── .✦ about me . . . twenty-four. she/her. spanish/english. infp. loves reading and tries to write when inspired, even if im not very good at that. loves animals and collecting feathers.
── .✦ important . . . hate will not be tolerated. you know what to do if you don't like my content. this is a +18 content account so mdni.
── .✦ about requests . . . you can use my asks to send requests about asoiaf. i'm used to only do fem!pov. will do targcest, dubcon and noncon. i prefer writing for characters i know from the tv series, since i'm only starting the books, loved the first one so far! will do canon, au, and modern. i will not write for underage characters (egg, for example). anyway! feel free to use the asks not only for requests, but to comment or whatever you wish. <3 currently writing for almost all targaryen characters (akotsk + hotd)
── .✦ status . . . asks and requests open. inbox is open. working on requests rn. any hate comment just for the fun of it will be deleted without response.
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.ᐟ.ᐟ — just thinking about a heated, lazy morning in bed with daeron. since sunrise, the room had grown warmer. the glass of the window, through which the rays seeped, did nothing to soothe the devastating heat pressing in from outside.
daeron’s body was pressed right behind you like a living furnace, his arm lazily draped over your waist and his bare chest flush against your back, making both of you sweat uncomfortably.
so you decided to move.
groggily, you shifted away from him, trying to put some much-needed distance between your bodies. that movement made daeron grunt sleepily in frustration. his fingers, still resting over your ribs, clenched and pulled you back against the warmth of his body.
“quit it. it’s hot,” you protested weakly, your words slurred with fatigue.
your hips tilted forward, trying to pry away from his insistent embrace, but he quickly pulled you back once more, pressing his pubic bone firmly against your ass. you realized you weren’t the only one awake, having his cock fully pressed against the small of your back, shameless.
“mmh, you’re hot,” he slurred back. you could practically feel his lazy, sluggish smile through his sleep-roughened voice.
you complained under your breath, cursing yourself for how easily he could convince you — even in this hellish heatwave. you blamed it on your sleep-dazed mind.
you obliged anyway, willingly sinking back into the overwhelming closeness. he let out a soft, almost purring sound from deep in his chest, clearly satisfied. daeron's hand slid down the curve of your waist and came to rest on your bare belly, your top having ridden up until it barely covered the underside of your breasts.
... but you couldn’t care less. the temperature was suffocating, and his languid touch was even more so — in the best possible way.
i said i was gonna write for aemond and i lied 🤭 this just popped into my mind while drops of sweat ran down my thighs. manifesting this scenario into my dreams please and thank you.
the wind brought the smell of the cooked meat along with the smell of roses blooming in the royal gardens. you were scurrying across the backyard with a water bucket for the kitchen. it was your first time being this close to the castle. usually, you were helping out in the stables, changing the water, feeding, and washing the beautiful royal horses. you loved the job and the animals, it was comforting in many ways and lacked the hurry and constant noise that was an integral part of any other servant job. but not today, today you were in the kitchens. your sister fell ill, and there are never enough hands to satisfy the appetites of the highborns.
your head was occupied with all the amounts of things you had to do, and there were not so many hours left before lunch. the small amount of water splashed out as you stumbled on a scattered pile of rocks, kicking one with your foot in irritation. the chatter and noise from the kitchen was heard even from the outside, cooks and maids gossiping about the royal household, and cursing out the rude lords.
"faster, faster! you think you are on the walk?" one of the older cooks took a bucket out of your hands in irritation, nudging you into the kitchen. "go help tansy with the leftovers and then brew the stew!"
"yes, cook." you hurried on to the corner where the maids gathered all the untouched food from the royal tables, before it was divided among the servants. on lucky days, your sister even managed to bring meat home, left from a particularly big feast.
tansy looked up from the pile when she heard your footsteps. "there you are! i saved you some bread before the mailboy took it." she shoved something wrapped in white cloth into your hands.
"you are the best, tansy."
