It’s what he and the other men did when they went beyond the wall to catch a wight, huddling together against the rocks as they waited for the dead to meet them.

He throws all caution to the wind and wraps his arms around his queen’s waist, pulling her against his chest and burying his face on her shoulder, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when he feels the warmth slowly creep in. Modesty be damned for in this time of peril, they need to stay alive.

They hold each other for a long while, her arms around his neck and her face pressed against the side of his head while his own finds the crook of her neck, breathing in her fragrance of lemons and lavender hidden within the scent of snow and pines, and allowing himself to bask in the warmth that surrounds them. But a low groan unexpectedly erupts from his throat, his body shivering, no longer from the cold, but from the way he feels Daenerys roll her hips against his, feeling his shaft slowly harden underneath his breeches from her movements.

“Khaleesi,” It comes out as a choke as he tries to keep her still, his hands tightening their hold on her hips to stop her yet his attempt is a lost cause when she only presses herself down on him harder, another groan leaving him when his cock twitches at the pressure. “What are you—”

She presses her lips against his, preventing him from speaking further. His hands only grasp her sides harder with his eyes blowing wide from what his queen is doing to him. Unbelieving of what’s happening at the moment. If he’s still dreaming but he knows not if he wants to be awakened.

“We have to stay warm, my bear.” She whispers the words once more against his mouth when she breaks the kiss, her hot breath fanning across the scruff of his beard and onto his cheeks, making him realize that he is indeed awake. That his queen blessed him with a kiss. A shiver then runs up his spine when he feels her lips against the apple of his cheek and her hand reaching up to caress the side of his neck. “Keep me warm,” It comes out as a plea and it burns something within him to hear her beg for him. “Please.”

And it’s as if something within him snaps, something that compels him to do as she asks, that all thoughts of wariness leave his mind, allowing himself to grab her face and pull her down to crash his lips against hers. His kiss eager and wanting, yearning for the affections of the woman who meets his passion, a hand moving down to run it along the curve of her side and pulling her flush against his chest.

His head tilts up to keep their lips together, his mouth devouring hers as she raises herself on her knees, her hands grabbing the skirts of her winter dress and bunching it up to her waist. Jorah grabs hold of the glove on his hand and tosses the article to the ground, his warm hand running up the bare thigh of his queen, rough and calloused hand feeling her smooth skin before resting it against her arse and giving it a hard squeeze.

Jorah tilts his head back when she pulls away from the kiss, groaning as he feels her lips rest upon his neck, latching her teeth against a patch of skin before sucking on it, making him squeeze her arse harder. His hand then moves between their bodies, running it down to cup her mound through her small clothes and feeling her curls tickle his palm before finding her sacred pearl and rolling his finger against it through the flimsy fabric.

She moans on his skin and it only pushes him to move his hand faster, moving the fabric to the side and groaning from the heat that her cunt emits and the slick pooling at the apex of her thighs staining his fingers. And slowly, his other hand reaches for the back of her head, pulling her away from his neck only to have her face him, watching her eyes roll back and her mouth hanging open when he slips two fingers past her folds.

Oh, how she gasps his name makes the fire in him burn brighter, delighting with how his queen come undone before him and all because of his doing. All because of him. Not Drogo. Not Daario. Not Jon or any of the noble lords that seek her hand, but him. Her knight. Her sworn sword. Her bear.

He thrusts them deep and urges his queen to keep her eyes on him, pressing their foreheads together as he fucks her with his fingers, sliding them in and out of her with ease from the slick that continues to flow from her cunt. She begs once more, her eyes pleading as she looks on, her hand reaching up to cup his face as she pulls them once more into a kiss.

Her hand then slides down between them, plucking on the strings of his breeches and Jorah quickly pulls his fingers out of her cunt, slipping them past his lips, humming as he finally gets a taste of her sweet sweet nectar, savoring her flavor before moving to stand on his knees, Daenerys sliding off his lap and helping her push down his trousers, a groan of relief leaving his lips when his cock springs free from its confines.

She tries to hold him but Jorah doesn’t give her that chance, taking both her hands and having her wrap them around his shoulders before he takes hold of her waist, cradling her and sitting himself down on his hunches to pull her back atop him. He tilts his head tilted back to face his queen and slowly, he feels like a thousand suns have burned him as he sinks her down on his cock, to have her impale herself on him, moans leaving them both as he stretches her walls, loving how her cunt clenches around him.

“Khaleesi!” He chokes out as he sits fully inside of her, keeping himself still and pressing his forehead on her shoulder to calm himself down, not wanting the moment to finish just as it began.

“My bear, please.” She moans into the air and Jorah looks up to face her again, seeing her eyes wide like a doe, the sight making his breath hitch. The sensation of her around him feels so surreal, like a dream, and he starts to think that maybe he has died from the cold and that this is nothing but a fantasy that the gods have bestowed upon him.

But she starts to move, her walls rubbing against his cock as she slowly bounces against him that his thoughts shatter, his mind going blank that he doesn’t think twice any longer about gripping her body tight, a hand on her shoulder and one on her waist as he pulls himself up on his knees and begins to thrust in her at a fast pace. Her moans escape her as strings of beautiful notes, a song she’s made solely for him as he drives himself within.

Her hand comes up to the base of his neck and he groans when he feels her fingers dig into his skin, scratching him, hurting him deliciously. But the act doesn’t deter him, only pushes him further, and urges him to fulfill his task. Hips moving faster and harder, frantic and relentless, a lone thought forming into his mind and that is to please his queen, to do as she bids, to save her from the bloody cold by fucking the heat into her body.

She gasps once more and this time it’s his name, Jorah looks up when Daenerys cups his face and kisses her hard and passionately, tongues and lips in a mash of desperation as she slips hers into his mouth, Jorah moans as his queen tastes him, tastes herself on his tongue that rolls and licks and laps against hers.

He then feels his muscles tighten and he knows that she’s not far off from her peak as well. With the ways her cunt clamps down on his cock with every thrust he makes, sucking him in, pushing, pleading, and desiring him to go deeper, to stretch her further like no man has ever done and it only makes him growl like an animal, like the bear that he truly is, moaning her name in her mouth as he quickens his pace even further.

“Jorah! I’m—” But she never finishes her words. Jorah moves to lay her back against the mangy mattress, the bear cloak forgotten and unneeded for the heat that consumes their body is enough to keep the cold away, the windows steaming from their coupling. Jorah grabs hold of her thigh and wraps it around his waist, his arm around her shoulder as he tries to hold her down, angling himself to plunge his cock deeper within, to press against that sacred spot she keeps hidden.

“For me, Khaleesi.” He doesn’t recognize his voice when he begs for her release, his eyes boring into hers, drowning in the lilac pools as he keeps up his pace. “For me,” He says once more and it’s as if his words have caused something within her to stir, Daenerys grabs hold of his arms tight, gripping his muscles, and her cunt squeezing his cock then Jorah feels her essence coat him in a warm embrace.

He doesn’t hold back now, his teeth clenching as he feels the muscles of his abdomen constrict, the familiar pull swirling in him that he snaps his hips once more, a final thrust to bury himself deep into her core that he stills and growls out her name into the frigid air, spilling within and filling her with his seed.

He pants heavily as he keeps himself buried in her cunt, his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he tries to steady his heart and his breathing. Her hand caresses the back of his head, fingers running through his hair before taking hold of his chin and tugging it up, looking into her eyes as she makes him face her.

“Thank you, my bear.” She whispers and there’s a small smile painting on his face.

The wind continues to howl and he feels the strength of the storm beyond the cabin, but he thinks none of it. Ignores the peril that awaits them from within the cabin, he has everything that he needs and he knows that his queen has everything she needs in him.

Jorah keeps his arms around his queen as she lays atop him, the cloak serving as a warm blanket over their bodies while her cunt remains wrapped around his cock.

