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huramuna · 2 months

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firehaired, lavendereyed -- oneshot.

mean prince regent aemond x pregnant wife reader

a sequel to foxfaced, dragonhearted. it can be read as a standalone, though! its not as dark or mean as the first one and is (kinda) fluffy. thank you @echos-muses for inspiring this!

word count: 2.5k

@huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, fluffy, meanish aemond, prob unhealthy relationship, emotionally constipated aemond experiences emotions, reader is described w/ auburn hair, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes, pregnancy

cloudbusting - kate bush • i bet on losing dogs - mitski

warnings: oral (f receiving), p in v, talks of choking and biting but its not in this fic, BREEDING KINK

Being the wife of a prince, a prince-regent no less, always felt like an honor. People would bow at you in the corridors, maids would bring you your favorite sweets without asking, courtiers would invite you to countless luncheons and extravagant events. It made you wonder, though– was it out of respect for your station– or out of fear for your husband?

He was constantly your shadow now, insisting on being with you at every waking moment ever since the maesters confirmed your pregnancy. His hand would constantly be guiding you on the middle of your back, towards whatever destination you were off to. He would insist you eat more for the babe, would rub your feet and prop pillows behind your back when you both retired for the day.

As he shepherded you into the throne room, he glanced at the courtesans and sworn lords alike– he had worn the crown since his brother fell from the sky in flames, burnt and scarred. He melded into the role like he was meant for it, as you so told him.

‘It looks better on you than it ever did on him, husband.’

‘Careful now, dear wife. That sounds treasonous, does it not?’

It wasn’t hard to spur him on into a feral state of being lately, as he adored your body filling out, belly stretching, breasts growing as you carried his child. His, his. He was still cold, in his way, of course– that would be something you would never pull him out of.

‘Husband?’ you had mewled softly as you came back from the maester’s chambers after receiving the news.

Aemond was sitting on the loveseat in front of the fire, one hand parting the pages of a book. He looked deep in thought, bristling slightly at being interrupted. ‘What?’

‘I’ve just come from the maester’s chambers,’ you started, walking slowly towards him like a skittish animal.

‘Why? Are you hurt?’ he closed his book with a loud snap and set it aside. ‘Come.’ he prostrated himself on the couch, legs spread slightly as an indication.

You lifted your skirts and sat upon his lap, as you do– as he commands, usually. It was easy to know what he wanted without words. He inspected your face carefully, turning you from side to side, skin taut between thumb and forefinger. Then, the back of his hand felt your forehead. ‘You aren’t running a temperature. You aren’t sick, are you, little wife?’

‘N-No… I had thought so with… the issues of late.’

‘Issues? What issues?’ he pressed, his lone eye boring into you with intensity.

‘I… ehm… have had an upset stomach– and… my…’ you blushed as you spoke. ‘My breasts have been tender.’

‘... hm.’

‘The maesters– they… inspected, thoroughly. They say I am with child… two moons.’

‘Pregnant. You’re… pregnant?’

‘Y-yes.’

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, not blinking. You had feared his reaction, you weren’t sure why, though. You knew your husband… liked you, didn’t he? In his own, special way. The way that he loved to call you stupid and bite you and choke you and never tell you that he loves you, except when lost in the throes of pleasure.

‘Husband?’ you squeaked out, anxiety swirling in the pit of your stomach at his lack of reaction. Aemond was good at concealing his emotions– but you could see the pupil of his violet eye dilating like a creature in the dark.

‘Good,’ he said simply, a hand on your waist, squeezing slightly. Then, a moment of recollection came over his face and he stopped squeezing, letting his hand laze on the curve of your body.

‘... good?’

‘Yes. Good. Do you wish praise for doing your duty?’ he grunted, already beginning to unlace your bodice. He wriggled it down your chemise and pawed one of your breasts. ‘Hm.’

‘W-what?’

‘They do seem… larger.’

He was gentle to you that night and every night after that. In touch and act alone– his words still left much to be desired.

As you both perused the throne room, approaching the iron throne, Aemond’s jaw clenched in irritation. You were well along in your pregnancy now, eight moons, and were quite round and stout, feeling all the part of a plump trout carrying eggs, trying to swim upstream–

“Where is the chair?” Aemond barked suddenly, causing you to jump.

“T-the chair, your grace?” one of the servants mumbled.

“The chair for my lady wife, you fool. Do you expect her to stand?” He thoroughly scared the daylights out of the poor servant, who rushed off to find a chair. “Incompetent.”

“... I pray he returns soon– my ankles are protesting this walk.” you murmured.

“If all of these prying eyes weren’t here,” Aemond whispered in your ear. “Mayhaps I’d have you sit with me on the throne.”

The thought of it sent a thrill through you, tingling all the way to the base of your spine and beyond. It was a wonderful fantasy, but you couldn’t get the logistics of it out of your head– you would certainly impale yourself on one of the unruly swords. “Mayhaps we can arrange something in our chambers after this, husband?”

Aemond uttered a sound between a growl and a quiet moan before guiding you further to your seat, now properly prepared. You leaned back on the chair, adorned with a pillow, putting a hand over your swollen belly.

As much as you appreciated Aemond’s… concern and vigilance with having you everywhere with him, you wished you could skip the tedious things. Your mind wondered the entirety of the session, tuning out the droning voices of the lords and only focusing on your husband’s. He sounded so powerful, commanding his lessers as if they were the sheep and he the shepherd. You didn’t lie when you thought the crown looked better on him than Aegon– Aemond was more suited towards this life.

You know he wanted it all– the title, the crown, but not at the expense of his brother, never at his expense– so he would have to be content with what he could make for himself. That included you and your unborn child. You wished so dearly that it would be a son, a son for him to continue his bloodline, his legacy.

Finally, the meeting ended and Aemond all but swept you off your aching feet to your rooms. He set you down on the bed and undressed you without much ceremony. “I couldn’t keep my mind off of you that entire time– if I were a lesser man… I may have not waited until our chambers to succumb to you.” he whispered, dragging kisses up from your knees, to your thighs and then your belly.

A gentle, but calloused, hand wrought over the stretched skin. He loved touching your belly, he couldn’t get enough of it– he was a scholarly man in all accounts, secretly in wonder of the machinations of the human body and how it could vessel something like another person. He would never admit this, of course, but you could tell just by how his eye roved your form, how he took in every detail. He parted your legs, swiping a finger between your already soaked folds– as it didn’t take much for you to become feral these days, either. You had been since he suggested the idea of the throne, forced to squeeze your thighs together through the duration of the hearing to relieve some of the ache.

“So wet for me already, are you?” he hummed, gathering your slick with two fingers this time and kissing your thigh, so close, so close to your aching center.

“... y-yes, husband– you kept me waiting,” you murmured. In your pregnancy, you’d become indignant and spoiled– and he let you. “So cruel.”

“Cruel?” Aemond questioned, a brow raised. “Cruel– you know me cruel, my dear wife,” he growled, parting your folds and licking a line from bottom to top. “Cruel would be… letting you sit for hours longer on the edge and not giving it to you,” he anointed his point by roving his tongue over your pearl, eliciting a keening whine from you. “Or mayhaps, not giving it to you at all. Shall I be cruel, wife?”

You shook your head fervently. “P-please, Aemond,” you panted, the heat of the moment and your out-of-whack hormones already making you perspire, sweat beading at your forehead. You felt like a bitch in heat, every touch of him on you was like a thousand sparks from a flint, trying to light your pleasure, trying, trying– but then dying, but it was always so close, on the precipice. “Touch me– don’t tease me.”

“Hm,” he roved it over in his mind for a faux moment. “You are doing so well carrying my child, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, please!”

“Mayhaps I will reward you for being a good wife, a good mother.”

“Please, my king,” you whimpered, using his title only reserved for bedplay. You wanted it bad, and he knew.

Once again, his pupil waxed and waned like the moon phases, like the ebbing and flowing tide– and then he began to feast upon you like the animal he truly was. His tongue roved over your sensitive core, suckling and nipping. Your hand flew to his hair, clenching it into your fist. He had become so expert in pleasing you with his mouth, something he only started after you became pregnant– you hoped this would stay.

“A-Aemond, f-fuck,” you cursed, throwing your head back on the pillow, clutching his silky strands between your fingers. “M-more, your grace–”

He lavished you like he was starved, not letting up at any point to even let you breathe– it was a constant assault on your clit, with only a few moments of relief when he caught his breath, looking up at you like the cat who got the cream, a smug grin on his face, the glisten of your essence on him. His thumb finished what his tongue started, kneading over your sensitive bud as you babbled and cried, fluttering around nothing as you came.

You heard the sound of his belt undoing, and his hand was in yours, guiding you to his rock hard member. “Don’t you see what you do to me, hm? I quite like you round, so full of my child,” he said as he lined up with your entrance, sliding in with no resistance. “Mayhaps I shall keep you like this and we will have an entire castle full of children.” he stayed upright, hands on your thighs. You still ached for his hand around your throat, so badly– but it wasn’t good for the babe.

He began a slow, almost lazy pace, staring down at you now as he loomed like a shadow, picking up his speed. As he sped up, he reached up and tore off his eyepatch, throwing it aside. The sapphire in his eye socket gleamed at you and you swore you could see yourself reflected into it–

It didn’t take long for him to reach his own peak, grunting and growling, balls tightening. His hand also itched so desperately to lace around your throat like a necklace, but his hand just twitched and clawed into the sheets as he emptied himself into you. He, regrettably to both of you, pulled out and encircled himself around you, arms resting on your ribs as you were lulled to sleep by his breathing and closeness.

You awoke, not knowing how many hours later, to him speaking. “Nyke jaelagon ao emagon aōha muñnykeā's pungos.” I hope you have your mother’s nose. “Ao'll rhaenagon gūrēñare lēda iā egros rȳ izula. Iā kostilus tōma. Aōha muña kessa daor hae ziry, nyke gīmigon.” You'll start training with a sword at age four. Or perhaps five. Your mother will not like it, I know.

His head was laid near your belly, faced away from you, his hand draped over it softly. He didn’t know you were awake– he was… speaking to the baby. You could only catch bits and pieces of what he was saying– but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a conversation for you to know. You closed your eyes once more.

–

“M-may the mother… guide me… and bless me with a son,” you murmured. “Bless us with a son, please.” you groaned as you tried to get up, your knees bruised and sore. You had been praying every day for the last fortnight as your delivery loomed closer. You feared to give him a daughter– as accompanying as he’d been during your pregnancy, you knew… you knew what he wanted. And you knew it was a coin flip to give him what he wanted.

You felt heavier than usual, finding it difficult to get back up after being down for so long– you felt a strain in your lower back, then an acute pop. A gush of wetness flowed down your legs. “A-ah– ser!” you called to your sworn sword, a member of the Kingsguard picked by Aemond specifically to be with you at all times when he wasn’t around. Presently, Aemond was taking a ride upon Vhagar. “Ser!”

“My lady?” the Kingsguard rushed in, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

“T-the… the babe–”

–

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Aemond growled, stalking through the corridors as he paced to the maester’s quarters.

“Y-You were in the sky, your grace– we didn’t know how to reach you–”

“Fuck’s sake– is she alright, then?”

“Yes– uhm…”

“Uhm? What? Is my wife alright or not?!”

“Yes– she and the babe are alright.”

Aemond fumed as he opened the doors, eye zeroing in on the maester, then you. You were mortified, crying, holding a little bundle against your breast.

“A-Aemond,” you croaked. You were shaking like a leaf.

“Congratulations, your grace,” the maester spoke. “It is a healthy baby girl.”

Girl.

You couldn’t stop sobbing as you watched his face, impassive, turn to confusion, to longing, to grief, to anger, to…. Nothing. He stared at you blankly then.

“Aemond– please– I- I prayed to the Gods every day for a son, I’m sorry,” you blubbered. “I’m so sorry–”

“Don’t.” Aemond’s voice snapped like a whip as he walked closer. “Let me see the babe.”

You offered the bundle to him– a baby girl. She had curls of red hair like you and lavender eyes like her father. Sensing movement and a change of presence, the baby sneezed, staring up at her father. He stared back, his expression unreadable. “Vaella. Her name is Vaella.” he didn’t ask, nor suggest. He declared. Glancing back at you, he spoke quietly. “We will just have to try again, won’t we, wife?” His tone was like a fog upon you– it was proposed like a thinly veiled threat, a promise– but then his gaze softened almost imperceptibly. You wonder if you imagined it. “Kirimvose, ñuha dōna ābrazȳrys.” Thank you, sweet wife. “Ñuha hūra,” My moon. He turned back to Vaella, whispering. “Se ñuha qēlossās.” And my stars.

