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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 1 month

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Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you," the witch said....

Daenera Velaryon returns to King's Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother's position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love.

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 1: A prophecy foretold

AO3

“Be careful, princess,” Ser Harwin warned as Daenera slipped on the leafy ground of the Kingswoods, her arms flailing in an attempt to stabilize her. She quickly waved him off, eyes focused on the bush of dark berries. She trotted towards the bush and began to pick the berries, brows furrowed in concentration, the apple of her cheeks bright pink in the fresh cool air.

“Are you my true father?” Daenera asked suddenly, the question thrown out into the world as if it weren’t a loaded, dangerous question.

Ser Harwin froze against the tree he was leaning on, his eyes scanning over the little princess and her dark hair that was so much like his own, curling around her chubby face and spilling down over her shoulders and back. The princess seemed wholly unbothered by the question.

“Why would you ask such a thing?” Ser Harwin questioned back, trying to gauge the princess's reaction.

Daenera shrugged, the frown deepening and the pace with which she was picking berries slowing. “I am not stupid. I don’t look like Laenor nor do I look much like my mother, but one cannot deny that she birthed me, so the only reasonable conclusion is that Laenor isn’t my true father… And… I look more like you.”

The rationality with which she spoke astonished Ser Harwin. Yet, it was clear that the reason behind the questions was a soft prayer to understand and to have explained why she was different from her uncles or cousins.

She was far too perceptive for a girl her age.

“Would it disappoint you?” Ser Harwin asked, his voice gentle and warm.

Daenera pursed her lips in thought, trying to put words to her thoughts. It wasn’t easy to be faced with the possibility of being a bastard. “Do you love my mother?”

“I do,” Ser Harwin answered without a question, the devotion he held for Rhaenyra evident in his voice and burning in his eyes. He looked at Daenera with fatherly devotion.

“Then no, I should think not. If you love each other, then I don't see a reason to be disappointed… But Laenor is still my father.” Daenera said, finally looking up at the Commander of the City Watch.

Ser Harwin smiled. “Of course. I can never replace your father.”

It was true in multiple ways. He could never replace Laenor. The truth could never be revealed.

Daenera went back to picking berries, the tip of her fingers painted burgundy. “I would like you to be my father as well.”

“You know I can’t really be your father, right?” Ser Harwin pushed off the tree to kneel down by the princess, placing his hands on her shoulders to make her look directly at him. Her big blue eyes blinked up at him. “You cannot tell anyone this. Not even your brothers. It will put you all in a dangerous position.”

“I know.”

“You can’t treat me any different. Laenor is your father, in name and blood, do you understand?”

“I do, I know.” The princess grumbled, pouting a little. “I can’t tell my brothers. I can’t tell anyone. And I can’t acknowledge you as my father.”

“It is a secret that will protect everyone you love.” Ser Harwin said, making sure she knew.

“Try these.” Daenera handed him a handful of berries, before walking back to pluck some more.

Ser Harwin inspected the berries. “Are they poisonous?”

“No,” Daenera answered. Ser Harwin propped the handful into his mouth, the taste sweet. “I don’t think so, although I cannot be sure, they look like blueberries but they could also be nightshade.”

Ser Harwin choked, coughing on the juices and spat out, trying to catch his breath. It was only then he noticed the sly, mischievous smile on Daenera’s lips. “Are you sure you do not wish me dead?”

“I’m only teasing, they’re regular blueberries.” She answered, putting a few berries into her mouth for emphasis. A big grin split across her face.

Ser Harwin shook his head. “You could have killed me.”

“I took the chance.”

“You’re a wicked little princess,” he chided, beating on his chest to try and loosen whatever lingered in his chest after choking. He glanced towards the sky, looking past the green rustling leaves of the trees to the blue expanse of sky. “We should head back to the Keep.”

“Must we?” Daenera whined, shoving the remaining berries she had picked into a tiny satchel by her hips.

Ser Harwin held out a hand for her to take.

Wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress, she smeared the purple juices onto the fabric, staining it irrevocably. It wasn’t an expensive dress, but Joyce wouldn’t be happy with her. She took Ser Harwins big hand, finding comfort in his warmth.

They walked across the forest floor, the sun streaming through the trees as morning became noon, warming the air. There was a sudden shift in temperature then, the sun seemingly unable to pierce through the thick growth of trees, casting everything below it in cool shadows. Among those trees was a wagon, one of those used to live in as one traveled across the land.

Daenera slowed her pace, eyes stuck on the red and purple painted wagon, the same color the tip of her fingers were. Along the roof of the wagon hung clusters of talismans and trinkets. The sight of it made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Ser Harwin tried to pull the princess along with him, uneasy by the whole thing, but Daenera wouldn’t budge, eyes fixed on the dark-haired woman with kohl smeared around her eyes, a deep red that seemed almost black. Ser Harwin’s hand found the hilt of his sword.

“Are you a witch?” Daenera asked.

“Come princess.” Ser Harwin beckoned her. She pulled her hand from his grasp as she turned fully to the woman.

“Some may call me a witch, others will claim me a fraud, and a few a priestess. It is all in the eye of the beholder.”

“I don’t understand.”

The witch smiled. “I tell people their futures… if they’re willing to pay the price.”

Daenera’s eyes widened in intrigue. Who wouldn’t want to know their future? “Can you tell me mine?”

Ser Harwin was less intrigued by the woman. “Daenera. We really should get back to the Keep, your mother awaits you.”

“But I wish to know my future,” Daenera said stubbornly.

“Whatever she may tell you, it will only serve to sow doubt and discord. We are not meant to know our futures.”

“If you’re afraid you can stay out here and keep guard, but I’m going in,” Daenera told him in all her princessly authority. She picked up her skirts and made her way towards the woman, who smiled slyly.

The witch led the princess through a ruffled veil of string and glass beads, into the darkness of the wagon. It was only when she had entered that her heart began to drum in her chest as the shadows crept over her skin making a shiver go down her spine. Doubt and uncertainty seeded themselves in her chest.

What if her future was boring? What if she were to marry some ugly, old, fat man? What if she were told she’d never have children? or find true love?

The witch sat behind a round table. The only candle in the room was unable to light up the entirety of the space, only serving to deepen the shadows and make them dance with each flicker, almost mockingly. Daenera clutched her hands nervously.

“So you wish to know your future, little princess,” In this lighting, the kohl around the woman's eyes only served to make them seem hollow, the flame dancing in the darkness of irises. Something else looked back at Daenera from the depths. “Knowing one's future comes with a prince.”

“I have money,” Daenera answered, trying to unfasten the pouch of coins at her hip.

The witch laughed, coldly. “It is not money that I want.”

Daenera looked at the woman in confusion.

“The price of knowing your future is one of blood.”

Fear gripped Daenera and she anxiously took a step back, wondering whether she should call for Ser Harwin. “Blood?”

“One drop and I will give you a prophecy of your future. You will be able to ask three questions, no more.” The witch removed a long thin hairpin from her hair. At one end there was a red ruby, gleaming like fire, while the other end was thin like a needle. Something in the back of her mind told her to turn around, to heed Ser Harwin’s warning, to go back to the castle and forget it all.

But like a moth to a flame, she could not turn back.

She was rooted to the floor, the shadows clawing at her, tugging her forward like a puppet on a string.

The witch's grin widened. She held out her hand for Daenera to place her own in. Once she had the princess's hand in hers, she pressed the hairpin down on her finger, breaking the skin. A drop of blood welled up as she squeezed the finger, the same deep red as the ruby, the flame of the candlelight flickering in it.

Daenera was shocked when the witch brought her finger to her mouth, sucking the blood off her finger. She tried to pull her hand to her but found the witch's grip on her wrist unyielding. It wasn’t until Daenera used all her force that she was able to break free, gripping her wrist and holding it to her chest.

The woman closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose, leaning back in the chair. When she opened her eyes again, they seemed black. They fixed Daenera to her spot, unable to break free of their spell. Her heart hammered in her chest, like a little bird trying to break free.

“I see your future being woven, black and green, red and blue, a grand tapestry. Your future is one of great trials and tribulations. You will be tested by fire and betrayal as those around you seek to use you for their own gain. So many threads, so many possibilities.” The witch's voice was low and melodic, like a hymn echoing in the dark of a crypt. It crept over Daenera’s skin, burrowed into her bones and settled there, forever a part of her. “The Dragons will dance and fire shall rain from above. Terror rides the wind. The Stranger will visit you many times, he follows you and you will see some of those you love in his care. Some you will pass over to him yourself.”

Her bones felt like ice, and she shivered, wanting nothing more than to warm herself by the candlelight.

“You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you.” The witch hummed, closing her eyes again as she ran her tongue over her lips, licking at the traces of the princess's blood. “Blood will play a significant role in your life, with debts made and paid in equal measure. Pain will be your constant companion as the cursed power in your blood will be wielded with the precision of poison. But remember, poisoned cups may be turned around on yourself, and the power of curses always has a price.”

“Mmm,” the witch hummed, eyes rolling as she searched her mind. “Love will come to you, a double-edged sword. Your first marriage will be loveless and your second cloaked in betrayal. Who will you be able to trust?”

The witch laughed at Daenera’s crestfallen face. “But through both of these unions, you will find love that burns bright and fierce.”

The witch tapped on the table, a rhythmic tempo, like the beating of a heart. Her eyes opened again. “What is your first question, princess of flowers?”

Daenera let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her mouth had gone dry and she glanced down at her hand, finding red crescents littering her skin from where her nails had dug into it. Her mind whired with thoughts. “Who is this love of mine?”

It was such a childish question, but Daenera was just a child. She still dreamed of knights and boundless love.

“The boy with the stars in his eyes will capture your heart, but be wary of the danger that he represents. Twin flames, one soul. This is the love that awaits you. You will be torn between the desire for love and the fear of being consumed by it. What is your second question, princess of poison?”

It was hard to choose one. There were so many. She could ask more about this love, about the marriages, about whether she would be happy. Or she could ask the more foreboding questions.

“Who will betray me?”

The witch laughed, roared with it. “Betrayal will come from all sides, from enemies and loved ones alike. Even your own heart and blood will betray you. Ultimately, the choice will be yours. Will you succumb to the fire and the betrayal, or will you rise above it and find power? The path ahead is fraught with danger, but there is hope for a brighter tomorrow if you are willing to fight for it.”

It had been a mistake entering the witches' wagon. A big mistake indeed. She did not wish to know any more from this witch. Fear had sunk its claws into her, uprooting her from the spot in the wagon. Daenera took a step back, tears stinging in her eyes. Why did her future sound so horrible? This isn’t what she wanted to hear.

“What is your final question, princess of curses?”

“I don’t want to know anymore.” Daenera answered, voice quivering and breaking.

The witches' eyes sharpened. “You started this. The deal is not done yet.”

“I don’t want to know more!” Daenera yelled at the witch, loud enough to summon Ser Harwin. He bound into the wagon, far too big for its size, and yet he stood there, between Daenera and the witch, hand threateningly on the hilt of his sword. The witches' eyes narrowed at him.

“We are not done yet.” She insisted, a feral look in her eyes. “You must ask the final question.”

“I don’t have one!” Daenera yelped, hiding behind Ser Harwin.

“The princess is ready to leave, so you will allow her to.”

The witch flicked the hairpin at Ser Harwin, the sharp end of it grazing the hand that gripped the hilt of the sword before it embedded itself in the wood of a cabinet. The witch took a deep breath, her dark eyes burning into Ser Harwin, who slowly backed away while she followed, the princess being pushed out of the wagon.

“The fireflies will burn your future to the ground. Leave that landing of kings and you shall not return.” Despite the clear threat of Ser Harwin’s hand on his sword, the witch remained unbothered, following them out into the fresh air, the sun having yet to penetrate the crown of the trees. “All strong men shall fall. Even the strongest. Even the cleverest. Even the small, the first, the sweet. And it shall all begin with you. So beware the fireflies and their ambition.”

Daenera ran a little way away before turning, waiting for Ser Harwin as he walked backward towards her, never losing sight of the witch.

“If you do not ask your question now, princess, you will leave the contract unfulfilled.” The witch said forebodingly. Reaching up to one of the trinkets, she grabbed on, tugging at a few branches and rope to release the golden coin held in suspension in the middle. She looked back at the princess and flicked the coin at her. It flew in an arch and landed at the feet of the princess.

Daenera picked up the coin. On one side a spiral had been carved into it, while an eye ordained the other side. She looked back up at the witch with confusion written all over her face.

“When you are finally ready to ask that question of yours, bury this in the woods and come back when there’s no moon in the sky.” The witch said in a foreboding tone. “But know this, the question will haunt you until you ask it.”

Ser Harwin turned around and picked Daenera up. He wanted her out of the forest. Daenera watched as the witch smiled and waved at her before disappearing into the wagon.

Daenera remained quiet until they were sitting on the horse, crossing the treeline out into the open field, with Kingslanding in sight. It was comforting. Only then did she give voice to the thoughts in her head.

“Do you think what the witch said was true?”

“What did she say to you?” Ser Harwin asked gently, not wanting to frighten the princess anymore than she already was. For he knew the encounter had shaken her.

“She said that my future would be one of betrayal and fire. That… that blood will play a role and that mine is cursed.” It was hard to put words to. Her mind skipped parts and sowed others together. How could she explain it all? “I will find love, but he will betray me. Everyone will. And that the Stranger follows me… I don’t want to die. I don’t want anyone to die.”

“The Stranger follows us all,” Ser Harwin spoke, trying to calm the child in his arms. She may act grown and be perceptive for her age, but she was a child still. The notion of death was a far out concept one didn’t think much of at that age. “Everything that lives must die in the end. That is what makes us mortal.”

Daenera went quiet, trying to blink the tears away.

“We must all die. Did the witch tell you when and how people died?”

“No.”

“Then it could be when we’re all old and in bed for all you know. Death is what lets us know we’re living. Don’t put too much thought into what the witch said. Things like these are vague for a reason. You’ll find that it can be fitted onto most people. She just wanted to scare you.”

But the witch hadn’t been all vague, had she?

“But she also said that I’d be betrayed.”

“By who?”

“Everyone.”

“People like the witch make a game out of telling the future, they tell you riddles and let those haunt all your future actions. You can’t trust anything she said for the future isn’t set in stone,” Ser Harwin explained. “To know the future is to tie a noose and hang oneself with it. Forget what the witch told you, don’t let her riddles tie you a noose.”

“To know the future is to tie a noose and hang oneself with it,” Daenera repeated his words back to him in a musing, thoughtful tone. “So you don’t believe what she said to you?”

“Fireflies cannot start fires,” Ser Harwin dismissed the witches' prediction. He wouldn’t give it any more thought, just as he told her not to. His future was with the city watch and the royal family, however, they needed him. There weren’t even any fireflies in King's Landing.

“If you do not believe her, then I won’t either.”

The Red Keep has always been a great big thing looming over King's Landing with its high, towering walls built upon the highest hill. Daenera had often wondered how they had managed to build it so tall. Her and Ser Harwin rode through the gate into the tiltyard. Ser Harwin swung down from the horse and then helped Daenera down, the girl brushing out her dirty and crumbled skirts, hair in a tissy around her face. She was handed her bigger satchel and the few books she had taken with her before Ser Harwin led the horse towards the stables.

Daenera didn’t wait for him and began up the steps to the keep, following behind Aemond who had been sparring alone in the tiltyard, trying to improve his skill. They silently fell into step with each other.

“Out foraging in the forest again?” Aemond questioned.

“Out training alone again?” Daenera questioned right back.

“Training alone is better than training with your brothers. They seem to lessen my skill rather than improve it.”

“Maybe that’s because they’re better than you, and if so, then you should keep at it.”

Aemond narrowed his eyes at her as they turned the corner, beginning the long journey up the steps towards Maegor's holdfast where both of their rooms were.

“I would have thought that the Commander of the City Watch would have better things to do than to babysit you,” Aemond argued. “Like commanding the City Watch for example.”

“And I would think Ser Criston Cole would pay more attention to teaching you, but I suppose not, given that you’re training alone,” Daenera mused back with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And as for Ser Harwin babysitting me, it is a great honor to be entrusted with a princess is it not?”

“That is what we have the Kingsguard for,” Aemond pointed out. “Strange that you won’t be entrusted to them, but are with the Commander.”

Daenera swallowed, eyes darting over Aemond to try and see what he was thinking. At the moment he was a stone wall with hair standing in tots around his head and dirt on his red cheeks. No, she would not reveal anything either. “I like Ser Harwin. He’s a good man and if it wasn’t because he was the heir to Harrenhall, he too would be a Kingsguard.”