It was her very request that has brought them in such a position, and Jorah, although hesitating for a while gave in and kept himself nestled within her. But such gesture has proven to be both torture and pleasure for when the cold makes itself known again, she’d roll her hips against his, bringing his cock to attention for her to move against once more, taking and taking from him everything and with him being the devoted knight that he is, giving and giving everything of him.

Hours passed before Grey Worm found them holed up in the cabin. The Unsullied General says nothing upon seeing their state on the dingy bed and gives them the privacy to right themselves before leaving the place that has served as their protection from the storm.

The rest of the small band of Unsullied line up the horses they’ve brought for their queen in her sworn sword, Jorah carefully helping Daenerys up on the mare and making sure that the cloak he’s worn on her stays on her shoulders on their way back to Mormont Keep. He turns to make his way to the horse provided for him when he stops upon hearing his queen call his name.

“Will you ride with me, Ser?” She asks, Jorah blinking at her request before giving her a nod and mounting himself on her mare, sitting comfortably behind her.

He stays quiet on their way back, his mind flitting to their unexpected coupling in the cabin. And the thought pains Jorah that such a thing shall never happen again. That she only needed his body in order for her to survive. And who is he to complain? His queen has given him so much more than he expected. Her forgiveness. A place at her side as she rules the seven kingdoms. And he’s happy to be content with what they have, with what she has to offer him.

But his thoughts leave him when Daenerys turns in her seat, the mare whining from her sudden movement that it causes them to stop the trek. He looks at her and blinks when she takes the cloak from her shoulders and messily wraps it around his as well, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he takes the fabric and fixes it upon him. His heart blooms with warmth when she wraps the tails of the fur around her, cocooning the both of them snuggly.

“Is everything alright, Khaleesi?” He asks softly before tapping his boot against the side of the mare, urging for the beast to push on.

She nods before turning her head to face him, a smile on her lips. “I just wanted to keep my love warm as well.” She says.

Her words leave him stunned that, it takes the voice of Grey Worm to alert him of the way he was leading his horse to bring him back to the present. Her love. Him? He can’t believe it. Is this all to be true? Yet the way his queen tucks her head against the crook of his neck makes it seem so that he leans down to push his luck and presses a light kiss to her temple, his heart growing full from the way she sighs and leans against him.

He rests his head against her hair all the way back to the Keep and it makes him think what a force of nature his queen, his love, truly is. Similar to how she was born, her love for him has been made known in the midst of a storm.

#jorah mormont #Ser Jorah Mormont #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #Jorleesi #Jorah x Daenerys #Jorah x Dany #dany x jorah #Jorleesi AU #game of thrones #smut fic #eonian series #coconut bun stories

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lolitastories · 1 year

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BLACK AND BLOOD

Y/N L/N is the daughter of the Great Khal Drogo although she was raised by the king of the unknown lands. After finding out he died she travels and finds the one who caused his death. Along this adventure she meets the mother of dragons. Jon Snow. Night walkers. We will see if she really has the Dothraki blood flowing through her veins.

Chapter 17:

Ghost lays down probably over the whole situation. While my hands were shaking and my head spinning I tried to open my mouth. “My Queen, you need us to arrest this man?” I look back and there were 2 guardsmen there.

“No. Leave us, go back to the castle”

“Yes your grace” My gaze fell to the ground. I took a deep breath breaking down in my minute what I needed to get out before anything else happened.

“Queen?” I turn to him and give him a small shrug.

“Not officially. Just filling in until Stella is old enough.” I walk closer to him. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him even in the summer weather. He had gotten rid of his fur but the leather armour is still on. “Or maybe if someone kills me” I let out a chuckle which only covered the tears that were threatening to come out. “Some people will fight it” How can anxiety fill me up so quickly? “ I know for a fact one of the council members will” That's when I feel his hand on my chin and he lifts it up so we are looking eye to eye. “I don’t want any of this and I don’t know what I am trying to prove anymore” Looking into his brown eyes only made me feel vulnerable in his presence. I look away but am pulled back to him.

“You don’t need to have all the answers, just a goal.”

“But what goal is that? Place Stella in the throne? Give Omnis the ruler they deserve? Give into every request to make them happy? You know they want to sentence my father to death?! I can’t do that. I can’t stand infront of everyone especially Gris and Stella and pretend I know what I am doing because I don’t!” My heart was speeding up.

“You are a natural leader. I know it can be sufficating but you have to remember who you are doing this for.” Then it hit me. His words and what Bran told me the day I left. I hadn’t gotten the chance to stop and think about it but the signs were there. It has been a month and nothing. “If anyone can deal under pressure is you” I took a second to just look at him. He was here. How was he here? Well I have an idea on how but, how? And why? What happened at Kings Landing? “Can you get out of that little head of yours?” I playfully hit his chest.

“Shut up. I didn’t know what I want to know first” One hand drops down and wraps around me to pull us closer.

“You know what I want to know?” The other hand moves my hair away and pulls my face closer. “Did you miss me?” I stare blankly at his grin. Of course I missed him. I thought about him all night and day. Whether he had survived Cersei. I know for a fact he would have told Daenerys about his true heritage and she probably didn’t take it lightly. I wished and prayed for him to be saafe and in no harm's way. Hoped for the day I will see him again. Hold him again “Am just going to kiss you already” And what a kiss it was. My arms finally wrapped around him. A part of me was scared that if I touched him he might not have been real. Maybe a part of my imagination. But he was truly here. His lips moved in sync with mine. I tangled my hands in his hair. “So you did miss me?” I roll my eyes pulling backwards towards the trees.

“Can you just kiss me again?” I didn’t wait for an answer and pulled him in. My back hits the tree and a moan leaves my mouth. His lips move over my jaw and down my neck. “It's hot. I think you should get rid of all this leather”

“I agree, it's hot even for this silk” I looked down and my knees buckled seeing the sight of his hand wrapping my clothing in his fist pulling on it.

“I agree.” He pulls me up straight as I gain the strength back on my legs. I pull the clips out and his armour falls. The cotten white undershirt caused another issue for me. I caress his chest slowly untying it. I felt his quicken heart and my movement stopped. “Jon” he picks up his head to look at me. His smile dropped at my whisper tone. “Its no you and I anymore”

“What?” A smile appeared on my face. It was probably a bad time to bring it up but I needed him to know. What if he has other feelings about it? I want to be able to walk away with nothing but his loving memory in Westoros. I wouldn’t bear losing him after I lose myself with him again.

“I’m pregnant” I looked into his eyes for any sign of life but no emotion was there. I realize he wasn’t looking at me but a haze was probably blocking his eyes. I ignored every question and doubt to fill my thoughts. I needed to give him some time to think. I ball my hand and move it away.

“No” He catches my wrist. Pulling my hand gently so it finds his shoulder just like the other and as soon as he lets go he pulls me closer into a hug. “Bran told me to come find you” I hear him whisper. “I wanted to give you time and let time bring us together. Daenerys attacked King's Landing. She did the thing she said she wouldn’t become.” He pulls away, grabbing my cheeks with both hands. “I knew if she was still here she wouldn’t stop fighting for the throne” I gasped. Daenerys is dead?. “I accepted whatever came after my actions. Bran became the protector of the six kingdoms. Sansa, Queen of Winterfell. For my action they exile me to the wall, per the request of the unsullied. Arya brought me over to begin her travels”

“Hey” It was my turn to get his attention. “I know your actions had their reasons. I know it wasn’t something you wanted on your hands”

“I gave my word” His eyes moved down to my stomach. “I must travel to the wall. I know I can wait for you but now,” He looks up to me again “I love you and now Its not longer you and I”

“Everything is going to be okay. We don’t need to have all the answers right now” I smile taking a hold of his hands. “Let's go and get some food for you and figure everything out. It's still you and I, this little person is just going to have to step aside for a bit” He chuckles.

“Hey” He pulls me back holding on to my hand. “Don’t get lost in that mind of yours. This is nothing to think about with this. It's still us” He places both hands on my stomach. “This is us. You and I”

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shiggyshita · 11 months

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ShiggyShita’s GOT Masterlist

You can req any of these characters for hcs,drabbles,oneshots,and x reader or x [another character]

if there’s a character you’d like me to do that’s not on the list, please req it!