–

Aemond ended up getting his heir and then some, a year and a half later. You gave birth to triplets. All boys.

Maegon, Vaelar, and Rhaelor.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #my writing

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outlawyunho · 8 months

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Choso can't believe you're here with him. He has to keep touching you -trembling fingers dancing across the bare skin of your thigh and hip- just to make sure you're real and not just some figment of his horny imagination.

It wouldn't be too far off really, he's dreamed of having you here, naked with the orange glow from the setting sun warming your body. His red sheets are tangled between your legs, chest rising and falling with every deep breath.

You're beautiful, but like this you're mesmerizing. His fingers trace lines from the dip of your hip to the swell of your breast, your body shivers unconsciously, reacting to his touch while deep in your slumber.

"So pretty." Choso mutters into the side of your jaw, a featherlight kiss of his lips upon your skin. You turn your head towards him, nuzzle your face closer to his and his heart nearly bursts in his chest.

Something called love has wove its vines around his hardened heart. Choso knew from the moment he saw you, the way your smile left him breathless, how your touch made his skin vibrate. He's loved you for so long, before you ever had even talked to him and now -somehow, someway- you were his.

"Mine." He whispers, lips resting on your forehead as his hand cups your heat. You're wet to the touch and it makes him groan. Makes his cock throb and his heart race. Even in your sleep you get so wet for him. Only him.

He lazily drags his middle finger through your folds, slick gathering on his finger tip, a deep heavy groan gathering in his chest.

He can't help when he pushes his finger past your wet hole, can't help thrust it as deep as he can searching with the pad of his finger until he finds that soft spongy spot that makes you drool. He may be a novice at sex but he knew your body. He was observant, attentive, desperate to please you; and boy was he good at it.

You squeak a moan out, eyes fluttering open, mouth dropped wide. "C-Choso?" Your voice is the richest honey, sweet and sticky in his ears. It spurs him on, has him adding his ring finger, thrusting faster. He wraps his lips around your nipple, heart thudding when you keen and rake your fingers through his messy black hair.

"I-I'm…" You can't speak, unable to really breathe as you gasp, thighs shaking and clenching around his wrist. He lets your nipple go with a wet pop, smiles devilishly up at you, violet eyes locked onto you as they have always been.

His. His. His

"Is my good girl gonna cum for me?"

#i need him so bad im not even sorry #choso kamo #choso kamo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk choso #choso kamo x reader #choso smut

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

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Did someone say cowboy Sevika?

Absolutely delicious, I have thoughts.

Theres the classic off limits farmer’s daughter dynamic, which is to die for every time, but I thought what about a farmer’s widow? All lonesome on her big empty property, she hires Sevika for some extra help and then the tension is off the charts!! I think it would be ideal for a long, slow burn style fic. Draw it out, make them drool over each other for a bit til they can’t take it anymore

For a blurb idea what about Cowboy Sevika teaching the reader to ride a horse? It could be cute and flirty or it could get nasty lol whatever you’re in the mood to write!

Also let’s take a moment to imagine her tying those fancy cowboy knots. Rope steady in her big rough hands. She’s stripped down to her used to be white tank top, you can see her muscles flexing while she pulls it taught. She’d be all sweaty and you innocently walk over to her, pluck her bandanna out of her pocket, and dab away the droplets on her forehead. You tuck it gently back into the front pocket of her tight, dirt stained jeans and saunter away so sweetly. She’d want to chase you down like a wild animal in heat after that

the last paragraph here made me dizzy. thank u.

ur the second person to request a 'teaching reader how to ride horseback', mars, @sexysapphicshopowner , being the first! so lets do that ;)

part 1 of cowboy sev here, part 2 here!

men and minors dni

you're now the only one in your little mis-matched family who doesn't know how to ride horseback.

sevika's been riding since before she could even properly walk. powder took to it like a fish to water. violet was a little more hesitant, but figured it out in time. and now all three of them are trying to convince you to learn.

you've never needed it. you were born and raised in this town, everything you need is within a mile's walking distance. but, they're insistent.

you've ridden horseback before, clinging onto sevika as she controls shimmer's pace, but you've never been in control of the reigns. it seems scary, being that high up, going that fast, the only person keeping you from going flying off shimmer's back being yourself.

and now, sevika's got you in the stable, grinning at you as you hesitantly look at shimmer. powder and violet have been asleep for hours, exhausted after working in the garden all day with you.

"can we just go for a quick trot with you in front?" you ask, pouting at your wife. she laughs. "just so i can see you do it!" you insist. she rolls her eyes, then lifts you up by the waist, helping you straddle shimmer's back, before hopping up in front of you.

you press your grin against her shoulder, quickly wrapping your arms around her waist. she laughs in front of you, giving shimmer a little tap with her spur, the mare slowly trotting out onto the main street.

"you're such a baby." sevika teases. you pinch her side, watching her wiggle.

"i'm just lucky. got a wife who knows how to ride so i never had to learn." you say. you can't see her smile, but you can tell she's grinning in front of you.

sevika slowly walks shimmer down the main street, picking her pace up to a cantor when you get out of town.

the three of you ride out into the desert, and you tilt your head up to soak in the sight of the stars above, sighing as the wind whips past you.

"you're not even lookin' at what i'm doing." sevika laughs ahead of you. you giggle.

"stars 're so pretty sev. look." you say.

sevika brings shimmer to a stop, tilting her head up to look at the stars with you.

"hm." she says. you squeeze her waist.

"what?" you ask, enjoying the heat of her back pressed against your front.

"they're pretty, i guess. nowhere near 's pretty as you." she says. you grin.

"sap." you say.

it's summer, but this late at night, the desert is chilly. you sneak your cold fingers up under sevika's shirt, watching her jump, then giggling when she elbows you. you don't move your hands. she doesn't ask you to.

for a few minutes, the two of you just stare at the sky, the vast expanse of stars and planets before your eyes.

it's a new moon, and without her shine, all the stars in the galaxy are visible.

shimmer shifts beneath you, and sevika laughs.

"she hates waitin' around." she says. you smile.

"just like you." you say. sevika laughs, nudging shimmer's side, letting her trot around the empty expanse of the desert.

you hook your chin over her shoulder, watching how her hands hold the reins, how she uses them to gently guide shimmer to and fro.

beneath your fingers, you can feel her belly rise and fall with each breath she takes. a smile ticks up at the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head to press a kiss to sevika's neck.

she goes stiff in your arms.

"what're you doin'?" she asks. you smile against her throat.

"'m watchin' you." you say. "learnin' how to ride."

"you don't need any help learning how to ride." sevika says. you laugh at her horrible joke, pinching her waist. she chuckles.

"speaking of..." you start. sevika snorts in front of you.

"yeah, darlin'?" she asks. you nip her neck.

as much as you both love powder and violet, their abrupt entrance into your lives has left your sex life in shambles.

it's not like you're not having sex. it's just that you can't have it like you used to.

when you used to spend any spare moment the two of you had sprawled out in bed, naked and sweaty and kissing, now you gotta keep your romps quick, lest the girls get in trouble while they're unsupervised.

plus, with the nightmares that violet's been having, paired with powder's separation anxiety toward her sister, a majority of your nights as of late have ended with the four of you piled up in your-- used to be-- marital bed.

you've just had to get a little more creative. you and sevika have been doing a whole lot of 'chores' in the stable, trying to avoid shimmer's judgmental eyes as you fuck against the haybales.

and now... out in the desert, with sevika pressed against you and nobody out here beside you, your wife, and the stars... now seems like the perfect opportunity to get creative.

slowly, you inch your hands down sevika's abdomen, taking a moment to admire the firmness of her rippling abs shifting with each step shimmer takes. she chuckles huskily in front of you, and you begin sucking a hickey against her neck.

"insatiable." she says. "'y had me this morning while we were 'pinning the laundry to dry'." you hum.

"want me to stop?" you ask. she laughs out loud, a bright, echoing thing.

"hell no." she says. you grin, and continue trailing your fingers lower, fiddling with the button of her chaps.

shimmer continues her aimless trot, slowing occasionally to munch at spare patches of grass, knowing that you and sevika are in no rush to get anywhere.

when you slide your hand down her pants, she sighs, leaning some of her weight back against your chest. you pepper kisses against the side of her face, trying to give every branch of the scar on her left cheek a solid smooch. she giggles against you, then moans when your fingers start working against her clit.

"you're wet already." you mumble against her. she hums.

"knew this is what you were workin' up to the second you asked me to ride in front first." she says. you chuckle. "i'm never gonna get you to learn to ride, am i?" she asks.

"mmm, maybe someday. don't need it now, though, do i?" you ask. "not when i've got you." you say.

sevika sighs and turns her head to capture your lips in a kiss against hers. you hum against her mouth, nipping her lip as you start rubbing her clit in slow circles.

"fuck." she sighs, turning her neck back around to watch where shimmer's going. "i love you." she whispers. you smile and nip her neck.

"love you too." you say, trailing your free hand up her chest to fondle her breasts.

sevika's tits are sensitive, you've made her cum from your hands and mouth on her chest countless times before. she shudders against you, her back arching as she shoves her chest further against your hand. you snicker, and start to gently fiddle with her nipple.

"fuck-- your hands." she says.

"'s kinda what you're doin' now, baby." you tease. sevika snorts, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as you increase your pace on her clit, sinking your teeth into her neck as you pinch her nipple.

"y-you're horrible." she chastises you for the joke. you giggle against her.

"you close?" you ask. she laughs.

"yeah." she says.

shimmer lets out a sneeze-- clearly disapproving of the activities happening on her back, and you giggle.

"she's sick of us." you say. sevika sighs.

"she, fuck, she's so judgmental." sevika whimpers.

"should be gettin' back soon. 's almost midnight-- violet's gonna have her nightmare soon, we should be there when the girls come lookin' for us.' you say.

"fuck, can we please not talk about the kids while you got your hand on my cunt?" she asks. despite her complaints, sevika tugs on shimmer's reins, turning her back toward town as you work your hand against her.

"y' better hurry up. we're only a few minutes away from town." you say. sevika groans. "need some encouragement?" you whisper against her ear. she shivers, and you smirk.

"shut up." she whispers. you grin, knowing that sevika's 'shut up's tend to mean 'keep talking.' especially in the bedroom.

"you sure? y' don't want me to tell me how much i love you? how perfect you are for me?" you tease. sevika's thigh shakes against shimmer.

"fuck."

"my cowboy. my wife. so strong and handsome, givin' up her life of crime just for me. gotta compensate that kinda sacrifice properly, don't i?" you ask. sevika whines. "fuck, 'n you look so good when you're on shimmer's back. why would i wanna learn to ride when i could just watch you instead, hm?" you ask.

sevika lets go of the reins with one hand to grip onto your arm. you kiss her cheek.

"cum for me, pretty thing. if you're lucky, maybe i'll wake you up before sunrise to help me 'feed the chickens.'" you say. sevika whines, remembering the last time the two of you used that excuse-- you ended up with sevika's tongue inside of you, your back against the coop as she knelt on the shitty ground, clawing at your thighs. "c'mon sev-- give it to me, baby."

sevika cums with a resounding "shit!" shimmer spooks a bit, jumping and bucking beneath you, and you both squeal as you hold on to the mare while she calms down.

sevika's cunt is still fluttering beneath your palm as she pulls on shimmer's reins to bring her back to a walk as the shimmering lights of town become visible ahead. you hum against her, ducking your fingers down to gather her cum from her dripping hole, before pulling your hand out of her pants and popping your fingers in your mouth.

you moan. sevika moans. shimmer grunts, a disgusted little noise.

"fuck." sevika sighs out, her back slumping against your chest. you giggle, removing your hand from her tits to button up her pants, before giving her cunt a little pat over her chaps. she jolts. "hey!" she says, giggling. you grin against her neck, pressing another kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

just before shimmer starts down main street, sevika pulls her to a stop with a "woah, girl."

you're about to ask her what she's doing-- the tavern about two hundred feet away, but sevika answers your question before you can get it out when she turns her head, grabbing your chin with her fingers and smashing your lips together.

you sigh against her mouth, nipping on her tongue when she swipes it against your lips, giggling at the little involuntary twitch of her thigh.

she pulls away with a sigh, looking into your eyes dreamily.