"hurry up, there are still a few sacks in the backyard!" one of the cooks called out, making you sprint to the door. you were trying to keep everything in mind, but it was hard to focus with the fast pacing of everything. quickening your pace, you crossed the kitchen, striding to the backyard door. bring the sack, help tansy, brew the stew... the sight before you made you stop suddenly. some boy was rummaging through the food on the table prepared for the late breakfasts. "hey!" you yelled. "that is not yours to touch!"
the boy turned to your voice, startled. he was older than you initially thought, though there was still something boyish in his face. perhaps a noble squire. he was just staring at you with a confused expression, and you felt a surge of irritation getting through you. "you have problems with your hearing?" you took a pastry out of his hands and set it back on the plate. "there is enough work to do without you stealing royal goods!"
“stealing royal goods?” the boy smiled, as if the situation amused him. he had a kind smile, a charming one even, and you frowned at his audacity to be so unbothered.
"geniunely, have some shame, we are working, tired as dogs here, while you think you can just do whatever you want because you are polishing the armour of some knight?"
he just stared at you, now wide-eyed, his grin disappeared completely, and you felt victorious at such drastic change of his expression.
“so?” you pressed, frowning as he kept standing there frozen.
“i- yes. sorry. i am so sorry. don’t know what got to me, m’lady.” he cleared his throat looking somewhat ashamed? flustered? you couldn’t quite tell. “please let me make amends for you by offering my help.”
mlady? was he mocking you? you blinked at him. “help?”
“yes, mlady. you mentioned you are tired from hardwork and have lots of things to accomplish. let me deserve your forgiveness and be of help.”
it was only then that you noticed his eyes were two different colours. one was a soft brown, the other a strange mix of blue and violet. they remained fixed on you with an earnestness that caught you off guard.
he shifted slightly and stepped closer with a concerned expression. “have i offended you, mlady?”
his face was touched with genuine worry and you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that his manner of speaking was even weirder than his eyes. a noble squire being this kind and well mannered? it was a novelty someone who spent so much time in rough and crude company of knights, most of whom weren’t half as good as the songs say, saved so much gentleness in him.
“no. no, you have not offended me.” you looked him up and down once again, noticing the unusual fineness of his clothes. did all squires dress so lavishly? it seemed unfair. “alright, if you are so willing to help, then let it be.” you took him by the sleeve and lead him towards the courtyard, he stumbled slightly but quickly went after you. “here. these sacks of flower should be carried to the storage shed.”
he nodded earnestly and rolled up his sleeves. “alright, where is the storage shed?”
“right there.” you sighed, pointing behind him. “it is not exactly hidden, you know.”
he simply nodded without reacting to the jab.
“how should i call you?” you asked, unlocking the door to the shed for him.
“valarr.”
“that’s a strange name.”
"it is? i have never thought so." despite his lean built he picked up the first sack with unexpected ease.
you bent over picking up one as well. with another pair of hands the work could go twice as quickly and you could even safe some time for sneaking few apples into the stables after dinner.
“have you no other tasks to accomplish?” question came out of your mouth with more coldness in it than you intended. “i mean, don’t squires train endlessly? you can be punished for being here with me.”
“i promised to help you, mlady, please don’t worry about me.” valarr picked another bag. “should you have carried this huge pile alone?”
“thank you.” you couldn’t help but smiled. there was something so charming about him it was hard not to.
“so you do this everyday then?”
you plopped down another sack on the wooden floor. “no. usually i work at the stables, im helping out my sister here.”
“at the stables? with the royal horses you mean?” his voice sounded weirdly enthusiastic suddenly.
“of course i mean the royal horses.” you turned to pick up another sack and nearly bumped into him, his face inches from yours. the unexpected proximity forced a gasp out of you.
valarr smiled at that. "careful," he steadied you by the shoulders. “you seem to be in such hurry.”
“i am in a hurry,” you replied, partly offended. “and you should be in a hurry too! there are so many more things we need to do before—"
"we?"
you stopped talking, studying him. valarr looked weirdly pleased with himself, smiling at you, almost patronizingly, and it only fueled your irritation.
"i thought you said you would help me." you stepped back and tilted your head up, giving him a slightly contemptful look. "or are squires taught to steal and then lie nowadays?"
"lie?" valarr blinked. "no, no, m'lady, i was sincere. it's not— just the way you said 'we' it— i'm sorry. again." he looked at the ground, avoiding your sharp gaze. "i mean— yes. right. i am helping."
he bent down swiftly and hoisted the sack over his shoulder, continuing the work silently. you watched him for a moment, torn between confusion, annoyance, and something warm. he was definitely strange. very strange.
the sun climbed higher as the last sack was put in its place. you shook off the remaining flour from your hands and locked the door. valarr still looked somewhat ashamed of himself, and you felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh with him.