(read inbox rules)

work key: 🌲-fluff ⚔️-angst 🕷️-smut

Men:

Jon Snow -

no works yet

Bran Stark -

no works yet

Robb Stark -

no works yet

Ned Stark -

no works yet

Jorah Mormont -

no works yet

Podrick Payne -

no works yet

Tyrion Lannister -

no works yet

Oberyn Martell -

no works yet

Jojen Reed -

no works yet

Women:

Sansa Stark -

no works yet

Arya Stark -

no works yet

Daenerys Stormborn -

no works yet

None of these characters are mine! -All from Game Of Thrones-

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queerfics · 2 months

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(Smut/Drabble) Is It Casual Now? CisF! Reader x Yara Greyjoy

Summary: Y/N, a member of Yara's crew and longtime fling, finds herself struggling to face the reality of the Ironborn serving a Targaryen tyrant, especially after Yara's confession.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST! It's horny but it's sad. Oral sex, f/f, lesbianism (but that's a blessing), angsty sex, sad sex, crying

A/N: YES the title is based off of Casual by Chappell Roan. Every time I listen to it I can't help but imagine something angsty with Yara.

NO MINORS BEYOND THIS POINT

The boat crashing against the rage of the sea only slammed your hips farther onto Yara's fingers as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Her hips worked some to hold you in place on top of the crate you sat upon, but still you tethered yourself on a rope hanging from the ceiling of the steerage.

Your moans were partially washed out by the creaking of the boat and partially by the way she smothered your lips in her own, and when she groaned back into you, your hand dropped and wrapped around her neck, deepening the kiss in a clash of teeth and tongue.

This wasn't unusual for the two of you. You'd been the only female member of her crew for quite some time, and like any of the men on board, you two preferred to find solace in the arms of a woman. It had never been anything serious, and it had always been something kept mostly private. Yara loved good company, but with a member of her crew could put her authority in jeopardy.

However, there was something unusual about the way Yara's mouth wandered to your neck. There was something entirely unusual about the way that she, rather than a simple bite on the shoulder to stifle her own noises, worked a deliberate mark right at the base of your jaw. In all three years of your little secret, Yara had never made such intentions present.

This new sensation pulled little gasps from you that floated right to Yara's spine, sending a shiver down it, so she continued placing her claim at the base of your throat, in the dip of your neck, under your ear, creating bruises that eventually washed to the other side of your throat as well.

Her fingers pumped ferociously inside of you, carelessly bruising every sweet spot like it was her last moments on this earth. When you cried out against her, she cooed into your ear so sweetly that you couldn't even form the words to tell her to stop (not that you would want to).

"Are you going to cum for me, sweetheart?" She whispered into your ear, and you shuddered, letting out a breathy laugh.

"N-no," you said, knowing it was the complete opposite of the truth. It was impossible for you to not to, especially when you knew she could feel the way you pulsed around her fingers, the way you gushed into her palm with every push, and the twitch of your thighs with every gentle curl.

"I don't think so," you murmured, letting a teasing smile slip.

Yara shook her head, chuckling and digging her fingers into a particular spot that had you almost jumping out of your seat. She watched, lips parted as your head fell back against the wall of the ship and your eyes fought not to squeeze shut.

"Your cunt is telling me a different story," she growled. She pressed her hand into your lower stomach, building another toe-curling pressure inside you as she held you in place. She kissed you sweetly after you let out a small cry, then sank to her knees.

You watched as Yara turned her focus to mouth at your clit, the vulnerability in her kneeling not slipping past you. The admiration in her eyes, the intensity of her passion - these things did not go unnoticed, and you felt your eyes begin to water. Tingles worked their way up your shoulder, and your ears rang as she pulled moan after moan from you. Your fingers dug into the crate, and you looked down at her with flushed cheeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but every other beat pulled a painful chord in your chest, and Yara could feel the way you began to choke up. Her hand slipped down to rub your thigh affectionately, but you instinctively grabbed it, interlacing your fingers.

Your eyes began to burn and blur as salty tears slipped down your rosy cheeks, and Yara squeezed your hand, watching the way you rested your other hand over your forehead, too mixed up between the climaxing pleasure and your longing heart to stay still.

"Yara," you whimpered out, "I'm, I'm-" But you couldn't get it out. It was all too much, the banging in your chest, the way Yara's fingers opened you up as easily as two flower petals, the way she made out with your sex like it was the love of her life, the way she had made it obvious to anyone who looked at you for the next week what had happened, and how they would know exactly who did it--

-- if you made it to the end of the week.

Tensions were high in all parts of the world, and the recent alliance between the Iron Islands and Daenerys Stormborn had completed changed the basis of the Ironborn way of life, and every member of the fleet in particular was feeling the effects of it.

Being pulled so far away from home, losing friends and family members too far from the sea to even retrieve them, and now you were following the trail of the dead with Yara to meet the queen who had started all of this, who had threatened and reconstructed an ancient way of life.

"What do you mean you don't want to go?" Yara stuttered, looking at you in disbelief. "That's not your decision to make, Y/N."

You stood on the other side of the room, running your hands through your hair. Your fight had echoed through the halls of Pyke until Yara had had enough and pulled you into a private room, but even now, passerby stopped to listen in.

It wasn't that you were a particularly disobedient soldier. You had always trusted Yara with your life, obeyed every command, even if that meant returning to her drenched in blood and void of emotion. She was your Captain, your Queen, and you had promised your life to her.

"Why are you serving her?" You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. "She's not even Ironborn, and you've known her for all but a few weeks, and now you've bent the knee?"

"Y/N," Yara stepped forward cautiously, but you waved her off, stepping back. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, feel the anger ripping at the air, threatening the foundation of this offhand non-commitment commitment you had to each other.

"No, Yara!" You exclaimed, "I won't go off to die in the middle of some fucking sea-less dessert for some woman I've never met!"

"She is the Dragon Queen!" Yara argued back, slowly letting her own temper slip from her. "She is the breaker of chains! She will bring no harm to the islands - you know I would not allow that."

You turned to her, eyes burning with rage, and met her face.

"Oh, but you have so willingly sacrificed everything the Ironborn stand for and everything we are for her!" You screamed. Yara stared fiercely down at you, though she did not respond. "And for what? What do we receive in return?"

Still, Yara said nothing. This irritated you even further, so you went further, going so far as to push Yara back. She let you, still quiet.

"You cannot kill another Ironborn, so what, you've taken to dragging us far away and drowning us all in her name?" You hissed. "What has she promised you? Or are you truly just so wound up in some foreign woman's cunt you would erase everything we have worked for?"

You went to push her again, but Yara grabbed on to your wrists. She dragged you forward, bringing you until you were so close you thought she might kiss you if it weren't for the circumstances.

For a long moment, you stared at each other, rage stirring and boiling at the very sight of each other, at the implications you had grown to believe about each other during this fight.

Then, Yara opened her mouth.

Nothing came out at first, simply a few stuttered breaths, then a glance away. And though you had quite a few times before worked Yara up to the point of chosen silence, never had you rendered Yara speechless.

Then, she looked back down at you, and swallowed thickly. Her expression had changed, twisted into a much more somber one.

"If I die out there," she whispered, "I cannot die without you."

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nyrasslut · 2 years

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some of my fav got editors

mast of these r daenerys editors lmao but they all make amazing edits so go follow them!!

#editor #got #game of thrones #daenerys targeryan #daenerys stormborn #jon snow #got edit #got editor #your welcome #got x reader #got smut #jaime x reader #daenerys targaryen #smut

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valaenatargaryensdragon · 9 months

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Legacy of Fire

Prologue: Secrets of Dorne

Word Count: 427

The scorching sun beat down upon the deserts of Dorne, casting shimmering mirages across the arid landscape. In the shadow of Sunspear, the great palace of House Martell, a hidden truth lay buried beneath layers of deception and silence.