"i love you more than there are stars in the sky, darlin'." she says. you smile against her lips.

"i love you too, my sweet wife." you say, reaching forward to snap shimmer's reins, letting the horse lead the two of you back home. sevika raises an eyebrow at you and you smile. "see, i did learn a little somethin'." you say.

sevika laughs.

"guess i gotta take you out for ridin' lessons every night, huh?" she asks. you grin.

"i wouldn't mind that at all."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#i know nothing about horses so have some smut hahaha #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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cambion-companion · 1 year

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hello!! could you write with aemond where he introduces the reader to vhaegar and he takes her riding?

*rubs hands together* alright my lovely Anons, I cooked up something that includes all of the above ^.^

Masterlist here

Aemond x pregnant!reader | I serve you all the fluffs

You were trembling, and you knew your husband could feel the shaking in your hands as you gripped his leather-clad elbow like a vice.

“Y/N.” Aemond soothed, petting your hair with his free hand. “She won’t eat you; this I promise.”

You were walking together in the predawn light, down the sloping hills outside King’s Landing, where Aemond knew his dragon took up residence, being too big for the Dragon Pit. Your belly was round with his child, and Aemond had taken great care in leading you along the rugged terrain.

Already you could make out the massive form of the drowsing dragon, curled up on the wide beach. You balked, jerking Aemond back with you, running a nervous hand along the curve of your abdomen. Aemond’s gaze was drawn to where you caressed, his face softening to that honeyed expression he only wore in your presence…a sort of reverence. He turned toward you fully, placing his hands around your baby bump, bowing to place a soft kiss there. Long silver hair spilled over his shoulders as he straightened, placing his lips to yours, gently tracing your jaw.

“Vhagar will know you carry my child. I look forward to her reaction upon seeing you.” He took your hand encouragingly once more. “There is nothing to fear, my fire.”

Upon hearing the familiar nickname your husband had given you, a smile tugged at your lips. With renewed bravery, and a dose of curiosity, you allowed Aemond to lead you down the hill and onto the sandy beach.

Vhagar marked your approach, raising her head, yellow eyes surveying you and Aemond with interest.

“Rytsas, Vhagar!” Aemond’s commanding voice boomed to greet his dragon. “Bisa iksos issa ābrazȳrys.”

Still supporting your swollen belly with one hand, you leaned into Aemond. “What did you just say?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“I greeted her and said you are my wife.” You were very close to the dragon now, craning your neck to look into her eye. Her hot breath washed over you, blowing your hair away from your face in a rush.

“You can touch her.”

“I can…what?”

Aemond chuckled, lifting your hand still interlocked with his, and guiding you forward slowly until you felt the iron scales of Vhagar’s snout under your fingers. Despite yourself, you reveled in the feeling of the dragon’s hide, stroking along the rigid skin. It reminded you of tree bark in a way, and you felt Vhagar press gently against you in return. She made a contented grumble deep in her throat, sounding like a hundred earthquakes, yet a quiet noise for the enormous creature.

“She likes you.” Aemond whispered, tucking his chin into the crook of your shoulder from where he stood behind you. He placed a warm kiss to your neck. “Would you like to ride her?”

Your heart stuttered at the thought of mounting such a great beast. “I am quite content with my feet firmly upon the ground, thank you.”

Aemond tugged you to Vhagar’s side, the dragon’s eyes still upon you, and gestured to the rope ladder that led up to a distant saddle you could just make out upon her back.

You turned to your husband incredulously. “You’re going to make your pregnant wife ride the largest dragon in Westeros?”

He tilted his head at you, a smirk curving his lips. “How many times have you asked me to recount the experience of dragon riding? How often do you give me cheek for not taking you with me?” He gestured behind you to where Vhagar watched. “She has met you; she knows you are mine and carry our child within you. She will be gentle with you, as I desire it.”

The fervor with which he spoke, the violet fire in his eye, spurred you to action. “Don’t let me fall, Aemond.” You warned, placing a foot on the first rung of the ladder and hoisting yourself up.

“Never, my lady.”

Sure enough, Aemond was right beneath you the entire ascent to Vhagar’s back. It was tough work, made more awkward by your pregnant condition. Arms shaking, you made it to the saddle and Aemond was quickly at your side, helping you straddle the leather seat. He tied you securely in place, and slid in behind you, tying the ropes about his own person as well. You felt his arms come about you firmly, his breath tickled your ear. “Say ‘sōvegon’. That means ‘fly’ in Valyrian. ‘Dohaeris’ means ‘serve’, though I doubt you will need to use it.”

You leaned into his warm embrace, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. “How do you get a dragon to breathe fire?”

“Perhaps we will save that for a later date.” Aemond laughed lightly, squeezing your thighs.

Vhagar’s head was so far distant from where you sat, you wondered if she’d be able to hear you. Gathering as much air as possible in your lungs, you shouted, “Sōvegon, Vhagar!” A shifting beneath you, like an island coming out of the sea, caused you to squeal and clutch at Aemond’s hands.

“Once more, tell her to fly.” He prompted, voice loud in your ear as Vhagar got to her feet, stretching her mile-long wings.

“Sōvegon!” Your vocal cords already felt sore, but your shout did the trick.

With lumbering steps, and a great flapping of wings, Vhagar gained speed and launched herself into the clear sky. Birds fled the area in haste as the great dragon soared ever higher, the landscape below growing small beneath you, the Red Keep and surrounding cities looking like mere toys.

A thrilled laugh, sounding crazed even to your own ears, left your chest as the wind whipped about you. You felt Aemond’s arms encircle your belly protectively, holding you and your unborn baby tight. He placed his mouth upon your exposed neck, sucking small kisses down to your shoulder.

You had never felt so free, so wild and yet safe, loved in the arms of your Targaryen husband. You spread your arms wide, mimicking the soaring of the dragon you now rode. The wind breaking across your body, numbing your skin. The rising sun reflected its pink light upon the ocean surface, the sparkling water winking up at you, distant waves lapping at golden shores.

You heard Aemond in your ear, voice straining over the rush of wind. “Tell her ‘Gūrogon īlva lenton’. Take us home.”

You repeated the words, shouting to Vhagar. Aemond laughed, “Not ‘leyton’, my love, ‘lenton’.

You corrected the phrase, and the dragon dipped gently to the left, circling back to where you had started, slowly descending back to earth. Your heart swelled as Vhagar’s feet impacted with the ground once more, you could tell the large creature made a concerted effort to be gentle. Aemond’s words proved true, she did have at least some inclination of your delicate state.

Your husband undid the ties binding you to the dragon saddle, descending before you, offering help when you needed it as you climbed the ladder once more. Your knees shook upon impact with the sand, Aemond’s hands on your waist steadying you as your balance returned.

“That was…unlike anything I could possibly imagine!” You beamed up at him. “How do I say ‘thank you’?”

“Kirimvose.” Aemond released you, lingering behind as you approached Vhagar’s face once more.

You reached out to touch her skin, stroking it, wondering if she was able to even feel you there. “Kirimvose, Vhagar.”

She made the same low rumbling sound, this time softer, in response. You turned and made your way back to Aemond, who stood observing you with a soft smile upon his face.

“Can we stay for a little while, watch the sunrise?” You asked, taking his arm and slowly walking together toward where the water lapped at the beach.

“Of course, Y/N. This day is yours, to do with as you please.” His low voice was sweet as he stopped to gaze at you, drinking in your every expression, the golden light of morning lighting his handsome face.

“Aemond…how do you say ‘I love you’ in Valyrian?”

“Avy jorrāelan.”

“Avy jorrāelan, my dragon.”

He gave you a radiant smile, pulling you to him and kissing you, the taste of salt air fresh on his lips. “And I love you, my fire, my hearth, my home.” He punctuated each affectionate phrase with a kiss to your face. You scrunched your nose at him, giggling as he kissed at the ticklish spot under your jaw.

Behind you, Vhagar made another of her contented noises, rumbling the earth beneath your feet. You and Aemond remained tangled in each other’s arms as the sun rose into the sky, heralding a new day, blessing the small family you had begun with the man who would forever own your heart.

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beansprean · 1 year

Text

Art for the Exchangeapalooza gift I got from dear @yougoadedme!!! Ranch N' Rider Weekly: Special Edition - please go read it it's so good

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Marwa dressed in cowboy boots, jeans, and a pink flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. She has one boot up on the bottom slat of a wooden fence and one hand braced on the top slat, the other in her hip as she grins into the distance. The background behind her is a rolling green field and rows of pine trees in watercolor. She is wearing a gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring.

2. Waist up of the Djinn, human, on a vague purple background, dressed in a flannel version of his salmon shirt tucked into his usual brown trousers. He is smiling indulgently, looking up over his glasses and holding up a bottle of margarita mix in one hand and tequila in the other. The margarita mix reads "EZ Margs - Delicious Margaritas at the snap of your fingers." The Djinn says, "I live to serve...liquor." He is also wearing a gold wedding band.

3. Guillermo sitting at a coffee table on a vague real background. There are a few black playing cards with white writing sitting on the table and Guillermo is on the side closest to the viewer, topless, and turned around to face the viewer with a sour expression. His face is flushed red and sweating, eyes darting away from the image before him. The image before him is this: human Nandor, having leaped fully onto the table in a crouched position in nothing but a white jock strap with pink hearts, flexing both of his arms with a triumphant grin and crowing, "I win!!"

4. Close up of human Colin Robinson, aged about 7 or 8, wearing a green flannel open over a red tee shirt. He is grinning excitedly, eyes shining, as he places a cowboy hat with a beaded turquoise band over his head. No less than five speech bubbles full of unintelligible babbling surround him.

5a. Nandor and Guillermo stand in a paddock, the former wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up tucked into jeans with a silver horse belt buckle and the latter wearing a blue embroidered western shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a light brown cowboy hat. Nandor has his back to Guillermo's front and a leather bridle looped around his neck and shoulders. He holds the bit in his hands, but the ear strap is pressing directly into his throat. Behind him, Guillermo is holding the reins in both fists and is pulling them taut so Nandor is forced to lean back into him. Nandor's face is flushed, expression dazed and struggling to be stern but clearly not altogether displeased with the situation. He mumbles, "Guillermo, what...are you doing?" Guillermo's eyes are wide and wild, as if he isn't fully in control of his actions, face red and sweating profusely. 5b. Behind them, Colin, wearing a red cowboy hat with a strap and a long sleeved yellow shirt under an orange tee shirt that says 'Lego my Eggo' with a picture of a Lego waffle, stares at his uncles from atop a horse. The horse, Glitterfoot, is gray with a lighter mane and darker nose and ears, a white blaze down his face. He is properly tacked up western style, the reins in Colin's loose hands. Glitterfoot is also staring at the other two men, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he and Colin await instructions.

6. Guillermo and Derek sit across from each other at a table in a bar. A neon sign on the wall says "Sassy Cat Bar & Grill & Tack & Feed & Haberdashery. Mon-Sat 9am-12pm 2pm-2am" Guillermo, wearing an untucked red-violet flannel and jeans, is sitting with his back to the viewer. The back of his wooden chair has a burnt-on design of a rearing horse with a cat on its back, wearing spurred boots and waving a cowboy hat in the air. The Guide, human, leans one hip on their table and stares at Guillermo with a flirtatious grin, pen and notepad poised and awaiting their order. She is wearing a sparkly black beret, hoop earrings, a black and purple flannel shirt mostly unbuttoned tucked into a high waisted jean skirt, a gold horse belt buckle, and sparkly black thigh high cowboy boots. Her hair is curled and teased out big and poofy. Human Derek, sitting across from Guillermo in a brick red Henley and jeans, leans his crossed arms on the table and grins expectantly at Guillermo, waiting for him to react. Guillermo's shoulders are hunched up defensively and he has his face half turned away from the Guide toward the viewer, flushed and sweating nervously. /End ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #mardjinn #baby colin robinson #ranch au #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #fic rec

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

An Unquenchable Hunger

Rhysand x Feyre x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Poly!feysand anon, back with a few ideas: Tied up and helpless on the dining room table and dripping, a feast for the High Lord while she rides your face.

Warnings: Smut! Nsfw, threesome.

Word Count: 2,461

_________________________________________

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, trembling thighs clenching around Rhys’ head as he works you through a mind blowing orgasm.