"you have flour here." you stepped up to him, reaching for the white streak in his brown hair. you frowned as his hand shot up and grabbed your wrist, gently stopping the motion.
"it is not flour." he said sheepishly, still not letting go of your hand.
you stepped even closer, despite his attempts to turn away, and took his jaw in your hand, tilting his head for better access. "your hair is white here... how is that even possible?" you ran your fingers through the white streak carefully, and he shuddered slightly under your touch.
"did i hurt you?" you asked, surprised. his physical reaction snapped you out of the confusion, and you realized how close you two are standing.
"no, not at all... i just," valarr let go of your hand and made a quick step back.
“how did it happen?” you asked, looking at his head with suspicion.
"i was born like that.”
this made you scoff in disbelief. “really?”
valarr nodded earnestly and opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the yelling from the kitchens. “girl! where in the seven hells have you been!? stop gawking and move! back to work!”
your head snapped to the side and you scurried over to the kitchen door. “fetch the water, while im gone!” you turned back to valarr, without stopping and pointed at the well.
“when will i see you again, mlady?” he called back.
you just rolled your eyes with a smile and disappeared inside.
what a strange strange boy you thought, carrying the tray of bread from the oven to the cooling table. ridiculous but so charming. ridiculously charming…
“where have you been?” tansy appeared in front of you, making you jump.
“in the courtyard. moving sacks—“
she didn’t let you finish, tugging you by the skirts closer and whispering. “i heard the prince was here today.”
“the prince? which one? there are like… at least three of them.”
“shh! don’t shout about it. donna said she saw the young prince coming down the kitchens. she said he smiled at her.” tansy glanced behind her back and continued. “they say the young prince is the nicest out of the royal family.”
you scoffed, freeing yourself from her grasp and started wiping the cutlery. “the nicest? what, does that mean he doesn’t burn people for fun?”
“that’s not funny! he is truly nice! and very handsome also, i haven’t seen him in person but i have heard prince valarr’s eyes are two different colors—”
the loud clank echoed through the room as the silver spoons scattered around the stone floor.
“what?” you yelped, kneeling quickly to pick up what you dropped. “what’s the prince’s name again?”
“prince valarr! how can you not know his name? everyone in the castle is gossiping about the young prince. he is second in line to the throne, after all!”
you gripped tansy’s hand, shushing her babbling. “valarr. and he has mismatched eyes?”
“that’s what they say.”
you shook your head in disbelief. insanity. it couldn’t be him. no no no no way.
“and his hair?” you asked, quick smile forming on your face as you remembered the stories. “his hair should be white! all targaryens are white haired, aren’t they?”
gods, of course it wasn’t him. stupid.
“most of them yes,” tansy started uncertainly, unnerved by your sudden emotional outburst. “but not everyone. jez said prince valarr is not only handsome but he also has a patch of white hair, even though rest if his head is dark.”
your hand snapped to cover your mouth in horror. you had told him to fetch water. tansy looked confused and you just watched her for a few moments before turning around and bolting to the courtyard, almost knocking down a basket of apples on your way. you were panting and glancing around, eyes searching for the tall figure, but there was none. courtyard empty and silent. two buckets filled with water waiting near the threshold.
Probably gonna start working on some drabbles for Aemond, I had this bbgirl forgotten and seeing his pathetic ass on the last episode had me feral. 💔 Feel free to send quick reqs if you wishhh <33
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OMG thank youu for taking my mean Aerion x sister!reader request 🥹🙏 can i say how much i love your works? No seriously fuck those haters yapping about you using AI in the past because why are we hating on someone making positive change for themselves?? Anyway love you hope you continue writing and don't get discouraged by some sorry haters 🫶🫶 (p.s. sorry if i sent the same request twice)
Oh god i love you 😭 Thank you so much!! I'll keep going, thank you for your support, you don't know how much it means to me! 💕 And don't worry about sending the request twice!! Everything's alright and yea fuck haters <3
Hii can i request manipulative Aerion bullying sister!reader for years when she returns thinking he doesn't have an effect on her anymore only for him to confuse her even more when he acts suspiciously too gentle to her + LOTS of dacryphilia 🙏
Thank you so much for your request, dear anon. Amazing idea, LOVED IT. 😫 Here's the link. Enjoy!