Amidst the grandeur of Sunspear’s lavish halls, the young woman known as Rhaenys Targaryen stood at a crossroads in her life. Her hair flowed like molten silver-gold, and her eyes, as violet as the wildest amethysts, gazed upon her reflection in a cracked mirror. The name “Rhaenys” had been etched into her identity since infancy, a name whispered in hushed tones and secret corridors. Raised as a ward of House Martell, she had believed herself to be the last surviving member of House Targaryen, rescued from the fangs of death by her noble “uncle,” Doran Martell.

Yet, whispers of a different truth had reached her ears. Whispers carried by a loyal servant who had watched over her since infancy, a servant who had witnessed the darkest secrets of House Stark. A servant who, with trembling hands and a heavy heart, had finally revealed the truth.

“My lady,” the servant had said, tears glistening in her eyes, “you are not who you think you are.”

The revelation had shattered the young woman’s world. She was not Rhaenys Targaryen, but rather a child hidden away by Ned Stark, a child who shared blood with another, a child who had been told that her twin brother was Jon Snow.

The servant’s tale had been woven with threads of deceit and sacrifice. Eddard Stark, a man of honour, had kept this secret to protect her from the deadly grasp of those who sought the extinction of House Targaryen. Her true identity had been veiled under the guise of Rhaenys, a girl whose appearance bore a striking resemblance to her father, Rhaegar Targaryen.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the chamber, the young woman donned a cloak of shadows herself. Her journey would be perilous, her secrets dangerous, and her destiny uncertain. But one thing was clear: her quest to reunite with Jon Snow, her twin, to find the remnants of her family, and to seek out the last living heir of House Targaryen, Daenerys, whose vision for the world she believed in with unwavering conviction, had only just begun.

The road ahead was fraught with challenges, and she was resolved to face them all. As she left Sunspear behind, a single thought burned in her mind: “The Dragon must rise again, and I shall be its flame.”

#game of thrones smut #game of thrones fic #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones au #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones oc #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #house targaryen #daenerys fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #queen daenerys #game of thrones daenerys #daenerys fanfic #daenerys targeryan

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targaryenimagines · 7 months

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My Khaleesi

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,586

Summary:

Warnings: Smut and G!P Daenerys.

Notes: Wasn’t sure if you wanted Dark!Dany (in a sense) or not, but decided to just do it that way for this one shot! If you’d like another one with a non dark Dany, I’ll be more than happy to do that. Also, this is definitely the most graphic smut I’ve written… I apologize if it’s bad.

Ash still falls from the sky like distorted flecks of snow— rubble shifts under foot as you make your way through the courtyard of the Red Keep. You didn’t have to turn your head far to see the destruction that had been wrought across King’s Landing, a destruction that had come at the hands of the woman you love the most in this world.

Fire and blood had come to Westeros, you think, side-stepping a charred corpse. And penance seemed to have been paid in full.

The sights, along with the smells, that assault you the farther you trek into the once great city aren’t something that sits well with you, nor does the knowledge that Westeros had pushed Daenerys, your Dany, to this point. That all of her grief: Viserion, Jorah, Rhaegal, and Missandei, along with all of her men that she lost in the North, had forced her spirit into shattering so completely.

I don’t want to be Queen of the Ashes…

A saying that had constantly been thrown towards Daenerys, that had been used as a means to control her, keep her line, and what better way to do that then remind her of her father’s legacy, a tale that’s haunted her ever since she discovered it, and had been continually repeated until Daenerys spouted it out as if she was simply talking about the weather. Her drive, the passion that had carried her through Essos, slowly being driven out of her the longer she spent in the toxic landscape that is Westeros; forever surrounded by the tales of her ancestors, by the fear and hatred that the people she saved showed her, at the clear refusal to ever accept her as anything more than a Targaryen Whore.

Rounding the corner of yet another hallway, you pause just outside of throne room, or what you believe to be anyway, and think over everything that had transpired. Think of the darkness that had seemed to have only grown in intensity since the Night King had been dealt with. Would Daenerys, after all of this, still wish to see you? Would you still have a place by her side?

Only one way to find out…

With a deep intake of breath, you step fully into the debilitated area that had once been a source of great pride— at the head of it all being the almost legendary throne itself, a mass of melted together swords, and standing before it?

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daenerys turns from her perusal of the throne, and a warm smile quirks her lips at your nearing form.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon,” she murmurs, adoration clear within violet eyes. Slim arms wrapping around your middle the moment your close enough for her to grab. A single gloved finger gently tracing down the expanse of your cheek, rubbing away the hints of ash that still remained. “I’m glad to see you unharmed. I don’t know what I would have done if that hadn’t been the case.”

You lean into the hand still resting on your cheek, a happy smile of your own making an appearance. “Burn down the rest of Westeros?” A dark look flashes through violet eyes, your joke suddenly taking on an all too serious light that you desperately wanted to veer away from. Bumping into her slightly, you disentangle from slim arms, warmed by the smallest bit of hesitance she had at letting you go, you step closer to the throne. “This is it? The Iron Throne?”

Daenerys settles next to you. “It is.” She touches the arm of it with an almost reverent air. “After all these years, all the trials and tribulations that I went through, I’m finally here. A Targaryen is finally the holder of the Iron Throne once more. I’ve brought honor back to my family.”

“You’ve honored them for years already, Dany. You simply being alive is honor by itself.” You angle your head, not surprised at all to see that she had already been looking at you. “This just exemplifies you into the ranks of Aegon.”

Violet eyes gleam with an almost childlike wonder, the hand closest to you touching your cheek with the same reverence she had shown the throne. “Aegon had his wives, he had his queens.” She steps away from you, taking her rightful seat on the throne. “Something that I’ll be in need of moving forward.”

Your head dips. “Anything I can help you with?”

Daenerys chuckles lightly, the sound rumbling from deep within her chest like one of Drogon’s roars. “There is, Y/N.” Gesturing for you to come closer, a command that you listen to without question, she gently maneuvers you into a kneeling position before her, slender fingers tangling themselves within the strands of your hair. “Say yes.”

“Your Grace?”

“Say yes to marrying me, to becoming my wife and queen.” Her holds tightens, forcing your head to tilt back. “Say yes to becoming mine and I’ll make sure everything you could ever want becomes yours.”

A small smile twists your lips upward. “Everything that I could ever want already is.”

At the words a small growl escapes Daenerys, her head dipping downward to press a heated kiss to your lips, maintaining that you’re kept in place by the iron-clad hold she still has on your hair. And, like with everything else, Daenerys didn’t hesitate in conquering what is hers, tongue barely brushing over your bottom lip before she plunders into your mouth, taking you for everything you have. The taste of you, the submission in which you’re showing her, along with the location no doubt, makes Daenerys almost frantic in her need for you.

Barely pulling away, giving you both a moment to breathe, before she’s claiming your lips once more— it’s wet, filthy in a way that makes your mind fog over in lust, and you can’t quite get enough air into your lungs through your nose, something that constantly ensures her scent is all that you’re surrounded by, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Wouldn’t want to be in any other position than where you are now; kneeling in front of your Khaleesi, her pleasure becoming yours.

Finally, with a ragged breath, Daenerys fully pulls away from you, a thin trail of saliva still connecting you both, before she shifts too far back and it snaps in half. Violet eyes, blown nearly black in lust, pin you in place as Daenerys slowly undoes the buckle of her pants, and jerks it down, the actions clear on what she expected from you. And, without preamble, or any sort of prompting, you help Daenerys with removing them, gently taking off her boots, before pulling her tight-fitting pants off her slim legs. The sight that greets you once you look up almost causing your mouth to dry up completely.

Daenerys Targaryen sat in all of her glory, bare from the waist down, her thick member jutting out from the apex of her thighs. The look in her eyes, in the darkness that lurks just out of reach, tells you all that you need to know, how your Khaleesi wished for you to service her next. Something you didn’t have a problem with doing, damn the consequences of potentially being caught in the wide open throne room.