Feyre’s nimble fingers keep plunging inside of you as the High Lord sucks on your sensitive clit, his hums sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body as you desperately try to push him off. Your fingers end up twisting in his silky onyx hair, each flick of his tongue causing your body to spasm on the table.

Guests would be arriving soon for the Starfall celebrations. You’d been standing up on a dining room chair hanging one of the last pieces of garland when you’d been grabbed from behind, Rhysand whispering sensually against your neck as he assaulted you with kisses, muttering something about how you’d been taunting them with your ass on display as you shimmied along to the song you were humming.

You’d caught Feyre’s equally hungry gaze from where she stood in the doorway, licking her frosting-covered hands lewdly, earning her a moan for her efforts. Her skilled fingers were for more than just painting, her creative abilities made it easy to decorate the sugar cookies the twin wraiths had baked earlier in the day, and now, as they worked you while her mate licked you, you were more than thankful for her talents.

Rhys had laid you on the set table, ready for the arrival of the Inner Circle, hastily shoving the delicate plates and cups away, clattering into each other and off the side of the table with a crash. You couldn’t seem to see reason through your lust fuelled haze, the table had been set perfectly for your friends, whom you’d all share supper with before the rest of the partygoers arrived for desserts, dancing, and the colorful display of stars shooting through the night sky.

Though you weren’t sure you’d be able to think about anything else other than what was happening at this very table for many weeks to come.

He made quick work of removing your clothes, violet eyes hungry for something other than the delicious dinner he knew was to come. Rhys was eager for dessert, the first taste of your sweet cunt spurring him on, his cock achingly hard and leaking at the tip, trapped against his leg in his trousers.

Feyre had crossed the room quickly, eager to join in, eyes locked on where her mate was tasting you. She wasted no time sinking her spit covered fingers around his mouth and into your soaking hole, her other hand palming your bare breast Rhys had left open for her.

Your chest heaves as you gasp for air, head dizzy from the orgasm they’d made last as long as they could.

“Please,” you pant, but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. Feyre’s fingers are still moving inside of you, curling and rubbing in all of the right places. Her gray eyes are dark with lust, and Rhy’s free hand snakes up the back of her skirts, caressing her through her undergarments as he watches her work you.

You grasp on to the bunched up cloth of Feyre’s dress, tugging her weakly to you.

“Kiss me High Lady,” you beg breathlessly. The way that she’s staring down at you like she owns you sends shivers up your spine. The end of your plea slips into a loud moan as she curls her fingers inside of you, “Please.”

Your High Lady obliges, leaning down right as Rhys slips his fingers inside of her. She falters, humming loudly in bliss before she continues on her path, latching onto your exposed breast and teasing your tight nipple with a swirl of her tongue, a graze of her teeth.

You whimper your frustration. That wasn’t what you meant, and by the smug look in her gleaming eyes as she slowly pulls off of you, blowing on the wet bud with amusement, she knows it too.

Your back arches beautifully off of the table at the sensation. Her cold breath is both torture and bliss.

“You didn’t specify where you wanted me to kiss you,” she puffs blissfully, grinding down onto Rhysand’s fingers. She’s just as wet as you are, loves the way your pretty little cunt convulses around her fingers as she works, loves that she makes you feel this way.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Rhys,” you pant, squirming as she slides her slick fingers out and up against your clit, playing with the sensitive bud. Your head hits the table harshly as you throw it back but you don’t care, the sharp pain feels as incredible as Feyre does right now, and you wonder for a moment how she got so good at this.

“Perhaps we need a night to ourselves,” she agrees, much to the dismay of her mate. Feyre ducks in for a kiss while she rides Rhys’ fingers, who’d thought of stopping to tease her when the two of you had agreed on a night without him, but he knew that doing so would only solidify her decision.

Your stomach coils at her suggestion.

“You’re going to get it for that one,” Rhys growls, though the image of you and his mate rolling around in the sheets together while he watches isn’t something he’d ever fucking turn down.

You and Feyre moan into each other's mouths at the picture Rhy’s places in your heads. The two of you as you are now, you fisting her hair in your hands while she fucks back into you with as many fingers as she can fit, all while Rhys fucks into her with his own.

He’s so achingly hard from the taste of you lingering on his tongue, from the way Feyre’s grinding his fingers like it’s his fucking cock, her delicious juices sliding down his wrist as she fucks down on him.

He considers himself the luckiest male in all of Prythian.

“Would you like me to finish you off with my tongue, Feyre darling?” he scissors his fingers and she keens against your mouth, drawing her attention to him. Gods, he nearly cums right there, seeing the both of your blown out pupils and bruised red lips.

“No,” she gasps at a particularly delicious twist of his fingers, “I want (Y/N) to.”

Holy fucking Gods. You have absolutely no problem with that.

Rhys releases an aroused curse at her request that sends shivers up your spine. Apparently the High Lord has no qualms about it either.

Feyre’s watching you as you take her hand gently in your own, tugging her that much closer to press a warm kiss to the palm of her hand.

“Come here, High Lady,” you drawl, eager to get a taste of her.

Rhys helps rid Feyre of her scandalous dress, the silky midnight fabric falling around her curvaceous body like water, pooling at her feet. Rhys helps her up onto the table where she straddles you, caging you in with one hand planted on either side of your head as he lowers down for another kiss.

There are hands everywhere, yours sliding down the smooth skin of her sides, skimming over her puckered nipples and she gasps into your mouth. Her hips grind down against yours, drawing an eager noise from the both of you. It’s so incredibly hot, so pleasurable just to be with her like this, bodies writhing together, you might cum again already.

She pulls away with a gasp that melts into a moan, your noses jutting together as she jumps, only for her forehead to press against yours as she pants into your mouth while Rhysand gets a taste of her cunt before you do.

He couldn’t help himself. He’s a greedy High Lord and with two beautiful females naked on his dining room table, ready for him to feast upon…he’d obliterate anyone who tried to stop him.

Rhys is lapping at her drenched cunt and you snake your way down her spine, grabbing a handful of her plump ass, spreading her wider for Rhysand.

Feyre’s hand slides between your bodies, threading through your folds and finding your clit, rubbing furious circles around the sensitive bud, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

Your hand slides closer to the crevice of her ass, tentatively circling her rim, a barely there brush of your fingers that has the arm propping her up gives out and she collapses on top of you.

“Please,” she’s begging in your ear, and you know she wants it, wants you to keep going, but she wants you to taste her more. There’s a promise in her plea, that there will be a next time and you both will get to explore so much more.

You urge her upwards with a pull to her hips and she follows, docile from the near orgasm she’d just experienced from you and her mate.

You kiss every inch of her body as she moves up, her collarbones, her breasts, her stomach, all the down until you’re met with her tight and dripping cunt.

You can’t help yourself, lifting your head. You take your first taste, only a flicker of the tip of your tongue against the slick walls of her inner thigh. You could’ve gone straight inside of her or suckled on her clit but you chose not to, reveling in the way that she shudders at the feeling and her sweet taste.

Rhy’s hands settle on your hips and you jolt as he slides his cock through your folds, wetting his cock with your slick. You moan, digging your nails into the soft skin of Feyre’s ass because of the warm and welcome weight against your cunt, your stomach coiling with need already. You urge your High Lady to turn around so that she can look at Rhys, maybe kiss a little if they want.

She does as you suggest, settling on her knees on either side of your head, your hands massaging the soft skin of her hips, gliding to the tops and settling there for now.

Her and Rhys must’ve had some sort of signal because she’s sinking down onto your face while he plunges his cock right into your tight cunt. You gasp against Feyre, losing your bearings for a moment before you quickly react, hooking a leg around Rhys’ waist while you suck your High Lady’s clit into your mouth, humming with pleasure.

Feyre wastes no time, riding your face like a true commander, taking what she wants. You can’t get enough of her intoxicating taste, like cherries and the first snow of the season, swirling your tongue and slurping up her slick.

Rhy’s is taking no prisoners, fucking into you with abandon. You hear his voice ring in your head, a strained grunt that the other members of the Inner Circle will be arriving soon, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck if they walked in right now with their High Lady sitting on your face and their High Lord jackknifing into you because this surely is heaven.

Feyre leans forward, reaching out to her mate for a sensual kiss. She kneads at one of your breasts while Rhy’s takes one of hers, tweaking her nipple. You’re forced to follow as she shifts forward, lifting your head from the table and following her delicious cunt, wrapping your arms around her waist so she doesn’t go far.

The noises the three of you are making are lewd. The table is shaking with all of the movement, dishes still set at the end of the long table clattering against each other like there’s an earthquake, and there might just be because you feel like you’re about to shatter.

With one arm still tucked across her waist you let your free hand round her ass, and you press your thumb against her hole while you thrust your tongue into her cunt, loving the way that she clenches down on you with a keen of pleasure.

Rhys latches onto her nipple, sucking and teething at the taut flesh greedily. His hands are a bruising grip at your waist and you moan at the fact that you’ll be donning his fingerprints beneath your dress.

Feyre’s nearing the edge, you can tell because she’s leaning back, rocking even faster against your face. You’re nearing your edge too, when Rhys flicks and twists at your swollen nipples, lathing over one with his hot tongue as his other hand slides down to your cunt, fingers slipping through your folds to rub furiously at your clit.

You couldn’t pull your walls up if you tried, and that’s how Rhysand gets into your head so quickly, a purr of pleasure because they’re everywhere, physically and mentally.

See how good the both of you look? He groans, and you know he’s in Feyre’s head too because the noise she makes rattles you to your bones.

He sends the image from his point of view, a live play-by-play of you and his mate. Feyre rutting against your mouth, her head thrown back in pleasure, mouth hanging open while she teases her breasts.

You can see the way your tits bounce with every single one of Rhysand’s thrusts, up past those to the column of your throat, face buried in your High Lady’s cunt, back arching up off of the table in bliss.

And fuck, with everything now combined, the feeling of them both on you, the sounds their making, Feyre’s taste, and the mental image…it’s nearly too much. You topple over the edge into oblivion, latching onto Feyre’s clit with a moan meant to rattle the entire house, pulling her over the edge with you.

She lets out a sharp cry and then she’s shaking on top of you. You let her take control, riding through her orgasm, grinding harshly on your face as you caress and grab at her soft skin, in a state of euphoria yourself.

You hear Rhys curse. His thrusts become frenzied and he holds you tighter, fucking into you harsher, enjoying the sight and feelings, your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, convulsing with your orgasm, and the blissful emotions Feyre’s sending down the bond.

He doesn’t last much longer, pulling out and getting a hand around himself, milking the cum from his cock as he spurts hot across your abdomen.

You enjoy every second of it, his seed sullying your skin like Feyre’s had your face. There’s no way you’ll make it to dinner on time, you’re going to have to bathe and have your hair redone before even thinking about meeting your friends for the meal, although right now you couldn’t care less, knowing they’ll probably scent it as soon as they enter the house anyway.

This is the best meal you’ve ever had.

#rhys x reader #feyre x reader #feysand x reader #rhys x feyre x reader #poly!feysand #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azsazz

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trashmouth-richie · 11 months

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the ride 🤎

cowboy!dom!steve

warnings: NO MINORS, spanking, whipping, overstimulation, face riding, blow jobs. Etc

i have nothing here but filth to offer you on this Wednesday afternoon, pls enjoy

you’ve been grinding into Steve’s face for over an hour at this point. Sweat is slicked across your arms, dripping down your chest and pooling into the creases of your thighs and hips. The same hips that are now bruised by his long fingers from forcing you put where you’re sitting as “pretty as a kitty” on his face. It’s fitting actually, and matches the swollen hot skin on your ass from the sudden smacks of his leather braided horse whip when you tell him you can’t keep going. Exhausted and hips aching with each gyrating motion against his broad Roman nose. But he only encourages you further.

“come on honey baby, I know you got another one in ya,”

You whimper out as tears flood your eyes when his teasing assault of his tongue laps at your oversensitive clit again and again. Another torturously pleasuring orgasm shoots from you and has you head thrown back in ecstasy.

“So pretty,” Steve moans into your folds, “such a good girl for daddy,”

When Steve asked you to go for a ride with him you figured it was just another trail ride so you packed a picnic basket full of sandwiches made of the softest bread delectable meats and cheeses, grapes and Ol’ man Hopper’s homemade blackberry wine.

But when you drove up to the large farmhouse sitting back on Hare Road, and entered the barn where Steve was saddling up Blue and Lady, the sight of you in a white flowing sundress had Steve’s cock kicking up in his Wranglers (which whenever this happened, they felt more like stranglers) he needed you now.