“I see, so it’s because he’s to have kids he’s not wearing the white cloak,” Aemond hummed, his words sharp and prodding. “I suppose he didn’t want to be an oathbreaker…”

“Besides, could you imagine Ser Criston with me in the woods?” Daenera continued, trying to conjure up the image of Ser Criston standing among the trees in his white cloak, glaring at her and sneering at her to hurry up, the embodiment of ‘I don't want to be here’. He always hated her and her brothers. Daenera didn’t understand why. “He treats us badly and without respect.”

“He treats you badly and without respect.”

“I like Ser Harwin much better,” Daenera said.

“Hm, you’d have to, wouldn’t you?” Aemond muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t know what it's like to like someone and be liked back,” Daenera shot at him. They had come to a standstill outside her mothers rooms. They regarded one another.

“You smell of sweat,” Daenera told him.

“You smell of horse,” Aemond answered right back. A smile grew on both their lips, the tension in the air dispelled immediately. “Are you coming to the dancing lessons later?”

“Of course, are you?”

“Unfortunately,” Aemond grumbled, waving as he walked away.

Daenera had often wondered when things had changed between them. When they were younger all of them were friends and played with one another, but slowly Aegon and Aemond had withdrawn, beginning to shoot snide comments towards her and her brothers. It was as if a chism had opened up between them. She didn’t understand it, but she had learned that people grew apart. And she wasn’t really that upset over not being good friends with Aegon. He had turned into quite the asshole, always ready with a malicious jape or prank. And her brothers, her stupid and naive brothers, fell for Aegon's scheming every time.

Between her and Aemond there was either constant war or truce. They constantly jeered one another, constantly poked at each other's weak points, sparred with words, and yet, they could smile at each other and call it a day. It was a strange sort of rivalry. And maybe it stemmed from a silent understanding of one another, second borns, dragonless, buried in books and duties.

Daenera entered her mothers rooms finding Laenor sprawled out over the chamise, an arm over his eyes, boots still on his feet, quietly snoring. Rhaenyra was buried in a book in front of the fireplace, hand on the swell of her stomach. It wouldn’t be long before Daenera got another sibling. Rhaenyra looked up from her book, smiling softly at her only daughter.

“How was the woods?”

“Enlightening,” Daenera answered, feeling the grip of those shadows linger on her soul like a bruise. She shook the feeling off and hurried to her mother, opening the bag to reveal her treasures and findings, which all looked like shrubs and weed to Rhaenyra. “I got some Dandelions, Musk Mallow, Pennyroyal and some Thistle. And some herbs and mushrooms, though I didn’t pick a lot of those because I’m not entirely sure of them yet. I also got some blackberries, which I fed Ser Harwin.”

“And told me they were nightshades,” Ser Harwin recalled, sliding into the rooms. His eyes went soft at the sight of Rhaenyra, her hand cradling her stomach, while her other gripped Daenera’s hands. His child and their mother. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her mischievous daughter.

“They weren’t,” Daenera reminded him. “Or you’d be dead.”

“I could have died choking on the berries you gave me.”

“It was a harmless prank, don’t take it to heart Ser Harwin,” Daenera told him. Ser Harwin tried to hold back his smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

“Forgive her, Ser Harwin, it seems my daughter has quite the mischievous side,” Rhaenyra said, shaking her head at her daughter, a smile on her lips, knowing it was all in good fun.

“Already forgiven.”

Rhaenyra’s water broke a fortnight after Daenera’s adventure in the woods. When Luke was born Daenera was there, sitting quietly in one of the chairs, trying to understand what was happening while Laenor held her mothers hand, trying to calm both his daughter and his wife at once. Rhaenyra had waved him off then, sending him to the teary eyed Daenera to comfort her. Now she had a bigger role to play.

With her interest in healing and medical practices, she stood beside her mother, steeling herself for what was to come, trying to be as brave as a dragon, despite the fear clawing in her chest.

Rhaenyra was covered in a sheen of sweat, trying to breathe through the pain of labor, hair sticking to her skin, made wavey by the salt of sweat and the humidity of the room. One of the midwives kept patting her forehead with a wet cloth, the constant touch and fussing beginning to irritate the heir to the throne.

Rhaenyra swatted the midwife's hand away. “Stop patting my head as if I were a sick child.”

“The wet cloth will help with the heat of childbirth and will calm you,” The midwife explained, wetting the cloth again and bringing it back to pat at Rhaenyra’s chest.

Another contraction went through her, body tensing up with pain, a guttural groan ripping through her throat. She again swatted the nurses hand away, this time growling. “Stop it you cunt!”

The oldest midwife gestured for the other to leave, not wanting to add to the tension and irritability that childbirth often brought upon women.

“Is it awfully painful?” Daenera asked, her voice low and filled with concern.

Rhaenyra turned her head to the side and forced a smile, looking at her daughter. She extended her hand and pushed aside a strand of dark hair falling into her daughter's face. Her hand rested on the curve of her daughter’s cheek, and her thumb brushed gently over the skin.

“It is. Awful and painful.”

“Then why do you do it?” Daenera asked, confused. Why would anyone willingly go through that sort of pain? It seemed like an awful lot of trouble, and an awful lot of blood, sweat and tears. Daenera couldn’t imagine wanting to go through that. The concept was so strange to her.

“Because it is worth it. You and your brothers are worth every second of pain,” Rhaenyra told her. Another wave of contractions rushed over her and she pulled back from her daughter, gripping the bed sheets with enough force to turn her knuckles white.

“Do not push yet, my lady,” the midwife ordered, looking under the fabric of her mothers dress.

There were no Maesters present, she didn’t trust them after what happened to her mother, she saw them as rats. Instead she put her trust in her midwives, the ones who had helped her through the birth of her first three children and had served as her maids for years. She trusted them.

“Why did the gods make us like this?” Daenera asked. “Why couldn’t we just lay eggs like the dragons?”

Rhaenyra chuckled at her daughter's words, as did the midwives. “Laying an egg doesn’t seem all that fun either, Dae. They are about the same size as a newborn baby, the pain would be the same.”

“Hm… I suppose it would be boring having to keep the egg warm until it hatched. I just think the gods are cruel to put us through that much pain.”

“The gods give us this pain so that we know we can endure,” Rhaenyra said.

“But not all endures,” Daenera whispered.

“No, not all can endure it. But I will. Do not worry for me, my flower,” Rhaenyra comforted her daughter, who squared her shoulders and straightened her back, determination edging her otherwise soft features. She might not look all that much like Rhaenyra but the shape of her eyes, but she possessed the same fire that all Targaryens had.

“You don’t need to comfort me, mother, I do not doubt that you shall survive. I should be the one to comfort you.”

“Give me your hand, sweet child.”

Daenera gave her her hand, holding it tight as another contraction hit. This time Rhaenyra was told to push. And she did. She breathed in deeply, Daenera following her mothers lead, and pushed as hard as she could.

The fat midwife came up behind Rhaenyra for support, holding her other hand and helping her to sit in the right position on the bed . Pain and effort flashed across Daenera’s mothers face, contorting it and making grimaces, and yet, in the pain of birth, Daenera thought her mother the most beautiful woman in the world, even when her face turned red.

There was a sound Daenera hadn’t heard before, of dripping water, soaking into the sheets. Childbirth was terribly messy.

“You are doing great, mother,” Daenera encouraged once her mother breathed a little easier after the contraction. Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, proud that she hadn’t turned away.

It felt like forever before the baby came, water and blood squirting everywhere on the bed as the child slid out, her mother falling back into the bed, body wrecked by exhaustion.

Rhaenyra half cried, half laughed, relieved that the child had come rather easy. Daenera’s eyes were big and focused on the grimy baby in the midwife's hands.

“A boy, princess,” the fat midwife announced.

Daenera grinned widely at her mother. “A brother. I’ve got another brother.”

Rhaenyra smiled, relieved to see that there wasn't a hint of disappointment on her daughter's face. Instead she beamed like the sun, excited at the prospect of a new family member. The newborn let out a strong cry, taking in air for the first time, as Rhaenyra released her daughter's hand to welcome the baby into her arms. “Healthy?”

“Kicking like a goat, princess,” the midwife answered, just as happy as the rest of them.

Rhaenyra cried with relief and happiness, the babe squirming in her arms, crying its heart out with life. Daenera looked over her shoulders at the baby. It looked like a baby should, she supposed, but she couldn’t yet tell all its features. What she could tell was that Laenor wasn't likely to be the father.

“Look at his tiny hands!” Daenera gushed, reaching to touch it. The baby wrapped its hand around her finger. “It's so strong.”

The midwife that had disappeared out the doors to bring the tidings forth came back, worry evident on her face. “Princess…the-the queen has requested that the child should be brought to her… immediately.”

Daenera’s face fell in confusion and Rhaenyra’s in apprehension and suspicion. They both echoed at the same time. “Why?”

The midwife held no answer.

Rhaenyra pushed herself to her feet, the movement labored and painful, a groan falling from her lips. It was wrong. She shouldn’t be standing, she had only just given birth. Why would the queen send for the baby the moment it was born? What was so important? Why was she so impatient? Daenera felt anger on the behalf of her mother. The baby was still attached to Rhaenyra by the umbilical cord.

“It’s not right,” Daenera said, unable to hide her dissatisfaction. “You’ve just given birth, can the queen not wait?”

“Evidently not,” Rhaenyra uttered, she wasn’t ready to hand over her newborn just yet. “I’ll take him myself.”

“You should remain abed, princess-,”

“Yes, I should! Bring me my dress!” Rhaenyra yelled in aggravation. It was egregious to force her to let go of the child she had only just given birth to, and even more so to expect her to just hand it over for some sort of inspection. Bitterness and anger burned within Rhaenyra’s chest. It wasn’t right what Alicent was doing. It was humiliating and demeaning.

The midwives fussed around Rhaenyra as Daenera watched with big, concerned eyes. The sounds her mother made were the same as when she was giving birth. Was there another? Rhaenyra reluctantly handed over the baby to a midwife.

Daenera tried to get the excitement back, but the worry overshadowed the feeling.

The midwives peeled off Rhaenyra’s underdress she had worn throughout the birth, the wet fabric clinging to her skin, coloured by blood and the water of the womb. Every movement seemed a great effort and very painful. Her baby brother cried for his mothers loving warmth.

They then helped Rhaenyra into a blue underdress before putting another dress over it, the bodice loose and of a different fashion than what she usually wore. She tried to calm the child with shushing, all the while feeling the painful contractions pull at her insides. “Mhmm, mm, it’s coming.”

Daenera watched her mother fold over in pain as the midwives sunk to their knees, pushing the princesses skirts up. “The afterbirth!”

This time water drippled to the floor as Rhaenyra pushed, trying to get the thing over with. Daenera’s eyes had gone wide. “Are you giving birth again?”

“No, no, no,” Rhaenyra groaned, licking her lips as her face contorted in pain with another push. “It’s… the afterbirth. It’s like a protective sack for the child.”

“You give birth twice?!” Daenera exclaimed in exasperation and disbelief. Did all women give birth twice for one baby?! The gods are truly cruel.

Rhaenyra laughed through the pain, though the laughter got as distorted as her face. Blood ran down her legs with each push.

“Here it comes,” Rhaenyra hissed through clenched teeth.

Once the afterbirth had come out, one of the midwives examined it to ensure that nothing was left inside the princess, while the other two servants assisted in lacing up the dress. Only then, the baby was carefully placed in its mothers arms, wrapped in a soft silk blanket, with gold embroidery at the edges.

Rhaenyra waddled though her rooms, heading towards the doors when they were suddenly swung open by Laenor, his face revealing his excitement.

“A boy. I’ve just heard,” he greeted them, relief joying the excitement on his face.

“Yes.”

“Well done… Where are you going?” Lanor asked, confused at his wife's persistent walk.

“ She wants to see him,” Rhaenyra bit out.

Daenera was the one to elaborate. “The queen wants to see the baby immediately, she said.”

“What, now?” Laenor asked in the same disbelief as Daenera felt. “I’m coming.”

“I should hope so.”

“I’m coming as well,” Daenera joined in.

Rhaenyra came to a halt, casting her gaze down at her second born, a daughter who adored her and would be at her side wherever she went. However, this time she could not accompany her.

“No, you’ll stay right here,” Rhaenyra told her.

“Why?! I want-,”

“Stay, Daenera. This isn’t a child's game,” her mother cut her off. Trying to quell the anger she drew in a deep breath, then looked upon her daughter. “It is best if you stay. Go find your brothers and tell them the news.”

Daenera knew she wouldn’t make any difference in arguing, so she instead nodded and ran down the halls, picking up the skirts so as to not fall in them. Jace and Luke had just arrived at the tiltyard with Ser Harwin following suit, two dragon keepers carrying a brazier between them, the heat of which distorted the air around it.

Daenera huffed and puffed, cheeks red. “Its-it’s a boy.”

Jace and Luke jumped with excitement, gripping onto one another as they jumped around in a celebratory circle. Ser Harwin’s eyes were beaming, though the smile on his face was small.

“Come on, let’s get back to mothers chambers!” Jace yelled, gripping Luke’s arm, pulling the younger with him. “Let’s see who’s fastest!”

Jace ran off, Luke right at his heels, yelling about how unfair it was because he had a headstart and longer legs.

“Please, Ser Harwin, would you join us in our celebration?”

“I would like that very much, Princess Daenera.”

The two of them walked up the steps and into the hall once more, meeting a fleet of people, all congratulating the princess on her new brother. Daenera accepted their congratulations with a smile and a nod. It was only when the halls were less crowded she began speaking again. “The queen sent for the child immediately after he was born. Mother refused to let him go, so she went along with him.”

“Your mother walked all the way to the queen's chambers?” Ser Harwin asked. He knew of the animosity between the queen and the princess, knew of the bad blood and the rivalry, but he had not thought that the queen would force a woman who had just given birth to walk all the way through the castle to see the child.

If anything, as a woman herself, she should have let the princess heal or come to her herself.

Ser Harwin found it vile, and he couldn’t blame Rhaenyra for the spite that seemed to course through her veins.

“Yes,” Daenera’s voice quivered with the single word.

“Your mother is strong. Stronger than any woman I’ve ever met, do not worry for her,” Ser Harwin told the young princess.

“How can I not, when she was still bleeding when she left,” Daenera said. She would never forget this slight, nor would she forgive it.

By the time Daenera and Ser Harwin entered Rhaenyra’s apartments, the brothers had resumed their play with their toys. Each had two lines of wooden soldiers marching against one another. Luke was flying a wooden dragon in the air, attacking Jace’s troops. Ser Harwin knelt down to observe the game while Daenera sat on the settee, one leg bouncing in impatience, not listening to her brother's play.

“And he sees a big, scary dragon!” Jace told Luke, holding up the biggest dragon to combat the one Luke had.

It was then when the doors opened again, letting in Rhaenyra and Laenor. Ser Harwin was the first on his feet, then Daenera, Jace and Luke. Jace hurried over to the brazier containing the dragon egg that he, Daenera and Luke had chosen for their new sibling.

“Look!” Jace presented for their mother.

“We chose an egg for the baby,” Luke elaborated, looking down at the big, copper coloured egg.

“Ah, that looks like the perfect one,” their mother told them, allowing Ser Harwin to help her sit down. She sounded exhausted.

“I let Luke choose,” Jace told their parents.

“Thank you, Jace,” Luke thanked his brother. Jace had after all chosen both Daenera’s egg and Lukes. It was only fair that he too should choose one for his sibling.

“It’s not everyday an egg leaves the dragonpit, princess,” Ser Harwin began, slowly walking towards Laenor and the baby. “I thought it best to escort the lads.”

Ser Harwin looked down at princess Rhaenyra, who in turn looked up at him. They gave each other a look that Daenera didn’t fully understand, it was the look of a shared secret, a look of devotion, loyalty and love. One not easily replaced or forgotten. It was subtle, but it was there.

And Daenera couldn’t understand it.

“Laenor and I thank you, Commander,” Rhaenyra replied.

“Another boy, I was told,” Ser Harwin said. Rhaenyra flashed the father of her children a smile, hand brushing over the deflating swell of her stomach, trying to alleviate the pain within.

“What a fine knight you’re going to make, eh?” Laenor mused at the baby, gently rocking it.

“Might I?” Ser Harwin asked. He knew it was overstepping his bounds, but he wished to hold the child he helped make. Daenera looked at her mother, who was watching the two fathers, one in name and one in blood. Laenor had to know, and if he knew, then they all had some sort of silent agreement.

“Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey,” Rhaenyra spoke, her voice smooth and quiet, not at all the same as when she was straining with pain.