Taking her into your hands, feeling her warmth, and the way that she twitches ever-so-slightly at your touch, is a heady sort of power that you’re never going to get used to.

Taking her into your mouth, jaw stretched wide to accommodate her girth, feeling the way she arches into the wetness it provides, hands tightening even further into your hair, the wonderful concoction of pain and pleasure, fuels you more than anything ever could.

Bobbing up and down, taking her deeper and deeper into your throat, listening to the breathy sighs she lets loose whenever she completely bottoms out, is a drug you never want to get off of. Her flavor— musky with just the barest hint of sweetness and something spicy— spreads across your tastebuds, your tongue lovingly swirling around the tip of her cock, taking in as much of her as you possibly could.

“Iksā doing sīr sȳz syt nyke.” The Valyrian praise escapes her in a low snarl, hands now guiding you in the exact way she wanted, your own simply being braced on her thighs as you let her use you. “Issare iā sȳz riña syt nyke. Ñuha sȳz riña.”

All you can do is moan in response, mouth completely stuffed full of her, but the vibrations makes her tense even further, another snarl rumbling from deep within her. You know that she’s close, can tell by the way her thighs were beginning to tremble underneath your touch, and the quickening of her thrusts, and your head moves even faster because of it— wanting nothing more than to feel her release down your throat, for your tongue to be coated by her cum.

“Issi ao jāre naejot gūrogon ziry mirre? Gūrogon everything bona nyke tepagon ao?” Daenerys groans out the question, clearly fighting with herself to not succumb just yet to the pleasure of her release. Peering up, you’re instantly met with darkened violet eyes, a rosy hue predominant across fair cheeks. Clearly waiting for a response, all you can do is gurgle around the cock currently in your throat, hoping that your eyes gave her all the answers she needed, which, by the tightening of her hands, absolutely did. “Sȳz riña.”

Within the next moment, jets of Daenerys cum shoots out, going straight into your stomach as you desperately swallow to make sure you don’t lose any of it. The feeling of warmth as her seed settles deep within you is one you’ve long since grown familiar with, but the possessive heat in her eyes as she watches you swallow it all down is definitely new. A reaction that causes your own arousal to come to the forefront of your mind finally, wetness clearly coating your thighs, waiting for your Khaleesi’s touch.

Daenerys pulls her cock from your mouth a moment later— the still hard length shimmering with the combination of leftover cum and saliva— allowing for you to take a deep lungful of air at last. Remnants of her still on your tongue.

Her thumb brushes across your bottom lip, briefly pushing into your mouth for you to suck on, before she retracts her hand and tugs you up onto her lap. Slim arms bracing your lower half perfectly against herself, settling her own body more fully on the Iron Throne.

“You did so good for me,” she murmurs, trailing slender fingers down your thighs. Nowhere near where you needed her the most though. “Do you want to continue?”

You nod. “More than anything, Khaleesi.“

Daenerys hums at the old title, hands gripping your hips in a hold that you know would leave bruises, lips ghosting across your jawline and down your neck.

“You’re mine, right?” Teeth nips into the sensitive flesh beneath your pulse point. “No one else can have you this way, fuck you the way that I can, or hear the beautiful noises you make when you fall apart.”

“Only you, Dany,” you whisper, nuzzling your nose against hers. “It’ll only ever be you. I’m yours completely.”

There isn’t need for more words after that, Daenerys simply hikes your dress higher up your waist, tearing your small-clothes away completely, before rubbing her hardened member against the wetness that has collected between your legs, a deep groan escaping her at the feeling of your clear want for her.

Within the next heartbeat, she’s buried to the hilt within you, a sharp keen being ripped from your chest at the feeling of complete fullness, the delicious stretch as your body tries to acclimate to the feeling of her, and begins to rut roughly into you. Hands slide from their place on your waist to settle on your hips, guiding you up and down as you begin to bounce in response to her thrusts.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, arms wrapped tightly around Daenerys neck, tugging her closer to you, continuing to ride her in complete abandon, wet slapping noise, intercepted by occasional grunts and moans, filled the air, echoing out across the empty throne room. A part of you thinks that you might even be able to be heard down below, the ripped open wall next to the throne offering an excellent siphon to the noises, but then Daenerys twists her hips in just the right way and everything, that doesn’t have to do with the mind numbing pleasure she gives you, vanishes from you mind in an instant.

Nails make crescent moons in the soft flesh of your hips, bruises no doubt already forming on your lower abdomen from how hard Daenerys was thrusting up into you, but the knowledge that your Khaleesi is marking you in such a way, that she’s lost parts of her control because of you, makes you not care in the slightest— you were hers, completely and irreversibly. Her pleasure was your own.

With another strangled gasp, your head falls to her chest, still glad in her formal garb, the metal cool against the heated expanse of your forehead, no longer being able to keep yourself upright. You could feel your climax approaching— coming faster and faster as Daenerys brushed against the spot within you every time she pulled out. Your core clenching around her desperately, trying to keep her within you, milk her for all that she’s worth, and the tight constriction causes a strangled sound of her own to resonate from your Khaleesi.

Feet planted firmly into the floor, she begins to piston fully into you, your body arching into her, allowing her to move you as she saw fit, clearly chasing her second release and your own.

“I’m going to mark you in a way that no one ever has.” Feverish violet eyes meet your own, strands of silvery-gold hair sticking to her heated cheeks, torn from their intricate braids, as her grip on you tightens more. “You’re going to bear my children, you’re going to continue on the Targaryen name. Would you like that?”

You moan. “Yes.”

The thought of carrying her children, of continuing on the Targaryen Legacy, filled you with a sense of purpose, a sense of warmth.

Pushing your head further into her chest, you plead. “Do it, Khaleesi. Claim me.”

With a ragged snarl, Daenerys’s hips stutter and before you know it jets of warmth fill you up, going straight to your womb. The feeling triggers your own release, a broken moan leaving you as you milk Daenerys for everything she has, everything that she’d be willing to offer. Harshly panting, Daenerys settles back onto the throne, hands gently running down your spine, holding you as closely as she possibly still could, still buried inside of you.

“Thank you,” she whispers, nuzzling you before she presses a kiss to your damp temple.

You sigh, content in her arms. “Always.”

Pressing another kiss to your head, Daenerys angles your face in order for you to look at her, the open look of adoration on her face one that’d only ever be reserved for you and her son.

“My beautiful love, my lovely wife.” She drops a chaste kiss to your lips, her hips beginning to move once more. “My eternal queen.”

“My Khaleesi.”

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen x reader #daenerys x reader #daenerys targaryen imagine #daenerys #got imagine #got imagines #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones #house of the dragon

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themotherofhorses · 2 years

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last of her house no more

summary: She was born to Daenerys Stormborn and Khal Drogo on the Dothraki Sea, the youngest of their dragon brood. Known as the Seven Kingdoms’ Delight, she trains with swords and arakhs, studies philosophy and history, and takes immense pride in the woman she is becoming. But her life is forever changed when she comes face-to-face with her long-deceased Green ancestors, including the man the maesters refer to as the one-eyed kinslayer. Now, this princess faces a future not even her mother could foresee in her dreams.

pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

warnings: individual-specific chapter warnings, but the overall series includes fluff, smut, some levels of angst, and targest incest. no use of y/n.

18+. minors, dni. all that jazz.

notes: this is me giving dany the rightful family and future she deserves, since dumb & dumber couldn't do that. if you wish to be added to the masterlist, please let me know. chapters will come with time, as i am a college student, so please be patient with me.