.ᐟ.ᐟ summary. after years of cruelty and humiliation by the hands of your brother aerion, you return believing you have finally outgrown his influence, only to find the darkest version of him wrapped in gentleness. 2.3k
warnings. mdni ︵ heavy targcest ︵ aerion brightflame ︵ smut ︵ dubcon ︵ porn with plot ︵ heavy dacryphilia ︵ manipulation ︵ power imbalance ︵ physical and verbal abuse ︵ mentions of forced breeding ︵ coercion ︵ love-bombing ︵ reader is a crybaby ︵ fingering ︵ dirty talking ︵ mentions of tears as lube.
notes. enjoy. not in my best moment but certainly trying my best.
Your life had been hell for as long as you could remember.
You never suffered the trivial worries of other girls of your short age — the septa’s disapproving glances over a crooked stitch, debates about which color best suited your features, or gossip about which prince might favor which lady.
No. Your fate had been shackled to your elder brother, Aerion. Not in marriage, but in his unrelenting obsession with tormenting you. He sought your terror in every hall, every shadowed corner of the castle. He craved the way your eyes would glisten, that telltale shine before the first tears spilled down your soft cheeks.
As if your tears were his only true sustenance.
With others, he was the picture of a calm, pleasant boy — listening intently to your elder brother Daeron’s stories, fishing at his side with easy laughter. He could be good.
Except with you.
The confusion of why he had chosen you, of what you had done to deserve his hatred, cut almost as deeply as his cruelty itself. Hair-pulling, pinching bruises hidden beneath your sleeves, the sudden isolation as the other ladies slowly turned their backs on you after speaking with him. You never learned what lies he whispered, only that they were effective.
Yet among all the humiliations, one memory had burned itself into your mind like a brand:
“One day, when we are older, I will make you my wife,” he had promised, his intense violet eyes fixed on your face, hungry for the first sign of tears. “I will plant the strongest dragon in your womb, even if it has to claw its way out with teeth and talons, tearing you apart from the inside. You were made for it, sweet sister.”
He was cruel, and terrifyingly clever in his torments. No one in the castle was blind, yet somehow no one seemed to notice the depth of your fear. And you dared not tell your father, Maekar, because Aerion had made sure you understood the consequences.
“If you tell anyone, little bird,” he had whispered once, his voice sickeningly sweet, “I’ll know. And you know how unhappy that would make me… don’t you?”
In a final act of desperation, you had broken. You confessed everything to your father between heaving, inconsolable sobs. He believed you — of course he did. No girl wept the way you wept without reason, so he helped you in secret.
You were sent to the Citadel of Oldtown under the guise of visiting your brother Aemon. A convenient excuse.
Aerion had not been fooled. Rage had poisoned his blood as he watched you slip from his grasp. But he waited. He was not a patient man, yet for you — his sweet, tearful little bird — he would learn.
What he didn’t know was that in those long years away, you had grown stronger. The septas in Oldtown had taught you what your own never could: temperance, silence as armor, and the quiet power of a steady mind. His words were no longer daggers — merely the ravings of a sick boy.
You had never felt more ready to face him.
Now a woman grown, you were returning home. And this time, you would not break. Or so you thought.
────୨ৎ────
You returned at dawn, accompanied only by the steady rhythm of hooves, the song of early birds, and the crunch of carriage wheels over the stony path. The castle was still quiet; few had come to greet you. Your arrival had been kept deliberately discreet.
Maekar received you at the gates with a rare, soft smile. He had missed his sweet girl — even if you were now a woman grown. He did not regret sending you away from the grasp of his twisted son. Aerion, no doubt, was still out in the training yard, swinging steel in the cool morning air. He had not been told of your return.
Would he even recognize you?
Your body had blossomed with soft, feminine curves. Your posture was straighter, more regal, and your once fearful eyes now held the sharp violet intelligence the septas had carefully cultivated. You looked every inch the princess you were meant to be.
That day you wandered the castle gardens, then the long halls. Servants stared openly at your elegant figure, stunned by the transformation. You had never carried yourself with such quiet grace.