So here you were, tangled up in the tack room of the Harrington’s barn, walls decorated with bridles, blinders, ropes, leads anything the Harrington’s Rodeo King desired. Your pussy spent and sore, Steve’s mustache ticklish at first but now bore a slight burn at your entrance. Coaxing you through your violent shakes as you came un done for him, he helps you sit on the blanket, his face slick with your sex all over it, sticking to his mustache like he just drank from the trough.

“And here I thought we were gonna go riding today,” you snicker as you push a hand through his pearl snap shirt, unbottoned a few as always, curls on his chest damp with sweat.

“Oh baby,” Steve says, fingering through the picnic basket for the jar of violet colored wine, taking a swig he swipes his tongue over his lips, your sweet arousal mixed with the potent wine creating a heavenly dose of drunk on his breath. “You really gonna pout after the free mustache ride? I usually charge for those special services.”

He thumbs over the smooth leather whip still in his hands, your eyes going wide when he takes another drink.

“But since you’re gonna be an ungrateful brat,” he tsks through his teeth, putting his tan hat back on his head, adjusting the brim with a little flick,“ looks like you can repay me for the good time by being obedient and very thankful.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, your ass was already welted. “Bu-,” you whimper but Steve simply shakes his head, putting his back straight against the wooden wall and tapping his denim clad thighs, spurs tinking as he adjusts his boots.

Hanging your head in a sulk, Steve praises you for being a good girl when you answer him and lay across his lap. Rubbing your ass slowly he thumbs the welt marks on your bare skin.

“How about a lickin’ for every time I let you come hmm?” His voice low and smooth, daunting as he continues, “remind me what that number was again sweetheart will ya?”

Sighing heavily you answer him with the number five, teeth biting into your lip on the first syllable.

Steve purrs as he rubs your ass, heavily calloused hands from working on the farm his whole life riding bronc on the weekends, “you’re gonna thank me after each one pretty baby okay? Can you do that for daddy?”

“Yes,” you pout, tears falling silently from your eyes, exaggerated with a blink as you roll your eyes.

The crack of his whip against your hot flesh makes you yelp loudly. “Excuse me?” Steve asks, voice venomous and rich with anger.

“Yes, daddy! I’m sorry!” You whine, fisting the blankets in tightly.

“That’s better, alright baby, here we go,” one hard smack and your holding in a moan, thanking him sweetly with his title on your lips.

“If you’re good we will see if Eddie wants to come play, I think he’s still with Goldie and they just got back from Wyoming bringing a load of cattle home for Wayne, you liked the last time they came over.” Another hard whipping on your right cheek has you screaming, again you thank him, humming low into the blankets.

Steve’s cock is still hard beneath you, tight and denim led cock spilling a sweet spot of pre cum forming darkly. “Would you like that pretty girl? Hmm?”

“Yes d—“ you manage before he cracks you again, thanking him once more you turn your head and Andre his question.

Finishing your punishment you are laid in Steve’s flannel bed, a fan blowing gently on you and the swollen skin of your ass smeared with creams and other ointments. Steve lays in front of you, legs spread wide to accompany your mouth on his cock as you bob up and down on his length, his hat sitting on your head, throat stuffed full of his snake like length, his pretty moans filling the walls, his warm release painting you thick and creamy.

Pussy still sore from Steve’s mustache ride, free for his one and only baby girl. The promise of a play date with the curly haired, wild best friend of his on the horizon. Smiling while you lick your lips, knowing that the stinging welts were worth it.

—🤎

Readmore 🍊 hey girl

#steve harrington x y/n smut #Steve x you #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington smut #Dom!Steve #sub!reader #Steve x reader #steve x fem!reader

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vandaliatraveler · 2 years

Photo

Early May in an Appalachian forest.

From top: sweet white violet (Viola blanda); long-spurred violet (Viola rostrata); broadleaf toothwort (Cardamine diphylla); wake robin (Trillium erectum), also known as red or purple trillium; heartleaf foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia); smooth Solomon’s seal (Polygonatum biflorum); and wood anemone (Anemone quinquefolia), also known as nightcaps.

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torntoblivion · 1 year

Text

yae miko biting you

cws: nsfw (mdni), gn! reader, biting (duh), teasing, a little blood, marking, nipple play, licking

maybe it's because of her being a fox but for whatever reason, yae miko loves biting you. her teeth are sharper than a humans so you definitely feel the sting but it's a pleasant feeling nontheless.

miko is not a jealous or possessive person, she's confident in herself and your love for her but those bite marks on your neck, especially when visible to the public, just gets her going, knowing that she's marked you and that your hers.

miko has you spread beneath her on the soft cushions, pinning you down all by herself. you're trapped under her but you wouldn't have it any other way. her silky pink hair tickles your neck, the scent of sakura flooding your nostrils is enough to send your head spinning.

"all eyes on me, little rabbit."

miko whispers sensually into your ear as her canines trace down your neck, stopping right below your throat. the small bites on your neck are not enough to satisfy her, you must be covered in them.

you glance down to your devious girlfriend, her violet eyes gazing into your own as she sinks her teeth into your skin, letting you feel the bite and her smirk as your back arches a little. you attempt to squeeze your thighs to relieve the ache in your sex but miko's between them, relishing your struggle and the feeling of your thighs squeezing her.

your whines only spur her on more as she trails lower to your chest, biting down harder, her ears twitch at the sound of you breathily moaning her name. her fingertips catch your nipples, rolling them between her fingers as she continues biting you.

she bites down particularly hard on your sternum, licking tiny beeds of blood forming from the bite. her eyes nearly rolling back to her skull at the taste. miko feels her underwear sticking to her folds as her arousal pools on the fabric but she's patient, she'll have you between her legs soon.

now, she won't even let you get any pleasure besides her fingers toying with your perky nipples and her knee pressing to your crotch until she's done with her bites. you don't know how long it has been since miko started but it feels like an eternity until she bites down on your belly, just above your sex.

"keep watching me."

she murmurs before her teeth catch elastic of your underwear, pulling them down.

she really is the sly fox and you're her sweet bunny.

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queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

Sweetest Devotion

[ part two ] [ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ] [ series masterlist ]

prompt: exhausted by the war efforts, your husband does what he can to protect you. but maybe in the end, it'll be you who saves him.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.3k+

note: two parts because total word count was at 17k. also, this is the final, people!!

warnings: major book spoilers. cursing, some angst, some comfort, author projects a little, major alternate timeline ending. ❗️SPOILERS

The storm had followed Aemond home to wreck havoc over King's Landing, flooding the streets and homes in Flea Bottom and low bearing homes.

You weren't sure how long you sat in silence together, but your heart was weeping, and you had no earnest idea on how to move forward from this moment. Your baby brother, the sweet Prince Lucerys, had met his end from your husband's ruthless pursuit of revenge.

Though it was his dragon that did the slaying, he is still Vhagar's rider and wanted revenge; though he would've settled for an eye, the dragon did not understand.

Aemond was silent beside you, the storm heard from the Dragon Caves as water gently leaked through cracks in the foundation. You thought the weather matched your mood and did little to quell the raging tempest that built in your chest and head; if anything, it spurred your anger onward. Tears leaked from your eyes with no sign of stopping; legs remaining bent to keep your arms tight around them. You also could not meet his gaze, nor look upon his face without picturing your baby brother screaming in terror.

You sniffled several times as you couldn't do much else but cry, but then, you made a swift decision. Jumping to your feet, you muttered, "I must go."

"Wait," Aemond stood after you, following you to your saddled dragon. Kasta raised her head and narrowed her eyes in threat, growling when Aemond reached for you. "Sweet girl, please, just hang on a second - "

"No," you sneered, wheeling around on him - meeting his eye at last. "You did this. You killed my brother, and what I need right now, is fucking space."

"How do I know you're not leaving for good? Fleeing to tell your mother the news?" He asked hopelessly. "Please, my love, understand that I cannot let you leave me. I cannot bare it."

"You cannot keep me here," you whispered in return. "You said you'd smuggle me out of the city if I wanted. Well, this is what I want - to fly with Kasta, and to be rid of your presence for now."

Tears filled his violet eye, "Please tell me you will return?"

"What if I don't?" You sneered. "Will you get on Vhagar and follow me, too? Hunt me down in the skies, maybe? Let your dragon eat Kasta and I for her main course?"

The emerald green dragon positioned above you glowered, and bore her teeth as if to dare your husband to do anything.

"You know I'd never hurt you," he whispered, but reached for your arms. "I need you to step away with me, please. We need a word."

"A word? A word? You need a word with me? Where was that courtesy for my brother? A boy of only ten and four!? Hey!?"

But you silenced yourself when Vhagar lifted her head from her alcove and swung it to watch the three of you - making Kasta go on the defense. "Kasta," you demanded in High Valyrian, "enough. Do not engage."

Your dragon growled still, standing rigidly above you as Aemond's hands tightened over your upper arms. "Listen to me," he begged still, making your glare turn back to his lone eye, "and believe me, please, none of this was my intention."

"You've made that clear. Yet what I can understand, is that you antagonized a child and your dragon does not understand limits nor bounds. She does not understand you only wanted to torment and scare the boy, and when his dragon reacted in an effort to protect his rider, you lost control."

"Why is his dragon understood and mine crucified?"

You scoffed, "Truly? What business did a 10-year-old child have claiming some 180-year-old dragon!?"

"Now that is on trial!?"

"Aemond, what are you expecting here?" You snapped, ignoring the way your skin seared under his touch. "You and your fucking dragon killed my brother, end of story, end of sentence, no other room for judgement. This is your sin to bear, not mine, though I am now burdened with knowing my husband claimed the innocent life of my brother! How could you?" You whispered, stepping closer as your voice lowered but still rang clearer than the storm raging outside. Both hands tightened over his biceps, begging, "How could you do this? To me? To us? To my Mother? If it was an eye you wanted, you can have mine - both if it would satisfy you."

His head shook, "No. No, I would not - do not twist this on me."

"I am assuring you that there were any other way to solve this, and should you remember correctly, we married so that your pride might be soothed. As payment for my brother's actions, my hand was offered, and your father accepted that proposal. Pray tell me how that was not enough? After all this time?" Your arms laid over his to grab the muscle above his elbow; his grip tightening on your waist. "Why did you do it? Why did you push for this? It is by your selfishness that my brother isn't even allowed to be buried!"

"Say the word and we will go find him now," Aemond shook his head.

You scoffed, then nodded solemnly. "Truly?"

"I would do anything to right this terrible wrong. If it meant you stayed, if it meant I kept you, I would do anything."

You nodded again and tried to smile, but your tears made it difficult. Before Aemond could blink, your hands reached for his belt and yanked the leather free; grabbing his long-sword in hand and shoving the weapon into his chest - which forced him back two steps.

"Gut your dragon," you whispered into the eery silence.

"What?"

"Gut Vhagar and pull my brother's body free before the acids have time to dissolve him further," you sneered, pressing the sword harder.

"My love," he begged softly.

"No? Is that refusal?" You goaded.

"You know I cannot."

"Then there is nothing more I want from you than to be free to take my dragon into the skies. I cannot look at your face longer, knowing what I know now. I need time to think."

His hand softly folded over yours, pausing a moment to ask, "Is there any way you could forgive me?"

"I need to first find a way to fully stomach what you've done, then we might ponder if I can forgive you. I would not hold my breath if I were you, though."

His hand tightened over yours, nodding as he repeated to you your words from earlier that day in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me... Please."

You snorted through your nose, shaking your head, "Do not do that. Do not try to romance me now. You cannot possibly have love for me if your dragon ate my fucking brother."

You pulled away from him in full to make for Kasta again. Sword laid forgotten in the sand as he called after you, "Just be careful, my love, please. There's a storm tonight."

"Yes, I've ears to hear with, thank you!" You snapped over your shoulder. "I will be fine."

You wanted to tell him you'd return, but in truth, you were unsure if you were able to. You wanted to go back before today, before the love of your life had killed and eaten your little brother. Well, his dragon did the eating, and while that's not Aemond, and beasties are allowed to be wild from their masters, you were disgusted looking at him.

Kasta purred when you got to her side and easily climbed on top of the saddle, sparring Aemond only a single look before encouraging your dragon from the Caves under the Dragon Pit.