(moodboard artwork creds to popoponya2 on twitter)

playlist: last of her house no more

Main Series:

Prologue

III

VII

VIII

(more to come)

One shots:

The She-Dragon is Born

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #house targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #daenerys targeryan #mother of dragons #game of thrones #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸#masterlist

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springdandelixn · 2 years

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The Man of Gold and Blue - Finale

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41900655/chapters/105157668

Jorah x Daenerys

Summary: Daenerys doesn’t believe in the craft of fortune telling, even believes it to be a farce. But when she meets the man in the psychic’s reading, she struggles to grasp if what she told her was her reality or pure coincidence.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut

As always, your comments and likes are highly appreciated though re-blogging would help my story flourish better. Enjoy! 💛

“Jorah?” Daenerys calls out softly when she stands at the steps of her building, Jorah looking up at her as he stands at the bottom step, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket with his eyes glowing underneath the moonlight.

The car ride to her place was silent and full of pent-up tension. Her eyes glanced at him every now and then and saw his hand restlessly gripping the steering wheel and on the gear shifter at the center console. She wanted to reach out and take his hand in hers, to feel his skin on her just like how he did at the bar but she feared that if she moved, if she made a mistake, the bubble they found themselves in would burst and release them from the hypnotizing spell they have on each other.

So she chose to forego it and got out of the car almost in a hurry when he parked it in front of her building and walked out to open it for her. But as she stood in front of her door, her key already unlocking the barrier, her body refused to move. Refused to end the night with such animosity and regret that she never took her chance with such a man.

Fuck whatever that psychic said. That this man was bound in her destiny. She still has a choice. She could turn him away and never see him again just to make the words of the woman turn into a lie. But do I really want that? Do I really want to let go of him so soon? She asks herself and takes a deep breath before she speaks.

“Stay the night?” She asks and a gasp leaves her lips when he nears her in only two strides, his hands framing her face as he pulls her into a passionate kiss.

Her arms immediately wrap around his neck as she holds him close, a moan leaving her lips from the intensity of Jorah’s kiss. How his lips move eagerly against her own and his tongue slowly pushing past her lips, caressing hers from within and coaxing it into a sensual dance of their own.

They only part when they run out of breath, seeing Jorah’s eyes blown wide with lust and want that sends a shiver down Daenerys’ spine, her body turning reluctantly to open the door before grabbing his hand and pulling him with her inside.

Their mouths meet once more as they climb the stairs of her apartment, Daenerys almost stumbling when she misses a step but thankful that Jorah holds her up by the waist, a giggle leaving her lips and a chuckle escaping his at how reckless they’ve both become, drunk on each other instead of the alcohol they consumed earlier.

The door to her flat closes just as soon as it opens when Jorah moves to press her against the wooden barrier, his hands clutching on her hips tighter as she leans up to claim his lips once more. She feels him stiffen against her, the tent in his pants pressing against her abdomen as she claws on his back, clinging to him to keep their lips connected, teeth and tongues clashing with one another from their hunger for each other.

Her breath hitches when Jorah pulls away only to press open mouth kisses on her neck, her fingers combing through his golden hair, the softness of his locks and the movement of his mouth against her skin making her sigh and tug on his hair quite roughly.

“Bedroom,” She whispers into the air, a yelp leaving her lips when Jorah lifts her up from the ground, her shoes falling with a loud thud on the ground, giggles bubbling up from her when she looks down and sees the mirth in his eyes while he walks them blindly through the space of her apartment.

“Tell me where and I’ll follow,” Jorah mumbles as he latches his lips on her neck once more, his feet obeying every instruction she gives, and nudges the door of her bedroom open before gently laying her down on the mattress of her queen bed.

He stands tall in her bedroom and she looks up with lust-filled eyes, witnessing the blue of his eyes go darker as he shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over the plush seat by her vanity. Daenerys kneeling on her bed as she reaches up to undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing them off his shoulder and having them drop to the floor.

Her mouth goes dry when she sees how gorgeous Jorah truly is. Both her hands running up and down his shoulders then to his chest, the soft golden chest hair tickling her skin as her hands pass through them, following the happy trail to his pelvis that reveals such an alluring V hidden within his trousers.

Her hands then leave his chest when he reaches over for her dress, effortlessly pulling the fabric off her body when a blush forms on her face, suddenly feeling shy when she remembers that she’s wearing a mismatch of underwear.

“You look stunning, Darling,” She hears Jorah tell her, Daenerys looking up at him when he adds, “So, beautiful.” Jorah leans down to wrap his arms around her in an embrace, his nose brushing against her gently when he lays her back down on the bed.

He hums and pulls her once more into a passionate kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth and swirling against hers while her hands fumble with the buckle of his belt and the zipper of his pant, her feet moving up to push the denim fabric off his muscular thighs and down his legs.

A whine escapes her when Jorah pulls away from the kiss, only to trail his lips down her cheek and to her neck, his tongue running through the valley of her breasts as he takes hold of the straps of her bra and pulls it down her shoulders, her tits spilling out from the cups when he snaps the garment from the front and Daenerys blushes when she feels shy once more from the exposure. But her reticence subsides when he takes a nipple in his mouth, his tongue rolling against the bud that hardens upon the contact, her hands taking hold of his head as she arches her back, pushing her breasts more to his mouth, rolling her pelvis against his abdomen in seek of friction when pleasure fills her senses, feeling her cunt slickening by the second.

He gives the other nipple the same attention, flicking his tongue against it while his hand pinches the other before he pulls away and runs his lips down to her abdomen all too soon, his forefingers hooking onto the sides of her panties and slipping them down her legs and off her feet, his nose pressing down on her soaking pussy and inhaling deeply.

“Jorah—please—” She begs as she rolls her hips against his face with want. “I need you—”

“I know, Darling.” He whispers and moves to push her thighs apart, Daenerys hears a sigh leave his lips before she gasps when she feels his tongue slowly run up her folds, her stomach clenching from the sensation it brings her.

She closes her eyes and runs her fingers through his hair before gripping them tight when he flicks his tongue against her clit, his name leaving her lips like a prayer when he wraps his lips around the swollen bud and begins to suck on it like a starved man.

Her mind goes slack and her body goes rigid, mewls and moans escaping her lips when his mouth continues its assault on her pussy. She couldn’t believe her night has taken a big turn, from sitting drunk in a bar to having this gorgeous man have his feast between her thighs.

Feelings of pleasure run up her spine as her back arches from the way his tongue expertly swirls around her clit and flicks it afterward, his hands reaching up to take hold of her tits and fondling them, while she thrusts her pelvis more onto his mouth when she feels the familiar pull at the pit of her stomach.

“Jorah—” She gasps his name when his lips move frantically on her cunt, his hands leaving her breasts and taking hold of her hips to pull her flush against his mouth, an animalistic snarl emanating from him that makes her look down and whimper when she sees his blues staring up her, unblinking and full of desire.

Her throat constricts when the coil within her winds tighter, Daenerys throwing her head back and calling out his name when she convulses on his mouth, her body shaking and stiffening all at once from the intensity of her release, her nails digging onto his back as she thrust her hips against his mouth once more to ride out her high.

A groan leaves him as he laps up her essence, Daenerys turning into a moaning mess when she climbs down from her peak. But Jorah doesn't stop, feeling his tongue leaving her clit only to push it through her folds, thrusting it through her entrance to take everything that she has to offer him.

“Delectable,” Jorah mumbles against her mound, giving her pussy one last kiss before he pulls away and crawls over her, his hand framing her chin to press a soft kiss on her lips. There’s something erotic about tasting herself on his mouth, something sensual and intimate that she wills herself to wrap her arms around him and deepen the kiss.

Daenerys stays sated on the bed, laying on her side when Jorah pulls away, hearing him stand and a rustle of clothing meeting her floor before the bed behind her dips, his arm sliding from underneath her head and cradling her flush against his chest, a soft moan eliciting from her throat when she feels the tip of his cock brush against her cunt.

She feels him hesitate, making her turn her head to face him, watching his blue eyes study her, waiting for her approval. She gives it by reaching up with her hand and pulling him down for a kiss, her mouth mumbling against his when he finally slowly pushes past her folds and impales her with his cock down to the hilt.