“Of course,” Laenor said, handing over the baby.

“Joffrey, is it?”

“Mhm.”

“Father, please may I hold Joffrey?” Luke asked, reaching for his brother, no longer able to stand the wait. Laenor dismissed the notion, guiding the two boys out of the rooms.

Daenera remained for a moment, looking from a smitten Commander of the City Watch, to her loving mother. Their eyes med and Rhaenyra gestured with her head for Daenera to follow the boys out. Daenera nodded in agreement and headed out.

The boys went ahead of Daenera and Laenor, even in their reluctance of leaving their newborn brother, they still felt excitement at their lessons at the dragonpit. Daenera was less excited only because she herself didn’t have a dragon.

“Can I skip today's lesson at the Dragonpit?” Daenera asked her father.

“Why?”

“I don’t have a dragon to train with for one,” Daenera argued the same point she had used so many times before. Being at the Dragonpit, having lessons in dragons, how to train them and how to speak to them and eventually ride them, were a continuous reminder of what she did not have. It always left a bitter taste in her mouth. What good are dragon lessons when you don't have a dragon?

“Neither do Aemond and he’s still there,” Laenor reminded her.

“He doesn’t want to be there either,” Daenera argued back.

“You are a Targaryen and Velaryon both, it is part of our traditions and you should take part in them, even when you do not see the point,” Laenor told his daughter. “My sister-,”

“Didn’t have a dragon either,” Daenera finished his sentence, knowing it by heart. “And now she rides the biggest and mightiest dragon of them all, Vhagar. I know, I know. But perhaps I’m not meant to ride dragons! Perhaps it’s all a waste.”

“I don’t think that, Daenera,” Laenor said, holding out a hand in front of her, stopping her in her tracks. He knelt down on her level, his face not at all reflected in her own. “I think you’ll ride a dragon one day, and to do that you’ll need the lessons. Being a dragonrider is in your blood.”

“Can I just… skip today, please? I promise I’ll go next time and the time after that,” Daenera pleaded.

“You’ll promise not to make it a habit?” Laenor caved, unable to fully refuse his daughter.

“I promise,” Daenera answered.

“You know you’ll have to keep your promises. You need to be a lady of her words.”

“I am.”

“Good. What will you spend the time on then?”

“I’ll go see Helaena,” Daenera told him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a big hug. She kissed his cheek and turned on her heel, running towards the library to pick up the book she had been thinking about, before heading towards the queens chambers where she knew Helaena would be.

Daenera knocked on the door of the queen chambers, cradling her book in her arms, rolling back and forth on her feet as she waited for it to be opened. The heavy wooden door, so finely carved, creaked open to reveal the queen in her fine green dress, a deep emerald, curls of hair pinned up with ringlets falling down her back like a waterfall. Daenera smiled politely, leaning a bit forward to peek inside, catching a glimpse of silver hair.

“Princess Daenera shouldn’t you be at the Dragonpit?” Alicent asked, lips pursed in disapproval.

Daenera would mirror the queen's face, if it wasn’t for the fact that it would make it unlikely that she’d be allowed to stay with Helaena. She also had to bite back sour words that were filling her mouth as she wished to give out a tongue lashing to the queen for her treatment of her mother. It wouldn’t do any good either.

“I’ve been allowed not to attend today and thought I’d instead spend my time with Helaena,” Daenera answered, eyes shifting back to Alicent trying to convey innocence and sincerity. “I’ve brought a book that I wish to read to her.”

“And what book might that be?”

“It’s about the warrior princess Nymeria and her life,” Daenera told the queen. There was a flicker of emotion flashing across the queen's face before she was able to conceal it beneath her carefully crafted mask. Alicent smiled shortly and stepped aside allowing Daenera to enter.

Daenera hurried over to Helaena and positioned herself in the chair beside the settee, legs inches off the ground, the thick volume of Nymeria’s life heavy on her lap. Helaena didn’t acknowledge her friend's presence, eyes transfixed on the centipede climbing from one hand to another, its many legs tickling across her pale skin. Daenera didn’t mind the lack of acknowledgement, she was used to it. Helaena might be in her own world most of the time, but she knew of her presence, Daenera was sure of it.

“This one has sixty rings and two pairs of legs on each. That’s two hundred and forty,” Helaena told no one in particular. Alicent at sat down beside her daughter, looking at the girl with a wistful look in her eyes. “It has eyes, though… I don’t believe it can see.”

“Why is that so, do you think?” Alicent asked her daughter, with a wish of understanding edged upon her face, softening her otherwise hardened features.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

“I suppose you’re right, some things just are.”

Daenera flipped through the pages of the book, the scent of old paper wafting up from the pages. Some of them were painted with images. She stopped at the page where they had left off the last time and Daenera picked up from there, beginning to read out loud.

“What is this?” Daenera suddenly said, frown tugging at her brows, her hand turning from one page to another, trying to figure out what had just happened in the story. “A page is missing.”

“ A love irrefutably torn, a path not taken, yet still fondly remembered ,” Helaena mused, her last words being nearly cut off by the abrupt opening of the doors.

Alicent got up, her heels clicking over the stone floor, while Daenera continued to try and figure out how she was to piece the story together without all of the pages. Who would do such a thing? It was obscene, that was what it was. In her wonderings, Daenera vaguely heard the guard speak.

“Your grace.”

“Aemond? What have you done?” Alicent breathed aghast at the sight of her second son, hair mussed up, dirtied and rumpled, with a sad look upon his face. Daenera glanced up to catch sight of him and his miserable expression.

“He did it again,” Helaena responded, her eyes suddenly present and looking upon her brother. Aemond’s presence always seemed to bring Helaena back down to earth, an anchor keeping her present. Sometimes it annoyed Daenera that she couldn’t always do that.

“After how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?” Alicent chastised.

Daenera pursed her lips, split between feeling elated of the chastisement and bad for the boy. It was an odd, conflicting emotion. She didn’t want him in trouble, that was why she hadn’t told her mother about his jeerings, the veiled accusation of her bastardry. But she couldn’t deny the contentment she also felt when he finally got chastised for something.

“They made me do it!” Aemond argued, miserable and angry. Hurt . Bullied .

“As if you needed encouragement,” Alicent asserted, knowing well how many times Aemond had snuck down into the depths of the Dragonpit and how many times the dragon keepers had to save him. By now it was a common occurrence. “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond blurted, tears in his eyes. Helaena looked back at Daenera, her eyes dimming as she disappeared into her own world again, flickering down to the centipede in her hands, tiny legs drilling over her skin as it tried to escape. Daenera made a confused grimace and too forced her eyes back to the book, though ears keenly listened in.

“A what?”

“They said they found me a dragon,” Aemond continued distressed, the hurt and anger pitching his voice high, face scowling. Daenera pressed her lips together, keeping the words from tumbling out. They had pranked him. Mocked him. And he so willingly jumped in with both feet. While Daenera had resigned to her lack of a dragon, Aemond had not. It was his greatest wish. He already felt lesser than and with Aegon’s cruelty and emasculation, the anger that he didn’t have a dragon, burned spitefully and wrongly in his veins.

Daenera pitied him.

“The last ring has no legs at all,” Helaena mused quietly to herself.

“But it was a pig.”

“You will have a dragon one day,” Alicent assured her son. “I know it.”

“ He’ll have to close an eye ,” Helaena continued musing, eyes fixed on the many legs moving in tandem. Daenera looked up at the girl confused, but shrugged it off for one of her many oddities.

Daenera leaned in, voice low. “What will I have to do to get a dragon?”

Helaena looked like she pondered the question, head tilting, though eyes still focused on the insect. “I do not know yet… But fire will take your blood soon. Fire set by the fireflies.”

Daenera felt her heart sink into her stomach.

“...They all laughed,” Aemond said barely above a whisper. “They called it the pink dread.”

Daenera couldn’t contain the snort, the sound cutting through the room and striking an already wounded Aemond, who glared over at her in fury. A boy wronged. Daenera laughed though. “I’m sorry, but the pink dread is funny! It’s a brilliant name.”

“It’s not funny,” Aemond growled at her, indignant and annoyed. He stepped out of his mothers arms, angrily stomping the ground as he seethed.

“Did you really believe Aegon found you a dragon?”

“It wasn’t just Aegon! Jace and Luke were in on it as well. They strapped wings and a tale on a pig-,”

“Must have been a fight,” Daenera interrupted with her musings, flipping the page, unbothered by Aemonds deadly glare.

“They made you one as well,” Aemond sneered, his words bringing her eyes back on him, a brow lifting, the perfect picture of being unbothered by it all. It infuriated him even more. How could she be so dismissive? So unbothered? Was it because she was a bastard? “The white terror.”

A flash of disappointment crossed her face, nose scrunching up sourly. “Not as good a name as the pink dread.”

The Terror was an unclaimed dragon that was spotted anywhere from the North to Dorne to Essos. It was a wanderer, and an absolute menace of a Dragon. It was said to have been ridden by a Targaryen bastard, but nothing much was known about them. It had not been claimed since and was mostly feral. The pink dread was better though. Balerion had been the biggest and oldest dragon, ridden by Aegon the first himself.

“They’re mocking us-,”

“They were mocking you!”

“That is enough, Daenera,” Alicent chastised Daenera.

“Don’t let them bother you,” Daenera shrugged. “If you don’t take the bait, if you don't show that it bothers you, they’ll eventually grow bored.”

“How can you be so dismissive?! We’re Targaryens without dragons! Everyone laughs at us.”

“They may be laughing at you, Aemond, but they’re not laughing at me,” Daenera snapped the book shut, getting to her feet. She looked down at Helaena placing a quick kiss on her head, before bowing shortly at the queen. She passed between the table and the settee, heading up the few steps and towards the doors, meaning to pass Aemond by, when she paused. “If they laughed at me, I’d make them regret it.”

Aemond’s hands balled into fists at his sides. He felt his mothers hand on his shoulder, a silent command not to lose his temper at the princess once again. He watched her go, grinding his teeth in effort not to spew out his misgivings and grievances. She was so stupid and annoying . A bastard girl . Did she think she was better than him?

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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Rabbits

Happy Spring!

#jd johndeacon or jackdaniels #john deacon #jd chats #rambles #ramblings #rabbits rabbits rabbits #first of the month #white rabbit #first day of the month #rabbit rabbit rabbit #march first #first day of march

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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Show Me Pt.2 | Older!Neighbour!Eddie X Reader

Summary: Eddie finds your little treasure chest and decides to have some fun with you.

Cw: established relationship, age gap, use of sex toys on reader, oral, p in v, breeding kink? (Reader is on birth control but not disclosed in fic), creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink, pussy slapping, orgasm denial, anal play, possessive Eddie, soft!Dom Eddie x f!sub reader.

WC 3.2k

Read part 1

“Sunshine, can you come up here?” your boyfriend calls out from your loft.

He had run up to take a shower not too long ago after coming home from a long day at the shop. He won’t admit it but he much prefers your sweet smelling expensive soaps and lotions to his off brand 2 in 1.

“What is it baby?” You ask as you walk up the stairs to see your boyfriend clad in a low hanging towel, reminding you of the first time you had met him six months ago. His wet happy trail lead to that delicious bulge he is packing.

He was standing in front of your bed like he was trying to hide something with his wide frame.

“I don’t know you tell me?” He shrugged.

You could tell he was up to something. You give him a pointed look before he continues.

“I thought we were good, Sugar? I thought that we had trust? but now I don’t know who you are anymore?”

“Eddie, baby what are you talking about?” Now you were worried. What did he think you did?

“We have such a strong relationship, and you think you could hide this from me?” He steps to the side, revealing what is on your bed.

Your eyes widen as your multiple vibrators, dildos, and other play toys are splayed across the floral duvet.

“Eddie!” You rush over, trying to cover them up, mildly embarrassed. Eddie was the only one you’d been with; you didn’t want to scare him away with your collection.

Eddie stops you before you can do anything.

“Nuh-uh, I don’t think so, missy; you can’t just pretend that you have all these tools and not think I’m not going to play, do you?”

A wave of arousal washed over your core at his words. Eddie using your toys on you? That’s something you never dreamed of. However, it’s your most desired need right now.

“I-I-“

“Now, you’ve been a naughty girl, keeping this from me.”

“No! I’ve been so good!” You counter back, only knowing it would rile Eddie up even more, and you could feel his stiffening cock on your thigh.

“I think we should start off slow… tease you until you’re begging for it. How’s that sound?” Eddie’s hot breath fanned across your ear and neck, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Oh-okay,” you stuttered.

“Good girl,” he tapped your ass before telling you to strip.

Your clothes came off instantly, and Eddie’s towel had been hung up on the bathroom door to dry.

His half-hard cock bounced as he walked over to the bed before picking up a small pink vibrator, one of your favourites, and sat down in the middle of the bed up against the pillows. He patted his thick, hairy thigh as he instructed you to come sit between his legs. You crawled up to him before turning around, resting your back against him, and letting your head fall on his shoulder.

“Lean back and open your legs for me, Sugar, yea that’s it.” His rough, thick hands explored your inner thighs as he made sure you were sitting and as widely spread as possible.

He kissed the side of your neck as his hands travelled up and across your stomach, around to your breasts, making sure to pinch your nipples as his mouth explored your delicate skin.

He let his hands roam your soft body a little bit more before picking up the vibrator and turning it on.

A low buzzing filled the silent room before you let out a breathy moan as Eddie gently teased you. He let the little silicone toy glide across your arms, down your cleavage all the way past your belly button to your little thatch of hair that covered your mound, then back up again. You quivered as the vibrator tickled your nipples.

“More please.” Your hand gripped Eddie’s wrist.

“Not yet.” He mumbled in your ear.

“Please”

“No, Princess. You have been naughty. This is your punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” you pleaded. You would do anything for him, your touch, your already-soaked pussy. You could feel your slick, cool against the air of the room, but he kept building up the anticipation of finally touching you where you wanted it most.

“Oh, now you’re sorry,” he tutted.

“Yes,” you gasp.

Eddie’s free hand found your nipple, tweaking and pinching it to his desire. This only flooded your pussy once more with arousal. You could feel it start to run down your thighs as you tried to close your legs for any sense of friction.

“No,” Eddie growled once again, unlatching his fingertips from your nipple and vibrator to wrench your legs open once again.

“You’re going to keep your pretty legs open so Daddy can play.” his hot lip brushed against your exposed throat.

A wet slap filled the bedroom as a sharp sting struck your clit when Eddie’s fingers slapped your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” You jerk your body back further into your boyfriend, only pushing his stiff cock into your back. You’re sure there will probably be a penis-head-shaped bruise there in a few hours, and the thought made you giggle.

“Oh, you like that baby girl?” His condescending tone only made you wetter.

His thick tattooed fingers came down on your pussy once again before pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You grip his forearms needing something to dig your fingers into, and let out a breathy moan, and Eddie’s cock twitches at your shaky voice.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much” he picked up the vibrator again, clicked it on the second strongest level and finally placed it on your clit.

Your hips automatically started gyrating into you as your orgasm quickly built.

“You going to cum?”

“Mmhm,” you nod your head.

“Not yet,” he growled.

“Okay” you whined as you tried your hardest to stay still, you hold on but Eddie was teasing you so good you couldn’t help but feel the need to cum right now-

“Good girl,” he swirled the vibrator around and around.

“I wanna cum, please!”

“I decide when.”

But you couldn’t hold on any longer. “Daddy, I’m cumming!”

Eddie ripped the toy away from you the second the words left your lips, denying you your pleasure.

“This one doesn’t seem to be working,” he clicked it off and threw it to the side.

“No, no, please,” you cried.

“Don’t be a brat” he slapped your throbbing pussy once more before pushing you up off of him so he could crawl to the end of the bed and get a fresh toy.

“No! I was so close-”

“Let’s try this one.” He plucked up your rabbit, and you stopped arguing.

You frantically nod your head as you crawl back, splaying your legs wide open for Eddie. His eyes zoned in on your glistening pussy lips. They were puffy and swollen and the prettiest shade. You watched as his eyes glazed over with lust; you knew he wanted to dive in.

“I know you wanna, Daddy,” you teased, slipping your middle finger through your folds.

“No, mine.” Eddie pushed your hand away and replaced it with his own.

You let your head fall back as his thick fingers ran through your folds, collecting your slick before he pushed it up inside of you.

A throaty moan left your lips and your overly sensitive pussy clenched down on Eddie’s finger.

“Your pussy is so tight, baby, I can’t wait to stuff it full with my cock”

“I need you!”

“Greedy, greedy girl, so greedy for my cock”

“Only yours!”