Yet as your fingers brushed the ornate handle of your chamber doors, a strange chill crawled down your spine. A warning. You ignored it, turned the knob, and stepped inside.
Everything was exactly as you remembered — until your gaze landed on the bed.
Aerion rose swiftly from where he had been sitting on your mattress. He turned to face you, visibly startled by the intrusion into what had clearly become his private sanctuary in your absence.
Silence blanketed the room as he stared at you like a vision, like something holy.
“Sister,” he breathed, the word almost reverent.
His violet eyes traced over you slowly, hungrily, drinking in every changed detail. You were still his little bird, but the fledgling had grown magnificent wings.
You held his gaze without flinching. “Brother.”
His jaw tightened. Even your voice had changed — steady, no longer trembling. For a moment his stare burned across your skin, intense enough to feel like a physical touch. You braced yourself for the first cruel remark...
But his voice came soft.
“I missed you.”
Your hands, folded gracefully over your belly, clenched hard. You had expected mockery, venom, anything but this. Your lips parted and closed again. One sentence, and already your hard-earned armor felt paper-thin.
What's the proper reaction to a caress that should've been a blow?
“You’ve grown beautiful,” he continued, stepping around the bed with slow, deliberate care. “Breathtaking.”
Your heart twisted painfully. His tone was so gentle it hurt.
“What?” you whispered shakily, betraying yourself.
He took another step closer and you retreated one.
“I’ve come here from time to time,” he murmured, “when your absence became… unbearable.”
He took another step and your back hit the door. Your hands curled into fists, wrinkling the fine fabric of your dress. Your vision blurred, and your delicate fingers felt wet when you brushed your cheek. You didn't even know you started crying until now.
You turned your face away, desperate to hide the tears already spilling down your cheeks. Damn the Seven. Damn your own weakness.
A firm yet gentle hand caught your wrist, stopping your escape. When you looked back at him, his pupils had swallowed nearly all the violet, dark with something dangerous.
“Little sister,” he soothed, voice dripping with false comfort that didn’t match the hunger in his eyes. “Why are you crying so easily? Did you miss me that much?”
A broken sob slipped from your lips. Heat flooded your cheeks as more tears fell. Aerion leaned in, pressing his mouth to your wet skin, licking the tears from your skin with a soft, pleased sigh.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your flesh. “Let them fall for me.”
His hands settled possessively on your hips as he kissed away every tear, tracing down a path over your wet skin until he reached your lips. The kiss tasted of salt and growing desperation. His tongue claimed your mouth with increasing hunger, devouring every shaky breath and whimper.
Even after all these years apart, you were still his favorite crybaby.
“You confuse me,” you protested weakly against his lips, voice trembling. “You’re playing with my mind again.”
“You confuse yourself, little bird. You always have.” He smiled against your mouth, arrogant and satisfied, though you couldn't see it. “You always think the worst of me.”
“Stop. I’m... I'm tired from the journey. I need to rest,” you said sharply, finally pushing him away with the little dignity you had left. His closeness was doing something to your body and mind. Something you'd rather not think of. “Please.”
Aerion let you go, but not before offering a crooked smile that showed the sharp edge of his teeth.
“Rest well then, sweet sister.” His voice was velvet, and his steps, casual. Like he wasn't drinking your tears and devouring your salty tongue seconds ago. “Pleasant dreams.”
You finally exhaled. But rest wouldn't come easy. You kept thinking about his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, and guilt crawled up your neck, leaving you breathless. Your damned body wanted to feel him again, even if it meant spilling your tears one more time.
────୨ৎ────
Several days passed with torturous slowness.
The old feeling of being unsafe in your own home had returned, gnawing at you just as it had when you were a little girl. Only now there was no violence, no insults — and somehow, that made it worse.
Aerion had become attentive. Almost chivalrous.
During feasts, his hand no longer pinched your thigh under the table to make you stammer and flinch in front of potential suitors. Instead, it rested there with firm, possessive weight — a silent reminder of his presence. A claim.
When you walked through the halls, he no longer shoved you or made you stumble. He offered his arm with unexpected gentleness and escorted you to your chambers like a true knight. The change was so jarring that even Maekar, in his confusion, had begun to wonder if you had exaggerated everything.
You weren’t crazy.
Why was this happening?