He stills for a while, feeling her walls clench around his shaft, her body getting used to the size. Then slowly he pulls out, leaving only the head within before thrusting back swiftly, Daenerys burying her face on her pillow from the sudden intrusion.

He repeats the motion, pulling out just before the head leaves her folds and pushes back in with more force before his hand wraps around her leg, lifting it up as he begins to thrust at an easy rhythm, loving how his cock stretches her further each time he plunges deep within her.

She looks down to where they’re connected and whimpers as she watches the carnal scene before her, how his cock slide in and out of her effortlessly, her juices giving him enough lubrication to push deeper within, allowing him to hit that sensitive spot that makes her back arch and muscles tighten each time he does.

She hears him growl her name against her neck, his lips latching onto a patch of skin and sucking on it hard, feeling a bruise form underneath his lips as he picks up his pace and thrusts faster and harder within her, his hips relentlessly and frantic, the sound of their skins slapping against each other mixing with her moans and his growls, echoing in the four corners of her room.

“Jorah—” She calls his name when she feels that pull within her once more, her hips moving on their own, meeting him thrust per thrust as she tries to chase her climax once again. “I’m gonna—” She mumbles into the air and Jorah’s hold around her body tightens, pulling her even more against his body as he quickens his pace further, his breathing going ragged, Daenerys’ whines growing louder when the hand holding her leg slips down and rolls against her bud.

“Cum for me, Baby,” Jorah grunts against her skin, his fingers playing her like a fiddle and lifting her higher into her peak. “Don’t hold back,” Her body fills with heat and she feels her heart race from his words, the growl that he follows acting as a trigger when the dam within her breaks and her walls tighten around his cock when she finally finds her release.

“Oh god,” She mumbles when Jorah suddenly pulls out, her eyes closing from exhaustion, her name on his lips then a garbled cry following soon after, feeling his hot seed stain her inner thighs.

Her heart rate gradually slows as she lays limp on the bed, a sated smile on her lips as she catches her breath. Never did she imagine that morning that she would have such mind-blowing sex with such a gorgeous man and yet here she is, her eyes fluttering close as she relishes Jorah’s hold around her waist, pulling her close and pressing kisses on the side of her arm and up to her shoulder.

“You’re perfect, Daenerys,” He mumbles on her skin, Daenerys turning to face the man of gold with beautiful blue eyes. “So perfect.” She smiles and feels tears well in her eyes, her hand hooking on his nape to pull him down and press her lips on his, her thoughts flying to the words of the gypsy woman as she gets lost in his kiss.

Her body aches when she wakes up yet instead of a frown there’s a smile on her lips. The memories from the night before flood her mind as she slowly opens her eyes to greet the morning.

She reaches behind her and frowns when she comes up empty, Daenerys slowly turning her body to see the space beside her bed void of a body she wishes to see. Instead, there’s a note on her bedside table with a card attached to it. A black business card with Jorah’s name written in gold cursive, a number, and an email address following at the bottom.

“Emergency at work.” The note said when she picks it up to examine it. Followed by a request. “Please call me when you can.”

But she’s not able to do so as work calls on her every attention, taking all of her free time to work on the proposal that her boss continuously berates her to perfect. The week passing by in a blur that she forgets the black card tapped on the monitor of her computer at work.

For some reason, Tyrion Lannister, her boss, has been in such a mood that he would walk through the halls of their office with a sour look on his face that not even his assistant, Podrick, won’t go near the man. And it’s rare for him to be in such a state, Daenerys always seeing him jovial and throwing out jokes here and there, but for some reason, something has got their boss all riled up, and as much as she’s curious as to what, she doesn’t even try to ask anyone what it’s about.

Though she suspects that the reason for his irritable disposition is that they lack the funding for the newest app their company is developing. That their employees lack the certain skill set needed to push through with the project and rumor has it that his sister plans to steal the idea right from his grasp.

She wouldn’t blame her boss for feeling such, especially when his plans to prosper are being threatened to be taken away. But they’ve tried presenting their company to several prospects in hopes that they would invest and not one has agreed to tie the knot with them.

As soon as she makes it to her table after break time, she pulls up the financial report she’s created and studies each and every part of it in hopes to find a solid and astounding achievement to entice the other investors they plan on meeting next week when her phone rings, causing her to start, Daenerys’ eyes growing wide when she sees Mr. Lannister name on the caller ID.

Panic immediately surges in her as she thinks of a reason why he would be calling. She didn’t see him the whole day and she doesn’t know for sure what his mood is like and the last thing Daenerys wants on a Friday is to be the receiving end of her boss’ anger.

The phone continues to ring and Daenerys swallows thickly as she tries to calm her nerves. Taking a deep breath, she picks up the receiver and presses it against her ear, her face masking into a fake smile as she tries to fool herself that nothing is wrong.

“Hello—”

“My office now, Ms. Targaryen.”

It’s all she hears before the line goes dead, Daenerys blinking fast as her heart pounds hard in her chest. Something is definitely wrong. She thinks to herself, worrying her lip as she puts down the phone and grabs her mobile from her desk, standing up from her seat, her body rigid as she slowly walks down the hallway to Mr. Lannister’s office.

“Just play it cool, Dany. Tell him you’re working on an update.” She whispers as she tries to hype herself up, but each step she takes toward the door of her boss gets heavier and heavier, her mind running in circles thinking of the impending doom she’s about to face.

“Come in.” She hears his muffled voice from inside after three raps against the wooden surface. Daenerys takes a deep breath once more before twisting the knob, her eyes growing wide when she sees Mr. Lannister smiling widely at his computer. “Ah, Daenerys! Just the person I want to see.” He says as he greets her with open arms, gesturing to the seat in front of him after. “Please, sit.”

Daenerys closes the door with a soft click and makes her way to the vacant armchair in front of the oversized mahogany desk, her back straight as she sits at the edge of the seat, folding her hands over her lap.

“What did you want to see me for, Sir?” She asks and the smile on his face sends a shiver up her spine for she cannot decipher if his happy mood is just a front for something worse.

“Well, to start off, I wanted to inform you personally that I got busy in the past week.” He begins, his body rocking in the leather office chair, allowing himself to get comfortable.

“Which means?” Oh god, please don’t let it be a weird story.

“Which means—” he exaggerates, “that I took our slides and presented them to a potential investor alone.”

That grabs her attention; Daenerys leans forward in her seat as her eyes grow wide in anticipation. It surprised her that he did the presentation by himself as Mr. Lannister always took her to the meetings and had her do the pitch to their prospects. Because you know the business like the back of your hand, he told her before meeting their very first client when she asked him why she was the one proposing their venture.

“He sat on it for almost two weeks. Hence why I was in such a grumpy mood because he had too many questions about the app. But, he just confirmed today.” Mr. Lannister says with a wide smile.

“You mean—” Daenerys gasps and covers her mouth with both hands, her heart beating loudly from the excitement of such news.

“Exactly what I mean! We can start making the necessary changes to the team first thing Monday next week!”

“Oh, Mr. Lannister!” Daenerys squeaks in her seat, her hands shaking from the adrenaline running through her veins. “This is such wonderful news! All your hard work finally paid off!”

“Our hard work, Ms. Targaryen.” Mr. Lannister smiles and gets off his seat, taking a folder with him before walking around his desk and stopping in front of her. “That’s why I offer you this.” Daenerys blinks when he holds out the folder to her.

Her eyes grow wide as she scans the document within, tears suddenly rolling down her cheeks as she looks at her boss with utter shock.

“Mr. Lannister—I—” She sniffs and wipes away the tears, a small smile forming on her lips as she looks at the paper once more. “Are you sure?”

“Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me?” Mr. Lannister smiles and pulls the folder from her hold and takes both of her hands in his. “You have been a blessing to our company, Daenerys, and no one works as hard as you do.” He says with sincerity, giving her hand a light pat. “If anyone deserves this promotion, it’s you. And you’re the only one competent enough to oversee the whole project.