“That’s right, baby girl, this pussy is mine, mine, mine,” he worked his fingers inside your pussy as he spoke.

“Can I cum, now?” Your eyes watered; you needed it so badly.

“No, Sunshine. We haven’t even started.” He smirked and removed his fingers and sucked them clean before he reached over for the rabbit you had forgotten about.

Eddie ran the tip of the toy through your puffy folds before breaching your tight hole. Once it was fully submerged and the ears were pushed against your clit is when he turned it on.

A throaty growl left your mouth when he started up the toy.

“This one your favourite princess?”

You nod your head frantically, not able to speak. The vibrations on your clit mixed with the thrusting in the dildo made your head spin.

“Tell me how you use it.”

“Wh-what?” You were fucked out already, and you hadn’t cum once yet.

“When you’re all alone, dreaming about me, needy for my touch. What. Do. You. Do?”

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name like a mantra as he pumps the purple toy in and out of your needy cunt.

“That’s what I like to hear, but I prefer Daddy. You know that princess” he slipped it out fully, and you cried out again. Your orgasm was so close, just ripped away from you once again.

“Daddy, please!” You slam your fists in that bed with frustration.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He wasn’t sorry at all.

His cock was throbbing. This was the longest foreplay he’d ever put you through, and you’d yet to touch him.

“I think it’s Daddy’s turn for a little fun.” He sat up, crawling up your body to kiss you for the first time since this little punishment started. He was only a man; he could only hold out for so long.

Your lips were hungry as your tongue slipped past his lips. You needed any kind of comfort and contact from your boyfriend.

You let out a whimper as his large tattooed frame pulled away.

“Now, now, Sunshine, you get to have fun too.” He laid back beside you, and you quickly shuffled your way down to rest between his legs.

You lay flat on your stomach, aligning your mouth with his bright pink cock.

His cock lay flat against his trim stomach aligning with the happy trail covering his belly button. His clean dark hair surrounding the base of his shaft and his full round balls only made his cock more tempting.

Your mouth watered as you grasped it in your hand. Your fingers hardly touch as his girth was so wide. You waisted not another moment as you brought the tip up to your lips. Eddie’s eyes found yours as he gazed down at you lovingly; he couldn’t hold back his smile as his good girl took his cock so well.

“Yes, that’s it, baby, good girl,” he praised as your mouth took him further. His usual briny, salty taste was replaced by floral sweetness as he used your soaps and shampoos not an hour ago.

You hummed as he hit the back of your throat, and it sent a wave of pleasure through Eddie. Your hair was pulled taut from Eddie’s fingers, gripping it in his fist.

As you gripped the base of his cock in one hand, your other travelled under to fondle his balls; your mouth worked its way up and down the long thick shaft before your mouth found his balls. You continued jerking him while you kissed and sucked his perfect balls.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so good at that, my perfect girl. My good girl” his lean stomach clenched as he tried to hold off his orgasm.

“But I thought I was naughty, Daddy?” You pout innocently. You knew what you were doing.

“You were, but I think you’ve shown me you’re sorry.” He shifted his weight to crawl back to the end of the bed where the toys were still gathered. You scanned the options, excited for what he would choose for you next.

“Now, Princess. There is something that we haven’t tried yet. Now you are in control with this, so you can tell me no, but-” he reaches down on the bed, and your eyes widen when you spot the toy he fondles.

“Yes,” you don’t hesitate. Your pussy floods once again as Eddie brings up the silver bejewelled butt plug to view.

“You sure?”

Before Eddie could finish speaking, you’re already on your hands and knees, arching your back and presenting yourself to your boyfriend. You eagerly wiggled your cheeks at Eddie, and he just about came right then and there.

“Fuck” Eddie fucks his fist as he watches his girl spread herself for him with all the confidence and need. “What did I do on God's green earth to deserve you?”

“Probably something realllllly good,” you smirk over your shoulder, biting your lip as you watch Eddie watch you. “Lube is in the same drawer,” you motion to the nightstand.

Quickly, Eddie hops off the bed and gets the lube before he busts a nut by just looking at you.

You hear the hard plastic of the lid snap and the lewd, wet sound of the lube being squirted out of the bottle. The cold liquid hits your puckered hole, and you flinch a little at the temperature shock, but Eddie quickly warms it up with his fingers, and he circles your tight hole with his fingers before slowly pushing them inside.

You breathe in sharply as Eddie’s thick fingers spread you open. You feel so full as he pumps them in and out, slowly spreading you open.

“Good girl, just like that. Relax for me, Sunshine.”

“So good,” you whisper, pushing your ass further into Eddie’s penetration.

“I think you’re ready, princess.”

“Yes,” you agree.

Eddie twirls the little jewel in his hand, admiring it before he gently pushes it into your ass.

“Fuck” you both breathe out as it enters you.

Eddie can’t help but stroke his cock in his fist again as he takes a mental picture. There was no way he was ever forgetting this moment; this spank bank material would last him a lifetime.

“Daddy, please,” You wiggled your ass once more, and you swear you heard Eddie whimper behind you.

Your glistening pussy was so inviting, especially with the little silver jewel perched right atop your needy hole, only making it more pleasurable for both of you.

“Gunna mark my pussy, gonna fill it with so much cum” Eddie finally slipped his cock into your dripping cunt.

You let out a guttural moan as his thick cock splits you open.

“Fuck me, you’re so tight,” Eddie grits through his teeth; he can feel the butt plug inside you as he pushes through your wet canal.

You felt so full, so good, and so fucked out as Eddie started to pump himself in and out of you. He couldn’t believe how fucking sexy you were. He couldn’t be that you let him play with you like this. He could use his own little doll to his pleasure.

He snapped his hips into your wet pussy, and his balls slapped against your clit, only aiding your pleasure. The sounds of wet slaps and moans of pleasure filled the quiet loft. Eddie grazed against your g spot on each snap, and Eddie could see the creamy ring collect at the bottom of his cock. Your slick coated his thick thatch of hair at the base of his shaft, but he didn’t care; he wanted you to mark him.

“God, your pussy is so good, so tight, so perfect, my perfect little princess”

“Eddie!” You cry your orgasm building and building. You prayed he would let you fall apart this time.

“I can feel you, baby; your pussy is clenching my cock so good.” He slapped your plush ass cheek, and that made you quiver. Your elbows give out, and your head falls into the bed below you, only making your ass stick out further.

You feel Eddie grip each cheek in both hands, his whole palm covers most of your ass, and he spreads you open even wider. He loves watching as his cock disappears as you suck him in.

“Fuck, you’re being so good for Daddy.”

“More,” you whimper.

Eddie reaches over at your request and finds the pink vibrator, and flicks it on to the highest setting before placing it in your swollen clit.

You can’t hold off for ten seconds, and your body convulses under Eddie’s touch.

“I’m cuming!!” Your body washes over with a bolt of pleasure rippling through you.

“Fuck, such a good girl, fuckin’ gripping my cock so tight. You want this cum so badly, don’t you? Squeezing me so good, you make sure that I’m going to pump you so full”

Eddie’s hips only worked faster; the vibrator was still latched to your clit, you were overly sensitive, but Eddie didn’t care you were going to cum on his cock again.

“Eddie, please, too much.” You were vibrating along with the toy attached to your cunt.

“You wanted more, Princess, I’m giving you more.”

That condescending motherfuck-“DADDY!” You scream out as your second orgasm takes over your senses. This time, your knees gave out, and you fell flat against the bed.

“Oh, I fucked you that good baby?” He chuckles.

You can only moan in reply.

The new angle tightened on Eddie's cock, and he couldn’t hold off any longer.

“You’re going to take all this cum, baby; you’re going to let me pump you so full it will be dripping out of you for days. Your little belly is going to swell; you're going to carry my baby. Do you want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

“YES,” you cry; his cock gets so good you can’t think about anything else than how Eddie made you feel. You wanted his cum so bad you clamp down on his cock again, and Eddie can’t take it.

Hot ropes of white seed are shooting into your cunt as Eddie continues to pump his cock deep into you, making sure he fills you.

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls out of you as his cock starts softening within you. All you can do is lay there as your body still tingles.

“Let me see you, pretty girl” Eddie takes your leg and flips your effortlessly so you’re on your back and spread open for him to see his hot cum leaking out of your used cunt onto the butt plug that’s still fully submerged in your ass.

“So fucking pretty” Eddie squeezed the fatty meat of your inner thigh before placing a kiss on your clit, making you jerk.

“Oh, she’s so sensitive,” he smirks before placing two more kisses on your pussy before sitting up to help clean you up.

“You okay, Sunshine?” He returned with a warm cloth to clean up the big mess he made of you.

“More than okay” you’re in heaven. You haven’t experienced sex like that before. It was fun, it was hot, it was tense, it was exciting, it was everything you needed.

“Good girl,” he grins as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. You couldn’t believe how good he was to you, and you moaned at the praise.

“Don’t tell me you’re ready to go again?” He chuckles.

“How could I not when you’re so sexy? You turn me on so bad” You roll on top of him, spreading your still-wet pussy over his soft bush and starting to grind down on his crotch.

“Fuck you can’t say things like that. Eddie sits up so he can kiss you.

“I think it’s your turn, Mr.Munson.” You reach over to your toys and click on the vibrator.

“You minx” he smacks your ass, and you get ready for round two.

tags: @edge-just-edge @skyline4446 @nailbatanddungeon @reidsbtch @snowflowersstars246 @eldermayfield @eddies-puppet @blue-slushy22 @birdysaturne @babyexpertlampskeleton @gri959 @starksbabie @bl00d-puppy @xxhellfirebunnyxx @amira0303 @ali-r3n @lavendermunson @fairykissesaresweet @minorlystuck13 @feral-pumpkin-energy @asimpforthe80s s @flawiette @munsoneightysixx @localemofreak @babybimbo777 @elegantkolalapaper @stayonmars @harringtonxkeery @hellfiremunsonn @eddiestans-blog @sp1dyb0y1008 @shadyhologrambanana @babygorewhore

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

Text

Let Me Be Your Goodnight | Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

CW: angst, rough sex, possessive Eddie, female fingering, p in v (protected and unprotected) , creampie, biting, light choking, pet names, Eddie and Reader are fuck buddies, but Reader isn't necessarily a groupie? Mutual pining but Eddie is a fuckboi, heavily inspired by Temporary Fix by 1D lol. Not a happy ending?

WC: 4K

For my 1D babes this is for you 😏

His eyes were transfixed on you. There you were, front and centre, first row, directly in Eddie’s line of sight. Perfect. You were perfect. He wanted you the second he laid his eyes on you. Your cherry red lips are perfectly in sync with the lyrics falling off his lips. He knew he needed to have you.

He tried to find you after the show, but you were gone before security could reach you. You had slipped through his fingers.

Eddie couldn’t believe his luck when he saw you hours later during the after-party. There you were, across the bar, standing with somebody, but it was clear he didn’t know what you liked, but Eddie knew; he read you like a book. Your body language was not inviting, and the eye roll you gave when the guy leaned in and whispered something in your ear. He knew you didn’t want to talk to this guy any longer.

Remembering how your eyes trailed his sweaty muscles as he performed for the crowd. How you were making his leather pants tighter than when they put them earlier that night.

You watched as Eddie sauntered over to you, pushing the countless bodies, including the guy who was trying to take you home, to get to you.

“Hey gorgeous, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” He leans on the bar, so close you’re almost touching.

“I’m sorry? who are you?” You twirl the straw in your cocktail.

“Feeling bratty tonight, aren’t we?”

You turn your back on him, flipping your hair over your shoulder, Eddie gets a whiff of your sultry perfume as you do. His eyes scanned your back, stopping at the hem of the tight, shiny black mini-skirt.

You feel Eddie walk up closer behind you, his breath cascading down your collarbone, his body heat radiating off of him like a furnace. You couldn’t help but react as his deep, raspy voice whispered in your ear.

“You know what I think, baby? I think you’re getting real tired of running that mouth of yours… maybe I can show you another way to use it.”

“Excuse you?” You snap.

“You know I saw you looking at me first.” He smirked.

“Who do-”

“And when I was on that stage, all I could think about was you waking up in nothing but my shirt, in my bed.” His hand trailed up the side of your leg and around to the hem of your skirt.

A small gasp leaves your lips as you let Eddie’s hand travel further towards your inner thighs that were clenched.

“You don’t have to tell me anything; I don’t have to read your mind… You’re soaked for me, and you have been since you saw me on stage; why else would you be front and centre, hmmm?”

The cocky prick knew your weakness, and your weakness was him.

“Eddie,” your body relaxes into him, and he removes his hand so it’s in a less compromising position.

“Oh, so the Princess does know who I am?”

“Shut up.” You were not very convincing; you were transfixed by him.

“If you're not hooked on anything right now, I can be your vice.” his plush lips grazed that spot on your neck he knew all too well.

Now, this was not the first time you let Eddie touch you. Any time he was in town, you ended up being pulled together like two magnets. You couldn’t help yourselves; you were addicted. But every time you say it’s the last, that it won’t happen again. That’s why you turned your back to him; if you saw those eyes, you knew you would, in fact, be waking up in his t-shirt.

A moan leaves your ruby-red lips as you feel his hand interlace with your own. Before you know it, you’re willingly being pulled by Eddie, and your lips are attached to his neck as he pulls you out of the club, trying to call a taxi.

A million lights flash as you exit the club, and paps and car headlights flash as he surprisingly doesn't cover your face like he usually would. You’ve seen him paps with dozens of other women; he’s always covering their faces, not wanting to show them off… but not you. Not tonight.

Lipstick is tattooed on Eddie’s throat, claiming him as your own. You couldn’t help it; there was something about Eddie that made you act like an animal. It wasn't the fame or the glitz or the glam or even the money, for that matter. It was Eddie, how he commanded the stage, how he carried himself, how he knew exactly what made you tic.

Eddie could hardly get into the car before he felt your body climb on top of him. Your skirt hiked up, and you straddled him in the back seat. Your hips ground into Eddie’s already hardening cock, and Eddie's hands shot up to your ass to keep you from moving.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Need you.”

“Did my baby miss me?”

You didn’t reply, how could you? Truthfully, Eddie was everything you wanted, but he wasn’t cut out for settling down. You knew there was another version of you in each city, and you couldn’t take the heartbreak.

Your lips latched on his neck once again, only this time you sucked the skin until it was black and blue. That could be his problem for his next girl tomorrow, but for right now, he will be yours tonight.

The ride to the hotel in NYC took as long as expected at two in the morning. The paps tried to follow you, but the taxi driver surprisingly lost their tail. Eddie let out a sigh of relief as he pulled you into the hallways off the elevator. Finally, he was back in the hotel room. He wanted you so bad, even if it was temporary; he was desperate for you. You were his favourite; you could actually be someone to him if he would let you, but Eddie was stubborn. Love didn’t exist for Eddie; he knew that.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” he ruts his hips into you, pressing you further into the hotel room wall. His lips found your neck, and his hips ground onto you.

You needed Eddie’s hands; his talented fingers were pinning your hands down, but you wanted him to touch you; you needed him to touch you. You squirm under Eddie’s grasp, and he has you right where he wants you. Needy.

“Eddie, touch me already.” You were done with these games; you both were here for one reason. There is no need to beat around the bush or be timid or embarrassed about getting what you want. You wanted him to make you cum, and you were going to get it.

“There’s my girl, knows what she wants”

“Not your girl,” you moan as his fingers trail up your inner thigh.

“No?” Eddie cocks his head because in his mind, you were his favourite.

“Please, I know you, Eds.” You locked eyes. “Tell me to my face I’m the only girl you want... like you were balls deep in someone else yesterday.”

You were right; he couldn’t give you the answer he wanted, but he didn’t want it to be true.

“That’s what I thou-”

“You can own me,” Eddie quickly cut you off, “and we'll call this what you like.” His hands slipped under your panties and across your wet slit finding your swollen clit.

“Eddie!” You moan as your head falls back.

“Good girl, scream my name.” his thick, tattooed, ringed fingers slip past your folds and sink into your walls.

He watched your pretty red lips part as he worked his fingers up inside you, finding that spot deep inside you with ease. He knew your body, studied it, and now he was going to own it, even if it was just tonight.

You trembled below Eddie as his fingers pleasured you like no others could. This is why you keep coming back to Eddie. He knew how to work you, how to please you; he owned you; there was no denying.

“I’m coming!” You gripped his shoulders to brace yourself. It had been a while since Eddie, and you last got together, and he always could get you there quickly.

You needed to wipe that smug look off his face, so you kissed him so you didn’t have to look at him any longer. You push yourself off the wall and walk you and Eddie over to the bed.