Aemond had to flatten himself against the Cave wall as Kasta surged past him - bursting into the frigid air, and spreading her wings to beat once, twice, three times, and rise into the air.

You soared higher and higher; darkness swallowing you as it had your brother, letting the storm encompass you whole. When Kasta was level, your hands let go of the saddle to sit back and choke on your sobs, arms going lax as your strength to hold yourself together gave way. And through the storm, what better way to release your rage?

You let your tears mix with the water splattering on your face. For the thunder to drown your anguished screams. For the lightning to flash away the images you unintentionally conjured when you thought of your husband and brother.

You let the vapid, sideways rain pound over you. For the wind to howl and create a legion of goose flesh to form over your shivering form; though you did not feel it. For the storm to become one with you.

Your pain was tangible. Your anguish known.

You flew for miles, unsure where you were heading because the storm demanded the forefront of your attention - but you weren't willing to give it. Kasta chose to fly aimlessly as she just wanted to stretch out, and for a moment, you considered just flying across the Narrow Sea. Head for Essos, where you would escape this petty stupidity. Where you would not have to choose between your beloved mother and adoring husband.

Between Green and Black.

Between rightful succession, and well... Tradition. You hated the thoughts when they registered in your head, but the truth of the matter is that after centuries of tradition as naming first-born males the heir, you were not stupid and understood your shit-stain-brother-by-law, Aegon, held a 'legitimate' claim now.

You were desperately confused, you had no honest idea what to do, and the further you flew in the storm, the more your exhaustion rose. As your dragon's pale green wings cut through the air and she took charge of your flight, you weighed the pro's and con's of each action.

If you stayed, you got Aemond - and that was enough of a pro on its own.

If you left, you'd be able to salvage whatever time you have with your brothers, Jace and Joffrey. Plus your step-sisters, Rhaena and Baela, along with half-siblings, Viserys II and Aegon III.

If you stayed, your dragon would be on the frontlines only due to her sheer size... And that sounded more like a con.

But! But! But! If you left, you knew the message you bore - that was sure to reach your mother's ears with or without you - would be reason enough for Rhaenyra to wage war. If you returned to your mother, you'd be thrown into her war, and with Kasta, who still grew in size and ferocity, who was to say you wouldn't be used on the frontlines there, too?

If you stayed, Aemond would always protect you. Not that you needed it but it was a comfort to know you'd not be alone.

You'd hopefully get to see your siblings all marry, too, if you went home.

Your child would know its father if you stayed.

You screamed into the night again.

Sobs ransacked your lungs, demanding oxygen be sucked in with a shuddering, stuttering inhale. You were restless and distraught, and even when time passed, the storm did not; nor did your heartbreak. But Kasta understood your pain, letting you sob into her hide as she flew you higher, higher, higher... Before breaking free of the storm to give you a view of the just rising sun.

You breathed in shock as you sat up off her shoulders. With your arms keeping you upright, you gazed with swollen red eyes to the beautiful sight before you; relishing in the swirls of colors that only brightened with each flap of Kasta's wings.

She hovered a moment to let you gaze at the clouds and rising sunlight, patting her shoulder as you praised in High Valyrian, "Good girl, my sweet Emerald. Good girl - thank you. Thank you," you whispered, hearing her purr as she beat her wings to keep her body suspended.

You took a sobering breath and sat up tall. With nobody around, you were left with only Kasta to speak to, and maybe, that'd be your saving grace in time. You spoke, "It is more than myself I need to consider. You are my priority," you smiled, stroking her neck, "but I also now have a baby growing in my womb, and I have to take them into consideration, too. Where we go, I have to think of you two the most - because I cannot let you suffer for human selfishness."

She gave a loud purr.

"Yet we have two options, my girl. We stay in King's Landing and we would fight with Aemond, only. We are loyal to him, not his usurping weasel of a brother."

She snorted, almost nodding her head. You saw her lips flutter and knew she bore her teeth in distrust of Aegon.

"If we return to Dragonstone, we are subservient to our Queen, my Mother, the rightful ruler and heir to the Iron Throne. Surely, with Daemon's influence, we would be expected to fight."

Saying it aloud again made you slump onto her shoulders, groaning, "Oh, Kasta, what the hell are we doing? We should just take our chances in Essos."

She huffed.

"No? Maybe Pentos?"

She growled.

"Then where should we go, pet? Where? Where you are safe and so is my baby?"

Kasta whined lightly, unsure of your decision either.

"I care little for my own safety, but you, my precious girl, are entirely dear to me and I will not risk you in open war. I could not ask that of you, you are not at fault for the deceit my people show. But we have to chose which side we are to take, love. Where I took vowels to be loyal to Aemond, we know Rhaenyra is right and true, but with Luke's death, she... She cannot be thinking levelly."

Kasta lowly whined in agreement, turning in a circle to keep her blood pumping before coming to another halt. You had a view to a sea of sun-soaked clouds, finding rolling hills of different colors; all painted on fluffy canvases.

"She'll need me now more than ever," you whispered. "She cannot do this alone, and... And the Greens have Vhagar. The Blacks have Meleys. Yet if I take a position, I will still have to fight the ones I love, the dragons you grew with."

But Kasta gave a small snarl.

"You know I mean Aemond," you chuckled lowly. "He's the best trained with a sword and rides the largest dragon... He'd be sent off to battle, and to meet him, I'd wager Daemon would not hesitate to send us with Melyes and Rhaenys. What would hurt more, Kasta? Fighting my step father and mother's cousin? Or fighting the man I was sworn to love and be loyal to before the Gods? Who sires my children? But... The man has killed my brother and I fear I'd be unable to forgive him. What do I do, Kasta?"

She whined again.

"I made vows to him," you whispered brokenly. "I do not think I can leave... Mother would surely use us to fight, but at least Aemond would protest Aegon's command, try to keep us safe..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks, making you nod, "All right, yeah, come now, my love, we need to go."

Kasta anticipated this and turned to dive back into the storm; your eyes closing from the whipping wind stinging your eyes as Kasta dove at an angle straight down. You held on tightly and trusted her, and when she leveled, you cracked your eyes open to see your dragon flapping her wings straight for the distant Red Keep.

"Mumma's sneaky girl, aren't you?" You chuckled at her, patting her neck with an affection hand. She gave a roar of announcement as she swiftly circled the Dragon Pit and descended; landing with a trembling thud before she was hurrying under cover from the still-raging storm. You held on until she came to a halt in the Caves; pausing to let you slide off your saddle. "Good girl," you praised, letting her forehead caress the scales of her cheek. "Good girl, thank you. Always my good girl, yes," she gave a small snort of contentment, almost leaning into you.

"Thank you for returning my wife safely, Kasta," Another voice purred in smooth High Valyrian, and you sighed when you recognized it instantly. It was a voice you longed to hear, but not yet - not so soon. You did not think he'd still be here at this hour.

"I've only just returned, Aemond, are you truly that dull or does the concept of time and space just not register in your head?" You leered to Aemond from over your shoulder.

"I needed to see you were safe with my own eye," he sighed, watching your dragon patter (read: took thundering steps) into her alcove for rest; leaving the two of you as alone as you could be.

"You see me now," you snipped. "Now leave me be."

"We should talk - "

"The only thing I've left to say is that I'm done," you nodded. "I'm not leaving you, don't bother even trying to lock up Kasta - she's been biting lately. But I can't stay with you anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"That I still need time and space to think about this, it's not a decision I can come to in a single evening," you sighed. "Look, I'll move out - "

"No, wait," Aemond stepped towards you but you held a hand.

"It's for the best," you backed off a step. "I can't live in our room anymore, not when you are everywhere. I'll suffocate."

"I'll move out."

"Do you not listen?" You groaned lightly. "You're all I see in that room, and I need time apart. I understand what happened with Vhagar, I do - and while I'm sorry you feel guilt over losing control, I still need you to have accountability for the actions taken tonight. You've started a war - both in life with my mother, and in my heart with my head."

Your words planted his feet as his stomach plunged; letting you slip past him only just - your ears catching his whisper, "Will you ever forgive me?"

You paused but did not look at him. "Time will tell," you alluded, unsure of what to tell him in truth. You left after that, the storm thick and making you stick to back allies of King's Landing to reach the Red Keep again. Seemingly out of respect, Aemond did not follow, and from your shared quarters, you made a beeline for the one thing you wanted. The rest of the room and all contents shared some kind of memory attached to your husband.

You only took an ornate jewelry box your mother had gifted you years ago and quickly fled the room in favor of locating Amira. From there, she helped you locate a new room, and together, you shoveled clothes into trucks, and with another maid, Clara, carried two full trunks between you three.

You lead, holding one handle, Amira in the middle, both hands holding an end of a trunk, and Clara at the rear; a single rucksack strung around yours and Clara's shoulders. You ignored the bewildered looks of others to quickly head for your new room, somewhere far from Aemond to avoid accidentally running into him.

Your two maidens helped you unload your trunks with two jugs of wine - the night long, and given your status, you could 'relieve' the two women of their daily chores. So, they spent the night with you, and you didn't dare open your mouth about what happened.

You told them you and Aemond had a terrible fight and you needed space to think. They understood and while you saw the way Clara wanted to push, Amira was sending her stern looks that silenced the younger girl. They did not linger after the sun broke the horizon, but Amira did return to bring you something for breakfast.

You didn't realize this would become your new normal.

Weeks upon weeks went by with Aemond keeping his distance and it drove you up the bloody wall. On one hand, you were frustrated because you were alone, but also angry, because he killed your brother. You craved his affection, his touch, but still felt repulsed by the sight of him. He liked to send you flowers; filling your room with sickly sweetness that made your anger almost solidify, but the reminder of the act of kindness went farther than you were willing to admit; and though you'd not admit it, each little card that came with the flowers were saved in a small, carved wooden box.

On the loneliest nights, you curled up in bed, caressed your still-growing bump, and reread his declarations of love and loyalty. His words that read how much he missed you, and prayed for you daily.

In order to maintain appearances to both his family and the public, you and Aemond attended official royal events together. However, the silence between you and Aemond echoed across any room; earning the attention of his family.

They were well aware by now of Luke's demise and could only assume you knew, as well; but nobody ever confronted you about it after Aemond threatened physical harm to any who dared. When Aegon threw Aemond a feast to celebrate his 'accomplishment', not even the arrogant boy-King questioned your notable absence. Especially after teasing he'd go collect you himself - and earned Aemond's venomous glare that rooted him in spot.

For weeks, you slept alone, mostly ate alone, couldn't bare to sit with Helaena and her children anymore. You were heartbroken and feeling sick from stress, isolating yourself in the hope of figuring out your emotions and next steps forward.

You tried to rationalize in your head that in times of war, casualties were inevitable; but you were frustrated because it was the first punch, and never knew where to place your emotions. Granted, you could've considered Aegon's coronation provocation towards war but your mother was trying to be calculated in her movements; almost now forced into the fray following the death of Lucerys.

Despite this understanding, nothing in your mind cleared.

Until enough was enough when the next storm struck the city. You flinched awake and felt your chest tighten with memories of your baby brother as the storm had tapped into your subconscious to make you dream of him. It felt more like a haunting now.

You were left alone to pace the cold, stone floors, the hearth stoked to life, flowers slowly drying from a vase on the spare table, but the thunder made you tremble and rub your palms together. Your mind did not stop, nor did the frantic, vapid beat of your heart; anxiety flaring with each flash of lightning.

You flinched when there was a pounding at your door. Not a knock, but four beats of a fist in rapid succession that nearly made the whole door shake off its hinges.

Gulping any nerves, you reached for the handle and opened it a crack; curious as to who would call upon you at this late hour. But what you saw surprised you, making you blink a few times. "You're soaked," You whispered, leaning on the door you held, taking note of the rain water dripping off Aemond's form.

"There were matters I had to attend to, so, I was outside for a time," he explained with a nervous nod. "I was just returning, and only wanted to come by and check on you..."

"Why?"

He shrugged some, "The storm, and because I love you. I didn't want you feeling so alone. I know you grow weary."

You nodded as another crack of thunder rumbled, making you ask softly, "Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, thank you," he whispered with a curt nod, watching you step away to push the door open and grant him passage into the smaller room. When he stepped over the threshold, you gulped nervously and shut the door securely. "You rearranged," he noted with a small chuckle. "Like you did in our room."

"I think I am nesting," you smiled, smoothing a hand around your swollen belly. "Times I am stressed, I can curl up in bed with a book."

He nodded, "Good."