“I want you to make this your baby. Take care of it and do with it whatever you see fit.” He nods and releases her hands, giving back the document. “Review the contract. Make notes of what you want to be changed and we shall make it happen. You earned it, Daenerys. And with that, we shall celebrate.”

Mr. Lannister’s jovial mood doubles as he claps his hands, heading back to his seat and holding out a pamphlet to her. “I’ve had Pod make the reservations at Parallel 57 tomorrow night. The announcement will be sent in a bit. Bring your friends, your boyfriend if you have one, to celebrate with us.”

Daenerys couldn’t help the excitement running through her veins as she tucks the flyer into the folder, the smile on her face wide, mirroring the one of her boss’. She couldn’t believe that she was being offered a promotion in the company. After years of working hard and proving to everyone that she’s not to be looked over, it finally paid off. It gives her a leg up further into the company, a tier higher in the hierarchy. But most of all, being the first woman to lead a project.

And she did it all by herself.

She gives Mr. Lannister a full-blown smile, holding the folder to her chest. “Thank you much again, Mr. Lannister. I—I’ll forever be grateful for your trust towards me.” She says with so much awe, a sense of fulfillment and relief washing over her that finally all her hard work has been recognized.

“No, thank you, Ms. Targaryen.” Mr. Lannister grins. “As it is your presentation that saved us.”

A knock on the door takes her attention away from her boss, Daenerys moves to stand from her seat thinking that he has a meeting coming up and that she’s taken up the allotted time.

“Remain seated, my dear.” Mr. Lannister tells her and Daenerys obliges, looking curiously at the door when her boss walks over to it. “I would like you to meet the man who took on our proposal. And I do believe that that’s him at the door.” He says and takes hold of the knob.

Daenerys smooths her skirt down her thighs as she tries to look professional for the client that helped make their plans come to fruition. She wants to thank them personally as well, possibly get to know them, as she will be spearheading the project herself with the eventuality of working with the investor to meet their needs.

She looks at the door, ready to meet her boss’ guest but the smile on her face turns into shock, her heart beating hard in her ribcage when she sees Jorah by the door, his face mirroring her surprise.

Memories of him start to flood her mind, the bar, the night after, his business card, how she forgot to call him through the haze of her work. Her body goes rigid and she moves to stand up, schooling her features to prevent her boss from seeing her shock and wills herself to smile.

“Mormont. Glad you could make it.” Mr. Lannister greets Jorah but not once has his eyes landed on the shorter man, staying glued to her. “I would like you to meet the woman who’s worked so hard for this project. Daenerys Targaryen.”

“A pleasure, Daenerys,” Jorah says as he holds out his hand, Daenerys reaches over to shake it but gets stunned when he pulls it to his lips and presses a kiss on her knuckles.

“Ah Mormont. Ever the ladies' man.” Mr. Lannister teases before gesturing to the seat beside her. “Please, take a seat. We were just discussing the celebration for our new business venture.”

But Jorah doesn’t respond to her boss, nor does he let go of her hand, his eyes full of questions as he stares at her. And she doesn’t doubt that he wants to ask her why she never called, why she never showed her face to him again.

She wants to tell him that work has taken so much of her energy that she never found the time to do so. That the stress her boss showed about the project they’ve been working on transpires on her just the same.

“Mormont?” Mr. Lannister calls out to him and Jorah pulls away this time, taking a seat beside her and then facing the man behind the mahogany desk. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Jorah says, his demeanor changing in an instant and showing her boss a happy persona. “I was just taken aback at how beautiful your employee is. I should have dressed more nicely.”

Oh, but he already does. Gone is the leather jacket that she saw on him before, replaced with a navy coat and a yellow button-up this time, his golden chest hair peeking from the top as the two buttons remain undone. The memories of her running her hands through the softness of them filling her and tickling something within her.

The meeting lasts longer than she wanted, feeling herself squirming in her seat as each comment Jorah makes to her boss has an innuendo hidden within. And with how his hand cradles his chin, his tongue tracing the edge of his lips just brings her back to when that same tongue ran against her own lips. Both of them.

She leaves much in a hurry when Mr. Lannister dismisses them, Daenerys thanking both men for their time before she walks out of the office and scurries back to her desk.

But she hears her name being called out which stops her from her tracks, Daenerys looking behind to see Jorah following her, determination etched on his face as he walks towards her and takes hold of her hand, Daenerys willingly following him through the hall, and into a stairwell.

She tries to practice what she would tell him. To tell him the reason she never got to do as he asked. But she never gets the chance to do so as almost immediately, as the doors of the stairwell close, his lips crash onto hers, his hands framing her face as he presses her quite roughly against the wall.

The papers in her hand as well as the speech she was supposed to give him are forgotten as they fall to the floor and fly out of her mind, her hands wrapping around his neck as she presses herself against him, her lips moving just as eagerly and frantically on his.

She reaches down to pull his shirttails from his pants and slides her hand within the fabric to run it through his chest, missing the softness of his chest hair and how it tickles her hand. His lips then pull away from hers and press softly against her neck, kissing on the soft spot just at the base of her throat, Daenerys already feeling her panties dampening from his lustful actions.

“Jorah—wait,” She mumbles as she pulls her hand out from his shirt and presses her palms against his chest. But he doesn’t budge and keeps his lips on her skin, Daenerys willing herself not to moan, not wanting anyone to hear what she’s doing from within. “Jorah, wait—please,”

She hears him sigh and pulls away, a frown evident on his face as he closes his eyes and presses his forehead against hers. “You never called.” He says and Daenerys could feel her heart break from the pain that laces his voice. “Have I done something wrong? I came back to your apartment after my meeting that day but no one answered.”

“Jorah, no. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sighs and reaches up to cup his face, her thumbs caressing the apples of his cheekbones. “I just got so busy that I forgot. Tyrion has been grouchy the past few days because of this project. And it’s probably because you were taking so long to give him an answer.”

“I was trying to see how feasible it would be.” He explains, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he buries his face on her neck. “If I knew you were working with Tyrion, I would have said yes immediately.”

She sighs as the man envelopes her in a tight embrace, her body leaning against his as she tries to wrap her arms around him in return. Being busy at work was only partial to why she didn’t call him, that from the flurry between emails and video meetings, she constantly forgot about the black card on her desk.

But half of it was also that she refuses to give in to what the woman told her weeks past. That a man with his name would come into her life and help her take away the burden that shrouds her. It’s an enticing offer, a worthwhile bargain if she’s, to be honest, but she’s not entirely sure she wants to rely on someone to help her seek the happiness that she craves, the acceptance she yearns in any aspect of her life. To depend on the company of another in order for the loneliness to not swallow her whole.

She wants to lead her life the way she wants to and it's not by following the words of a strange woman that knows nothing about her, that knew nothing about her, yet revealed to her and her friend the very secrets she keeps within her.

But being in Jorah’s arms now, how his warmth cradles her and seeps into her bones, she wants to give in. She wants that prophecy to come true, for it to be real, that this man who’s just kissed her as if his life depended on it would be the one to give her true happiness. To hold her when things get rough and take her with both arms wide open. But it also frightens her that he would end up like the men in her past, that once the world titters into negativity, he would vanish and leave her all alone.

“Have dinner with me,” Jorah mumbles on her neck. “Let’s go on a proper date.” He pulls back and looks down at her with blue eyes so raw that she can feel herself drowning in them. “What time do you get off work? I’ll pick you up.”

Seeing him now, seeing how his eyes sparkle when he looks at her, how so many emotions pour out with just one look, she thinks that maybe being with this man is worth the risk. She’s never felt anything but security with him, even as they laid naked in bed after he’s taken what most men would want from a woman. He even searched for her and by fate and probably another coincidence, their paths crossed.

So she gives in. And even though she dislikes to do so, refuses to do so, she latches onto the words of the woman that night.

It shall only be when you let him.

“6pm.” She answers and Jorah gives her the biggest smile she’s ever seen on his face, echoing her words before he leans down once more to capture her lips.

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