Eddie fell back as you climbed on top of him. You needed to feel him under you, you wanted control, you wanted to be the one to give him the most mind-blowing sex of his life that any time he’s inside another girl, you’re the one he’s thinking of. No more temporary.

Grinding your hips down in Eddie's hard cock he lets out a whimper. The squeak of his leather pants against your core, heavy sighs and moans were the only sounds filling the room.

“You want me, Eddie?” You never used pet names with Eddie; it made things too real, and you couldn’t play into the fantasy that he was yours.

“Always, baby.” his chest rose and fell as he lay, and your fingers trailed down his stomach to the waistband of his pants.

“I don’t believe you.” You play with the happy trail leading toward what you want most.

“I’d say otherwise” Eddie cupped his hard cock, gesturing to how much he did in fact need you. You were the one, always.

You take his waistband between your fingers and yank his pants down. Unsurprisingly, he isn’t wearing underwear. His cock sprang free of the tight confines of his pants, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It looked painfully hard, and he looked desperate, needy, and beautiful.

“Tell me what you want, Eddie.”

“Already told you babygirl”

“Tell me again.”

“I want your sweet mouth on my cock; I want you to call me when you’re lonely when you can’t sleep,” he smirked, “You control me, baby, even if it’s just tonight.”

“Shut up” You gripped his hard cock in your hand and rolled your tongue over the tip before taking him as far as you could go. You didn’t let up, you didn’t slow down, you went for it, all in.

You knew he was full of shit, and you wanted to prove to him that he truly was missing out on the best thing that could happen to him.

“Shit, shit, shit, just like that, fuck, that mouth of yours is too good” he gripped your soft hair in his hands.

You worked him to his breaking point, his cock twitched, and you pulled off immediately,

“What the” Eddie stopped mid-sentence as he watched you slowly strip in front of him. His chocolate doe eyes widen as he watches your clothing come off piece by piece. Your exposed skin was calling him; he needed to feel your soft thighs warming his ears, your perfect tits cupped in his hands.

Your last article of clothing fell to the floor, and Eddie's eyes burned into you. He watched as you bent down to pick up his pants. He watched as you found his wallet, pulled it out, and opened it up to find the sealed golden foil he kept inside for times such as these.

You toss his wallet to the side and slowly crawl back to him.

Teasingly, you slowly unwrap the condom, watching Eddie drool as you do. You smirk, knowing you’re making him wait and squirm beneath you.

“Hurry up, baby girl.” He wants to grab the condom from your hand and do it himself so he can throw you around how he likes, but he also wants you to do it; he likes not having to be in control the whole time.

Unlike the others, you knew how Eddie wanted you and how he needed you.

“Patients Ed’s,” you cooed in his ear as your swollen lips trailed down his neck before you sat up to roll the condom on finally. His cock was leaking precum, so you dipped your head down one last time so you could lick it up. Once it was cleaned and clear, you swiftly rolled it down onto his throbbing member and positioned yourself over it so you could sink down.

Riding Eddie was always your favourite pastime; the way he filled you and brushed up against your walls, nothing could compare to that feeling he gave you.

You both let out a moan as you fully enveloped him. Eddie reaches up to grasp your hips to help you move with him. Sure, he loved you on top, in control, but he's only a man; he can't help but fulfill the need to thrust up into you.

Your thighs were burning, but you didn't care. The way Eddie was making you feel was all-consuming. His long hard cock hit that perfect spot every time you bounced down onto him. Skin slapping skin, your breasts bouncing in his face, your pretty mouth left agape in pleasure.

"That's it, bunny. Do you like being my little bunny, bouncing in my cock? This is the only cock that can make you feel this good isn't it?"

You didn't reply; you were too focused on the burning in your thighs and the pleasure building in your core.

Your hand slinked down between you and Eddie so you could rub your clit, giving you enough so your second orgasm of the night could build and build until Edie swatted your hand away.

"Answer me, Bunny," Eddie gritted through his teeth.

"Not your bunny, not yours." You didn't slow down; you only picked up speed.

"Wrong answer," Eddie was annoyed you never played into his little games like the others do.

You felt Eddie steady your waist, stopping you from bouncing, and flip you backwards so you were flat on your back, head almost falling off the foot of the bed.

You let out a startled yelp as Eddie yanks you by your ankles so you are closer to him.

He waists not another second to thrust back into your wet cunt.

"Fuck Eddie!" you cried as he roughly fucks into you. He had your legs pinned by your ears; you didn't even know you were that flexible.

"What was that gorgeous? You're not mine? I think you are, even if it's just tonight." he sneered.

A chain of curses left your mouth as Eddie pounded into you over and over and over again. His large hand travelled up to your chest, surprisingly not resting on your swollen breast but where your heart was.

You were slipping; you were feeling the weakness of your judgment unfold as your impending orgasm grew.

"You're so tight, baby girl; you're so tight for me; I can feel how close you are. You're gripping my cock so good." Eddie spoke as he stroked your hair out of your face. His actions were such a contradiction to how he was abusing your cunt.

"More, Eddie!" you pant.

"No, you know my cock is good enough to make you cum. You've been naughty. This is all you're getting unless you tell me you're mine." His hand slid up from where it was resting on your chest up to your throat, squeezing it hard enough that you still could breathe, but his fingers dug into you so hard there might be a mark left tomorrow.

Fuck him.

"No!" you spit.

"Then this is all you get. He leaned back, releasing your throat from his hands and replaced it with each of your ankles. He steadied himself before jackhammering into your cunt.

You let out a cry, and Eddie's hips slapped hard into you, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. The tip of his tick-long cock grazing your spot.

Eddie was right; his cock was all that you needed because you were coming in seconds, and he wasn't too far behind. Your body felt like it was dripping fire as your orgasm took over your mind and body.

Eddie fucking loved the way your cunt squeezed down on him every time he made you cum with his cock alone. He knew it was a rarity; he was so proud of himself each time.

He fell on top of you after that marathon of sex you both participated in. He pulled out, discarded the condom, and then went to crawl back into bed with you, but you were already up and halfway dressed.

"Where do you think you are going?" he blocks the door with his lean, naked frame.

"Home to sleep, it's three thirty. I'm tired."

"You think I'm letting you go out by yourself in the middle of the night? Looking like that?" He raises his brow.

Suddenly, the euphoria of the sex you just had completely drains out of you.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?"

"It means I'm not letting you, the most beautiful woman I've ever met, go out onto the streets where who knows what is out there so you can get snatched up. No way, you're spending the night; I'll sleep on the floor for all I care. It's not safe right now."

What the fuck was happening? Eddie always threw you out once you were done? And did he call you beautiful? Maybe you did, in fact, fuck his brains out?

"Uh, are you feeling okay?" You hold the back of your hand up to feel if he has a fever because what?

"I'm fine but won't be if you leave." He took your wrist off his head and looked you in the eyes.

"Fine, but you promised me a t-shirt." You decided to cave based on your better judgment. "And you don't have to sleep on the floor. I think we are way past that." You turned to walk back to the bed, slowly stripping for Eddie once more.

Eddie made his way over to the closet and pulled out his favourite shirt to give to you.

"Thanks." You caught it when he tossed it to you. You slip over your head before you turn to the bathroom to get unready the best you can.

Thankfully, the hotel came with a fresh toothbrush, and Eddie had cleanser and moisturizer you could borrow. You didn't bother brushing your hair. You just fixed it with your fingers and then exited the bathroom.

Eddie had just come in from the balcony after having a cigarette when you walked back out.

He drank you in; his shirt hugged you in all the right places. Your face was bare and fresh, but the hickeys he had left on your neck were raw; to him, you had never been more beautiful.

You watched him take you in, then hesitated before getting into the bed.

"Uh, what side do you want me to take?" suddenly nervous about sleeping in the same bed as him.

"I usually sleep on the right,"

"Good, I'm more of a left girl myself." God, that was lame.

"Meant to be," Eddie smirked before turning down the bed.

You tried not to read too much into that comment as you crawled in, lying down and facing away from him. You were stiff and didn't understand what had changed between now and all the other one-night stands.

"If you wanted to be the little spoon, all you had to do was ask baby." His strong arm wrapped around your middle and pulled your back flush to his chest.

Was Eddie Munson cuddling you? What kind of twilight zone have you entered?

"Um, Eddie?"

"Yeah, gorgeous?" He spoke as he nuzzled his face into your hair. You could feel his cock hardening against your ass, and there goes your train of thought. All semblance of a sentence was gone from your lips because Eddie's dick was pressed up against your backside.

You can't help it when your pussy floods itself all over again. You can't help it when your ass starts to grind into him.

"Greedy girl, you wanna go again?"

"You started it," You point out.

"Can't get enough of ol'Eddie, can ya, babygril?"

You let out a whine of frustration. You were supposed to be on your way home, but instead, here you are, begging for Eddie's cock once again because you're weak when it comes to him.

"I'll take that as a yes."

You don't let Eddie speak anymore before you take his cock and align it when your dripping entrance.

"Wait, are you sure?" Eddie asked; you never fucked without a condom before.

You didn't give him a verbal response; you only dragged his tip through your wet folds, confirming that this was what you wanted.

You opened your legs a bit wider to let Eddie glide in easily. Another wave of wetness pulsed out of your pussy as the velvety skin of Eddi's cock brushed up inside of you.

You feel Eddie's teeth sink into your shoulder as his hips slowly thrust into you. Your ass pressing into his bush with each thrust.

"Oh, Eddie!" You cried at the pain of his teeth marking you but also the euphoria that his bare cock was giving you. Eddie pulled you in closer, his hand wrapped around your middle, tweaking your hardened nipple under the sift you were wearing.

"Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, " Eddie spoke with each thrust.

"Yours, yours, yours yours," You agreed, fianllly you gave in.

He then gave in and finally played with your clit as he trusted in you again and again. It was slow and sloppy; he fell out a few times, but it was sex like you hadn't had with Eddie before.

Before, it was always rough and hard, a temporary fix to get off and go. But this was different. This was like he was fucking you as if he cared for you as a person. Not just another one in his little black book

Your mouth hung open as silent screams tried to come out of your lungs. You were speechless.

Eddie didn't say much either, which wasn't normal for him, but it didn't feel right at the moment. He wanted to endure the way your body wrapped around him. The way your cunt tightened when the pad of his finger grazed your swollen clit.

Before you knew it, you were coming undone all over Eddie once again. Your cum flooded over Eddie in a warm wet embrace, and that had him trying to pull out, but he wasn't fast enough. His cum was spurting up into you as his cock spasmed inside of you.

"Holly shit," He panted. Never had Eddie had such intimate sex before, and he didn't want to go back.

"Wow," you said when you started coming back to reality. You could feel Eddie's seed leaking out of you, and you needed to go get cleaned up, but you didn't think you could move.

Eddie peppered soft kisses along your neck and over your cheek before falling back exhausted.

"Good night, gorgeous." He wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep instantly.

The next afternoon, Eddie woke up to find he was alone. A pang of disappointment filled his chest before he spotted the note on your pillow.

"We need to talk."

That was all it said, followed by your phone number.

Eddie's stomach dropped while reading it, and he wasn't sure why, so he chose to ignore it and move on with his day...

You hadn't heard from Eddie for about a month, and it was killing you. Had he not seen the note?

You refused to be the one to reach out; you would not be that girl. So it surprised you when Eddie called five weeks later when he was back in New York.

"Hey gorgeous"

"Eddie, we need to talk."

"Don't think we will be doing much talking with your lips wrapped around my dick" You could practically see the smirk on his face. In any other instance, that probably would have made you roll your eyes and give in, but this was too important to skim over.

"Eddie, I'm pregnant."

Eddie doesn't respond, and you hear the disconnected tone on the other end of the line.

Tagging those who seemed interested:

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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Eddie has a mindless habit of picking at his ripped jeans. When he catches Steve staring, he doesn’t think much of it, his flashy rings draw attention easily. He teases Steve, “You like shiny things, huh?”

It’s a joke, but Steve doesn’t laugh. He looks away quickly, like he’d been caught staring at something he wasn’t supposed to. That confuses Eddie, especially when it keeps happening. It doesn’t feel like a curious look anymore, Steve seems mesmerized by Eddie’s fingers toying with the strips of denim.

Eddie finds himself doing it on purpose when he’s around Steve. He lets his hand wander to the ripped denim, pretending not to notice when Steve looks, because he doesn’t want Steve to look away.

The realization slams through his chest. Eddie likes Steve’s attention on him. Steve’s gaze makes warmth simmer under his skin. Eddie’s never felt that before, not just from a look, and especially not from a guy.

It terrifies him a little, he doesn’t know if it’s attraction he feels for Steve, but it’s new and dangerous. He chases the feeling, twisting his jeans to shreds just so Steve will look at him.

Steve comes over to smoke once, sitting next to Eddie on the couch. They’re close enough that when Eddie reaches down for his knee, his knuckles brush Steve’s leg. Close enough that Eddie feels Steve’s breath catch when the threadbare denim snaps, revealing more skin underneath.

Eddie wonders if Steve wants to slide his fingers inside too. He wouldn’t mind. The quiet thought strikes into a burning desire when he realizes he wants Steve to touch him. It flusters him to an insane degree when he dares to think Steve might want that too.

An awkward laugh rushes, finding Steve’s heavy gaze on him when he looks over. “Stare any harder and I’ll start thinking you wanna rip my clothes off, Harrington.”

He goes blank when Steve replies quickly, like it’s something he’s been holding back saying for a while.

“If you keep doing that, I might.”

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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You hadn’t expected Simon to get you anything for Valentine’s Day. It just didn’t really seem like his kind of holiday.

So you were rather surprised when he showed up with a bouquet of roses, a little handwritten note tied to them. Cliche, roses, but he knew you liked flowers. And he wasn’t above buying you cliche things. Simon knew he could show his love for you year round, and he always did in his own ways, but he had no problem treating you on February 14th either.

He didn’t just run out to the story and buy whatever random shit they had on the shelves, or snag a insincere hallmark card. He had gone to three different florists before he found the right mix of roses. He handpicked red, pink, and white roses, all arranged with baby’s breath decorating the sides. He thought they were rather pretty and wanted to make sure he got you a set you would actually like. Then he took a piece of paper and wrote you a little note. He drew a little heart at the top where he wrote your name, as wonky as it was. And he found a piece of ribbon, tying the card to the stem of one of the roses. He walked all the way to your apartment, smiling at himself imagining your surprise when he presented the flowers.

When you opened the door to a wide-grinned Simon, you thanked him for the gift, and he said, “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Oh. Simon, that’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I know the restaurants are all going to be packed and I don’t want you to have to—”

“Wasn’t really askin’, love.”

You quirked a brow, your face heating. “I don’t have anything nice to wear,” you said gesturing to your PJs. “I can’t go to some fancy—”

“Who said anythin’ bout fancy?” He winked at you before interlacing your fingers. Simon knew you didn’t do crowds and didn’t like to be fussed over, so of course he wasn’t about to take you out to eat on the busiest night of the year. He raised his other hand and showed you the bag of takeout, ready to curl up on the couch and watch whatever cheesy movie you wanted. And he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He kissed your forehead before guiding you both inside your apartment, placing the takeout on the coffee table and pulling you into his lap.

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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It’s been 3 months since my Dad passed, and I wanted to share a story. This is my dog Bo, and he loved this spot in my parents front yard. My Dad was not a dog person, at all, in fact he didn’t like Bo, but he knew I loved him so he tolerated him. Years ago, the google street view car caught Bo in this spot, just facing the other direction. So for years, if you googled my parents address, he was there, laying in the yard, looking at the google street view camera, very similar to this photo I took. When I had to put Bo down, the first thing my Dad did, was go to google street view to see if the photo was still the same, with Bo laying in the yard. Sadly, it wasn’t that photo any longer. Again, my Dad didn’t like dogs, he barely tolerated Bo, but he knew I loved him, and he was going to print out that google street view photo, so I could always have it. I miss them both so much.

#jd johndeacon or jackdaniels #john deacon #jd chats #rambles #ramblings #storytime #grief

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 2 months

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Hey! Thanks for answering my question<3

I saw that you have smut posted but if you don't want to write that I can request something sfw.

I'm also taking requests so feel free to message me <3

Request;

Can I have a Nikki Sixx smut where reader is Nikki's soft spot and he's an asshole to everybody but her, so when she's being a brat at soundcheck for the Dr. Feelgood tour he just takes her back to his dressing room and gives her some softdom punishment? Like praising and thigh riding and stuffs?