The bookshelf was in a new place than the first, last, and only time he's seen your new room, and the bed was pushed into a corner where you had piled a mountain of pillows to create a literal nest. You watched him for a moment, offering, "Do you want to change? You might catch a cold in that."

He nodded, "Uh, yeah, yes, that would be much appreciated. Thank you, sweet girl, but I have clothes in, uh, our room..."

You smiled softly and went to the wardrobe to find him something new, warm, and suitable to change into. "I kept some of your clothes, they're comfortable to sleep in," you explained, slightly defending yourself as you didn't like feeling so vulnerable under his luminescent gaze. "What were your errands?" You wondered gently.

He sighed, "I had to visit the Storm Lands again, Aegon had a new message for Lord Borros."

"How fairs your intended?"

He laughed, "Oh, my beautiful girl, you still think that's happening?"

"Is it, Aemond?"

"Not in the slightest," he sighed, nodding with assurance when your eyes met his with skepticism. "I told Aegon now wasn't the time for strife between my wife and I, and I wasn't available to do his bidding nor make his alliances."

You considered his words, then asking, "Is there news?"

Aemond cleared his throat, nodding as you presented the clothing and sat it on the bed. Then, your hands took hold of his jerkin and started to undo the latches and laces - as if no time had passed. He sighed, "Your step-father claimed Harrenhal and the Lady Arryn and Lords Manderly, Sunderland, and Stark, maybe another, have declared for your mother's side."

You nodded, peeling the wet leather from his form. "And your news to Storm's End?"

"To break the engagement in person, but Borros did not seem too disheartened."

"You think he would abandon the cause?"

"No," he sighed. "He's smarter than that."

"Uneducated, though," you mused gently, peeling his tunic free from his damp chest. "Hang on," you paused, moving for the heath to pull off a towel from a drying rack. When you returned, you asked, "And how are you feeling now?"

"Exhausted," he whispered. "But I was worried about you, Princess, when I came home and saw the storm was here, too."

You nodded, "You do not need worry - "

"Of course I do," he snarled gently, "you are most precious to me, my love," he frowned as his tone tapered off, shaking his head. "'S been killing me trying to give you space."

"Thank you for it," you nodded, sweeping over his skin to dry it before handing him the thin, white tunic. "But um..." You paused with nervousness, nudging his booted foot with your bare one. "Take those off."

"What were you truly going to say?"

You rolled your eyes some, silently cursing him for knowing you so bloody well. "That I do not wish to be alone tonight... Maybe you'd like to stay?"

"You'd want me?"

"Of course," you nodded, gently unlacing his trousers and stepping away to let him change completely into drier pants. "I told you I didn't want to be alone."

"You've been so angry."

"With reason."

"I know," he nodded, eye tinging red from restrained emotion. "I'm so sorry - "

"For what this time?"

"All of it," he reached for you, changed finally. "But I swore you wouldn't be alone, and here, I just left you."

"I wanted to be alone," you reminded softly.

"Did not mean you should have been," he whispered, letting his forehead meet yours. He let out a sigh of relief, "Let me fix us."

"I think time apart has sickened my stomach... And your child misses the sound of your voice," you admitted. "I don't want to be without you anymore, but your brother oversteps himself."

"I know - "

"He threw you a feast for killing my brother," you reminded, stepping away. "He mocks my pain."

"I will have a word with him - and with everyone. You will not be caught between this war, you are my wife, and I will protect you against them all."

"I am only loyal to you," you sighed. "So, whatever you ask of me, I will do, but only that. I am not your brother's subject - "

"Hey," he quipped, slipping his hand over your mouth and giving a suspicious glance around the room. "I hear you, pet, I do, trust me, but the walls have ears now. Please..."

You sighed, rolling your eyes at him before opening your mouth and boldly licking his palm. He tasted like leather, and just like you wanted, he recoiled in shock from the feel of your tongue. "Wash your hands, husband," you chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Because you don't know where you've been, wife?" He teased, pulling a soft mug at his soiled hand before stepping away from you to head for the wash basin.

"I haven't really left this room, Aemond," you sighed.

"I know," he admitted, washing his hands and forearms, "I was worried about you isolating yourself but Amira kept saying you needed space to think."

"She's a good friend," you smiled gently, watching him. "Can we be done with this?"

He offered a look of shock, "What? With what, love?"

You sighed, quelling his worry by responding, "This fight? The distance between us? I don't... I don't want space anymore. I just want you, Aemond, I want my husband back."

His shoulders gently slumped with relief as he dried his hands. "Yes, good, we're done, it's at an end, my love. You have me, you always have - and always will."

"I'm still working on forgiving you but I think, all things considered, we can start... Moving on..."

He nodded, "Many are lost in war, but I am so sorry he was the first. And that it was by my hand."

"Thank you for saying that," you nodded at him, finding his accountability refreshing. "Come to bed, please?"

"In your nest?" He chuckled, letting your hand reach for his and lead him to the mattress.

"Yes, it's cozy," you defended. "And you made me sleep alone, so, I made do with what I had."

"Fight's over, love, that's all done now," he promised with a sigh, settling into your nest and readjusting a few times. "Hmm," he considered, glancing around the mountain of silks and fluff. "I don't think I hate it completely."

"Shhh," you hushed as you moved to curl up at his side. The hearth had died a bit in flame, but the warmth was enough that you only needed a thin sheet for comfort. You smiled when his hand laid to your belly, rubbing gently as if in fascination.

"Missed you so much, sweet girl," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You sighed against him, promising you missed him, too; then deflating into his chest as sleep tugged at your form. You still flinched into his embrace on a few particular hard claps of thunder rattling the walls and windows, but Aemond was there to soothe you back into gentle submission.

Yet, by morning, there was nothing but chaos.

"MY PRINCE!" Someone banged at the door, making you and your husband flinch awake. "PRINCESS!"

"The hell?" Aemond muttered through a haze of sleep, hand tightening on your waist.

"MY PRINCE! PLEASE! PRINCESS! WAKE UP! WAKE UP, PLEASE! MY LADY! LORD! LORD, PLEASE!"

"That's Mira," you realized, sitting up in shock. "Come in, come in!"

"Love," Aemond reprimanded, yanking the bedsheet over his bare hips after feigning being too hot in the night to spend it in your cunt with you still in your singlet.

The door barged open and Amira entered with a pant, "You both need to come quick!"

"What's happened? Are we under attack?" You worried.

"No, no, well, I-I don't - I don't know anymore," she panted, using her hands to reiterate her words. "Something has happened - "

"Tell us plainly," Aemond demanded.

"The Queen - y-your mother, s-s-someone broke in a-and bound her," Amira told you both with a tremble; making you grab Aemond's hand as if it would quell his growing temper. "Th-They killed the hand maiden and your sister arrived with all three of her children, like they do every night - t-to say goodnight to their grandmother."

"No," you whispered.

"The door was barred," Amira's tears started, "an-and the Queen was made to choose which of her sons would die."

"For the love of the Gods," Aemond cursed, looking down as if to prepare himself.

Amira gulped.

"Tell us," you encouraged.

"S-She named Maelor... But they killed Jaehaerys instead." You felt the tears swell. "They took his head, and fled the Keep," she whispered.

"What?" You gasped.

"But, wait, wait," she saw both your temper and Aemond's flare when his head lifted to burn her with his glare. The missing eyepatch allowed his sapphire to leave her unnerved. "One of the assassins was caught. He's been brought to the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Aemond nodded.

"Yes, my Prince. Your brother is being informed and anticipated he'll call for you," she explained. "Your mother is being seen to, she is well-enough, and the Lady Helaena was not harmed... But she is beside herself with grief."

"Rightfully," you nodded, watching Amira sniffle.

"I'll go, but perhaps, Lady, you should remain... You do not need to bear witness to the King's justice," she spoke softly.

"I will go with my husband, thank you, Amira," you nodded at her, letting her turn for the door in haste. "Aemond?" You turned to him, reaching for his cheek to direct his attention to you. "Hey, hey, stay in the present with me; take me through your thoughts..."

He shook his head, leaning in to sigh when his head rested in the crook of your neck. "I do not even know," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do right now? What am I to think? What - What if they came for us? Came for you?" His hand secured to your belly. "This is retribution for Lucerys, this is my fault - my doing. They could've come for you, my love - "

"They did not because they know I am under your protection, my sweet love," you muttered, caressing the back of his head. "Nobody would be so foolish."

"Then perhaps I need to keep you close," he frowned, lifting his gaze. "So that I can protect you at all times." You nodded, letting his hand caress your belly in soothing circles. "I-I am ashamed to admit I cannot stop thinking about it. If they came for you."

"Aemond," your hand reached for his jaw; fingers fitting between his ear to thread slightly into his hair. "Do not burden yourself with the unknown, please. The hypothetical, it-it will not serve us now. When we're alone, yes, my love, please, grieve and be upset and tell me what thoughts plague your mind. But we need to hit pause because there's business to attend right now."

He sniffled and nodded some. "You're right. Come with me, please."

You agreed, and together, got from the bed. After changing from your singlet, you both hustled through the castle to make for the dungeons - your husband armed with his long sword and two different daggers. Your hand was tight in his, trying to help keep him level headed as you met Aegon and witnessed the murderer, 'Blood', be tortured for answers.

He admitted to a partner, a rat-catcher named Cheese, and that he was on his way to collect payment for the Prince's death from your step-father, Daemon. Aemond's arm constricted around you when he heard, trying to prevent any residual anger be directed your way.

Yet, it never came.

Blood confessed to being told this ransom by some 'whore', nicknamed Misery - and you stilled at the familiar name. Only Aemond noted it, and he would question you later - where you'd admit to knowing the name of the White Worm because she was Daemon's paramour - before focusing on the interrogation.

The rest was a frenzy.

Over a two week period, Aegon hung every single rat-catcher in the city after being unsuccessful in locating this 'Cheese' character. In truth, they could not find your step-father's woman, either, but finding Cheese was much more important - since he fucking murdered the Prince. To be sure, all were executed and Aegon had their heads mounted on spikes around the Red Keep's fortress walls, and the Hand, Otto, had cats shipped into the Keep to take over the catcher's old job.

You and Aemond sought comfort in each other's arms the night you found out the truth of his sister's state. She had locked herself away and threw herself into a deep depression, unable to care for her children, and absolutely refusing to care for Maelor - after she named him to die. In response, Aegon had taken up residence in another room and gave his mother, Alicent, care of the baby after deeming his sister-wife unfit.

It made the both of you outrageously grateful for one another and all feelings of hardship truly evaporated. He held you close, letting his fingers run over your flesh; relishing in the warm feel of your curves. He liked kissing your forehead, holding your baby bump, letting calloused fingertips trace the contours of your face.

Yet the worst was yet to come.

The blows kept coming.

Aegon had seemingly lost the support of the mainland, the Riverlands, and left him in a drunken despair following the murder of his son. He grew tired of waiting and denounced his grandsire, Otto Hightower, as Hand before anointing Ser Criston Cole.

You and Aemond had shared looks of mistrust when the ceremony occurred to announce the change of position - both feeling as if Aemond was being cheated out of a natural position.

Yet, he did not voice anything and did as he was bid.

He did not let you on the frontlines despite his brother's nagging and pushing for such. Aemond worried for the babe in your womb and refused his brother every time - telling him to condemn both you and he as a traitor for it, then.

Aegon never followed through and actually left you be. Yet, as if in retaliation, he sent Aemond on constant errands and missions.

One day, when your husband returned victorious from his latest mission with his brother, who you could not see, because Ameond was rushing for you waiting at the gates of the Keep, and seized hold of your hips. "Come with me," he ushered, trying to lead you away.

"What's wrong?" You worried, hearing the crowds gather in the city streets. "Aemond? 'S goin' on, love?"

He sighed, and then you saw it over his shoulder. "Oh, Gods, no, no, no, no, no," you whispered, a large wagon carrying the head of the Red Queen, Meleys, who was your Grandmother's dragon. "What happened?" You rounded on Aemond. "Tell me what happened!"

"It was a fair fight," he assured softly, avoiding your gaze. "But..."

"Please, just tell me," you whispered, one hand to your lower belly as if to support the babe growing in your womb.

"Meleys perished and her head was brought back to encourage the commonfolk. Sunfyre was severely wounded and had to be left behind in Rook's Rest, and Aegon is gravely wounded, he'll be seen by the Maester's, and..."

"Please."