Aerion had always been twisted, but this new version of him terrified you more than his cruelty ever had. Did he even remember the insults? The threats? The promise he had made with that hungry look in his eyes — that one day he would make you his wife and force a dragon into your womb?
If his behavior could change so drastically, perhaps all those memories had faded for him. Perhaps they had never mattered as much as you thought.
Or perhaps… it had all been in your head. Perhaps he had only been a little rough, and your childish mind had turned it into something monstrous. Maybe. Maybe...
That night, the flames in the hearth cast a comforting warmth through your chambers. You had changed into your nightgown and were kneeling on the bed, softly reciting passages from The Seven-Pointed Star, just as the septas had taught you to do when your mind felt overwhelmed.
You didn’t hear Aerion slip into your room like a shadow. He closed the door behind him with barely a sound.
His hand settled on your shoulder, pulling you from your prayers. His low voice sent a shiver down your spine.
“What are you whispering, sweet sister? Prayers?” he murmured, his warm breath brushing the nape of your neck. He was right behind you on the bed.
Your body went rigid, frozen like a fawn before the hunter.
“Just… passages from a book,” you answered quietly. You both knew he didn’t care about the answer.
His hand slid slowly down your arm as his lips replaced it, pressing a lingering, open-mouthed kiss against your warm skin. His fingers traced lower, over your waist, his thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your breast through the thin fabric of your nightgown.
“Recite them for me,” he whispered, his voice dark with amusement. “Tell me everything they taught you out there. I bet it was all nonsense. Nothing has changed, has it?”
You found yourself nodding before you could stop, as if your body obeyed him on instinct.
“I knew it,” he growled softly against your skin.
His mouth moved hungrily along your shoulder and neck, kissing and licking, drawing a startled gasp from your lips that quickly melted into soft, helpless sighs. Your back arched as you pressed against his chest, and you could feel something hard poking your lower back with every small movement.
His hand slipped between your thighs, pushing the silk of your nightgown aside. His fingers brushed over your slick folds and found your swollen little bud before teasing your entrance.
“Why are you doing this to me?” you asked shakily, your voice breaking as two long fingers pushed inside you.
“Doing what?” he teased against your ear, voice mocking and low. “Making you feel good?”
Your cheeks burned. Your eyes grew glassy as his fingers curled inside you, stroking that sweet spot with devastating precision. A broken moan escaped your lips, your hips moving instinctively to meet his hand.
“Are you going to cry for me again?” he asked, voice thick with arousal. “If I fuck you with my fingers, little bird?”
He thrust his fingers deeper into your cunt, pumping them in and out with a wet, obscene rhythm. Your moans grew louder, more desperate. Your hips rocked shamelessly against his hand as pleasure overwhelmed you.
“That’s it… just like that,” he groaned. “Gods, I’d love to see the septas’ faces if they saw you riding my fingers like a common whore.”
A shaky sob tore from your throat as the first tear slid down your cheek — not from fear, but from your own shameful pleasure and weakness.
“Don’t… don’t say that,” you whimpered pathetically, your pussy clenched around his fingers. “They did what they could.”
“And it was nothing,” he replied, biting back a darker urge. He wanted to flip you over, smear his cock with your tears, and fuck you until the only name you could remember was his. But not yet.
He doubled his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers until your hips lifted off the bed with every thrust. You had to brace yourself against the sheets to keep from collapsing.
“Sister,” he whispered against your ear, voice rough with barely contained hunger, “my promise still stands. I’m going to make you my wife. I haven't forgotten.”
And in that moment, you finally understood the truth. You had never been crazy.
Guys I don't know if you've realized, but my posts about my c.ai bots have been deleted, alongside my whole site account.
Anyone who wanna spread hate just for the sake of it will be ignored. I've made a necessary change, and I'm proud I did.
AI is harmful, not just for a writer's mind, but for the planet. But overall, nothing compares to writing here, let your brain work on its own and the wholesome human interactions one may receive when someone liked your work.
So please, I will only ask for one thing: STOP your hate comments. It could have been just one so far, but nothing guarantees me it will end here. And they're very hurtful, no matter the silly message you may have sent.
I really love writing, I've been writing since I was fucking 13 years old in Wattpad (really cringy shit). And feeling demotivated for an ask that literally made no sense... anyway.