Thankies!! ^^

I HATE EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD BUT YOU, nikki sixx.

warnings: smut, thigh riding, blowjob, kisses, jealous!nikki, longfic (?), you and nikki have a long term relationship, praise, degradation, punishment.

author's note: hey bae! apologies for the delay. this is probably the longest thing i've ever written, i hope you don't mind. i don't have that much experience writing smut so I'm sorry if it didn't turn out the way you wanted! also, really liked your blog:) good read, kisses<3

“— do you think...like...he's okay?” — tommy asked you, almost static as you two watched nikki argue with a random sound crew guy.

“— uhum.” — you muttered, with a carefree expression. you knew better than anyone how stressed nikki was lately. you were probably the only person who understood him, who understood how important that album was to him and how he was really trying. during the recording of the album, you waited for him at home late at night, just to listen to him and be able to help with what was possible.

even though vince, tommy and mick thought you didn't care much for his sudden humor outbursts, you were always keeping an eye on him. did you know that most of the time, he just started yelling at people on pure impulse, but still wanted to prevent something worse from happening.

and, well, the boys loved you like you were part of their “family”, from the moment they met you as nikki's new girlfriend, a few years ago, they knew you weren't like the others. you kept pace with nikki, but were still very responsible and decided, and that was exactly what he needed. the thing is: not even all that affection they had for you was able to make them not be confused by how nikki was with you compared to others. it was obvious to everyone that you were the love of his life, yet they still couldn't understand how he could be so sweet to you while being such an asshole to everyone else.

and that was exactly what tommy was thinking about when he didn't even notice the bassist approaching you two. but you notice, you took a deep breath and smiled as your eyes followed nikki's figure, relieved because he dropped the argument.

tommy winced, noticing the annoyed expression on nikki's face as he walked. before he could start thinking about the thousands of shit nikki would shout at him at that moment, he saw nikki's expression change instantly as he walked towards you.

“— hey, princess.” — he says to you as he passes by you two, not forgetting to leave a peck on your lips.

honestly, for the drummer, there was no logical explanation for what happened between you and your boyfriend. he starts to consider bringing the idea of always keeping you around to vince and mick, thinking it was the easiest way to deal with nikki.

tommy turned to where you were sitting next to him, wanting to tell you a joke about it, but you weren't there. he quickly scans the stadium and stage, trying to find you. he can see you running after nikki to the dressing room before the two of you disappear behind the curtains.

★

the boys were about 20 minutes waiting for nikki, they had agreed to meet in the stage in ten minutes, for soundcheck, but all they knew was that, according to tommy, you and him disappeared somewhere backstage to make out. mick, visibly irritated, prepared to grab his guitar and head back to the dressing room when the bassist finally appeared. he seemed calmer, it was evident for the stupid smile on his face and (your) red lipstick stains on his neck. the guitarist wants to punch him for how calm he looks even though he knows he is 20 minutes late.

by the time he arrives at his position on stage, you sit in another corner of the stage, a little away from the musicians.

"— so, are we starting this shit or what?"

they went through five songs before the first break (which happened because vince said he wanted to go over some more lyrics again). nikki slung the bass over her shoulder and looked at where you were a few minutes ago, recording the soundcheck. he remembers seeing you there at the beginning of the last song, but now, you weren't there anymore.

he looked back and saw tommy walking to the dressing room. he shouted, getting the drummer's attention.

“— tommy, have you seen yn around here?"

“— nah, man. she must have gone to get some water or something” — he said quickly and went back on his way.

nikki imagined the same and didn't care too much at first, walking to his own dressing room. at least, he didn't care too much until he saw where you were. or better, who you were with. when he looked at the door, a plate with his name carved behind you and a very familiar man. evan-fucking-decker. he stood there, watching, trying to figure out the possibility of evan decker showing up backstage at a mötley crue concert and meeting you.

so, evan was like a roadie for the band for a few years, a long time ago. things kind of ended with him when he and nikki had an little intense argument. years later, at a festival, they met again, but this time you and nikki were already together. your boyfriend was at least surprised when you and the blonde recognized each other. when you were alone again, you told him you met evan as teenager, at summer camp, and that you stopped talking after he confessed liking you.

normally, nikki didn't give a shit about things from the past, like relationships and stuff like that. however, nikki remembered one time talking to evan late at night, drinking and talking about their lives. he remembered evan telling about a girl he fell in love with when he was younger. he remembered the whole story, actually, including the part where he said he hoped to meet her again someday, maybe get a second chance. maybe that memory made him think he noticed something different in evan's look at you. after that day, you met a few more times, always at music-related events, but nikki always looked sulky when he saw that man's face. until today, you didn't knew why.

“— sixx! it's been so long!” — fuck. did he really have to talk to that guy?

nikki fakes his best smile as he walks up to you both, putting an arm around your waist and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“— hey, evan, didn't know you would be here today!” — he said, trying to sound as friendly as possible as his hand lightly squeezed you waist.

“— ah, my friend is helping with the production. decided to stop by to visit an old friend.” — evan looked at you as he spoke, blushing a little.

you laughed as nikki tried very hard not to open that dressing room door and lock himself in there with you until he left. the feel of your head resting on his shoulder may have been what calmed him down.

“— so, hm..you are...like..” — he said, looking a little nervous when he noticed how close you and nikki were.

“— yes! for three years. you didn't knew?"

nikki thanks you for answering before him. for him, it was amazing the way evan's expression changed from excitement to disappointment. he wanted to laugh, looking like a bully kid at school.

“— no..hm, i heard something about it but i didn't believe.” — he said, kinda awkwardly .

“— why not?” — you asked, laughing, like it was a joke.

“— ah, you know...” — he chuckles — “— you are kind of opposite spirits.”

you got confused. in fact, one of the reasons you were attracted to nikki since the first time you saw him, it was how you felt he was the first person who shared the same thoughts as you. how you felt understood.

before thinking of an answer, you turned to your boyfriend, noticing how silent he was. something nikki didn't know about you is that you could read his thoughts just by hearing his voice on the phone. you always knew how he was feeling, and although there were few times he got jealous of you, did you notice his grip on your waist, almost possessive, and the look at evan, almost murderous.

you thought it was funny, and it was a good opportunity to get rid of the boredom you was feeling all morning. you quickly say goodbye to evan, pushing nikki into the dressing room.

“— finally.” — he says, taking a deep breath and sitting down on the couch. “— i can't stand that guy.”

you laughed as you closed the door. you went to the couch too, sitting on nikki's lap.

“— i can't believe you're jealous of a guy i haven't seen in almost three years.” — you said in a mocking tone as you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“— apparently, three years wasn't enough for him to forget you.” — he rolled his eyes, trying hard not to give in to your touch.

“— why are you so affected by this?” — you asked as looked into his eyes. “— i didn't even remember his name. i'm not his friend since i was 15. i thought you were more confident..” — you smiled, teasing him.

“— and i thought you were smarter.” — he said seriously, making you start to get annoyed at his childish behavior. “— honestly, he fucking asked if we are dating, when he knows we are, because you said it when he met us at that festival. he was literally waiting for you to say no so he could take you to the nearest bathroom and-”

“— fine! fuck it, i understood!” — you interrupted him, putting your hand over his mouth for him to stop talking — “— fucking gross, sixx.." — you said a little disgusted, wondering how he was going to finish that sentence.

he gently grabbed your wrist and removed your hand from his face. “— well, that's exactly what he wants, whether you like it or not. and, you know, i'm generally not a big fan of guys who want to try their luck with my girlfriend.”

you smile and hold back your laughter "— i'm not going to argue with you because you look really cute when you get all possessive." — you get closer, leaving a few kisses on his face.

and nikki tries to maintain that tough pose, but when he feels you so close, after 20 minutes away, and knowing that now he will have to spend at least an hour without touching you, it seems like pride just disappears. nikki has always been like this with you, but only with you. it was physically impossible for him not to treat you like a goddess 100% of the time. and he saw you like that, as a point of light and comfort in his mind, he absolutely adored you.

you giggle against his skin as you feel his fingertips caress your hips. you pull away and stare at him for a moment. god, nikki was the most beautiful man in the world, you were sure of that.

his redemption to your charms is sealed by the gentle kiss he leaves on your lips. he feels like he melts with the artificial strawberry taste on your lips, pulling you closer until it's impossible to deepen that kiss any further. but it was still gentle, the way he held you by your waist, or how he smiled when he felt you moan softly against his lips, it was gentle.

you wish it had lasted longer. in fact, if you had known that the conversation with evan would take up so much of the time that you and nikki could have been making out on the couch, you would've said goodbye before. but you only realized when mick's angry voice sounded through the dressing room.

“— seriously, sixx, feel free to get into yn's pants AFTER the show ends, preferably”

you realize that nikki is ready to shout some childishness at mick, but thinks it's not worth it. you two would have more time after soundcheck, right?

before he says anything, you grab his face and kiss him again. less time consuming, sweet enough to make him forget whatever he was going to yell at mick.

you get off his lap and he kisses you one last time before going back to the stage. a simple goodbye that can't hide how much you both wanted to not care about any of that and can simply extend that moment.

★

"— who's that?” — nikki heard tommy ask, but didn't even bother to answer.

actually, tommy didn't care, but he was a little worried about nikki. he saw the bass player standing still for the last 10 minutes after the sound check was over. he thought nikki was going to run into his arms, but he was just staring at you talking to some random guy from afar.

“— ...nikki?” — tommy put his hand on nikki's shoulder, surprised when he felt the bassist walk away abruptly in your direction. confused, he just turned around to sort out his own things.

so, contextualizing, maybe you felt a little bored after a long 20 minutes of lying on the couch and listening to the band practice. I mean, not that it was boring. you loved life on the road, and loved accompanying the boys on tour, but you just didn't do much more than watch the boys all day before going back to the hotel.

it started as a silly joke, you thought nikki didn't even notice. you told evan that you were sorry for saying goodbye so hastily, he just laughed and said he understood. you said a few things to see if he would continue the topic, which he did without hesitation. so, you weren't sure how long you had been here, briefly listening to everything evan was saying, nodding your head to pretend you were paying complete attention as you let yourself catch your eye on nikki on stage from time to time.

you caught him staring a few times, which was the only reason you stayed where you were. you thought it was funny that nikki thought nvan liked you, because besides thinking it was stupid, all you could think about was how impossible it was. he was a nice guy, but wasn't even close to being your type.

In fact, you weren't so sure you thought he was that nice when you felt something akin to relief at being pulled away from him. the weak grip of nikki's hand on your arm, pulling you back to the dressing room, makes you laugh as you look at your boyfriend's serious expression.

“— baby, what's that?” — you say, laughing softly, knowing that nikki's temper wouldn't last long.

and he doesn't answer you, just opening the door and slipping into the room with you again.

"— no, sincerely, what the fuck was that?" - he lets go of your arm, sitting on the couch while rubbing his temples.

"— it was your girlfriend talking with someone, stupid” — You said, testing his patience. you weren't trying to be mean to nikki, you were just interested in the consequences that would bring you.

“— oh no, don't act innocent. you weren't even paying attention to what he was saying!"

“— how do you know? you weren't there!” — you say, holding back a laugh.

ge leans back on the couch, looking at you. “— because not even when you try can you take your attention away from me, right?"

you smile and cross your arms, walking towards him. you slowly sit on his lap, searching for any trace of calm on nikki's face. the depth in his greenish irises is what makes you want to go all the way. you feel his hand go up from your knee to your thigh, you place your hand on top of his, caressing the tips reddened from the bass.

“— you are terrible at teasing” — you both laugh as you adjust yourself on his lap, facing him.

“— really? it's not how you reacted...” — you smiled mischievously as you felt his hands running around your waist.

you know you have what you wanted when you feel the hunger of his lips against yours. the desperate way he squeezes your waist, pulling you closer, wanting more. you moan against his lips during this, feeling the pressure of his leg against your intimacy as he guides your body closer to his.

you immediately feel like you should have held in that fucking moan, because the next one is even louder, when nikki purposely presses her thigh against your clothed pussy again. despite the layers of your clothes, the warm feeling that spreads through your body is not light and it makes you want to cry knowing that he would still tease you for a while longer.

"— that's what you were thinking this whole time, baby? all needy...” — he laughs. you try your best to focus on what he was saying, but you just can't. you feel your body needy, fighting for more contact with nikki's, at a point where it's all you can think about.

you run your fingers along the zipper of his pants, trying to undo it, but is interrupted by nikki's hand patting yours, scolding you.

“— uh-huh...not yet” — the smile he gives you says enough, he wants to see how far you'll go for this. honestly, you could kneel down and beg at that point, but along with the excitement, your ego stayed with you at that moment. "— i won't touch you yet, pretty thing. i want to see how you will relieve yourself now.”

"— nikki-” — you pant, not sure if you can handle his teasing right now.

“— what, honey? did you think i was going to give you everything so easily?” — he took your hand from his crotch, bringing it to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss. “— you will show me that you deserve it first. actually, we both know you don't, hm? but I'll give you what you want anyway, I'll just make you beg a little”

and that's exactly what he does, in that way that he knows turns you on. the cynical look and that provocative smile that never leaves his face as he follows your every move.

he has fun with it all. you let out a whimper of dissatisfaction as you grip his shoulders, revolted by the idea of having to reach your own climax even when your fucking boyfriend was beneath you.

you started with quick movements, using all the strength your sensitive body had at that moment to continue the movements up and down nikki's thigh.

you're sure that with every inch your sex travels against his leg, you get more wet. you try to hold back your moans, wanting to show some control in the situation, but it is impossible. you feel small at nikki's look, frustrated with how he was managing to control himself.

he controls himself well, biting his lip while an arm is around your waist, he looks serene despite the fact that he's holding himself back from ruining you on that couch.

and it was hard to control himself while you looked such a beautiful mess on him. the messy hair, the lip gloss smudged on the corner of the mouth, the shirt strap falling off your shoulder (which made him groan softly when he realized you weren't wearing anything under your shirt)

he could feel the tightness in his own pants as you moved more intensely, listening to the pornographic noises you made. he was sure he could hear it outside the dressing room, he just didn't really care. it wasn't like you could just let yourself care about it now, too busy pleasing yourself.

you pressed your face against nikki's neck, slightly muffling your moans, not like it helped. your whimpers turned into long moans, full of need. nikki understood why your moans became even louder against his skin, noticing how you are trying even harder to move.

“— what, princess? got tired of rubbing yourself like a little whore on me?" — he said mocking.

panting, you hold onto him tightly when you stop moving, feeling your pussy dripping with excitement. he leaves a slap on your ass before grabbing it, his big hands not being gentle at all as he brings his lips closer to your ear.

“— that's what you are, right, baby? my desperate little whore..."

you nod your head. “— i am.” — you whisper. It's funny to see how you struggle to hold onto his words, all to show yourself as his possession.

that's how he made you feel. his. his girl. his whore. all his. and this feeling you gave him, the feeling of possession, of having you, it was the purest confirmation that he was yours just the same.

"— you are, huh?” — he laughs. nikki's hand goes behind your neck, making you look at him. his gaze is deep as he brings his thumb to your lips, slightly parting them to stick a finger in your mouth.

you moan as you run your tongue against his finger. he trails kisses from your chest to your neck. then from your neck to your cheek, stopping at your earlobe.

“— get on your knees for me, princess.”

he takes his finger out of your mouth, lightly patting your cheek before leaning in to kiss you again. he kisses you hungrily, deeply, you reciprocate with the same intensity.

when his lips leave yours, you both know what's going to happen. he leans back on the couch as he watches you get off his lap and kneel between his legs. he smiles at the sight, stroking your hair as you look at him.

"— such a beautiful little thing..."

you don't want him to notice that you blushed at his comment, quickly turning her face and looking at his pants, undoing the zipper. his cock was visibly marked by his already tight leather pants. you hurry to take off his boxers.

you push the tip to your lips, giving kitten-licks while stroking the rest of his length. the moan that nikki lets out sounds relieved. he closes his eyes at the warm feeling of your tongue touching his member.

it doesn't take long for you to take all of him in your mouth. your hands rest on his thighs as you hum against his dick, feeling the tip going deeper, your tongue running from the tip to his balls. you were trying to take it slow, not choke, but your boyfriend didn't contribute much.

despite the loud moans, he wanted more. you were caught off guard when he grabbed your hair to press your face against his crotch, making you gag. you close your eyes and let out a soft moan that is muffled by his cock, trying your best to take deep breaths through your nose, the tip hits deep in your throat. You open your eyes when he softens his grip on your hair, pulling you back before rubbing the dick against your lips.

you moan and lick everything he puts within reach of your tongue. he lets you take a deep breath before pushing his cock into your mouth again, again and again.