"Your Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, did not survive. Or, so we think. There was a body too charred to identify found with the Red Queen."

"Gods," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his waist to rest on his chest. You whispered sadly, "It just follows us now, doesn't it? Everywhere we look..."

"What does?"

"Death."

He frowned and leaned down to kiss your head, giving a tight squeeze. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to you.

But the blows didn't stop.

Rumor reached the Keep of your brother, Prince Jacerys, collecting Targaryen bastards - offering a knighthood to those who could conquer any of the six, riderless dragons left on Dragonstone. Apparently, many tired, many failed, and only four were conquered - including King Jaehaerys' dragon, Vermithor.

The Greens were vastly outmatched.

You grew nervous and Aemond often spent his nights mindlessly tracing up and down your spine to assure you he was still there. He was still alive. He was still with you.

The blows kept coming.

Your two half-brothers, Viserys II and Aegon the Younger, were being transferred across the sea when the Green's navy found them. No ships were left untouched and rumor had it, only Aegon III survived - clinging to the neck of his injured dragon. However, there was no way of confirming if he ever washed ashore or not, so, the idea of him being lost to the sea sank your stomach to new depths.

Over the Gullet of Blackwater Bay, your brother, Jace, had apparently flown too close to the water's surface when he descended to avenge his half-brothers. He leapt from Vermax' back as the dragon crashed and died in the accident, leaving the Green's navy defenses to take aim and shoot the Prince to the death.

He was never pulled from the waters. Again, another brother with no body to mourn or burn.

However, the men Otto recruited from the Stepstones made landfall and sacked Spicetown before laying siege to High Tide. Apparently, they burnt the whole of it, and all of your Grandfather, Corlys', treasures were lost. In addition, a third of his fleet was set ablaze - and you felt guilt for the small relief you felt.

Maybe the end of the war was soon upon you.

By a stroke of nature, you went into labor following news of your brother's demise. It was the smallest semblance of happiness the Greens could find, and they paced at your door; curious for the new addition to the family. Husbands weren't usually allowed in the birthing chambers but Aemond left no choice; holding your hand through it all and using a cloth to dab sweat from your forehead and brow. He paced with you, sat behind you when you needed to squat, did not let anyone touch you when you did not wish to be touched.

He was encouraging, soft, loving, and mostly, worried. The labors of birth was not for the weak of heart, and Aemond had to remind himself several times to be strong for you.

A full fucking day and a half in labor, and you and Aemond were then laid in bed holding a pair of twins. A boy, who looked just as his father does, who his mother named Olyver, and a little girl, who liked to wriggle around in her father's arms, who he named Brinna.

"You did so good, my love, so good," Aemond whispered from beside you, supporting your weight on his shoulder and weight of his newborn daughter in his arms. "Look at them. They're beautiful, aren't they?"

"Mhm," you assured softly.

His mother and brother visited to offer good tidings, leaving both of you surprised by Aegon's presence. Helaena never showed. But Otto did, offering you both congratulations.

Aemond was awe-struck, holding his children carefully; thanking you repeatedly for giving him the gift of fatherhood. They were gorgeous babes with stark white hair and bright purple eyes that slowly darkened with the passing weeks.

Aemond was obsessed. He liked their cribs at the base of your bed - in case they needed anything - and was always first to hop up to offer them care or comfort. Except when they were hungry, then he had to wake you, but he liked sitting behind you as you nursed the twins one at a time, on different breasts.

He couldn't stop showering you in compliments, truly in awe over what you both had created. He didn't like maids or midwives around the babies, often shooing them away in favor of either of you. Following the Blood and Cheese incident, he was overly protective and did not like your twins far from either of you. However, he was the first to call for aid when the long nights took a toll on you; leaving you to rest undisturbed while the babies slept in a separate room.

Any night your husband wasn't home, you were laid in bed with your twins with a wall of pillows around the edges. Aemond was named Protector of the Realm in his brother's absence - Aegon recovering from his severe broken bones and burns obtained at Rook's Rest. This only meant your husband was extremely busy as of late, but every night, no matter the time, he still came back to you.

You preferred knowing he was in meetings and strategy sessions rather than out on the frontlines with Vhagar - never allowing you to know of his safety. It was a gamble if he came home, which resulted in a passionate reunion, yes, but the anxiety you felt wasn't truly worth it. Now that he ruled in his brother's stead, you knew he'd come to bed eventually and started to settle down easier.

But then, when your children were under two, Aemond came to you with a proposition; late from a war strategy meeting, and slipping into bed behind you. He gave a tight squeeze to your frame, making you hum as you woke up fully from your sleepy daze.

"My love," you muttered, reaching up to caress the back of his neck as his lips pressed into your neck several times. You sighed in contentment, small smile on your lips.

"I need to ask you something important, sweet girl. Are you awake?"

"Mhm. What's wrong?" Then, you shot up to twist around and look at him with a crazed expression, "Is it the children!?"

"No, no," he soothed quickly, slowly coaxing you to lay down again. "C'mere, please," he sighed, slowly guiding you back into position. You tried to relax but his words made you suspicious; letting a hand lace with his that was resting on your stomach.

"What is it, love? Worrying me a bit," you sighed, feeling his breath fan over your neck and shoulder.

"Could you ride Kasta with us?" He sighed into your hair, being the big spoon.

"Where, my Prince?"

"To Harrenhal," he revealed quietly. "We mean to move on Daemon from the East and the Lannisters from the West, and in truth, I would hope he'd at least yield if he saw you. Or, more like, if he saw Kasta."

You nodded softly and turned in his arms so you could see his worried expression, reaching out to trace a fingertip over his face. You asked in a whisper, "You would spare him?"

"I have been the cause of enough of your grief, my love," he whispered, "I would try to undo some damage. Yes, I would take him alive, spare his life."

You sighed, "All right."

"We march at dawn after Cole and his men," he informed.

You sighed in agreement, "All right. Then, you're not fucking me, we're going to sleep if I'm to leave bed for long."

His grin was felt against your lips, and just as he planned, your resolve crumbled easily to let him flip you back around and slip inside you, but he still left time for you both to rest. What a gentleman. When you rose, both you and Aemond dressed for the excursion before kissing your children goodbye.

With your husband at your side, you both mounted your dragons solemnly before letting them take to the skies - the armies long-gone with Cole at the lead. They were easy to catch up with, and unknown to any of you, your step-father knew of the Green movement and flew Caraxes to King's Landing to meet your mother on Syrax.

None of you would know of the damage until it was too late.

After a 19-day march through mud and rain, that was met with only few battles from lesser Lords, you were surprised to find Harrenhal empty. Abandoned. There was only the weakened bodies of House Strong left, and all were taken prisoner. You eyed the castle wearily after Aemond had called you from the skies, feet crunching over charred dirt as you went.

"What's happened?" Aemond wondered gently, looking around with you in skepticism.

"He fled," you noted with suspicion, eyes meeting your husband's gaze as you slowly reached for his hand. "He wouldn't unless for something bigger, Aemond."

He nodded mutely as a grinning Cole approached you both, informing, "The whole place is abandoned. Word must've reached him of our numbers and he didn't want the fight. I imagine he's already back at Dragonstone."

You hummed, "Maybe, but it's not like Daemon to flee. We're talking about the same madman who took the Blood Stone Island singlehandedly - "

"Until he was overrun and your Grandsire rode to his aid," Cole cut off, sighing at you. "Daemon's past triumphs are of no use nor concern here. The truth is, he's fled the fortress and it's been reclaimed in the name of King Aegon."

"No, something's not right," you insisted, still glancing around as if to expect a message that would tell you where Daemon had gone. "He wouldn't just give up, not without the Queen's explicit instruction."

"Could his Queen have given another order?" Aemond wondered, and Cole had to physically restrain himself from snapping that Rhaenyra was the False Queen - and that Alicent and Helaena were the rightful leading Ladies of the Realm.

You paused to consider his question, muttering, "'S possible. But what was said? And when?" Your head shook, "No, something's not right. Can't you feel it?"

"They say this castle is haunted, Lady," Cole sighed.

"No, it goes beyond that - and fuck off, Cole, ghosts are real," you snipped, waving him off. "I don't think we should stay, I-I think we should return to the capital. Love?"

Before Aemond could answer, Cole did, "No, we need to hold the fort."

"With respect," you spat at Cole, "but this is not the easy win you think it is. How much would you wager there's been a spy?"

"Impossible - "

"Improbable," you corrected, "but very much possible."

This lead you three to make for one of the strategy rooms to argue, nobody truly knowing what the next course of action should be.

That was, until the late hours, when a bloodied and soot-covered messenger arrived. "Love," You gasped when the man burst into the room, grabbing onto Aemond in shock.

"Who are you?" Aemond demanded, hand to his longsword.

"I-I come - I come from the Keep, my Prince," the man panted. "I carry grave news."

"What's happened?" Cole demanded.

The message was simple: after they had all left, Rhaenyra and Daemon flew their dragons over the city and your Grandsire, Corlys, sailed into Blackwater Bay - seizing it. Any messenger was caught and arrested, anyone trying to send ravens, too. Yet, your messenger only managed to escape through the back tunnels under the Keep; but could not avoid the panic of the city.

"What of the King?" Aemond demanded.

Larys Strong had managed to smuggle Aegon, his daughter, Jaehaera, and Prince Maelor out of the city. He sent the children to different places, and did not say where Aegon was sent. You'd only learn later he was planted in Dragonstone.

"Where is Larys now?" Aemond muttered, being told the man simply disappeared and there was no further news of him.

"And the Queen?" Cole needed to know.

Alicent had been spared, but her father, Otto, your husband's grandsire, had been beheaded - and any remaining Greens surrendered to Rhaenyra. The city was sacked in less than a day.

"What of our children?" Aemond demanded with a tremor to his voice, his arm around you tightened with each passing second as you waited for an answer.

Allegedly, Alicent had been found holding your babies tightly to her chest, trying to protect them - begging they be spared when finally caught. But Rhaenyra thought the little girl looked oddly like Laena Velaryon, and upon closer inspection, discovered the twins to definitely be your children. They were spared and being taken care of by your mother, now; apparently being under strict watch.

"Oh, Gods," you breathed, starting to pace as panic cemented your stomach. "I-I should not have left. Oh, no, no, no, Gods, please, no, what have we done?"

"We don't know if your life would've been spared, my love," Aemond argued, turning to grab onto you and halt your pacing, "better you were here with us then left to the unknown. We will get our babies back, I swear to you."

"No, no, this is my mother we're talking about, Aemond," you snapped. "She would not harm me - "

"She would if she thought you Green," he pointed out. "I know you're worried, I am, too, but we will find our children soon. We are not abandoning them, I promise you."

"I just want our family together," you whispered tearfully, feeling stressed beyond belief. His arms encircled around you, letting you rest against his chest and almost forgetting the present company.

"My Prince?" Cole asked.

"We march for the capital," his head turned to look at Cole and nod, arms never loosening from around you. It was as if he thought his arms protected you, but it wasn't like you wanted to leave.

"No, no, we should join with Ormund Hightower and your brother, Prince Daeron!"

"Our family needs us," Aemond argued. "Our children, Cole! Where is your head, how can you think there's any other choice of action!?"

"The country needs us - and Daeron is your kin, so are the Hightowers!"

"Our children are in a sacked city, Cole! They're left with the enemy!"

"Which is truly unfortunate, but there is nothing - "

"LIKE HELL THERE ISN'T!" Aemond roared, letting go of you to stride up Cole in anger. "Our children will not be sacrificed! If it takes every life of every man at disposal, then that is what we will do!"

"You're all ignoring the biggest point," you snapped, reddened eyes glaring at the two men as the messenger was given leave to rest. "I told you Daemon did not simply leave - he was tipped off. There's a mole amongst us and someone is sharing secrets."

Aemond's head snapped to look at you, "I told you I did not trust him..."

"Who?" Cole asked.

"Ser Larys Strong," you sneered. "I do believe we need to have a conversation with Ser Simon Strong."

"For now, Lady, we should feast," Cole nodded. "It's been a long journey and the men are tired. Please, for tonight, allow us reprieve from turmoil."

Aemond nodded in agreement, and while you rested from pure exhaustion in a hard, cold bed, your husband took part in the night's festivities. You heard rumor later of him boasting how Daemon grew weary from their numbers and strength, but never once gave mention to the suspicions you shared.

[ part two ]

[ alternate ending one: Kin Slayer ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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