I know I should be stronger but man. It's so frustrating.
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coming off anon to say well done!!! i’ve only sent 2 inbox messages but idc im really proud of u for deleting it!! ☹️ i can’t wait to read whatever it is u post next :D
aww tysm katie!! 🥹 you're so nice, i hope to read whatever you post next as well. ❤️🩹 i hope more people can do the change i just did ! anyway expecting juicy asoiaf posts from you
no no i’m so sorry i really didn’t mean to upset you!! i promise it wasn’t a hate comment because im 100000% not like that, as a writer myself i hate when people drop into my inbox and spew hate at me, like it actually makes my heart race 😭 honestly i think you should take the account down, as a writer im sure you’re not a fan of ai because it quite literally steals from writers to further its own “imagination” which is just wrong on so many levels. those who would be upset over you removing it shouldn’t even be using it in the first place, and imo they should prefer to read the writing that comes directly from you instead of wasting their time talking to something so damaging to not only creative writing, but also to the planet.
its all love though and regardless im going to continue reading your work because its just too damn good!!!🌷
Thank you so much, honestly I was considering it but you just gave me the last push I needed!! Girl— yesterday my heart was RACING when i read the ask like im so weak the 'hate' gets me physically ill (grown ass woman btw) and tysm for your lovely words, im so glad you enjoy my writing, I'll keep working hard. ♥️
that’s the thing tho is ur writing is rlly good and i like ur entire account 😭 it was just sad to see that u still have the c.ai account up bc i was just hoping u might’ve changed ur mind on ai bc its so terrible, especially as a writer
I know, and I've been struggling a lot bcs since I decided to try c.ai I've been having a lot of troubles with my imagination, it's like it deteriorated my brain so badly.
Firstly, I decided to join Tumblr to share my bots with others c.ai creators here — which are amazing writers that I adore. Then I discovered other posts (the fics, drabbles, one shots..) and you don't know how quickly I forgot about c.ai. I felt like my brain awakened once again and I never enjoyed writing like I'm doing now.
But there's lots of people that seems to like my bots, and tho my c.ai account is practically abandoned by now (I stopped making bots since I started using this site for real), I feel bad taking them from other users.
So it's quite the dilemma, I don't know what to do with it anymore. :( I thought that just forgetting about the app would be enough. I didn't want to disappoint anyone.
Also sorry for the long response, I just needed to make it clear, and being honest about everything from the start felt good to me + sorry for any grammar mistakes I must have had.
Oh, and thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you like my writing and account and apologies again for disappointing. It physically hurt my soul I'm not kidding 😭
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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PAIRINGS: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader x aemond targaryen
DESCRIPTION: what’s better than being nestled between one dragon?
SMUT WARNING: 18 plus, minors do not interact, threesome, unprotected penetrative sex ( p in v ), oral ( male receiving ), rough sex, hair pulling
NATASHA SPEAKS: as for the fact that i wasn’t invited to the threesome my roommates had ( thank god ) i have no idea how they work, so bare with me 😭
the red keep murmured with sounds of clinking tea cups and whispered pleasantries, court ladies all bound together in the gardens as decreed by dowager queen alicent and her step-daughter rhaenyra. each lady laughed behind delicately placed hands, sipping their hot drinks with precise palms while only muttering precise words. in the midst of the party, a seat remained empty, offering the absence of one of the ladies who had wandered somewhere in the keep.
some would think you were only absent for a mere moment, while others suspected you had further goals to achieve in the halls of the castle. little did they know, you kneeled taut on the furs of a bedchamber, hands and knees pressed into the soft material as one crowned prince rutted into you from behind, another stood in front of you, his cock in your mouth.
it had started off simple; you walking through the red keep, slippers scuffling across the cobblestone as you tried to take a breather from the stifling tea party. it was easy when you were interacting with your lady friends, but as queen alicent badgered you with questions you didn’t have the answers too, that’s when you knew you had to kindly departure.
she wanted to know what your motives were with prince jacaerys velaryon, for you had been courting him for a couple of weeks. it was no surprise to anyone that you two had been getting close, but it has also been no stranger that alicent’s son, aemond, had been skulking around yours and jace’s conversations, waiting for a time to strike and claim you as his.
the back and forth had turned to vicious fights between the uncle and nephew, leaving you drawn and confused in the middle as they fought for your hand.