“— fuck, that's a good girl. such a good girl for me, princess. taking me so good..."

you hear him moan as he fucks your mouth. you roll your eyes in pleasure at the sensation, feeling a little saliva drip from your mouth to your chest.

“— i'm going to cum so hard in that little mouth.” — he says, feeling the orgasm getting closer and closer. "— my fucking little slut, waiting for me to put you on your place.”

and you like being treated like that, you both know. going from a princess to a whore, making you feel even wetter every time he degrades or praises you.

all that hits you is nikki's loud, hoarse moan as you feel something hot running down your throat. he finally lets go of your hair as you feel his taste invade your senses. it's something fine between sweet and savory, but you couldn't say you don't think it's delicious.

“— so good, princess, so fucking good..." — he says breathlessly. you feel a hand caress your cheek before patting nikki's thigh, inviting you to sit there again.

you gather some strength in your body before practically throwing yourself on nikki's lap. he laughs and hugs your waist before pulling you closer, kissing you again.

he kisses you gently, making you whimper against his mouth every time he makes a move to deepen. the kiss is long, it allows nikki to feel his own taste in your mouth. when he pulls away, you lay your head on his chest.

the tip of your nose rubs against his neck, smelling a soft scent of men's cologne that comforts you and turns you on even more.

“— love you so much, my baby” — he says docilely as his fingertips run from your thighs to your crotch. “— did so good for me”

nikki's simple validation can make you groan, pleased with yourself for taking away his bad mood. “— love you more.." — you say as you lift your head to look at him, your noses touching.

your next kiss is still slow, but not like the other. it's wet, almost sloppy and you both can feel that sexual tension burning through your skin. you moan against his lips when you feel the tip of his finger passing between your legs, caressing your pussy through the fabrics.

“— needing some attention, right, princess?”

he feels your head bump against his shoulder as his hand runs down your pants. fuck, you're going to make a huge mess before this show even starts.

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 3 months

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Rabbits

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 4 months

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— walk through fire

Aemond x Velaryon!Reader

Summary: A lost friendship. A realm collapsing. A marriage proposal. Some hurts are hard to forget. Can you really fix the mistakes or will you just have to live with them?

Word count: 13k

Dividers: @cafekitsune

Rating: Explicit +18

Proceed with caution.

English is not my first language.

The union was suggested, and decreed, by the King, Viserys Targaryen.

It was a fact that the question of the legitimacy of your birth, as well as that of your brothers, created a crack in the walls of the Red Keep. A crack that the King could not allow to continue to grow, as he knew that the consequences of the disaster would be terrible. In fact, doubt and resentment were already sprouting like weeds; creeping subtly - but effectively - between the feet and hearts of everyone within those walls, even outside them, announcing a separation that would inevitably culminate in war.

What happened in Driftmark during Laena Velaryon's funeral only solidified the urgent need for unity.

Body parts were mutilated forever, harsh words were exchanged, accusations were made, paths were parted and opposing sides of a cold war began to form. All in one night.

Your family no longer belonged to the Red Keep. Instead, your home became Dragonstone.

The slide had begun.

The Targaryen dynasty was under direct threat.

Viserys Targaryen could not allow this.

Then, already weak and taken by illness, the King - in an almost desperate attempt to contain such a chaotic slide that would drag an entire legacy of blood and tradition along with it, demanded that a union between one of his sons and his granddaughter be made. A bond that would strengthen the family members' fragile relationship, elevate the Targaryens' pure status in the kingdom, and put an end to the increasingly frequent gossip about the legitimacy of the birth of Rhaenyra's children. The Targaryens would remain united and sovereign, and anyone who dared question this would suffer the consequences.

The order (disguised as an offer with some power of choice) reached Dragonstone by a raven. There is no need to emphasize how much your brothers were against the idea, how much Daemon was against the idea. But the decision was not up to any of them.

In fact, the decision had already been made. Who would dare refuse a direct request from the King? It was only up to your mother to send an official positive response.

Even though you were young, you kept your face carefully expressionless as she informed you about your future, stating facts you already knew; words about how important this would be for the kingdom, how much this arrangement would solidify the unity and strength of the Targaryens before their subjects. Facts you already knew very well.

Peace is forged with brides and hostages, you mentally recited - and you felt like both. When you heard your mother's decision, of course you wanted to scream. But it was already resolved and, as always, you had to do your duty to your family. There is no fighting, no words of insult on your part - but there is a shyness there that even you cannot hide; an evident and almost youthful nervousness for what was to come.

You haven't seen your uncle since the disastrous night of Driftmark. And the last impression you had of each other was not the best. He, mutilated and bloody, deeply hurt. And you, very torn between defending him or defending your brothers, chose to remain silent and stay away. Which obviously displeased him, if his expression at you said anything. It's logical that he saw it as a betrayal, after all you were his best friend - his only friend, probably.

You never had the opportunity to explain yourself. But for a long time you thought it was better after all. What could you have said? If you had defended him, then you would have been betraying your brothers. And in fact, even you couldn't tell who was right or wrong that night.

In your opinion, "an eye for an eye" retaliation against Luke, as Alicent Hightower had proposed, was completely out of the question both practically and morally, since your brother was the proclaimed heir of Lord Corlys and he was just a child. But you also didn't think he should get out of that situation exactly unpunished. He had permanently maimed someone, for the Seven! For a long time you felt resentful about the lack of punishment for Luke.

On the other hand, although Aemond had just lost an eye and certainly didn't deserve to be tortured for information, as your own mother's absurd suggestion did, he wasn't completely innocent either; Even if he had not uttered dangerous words that could have cost Rhaenyra her life, as well as your own and that of your brothers, he had still instigated the fight with his direct insult to Rhaena, and his explicit and repetitive accusations about the legitimacy of your blood and that of your brothers - even though he knew how much contention it would create and how it would hurt you.

Honestly, you didn't know which side you were on. Even though you tried to intervene and contain the fight, your efforts were futile and disaster struck anyway.

Your heart ached at the sight of Aemond's bloody countenance and contorted in agony. It pained you to see the pain on his youthful face every second that the Maester's needle pierced the mutilated flesh to close the cut.

But you were torn.

Betray Aemond vs betray your brothers.

Ultimately, during the interrogation, silence seemed to be the best decision. And you didn't regret it in the years that followed, no matter how difficult a decision it was.

But now, with the prospect of facing your past and facing the consequences of your choice, you couldn't deny the nervous twist in your heart.

'He's definitely grown up,' is what you think as you both stand in the center of a ring of fourteen lit candles, completely in awe of Aemond's appearance.

If the pure silver of his hair wasn't enchanting enough, he seems to shine even brighter in the ceremonial robe of your Valyrian heritage. Both are dressed in cream outfits with shades of blood red at the edges, without taking your eyes off each other. The helmet delicately patterned with dragon scales and stitched from golden Myrish silk rests on your head.

The Valyrian priest walks towards the circle and passes a dagger of dragonglass to Aemond. As you watch him holding the dagger in his hands, you feel your heart racing in apprehension. But despite all the stories and tales about how fearsome and ruthless he is, Aemond almost carefully lifts the dagger and holds it close to your lips, as if waiting for some kind of confirmation that he can continue. You're a little scared, although you're also confident that you're not showing it too much, but it's undeniable that the intense way he's looking at you makes you increasingly anxious.

You nod almost imperceptibly.

He gently slides the dagger over your bottom lip, parting it. Blood gushes out and he runs his thumb over the wound and then slides it over your forehead as he draws the Valyrian glyph on your forehead.

Perzys (Fire)

You then take his dagger and run it across his bottom lip. You have to reach out while running your thumb over his bloody lip and stretch further to draw the blood glyph on his forehead.

Ānogar (Blood)

You return the dagger to the priest and take the other Valyrian steel dagger he holds out. You open your left palm in a single slide of the dagger, frowning at the pain of the sting before handing the dagger to Aemond. He did the same to his hand, though his face remained as indifferent as before, showing no discomfort from the cut. The priest prescribes a few words and takes the dagger back as you and Aemond join hands. You can't help but notice how big his hand feels against yours; a warm and, surprisingly, welcome comfort against your stinging, bleeding palm.

The priest carefully wraps a ribbon around your joined hands and holds an ornate chalice beneath your palms as you clasp them together. The blood runs straight from your hands into the chalice. You can vaguely hear the sound of someone gasping in shock in the background, but you don't pay much attention to it. All you can see is Aemond's burning, fixed gaze on you, his face stoic and impassive, sending shivers down your spine.

There hadn't been any interaction between the two of you since you arrived at Kings Landing on your dragon. You had no clue how he felt about you and the past. His sharp-angled, overgrown face (a man's face) was the indifference and neutrality painting, the eye patch added a touch of darkness - something that wasn't there the last time you saw him.

He looked like a different person.

The priest lifts the chalice and passes it to you first, who takes a sip. You could taste the strange mixture of blood and wine, shivering slightly as you knew that this ancient ritual was permanently bonding you to a man you hadn't seen in years, to a man you no longer knew.

Aemond also takes a sip from the cup before turning his attention back to you.

As he drinks, the priest recites the vows: “Blood of two, united as one. Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts like embers, forged in fourteen fires. A future promised in glass, the stars testify. The vow made through time, through darkness and light.”

As soon as he is silent, Aemond approaches you and closes the distance between the two of you to share your first kiss as husband and wife. You sigh shakily as you realize what's going to happen, but you don't stop him when he leans down and covers your mouth with his. His lips are warm and a little dry against yours, but that only lasts a few seconds, then you're both covered in a mixture of blood and saliva.

He does absolutely nothing to hide how inappropriate the kiss is. Blood smears across your lips and chin, but you can barely care. Aemond kisses you with certainty, his mouth so sure and confident of the pleasure this would bring you that it makes you wonder if he had done this many times before. The gods knew you didn't.

What if you don't measure up?

You try to keep up as Aemond coaxes you to move, repeatedly stroking your bruised lower lip with his tongue until your cheeks are on fire. He tastes like blood and wine and fire, melting like caramel on your tongue. Surely kissing wasn't meant to be so lewd, wasn't meant to make you so restless and agitated? Aemond kisses you as a promise of how deeply he will consummate the marriage, and you are completely powerless against the idea of his mouth elsewhere.

Pausing for just a few seconds, his thumb trace your heated cheekbone. Your lips are swollen and numb, your breathing ragged. You hand are fisted in front of Aemond's ceremonial robes, scrunching the fabric, but you can't let he go.

"Ābrazȳrys." He sings as he walks away, an almost smile stretching the left side of his blood-stained lip.

"Valzȳrys." You whisper back after a few seconds, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat.

And it was done. A union solidified in blood and shaped in fire, incontrovertible proof that if your alliance were questioned, your adversaries would have to face the direct and scorching wrath of Old Valyria.

A roaring fire casts an orange glow over your private chamber as you finally emerge from behind the folding screen along with the handmaids, now wearing only a thin nightgown, your brushed hair falling over your shoulders. The two women bow politely and leave you alone while you wait for your husband.

You take advantage of the stillness of momentary solitude to look around.

Although you didn't really have time to think about what your new bed chamber would be like upon moving in, you find yourself surprised to see how the room was generously proportioned to the grandeur of the Red Keep. Although you lived many years in the castle when you were a child, you didn't remember this particular chamber.

In addition to the huge, comfortable feather bed, your chamber boast a stately fireplace, large windows that you couldn't see clearly as the heavy velvet curtains were already drawn when you arrived, a small ornate wooden table and two matching chairs. A bench, lined with soft fur and feather pillows, a sideboard, a beautiful chest, a folding screen so you could change your clothes in more privacy, a large dressing table and a beautiful wardrobe. There were nightstands on each side of your bed and colorful tapestries on the plain walls. The floor was mostly covered with carpets of the highest quality, but there were soft sheepskins in front of the fireplace and next to the bed. There was cookies and fruit on the small table, along with two silver goblets, a pitcher of wine to drink throughout the night, and a vase of fresh wildflowers.

Everything was in very good taste, obviously designed to offer you the greatest possible comfort.

Not that the effort was completely useless, but you didn't feel comfortable.

You just didn't know what you were supposed to do. Aemond, your husband, had not yet arrived. The fireplace is lit, but you shiver a little, dressed only in your thin nightgown and your bare feet on the stone floor. You're also tired after a long day, and since the chair seems too far away at the moment, you opt to sit on the edge of the bed. Your fingers smooth over the soft dark covers, more precious than anything you'd expect to find in a would-be bastard's bed - it's impossible to help but feel bitter at the thought.

But that's what you are to everyone in this castle, isn't it?

You had managed to maintain the facade all day, playing the beautiful and serene Targaryen bride, not smiling exaggeratedly, it is true, but as soft and calm as possible. But alone in your chambers, you no longer felt like a Targaryen bride, but like a scared girl who could only pray that her husband would be kind. A scared girl who could only pray that her husband had put the past behind him and wouldn't make her pay for whatever crimes he thinks she committed.

You shake your head, trying to get the unpleasant thoughts out of there. This is not the time for that. What's done is done.

You're still sitting on the bed, tense and a little shaky, trying to divert your mind from intrusive thoughts, your brow furrowed in concentration, when you hear a firm knock that definitely wasn't coming from the front door of your chambers. Instead, the sound emanates from an antique tapestry depicting dragons flying in a stormy sky that hangs on the wall opposite your bed, and you blink like an owl.

“May I come in, my princess?” Aemond's voice sounds from behind the tapestry; muffled as if separated by a door.

A secret passage! There was a door hidden behind the tapestry.

The discovery itself didn't surprise you, even if this chamber was new to you. In fact, it was almost difficult to avoid the amused twitch of your lips at the nostalgic memories it brought back. Fleeting moments of a past that seemed unreachable, where you and Aemond - or at least a younger and more innocent version of both of you - ran through the castle corridors, smiling happily and mischievously as you explored secret entrances and passages to the library and other rooms.

It felt like it was a lifetime ago.

“You may, my prince,” you hasten to say and snap out of your own mind as you stand, not wanting to arouse any sort of displeasure by keeping him waiting.

There is a metallic sound as a key is turned and a faint creaking of wood and then Aemond lightly pushes the tapestry out of the way and enters your private chamber. He is wearing a long onyx robe, but his chest appears to be bare underneath. The dark cloak enhances his completely loose light blonde hair – his broad shoulders are a little visible under the fabric. But that's not what holds your breath.

He's missing his eye patch.

Obviously you already knew what had happened to his eye. In the worst possible way. But seeing the aftermath of that night's disaster again after years of separation still has all the power to make your insides squirm with pain and sadness.

He doesn't seem embarrassed or insecure, though. Maybe he wants you to see. Maybe it's some kind of punishment.

Either way, you face him head on, posture straight and countenance serene and unshakable - or as unshakable as possible with the way you can feel your hands shaking. There are still deep scars on his cheek and forehead. But that was already expected. What was not expected is the blue stone lodged in the space where the eyeball should be. A sapphire, you see. Bright and impossible to ignore in the flickering light of the fire. It's beautiful, you admit to yourself. In a tragic and unforgivable way - a suitably beautiful consequence, provided by a great misfortune that happened to him.

Your heart beats very fast and your mouth is curiously dry. This hadn't started out very well. The two of you would set a precedent tonight for your future interactions and despite everything that has happened over the years, including all the hurts and disappointments, you are eager for everything to go well. You wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life with someone who hates you.

“I didn’t realize there was a passage there,” you say softly, biting your lip, a weak attempt to start some conversation and lighten the mood.

“The passage connects to my private chamber”, explains Aemond, his voice a little hoarse. The violet glow of his one good eye is fixed on your face, and you swallow at the subtle hint in his words. Your private chambers are interconnected. Which means he could visit you at any time - as well as the opposite.

“Would you like some wine?” he asks you after briefly shifting his gaze to the table where the fruit and drink are.

You look sideways at the table. Maybe it was a good idea, the drink could help you calm down. However, you had already drunk two glasses during the celebratory banquet and, possibly, it would be better not to risk it. Any way, Aemond didn't look like he wanted to drink either - not with the way he was still standing in the exact same spot, staring at you.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with a small smile, clutching the satin of your nightgown. “I-I was surprised when I heard there would be no bedding ceremony.” Your cheeks burn as you express a thought that tormented you a few minutes ago. Aemond raises an eyebrow and crosses his hands behind him.

"Why would you be surprised? Would you like there to be a bedding ceremony?" His tone is irritatingly calm and makes you feel like a foolish child with a foolish question.

"No!" You're quick to respond, feeling your blush deepen even further when you notice the small, fleeting gleam of amusement in his eye. "Not at all, my lord. I just - I just, I just thought you would stick to tradition, that's all."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds and you feel even more out of place than before. It was really foolish of you to try to start any form of conversation. That's not what he's here for. He's here for duty and that's all, and if it weren't for your chatty, nervous tongue, the two of you might have already started.