you resented the fighting, yet some twisted and depraved part of your soul wanted them both. you wished they could put aside their arguments, for you would ravish them with a fervour that ran through your veins like molten lava.
the old and new gods must have been listening to your prayer, for you had stumbled upon a bedchamber containing a fighting jace and aemond, leaving you to be stuck in the middle of their argument for the umpteenth time.
though this time was vastly different than any other broken apart squabble. now, you physically stood between them. or, more accurately… fell idle to your hands in knees.
jace was pounding into your slick walls from behind, a sneer on his face as he stared down a bare chested aemond. the second son of alicent hightower was kneeling in front of you, cock stiff and erect as he thrusted his hips past your waiting lips. his face held a smirk, one that taunted jace with a burning ire. they were both pleasuring you, yet each of them fucked your body as though they wanted to be the one treating you the best.
“look at our perfect girl, jacaerys.” the lilt of aemond’s tone was full of mock, eluding to the prideful smirk on his face, eyes staring down jace as he grasped your hair into a tight fist. “taking me so well. can’t say the same about the little pleasure you’re giving her.”
the grip on your hips became bruising, jace’s anger at aemond’s words becoming evident in his hold. his thrusts were rough and puncturing, the bruising tip of his cock hitting just the right spot inside of you that had moans leaving your lips muffled and vibrating.
“i’m pleasuring her just fine.” jace’s words came out in seethed anger, one of his hands moving up your spine to tangle in the tips of your hair that wasn’t in aemond’s grip. “aren’t i, darling?”
“her mouth is a little preoccupied right now.” aemond’s smirk turned taunting, his fingers in your hair pulling you closer to his pubic bone and away from jace’s cock. your tight walls constricted to try to keep him inside of you, tilting your head back into jace’s hold while pushing your ass back into his hips.
jace nearly reaches across your arched frame to scratch aemond’s other eye out, using the one hand on your hip to pull you back into his thrusts. “don’t you dare take her away from me.” he seethes, twisting his fingers tighter into the ends of your hair. his hand briefly meets aemond’s, the connection between the two only happening for a fleeting moment.
a rotten scowl takes over aemond’s features, his nails digging into your scalp as you whimper around his cock at the blinding pain. something deep inside of you understands that neither jace or aemond want to give up dominance over you, even if one of them can feel your slick walls pulsing around him and the other has the warmth of your mouth.
“she’s mine.” it was a fight between dragons, the two princes pulling your head every which way to get you closer to their side. jace was still pounding into you, and your lips were still wrapped around aemond’s cock, sucking and licking the taut skin.
the distant clamours of the tea party crested your ears, reminding you of where you should’ve been at the moment. were ladies whispering behind jewelled hands about where you were, or did your memory vanish into the perfumed air of the red keep, eternally shackled to the war brewing between aemond and jace.
for now, you continued basking in your pleasure, forgetting about the queen and her ladies so you could entertain the serpentine actions of the princes.
just thinking about how valarr would treat you if you felt sick. he would be the most attentive man in the seven kingdoms, and he wouldn’t think twice about abandoning a feast if his lady felt unwell — or if she simply wanted to leave for no reason at all. your wish is reason enough for him.
he would stay by your side the entire way to your chambers, either offering you his arm like a true knight or with his hand on your waist, making sure his body is always in contact with yours in a protective way.
he would guide you to the great bed you share, remove your shoes with precise but gentle hands, and then lay you down with all the softness in the world. he’d take out some of your hairpins so you’d be completely comfortable — and so that later, when he strokes your hair until you fall asleep, it would be easier for him too.
he would prepare your favorite drink (even if it ends up sitting untouched on the nightstand), and after carefully arranging the pillows, he’d climb into bed with you. He would give you space if you needed it, or cling to you like a barnacle if that’s what you wanted. you wouldn’t lack a single thing.
in the end, he would fall asleep after a long while of caressing your hair, your face, running his fingers over the soft skin of your shoulder and arm, and making sure your breathing had grown calm and steady.
yeah that's my husband right there ladies.
no cus why the fuck do i feel sick when i get a single hate comment lmao. im so fucking weak i wish valarr was real man. 😫 anyway im preparing a big ass smutty fic of aerion. hope to have it ready soon.