The silence stretches and you wish more than ever that you were still able to read him, to be able to see his emotions and thoughts in the slight and almost non-existent changes in his expressions, but his face is like a closed book to you now. It's a fact that the boy you once knew is no more. The intense, fierce way in which he looks at you could very well mean he's about to kiss you, just as it could also mean he's going to plunge a dagger into your chest - and you couldn't tell the difference between them possibilities to save your life.

"No one but me will see you naked." He says after a long, uncomfortable pause, a few words in a low, husky tone. A tone very close to possessive, a notion that sends shivers down the back of your neck and makes your lips part in surprise. Your heart hammers in your throat and the blush on your face spreads to your chest, but you hold his gaze. You can do it.

You're still speechless when he moves gracefully across the room, pulling the onyx robe off his shoulders and hanging it on the rack next to your bed, as if it were a common thing to do. The light is soft but allows you to clearly see your husband's lines. You can't help but stare at the thin form that's laid out before you; the hard, tall body that Aemond Targaryen usually hides under his dark leather clothes. He had the physique of a soldier, you think, noticing a few scars and clearly defined muscles beneath his pale skin, his long legs covered in soft linen pants. He is not overly burly, but his strength is evident nonetheless. It scares you and excites you, and you feel your heart threatening to burst out of your chest.

Silence takes over again, however, the longer it lasts in the air, the more nervous you become. You’re nervous because it’s him. Your uncle. A man who was once your best friend. A man who almost fought you in a war, until that war ceased to exist. A man you used to know and now you don't. A man who doesn't know how you feel. A man who has no idea how sorry you are that you couldn't stand by his side that night - even though you don't regret standing by your brothers either.

Maybe he has moved on from the past. Maybe it's you who can't leave it behind after all.

"H-Have you done this before?" You whisper as you stare at him from beneath your lashes, hands twisting nervously against each other.

Aemond looks at you without saying anything for a few seconds, but then nods once.

You sigh.

Of course he had already done this. Men were like that. The notion of purity only tended to be demanded of women. But maybe that wouldn't be all bad, if you look at the situation carefully. Him having experience could be a very good thing for you - even if the idea of him touching other women isn't a very pleasant thought for you.

And besides, the way he looked at you, the way he kissed you...there was some kind of promise there, something needy.

Gods, maybe you want him too. Not just the Aemond of the past, your friend. No, maybe you want this Aemond; the grown man standing in front of you.

And what was wrong with that, anyway? You allow yourself to consider the question for a moment. He is your husband now. Why didn't you ever take a moment to consider that maybe...maybe you could enjoy the process?

Your eyes finally meet his again. Could you really do this?

“Teach me...” you stutter, almost losing your courage in the face of that intense look. Taking a deep breath, you force the words out of your mouth, defeating the cowardice he once silently accused you of. “Teach me how to do this, Aemond. Please."

He doesn't answer you, but you can see, even from across the room, how his jaw locks after your request.

The two of you stand there for a moment, looking at each other as the flames burn in the fireplace, casting their shadows around you. His violet gaze roams your features from side to side. You look at him bravely, but your pulse is throbbing in your ears and you want him to do something, anything.

"My prince?" you ask as you watch him slowly walk towards the bed, anxiety evident in your tone.

“Come here,” he decrees as he sits on the edge of the bed, his voice coming out hoarse and deeper than other times. He separates his legs and looks at the space on the floor between them. You blink a few times and then understanding dawns on your face.

“First lesson." He hums as he sees you approach with timid steps, until you're standing between his legs. The bed is high and he's tall, and even with you standing up, your faces are at the same level. "Take off your clothing." He instructs and your breath catches in your throat, you can feel how more and more blood rushes to your cheeks. You had to be completely red. But you decide to obey without saying a word, although you look at him with wide eyes and lips parted to allow your ragged breaths to escape more easily. Taking away your only physical protection in front of him scares you, but you also feel strangely excited about it. What would he think of you? Would he find you pretty enough? Would seeing you naked make him want you more? Would he take off his pants too?

It's difficult and your fingers are definitely shaking, but without breaking eye contact, you finally undo the strings of your nightgown, slowly pulling the fabric over your shoulders until its falls crumpled at your feet.

He doesn't say anything.

He just looks at you. Intensely and fiercely. The sapphire stone and his violet gaze glide through each orange shadow that the fire draws on your skin. You struggle to resist the urge to cover your breasts and the small curls growing on your mound with your hands. Without the nightgown to keep you warm, your skin crawls and your nipples harden uncomfortably. You shudder and try to breathe calmly, but having his gaze fixed on you the way he is makes you want to hyperventilate. He examines you hungrily, almost without blinking, and you notice that he too is breathing unevenly. His throat moves as if he can't stop swallowing, and you think you see his nostrils flaring slightly – as if he's trying to smell you.

“Gaomagon nyke kostilus ao, valzȳrys?" (Do I please you, husband?) You ask when you finally find your voice, needing something to fill the oppressive silence of the room.

Aemond flexes his jaw once, gripping the bed sheets in tight fists at his sides. “Ao issi gevie, ābrazȳrys." (You are beautiful, wife), he murmurs, his voice slightly unsteady.

You can't believe that a man so hard and unforgiving could seem so in awe of you, so you just stare at him as he stares back, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Second lesson” he almost purrs, without looking away. "Kiss me."

Your heart beats wildly at the command, but at the same time it's so tempting. His lips are rosy and moist from the times he's licked them, and you find yourself looking at them before blushing.

Aemond waits for you to decide, a small wrinkle between his eyebrows and an almost anxious expression in his eye. When you move closer, your nose almost touching his - his breath smells of wine and fresh mint - and you reach for his face in the same way he had done for you during the ceremony, you see how his pupil explodes, blackening his violet eye almost completely. You really hope it's a good sign.

You take a deep breath and press your lips to his. It's an almost desperate notion to be in control of the kiss. What if you're doing it wrong? You try to copy everything he had done earlier, even hesitantly using your tongue to lick his lips after a while. This makes Aemond wrap his arms around your bare waist, holding you closer to his body, in a way that should have actually scared you - he's clearly strong enough to crush her - but actually makes you feel quite safe. After all, if he was strong enough to hurt you easily, that meant he was also strong enough to protect you.

He opens his mouth for you and lets you explore as you please, wrapping his tongue around yours when you finally muster up the courage to push it inside. It feels strange and wet and warm, but it makes you feel dizzy and tinglier deep down inside. It's...disturbingly erotic.

When you pull away so you can breathe properly, you notice how your skin is burning and how you shake with every breath you take.

The two of you stand there for a moment, awash in this strange new closeness, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of your waist. The expression on his handsome face wavers between hungry affection and anger.

"There you are. You still look like yourself, somehow. And yet you're so different. You've grown up, darling..." Aemond's mischievous smile appears unexpectedly, like a dangerous weapon that he knows how to wield very well. His fingers expand his attention to the crook of your neck as he leans in again. "For years I thought admiration was one-sided, but I never stopped persisting. And if there's one thing I'm great at, it's going after the things I want."

You don't understand his words very well, but he doesn't allow you to think anymore. He takes your lips once again, swallowing the surprised sound. Your restraint crumbles like ancient pottery, and to your own surprise, you're glad for it. You lean into his touch, allowing yourself to admit that you want him, want him and all of his intentions.

His fingers tangle in the strands of hair at the back of your neck and he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. Is easy. Very easy. The way his tongue seeks to enter your lips seems familiar, as if you're done it thousands of times before.

It's easy to forget that you don't.

You melt into Aemond's hands, feeling completely surprised by the way your body is behaving. This kiss is nothing like the one before. This is a kiss of claim from a powerful man who is determined to possess. And he does, heat spreading through your body like fire as his lips and tongue devour you.

Your body collides with his as one of his long arms wraps around your back, pulling you tightly against him. His body is hard and hot, yours melding with his with ease as your arms find their way around his pale shoulders. His kisses are wild, deep and sinful, leaving you gasping for air between them.

You let out a choked sigh when he pulls away, feeling dizzy from the lack of air.

“You missed me, hmm?” he's panting too, breathing into your mouth, his forehead resting against yours. “When I was young, I think I dared to hope. Like a phantom limb—" His hand flexes at your waist, almost protectively, making sure you're still with him. “You were there and yet you weren't, for what felt like centuries—I searched for you in every face,” he confesses, his suddenly cold-seeming violet eye meeting yours in the orange light of the fire. He’s never looked so completely human. “It almost drove me crazy.”

You can't help but freeze in his arms, gaze immediately going to the blue stone that rests right in front of you; the ghosts of the past return, as you feared. “A-Aemond, I -” you start sobbing, not knowing how or what to say, nothing could really be able to explain exactly what you want to convey. "I'm sorry about everything, I'm so sorry -"

"Yes. You should." He is succinct, almost harsh. But his gaze remains as needy and exposed as before. "You should have stayed by my side that night." His words make your heart break inside your chest, a reminder of corrupted loyalty. You open your mouth to say something but realize you can't, the uncomfortable lump in your throat won't allow it. "But I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. You're with me now and that's what matters. You're my wife. Mine. As it should be."

Even though his gaze is cold, his voice is husky and warm, and despite what most rumors say these days, you can feel a heart beating in his chest. A heart that has already been hurt a lot.

"This is what you want?" Firm fingers dig into the curve of your hips as he pulls you against his warm chest. "Tell me, princess, did you think about this while we were apart? Did you think about what it would be like to fuck me?"

You stutter and blush, your legs almost giving way to the weight of your body.

The next moment, the hand on the back of your neck squeezes a handful of strands tighter between his fingers, forcing a delicate arch of your neck, a hiss coming out of your mouth. “Y/N,” he holds you still, kissing your cheek tenderly, in contradiction to his grip on your hair. “You just have to ask me.”

This, of course, is the root of the entire problem. That his true victory over you is not through force or violence or cruel reminders of the past, but rather through your own vulnerability. Everything else in this damned world he would gladly accept, with ashes on his merciless hands of fire and blood. But not you. Never you. He wants you freely or he doesn't want you at all.

Or: a version of freedom. One that works for him. A type that is more mirage than truth – like a map carelessly copied many times until its mountains and rivers are unrecognizable.

“Please,” you whisper, the pain in your scalp subsiding instantly. You can feel a flame licking at your core, born of the desire for him to touch you, to have him close to you, to kiss you, to hold your form against his as he-

"Please what?"

“Aemond,” you blush more, his name precious and sharp in your mouth. "Please, fuck your wife. U-use me however you please, husband."

There's a gleam in Aemond's eye for a moment, so quick you almost don't notice it. However, the light that bounces against his gaze is decidedly less playful and provocative. Instead, it's something darker, more cruel. There is a primal drive there, a warrior's relentless quest to claim what is his. For a moment, it almost looks like the warrior in front of him wants to devour you.

You can feel every hard line of his against you as he knocks you onto the bed in a single hasty movement. His lips are firm, full, and insistent as they crash against yours, stealing your breath like a thief in the dead of night as you feel him pull your body into his. Your arms are around his shoulders once again as he moves you towards the center of the large bed.

He slowly pulls away, settling himself above you to rest on one elbow, his other hand trailing down your cheek and the crook of your neck. “Shall we go to your next lesson, wife?” his smile is purely predatory as you give him a small nod. His mouth then travels, from the corner of your mouth to the jaw, neck and shoulder. “A husband who only thinks about his pleasure does not deserve to be a husband, never forget that.” His warm breath skates across your breasts as he pulls one of your nipples into his wet mouth. You arch against him, panting as your hands go to his silver hair.

His tongue slides over your hardened bud masterfully, almost distracting you from the way his other hand begins to explore you, tracing from your hips to the middle of your legs. You welcomed his touch, humming in appreciation as his thick fingers began to gently glide over the part of you that sang needily to him, craving the sensations he gave you. This seems to encourage him, as Aemond's movements become bolder, thick fingers penetrating your core to gather a wetness you hadn't even noticed until that moment.

Aemond growls around your nipple then, the sound born of a desire so fierce it rips through his chest. You shudder at the sound, carried by the force of his need. Yet you welcome it eagerly, drinking it like water.

"You're already so wet, love." He murmurs, tingling the wet flesh of your breast, and a gasp leaves you when his fingers begin to circle against you, your body suddenly curling into his insistent touch. You can’t begin to respond, shivering at the fire licking at your stomach, the flames fueled by Aemond’s rough palm against you.

No one had ever touched you like this before. Yes, there was a moment in the velvety, silent darkness of the night when you let a hand slip beneath your nightgown as you tried to suppress the desire building there. Yet that was nothing compared to the fire Aemond leaves in you now, glowing brighter and brighter with each stroke of his experienced fingers, each slide of his thumb against your slick opening.

"Tell me what you're feeling." He asks, his voice almost hoarse. "I want to hear you say what I'm doing to you, I want to hear that beautiful sound you made again."

You moan then, and the sound of it makes your cheeks blush more than you could imagine.

"It-it's so good." You supply promptly, feeling your chest expand with air. “Your hand – Aemond, it’s so big, it feels so good on me.”

Aemond snorts a deep sound, and with it comes a firm thrust against your slit that makes you anxious, a hand coming up to your mouth before he catches it, his touch stopping you from shutting up.

You whimper in disappointment, feeling your wrist pinned to the side of your head as you open your eyes to look pleadingly at him. You can imagine what you look like to him; eyes wide with desire, lips soft and parted, face flushed and forehead furrowed with despair.

"No." Aemond murmurs, and his pupil widens, the iris barely visible behind the intense, dark depth of his violet eye. "I want to hear you."

You nod readily this time, quickly offering an answer. "I-I will, I promise. So, please don't stop..."

The warrior above you has the audacity to laugh at the need in your voice.

"As you wish, wife."

You almost fall apart beneath him at the depth in his tone, body briefly going limp in his grip.

However, you don't have time to fully compose yourself as immediately his fingers are once again stroking you, rubbing circles on your wet clit enough to make you bend like a bow beneath him. You moan loudly in your throat, and Aemond's lips absorb the sound, swallowing every sigh, every moan and stutter you offer him as he continues to bring you closer and closer to unbelievable heights of pleasure.

That fire seems to burn you from the inside out, every vein beneath your skin a rivulet of lava as the need grows ever stronger with a fierce hunger. The pressure inside you blooms with every thrust, every bite of his teeth against your lips, his heavy breathing echoing in you as you fearlessly chase this desire, louder and louder.

“Aemond-” You gasp when he releases your lips, your hand reaching down to grab his wrist, where his finger unceremoniously sank inside your heat, the sensation drawing a sound nothing short of depraved from your lips. "Please, I, oh..."

He moans again, voice cracking a little as he struggles, "Good girl. I'll make you feel good, my love. I promise."

With that he begins to move down your body, placing a series of small kisses on your heated skin as he goes. You arch into his touch, feeling your muscles ache and cry out for him.

You moan loudly and wait for him to stop once he reach your stomach, a mischievous smile on his lips hovering against your goose bumps as he sinks another finger into your entrance. However, to your surprise, he only descends further, the silver strands sliding across your sensitive skin as he goes. You blink in surprise at first when he begins to settle between your legs, spreading them with one hand and resting them carefully on his broad shoulders.

"A-Aemond, what are you- hnng-!"

Without warning, his mouth lands on your core, tongue sliding lewdly around the fingers that are stretching your entrance, drenching them in saliva and making you basically dissolve into the bed.

"Gods!" You cry out and your eyes widen, the feeling of his hot tongue on your folds is strange and yet maddening with its intensity. One of his broad hands reaches out, splaying over your belly in an effort to calm you.

"Is that good, baby?" He takes a deep breath, as if the question itself steals the air from his chest. “I’m just getting started – gods, you taste so fucking good.”

Your entire body heats up at this, hearing such vulgar and inappropriate compliments escape his throat, almost growling at you. The vibration seems to seep inside you and again you let out a loud moan in your throat, the sound extending beyond the ceiling of your chamber.

Aemond, however, takes his time, foregoing attention to your core in favor of pressing kisses and gentle bites to your inner thighs. You can feel that dull ache inside you starting to sharpen at his attentions, spreading out and showing off for him. Still, he seems to purposefully avoid the task at first, wanting to savor the taste of your skin against his lips, his fingers dipping in and out of you with wet sounds.

You shift restlessly beneath him, wanting, needing more, but not getting enough. That large hand on your stomach stops you from leaning too far off the bed, a touch that drives a shameless part of you into an absolute frenzy. The fact that Aemond is taking his time to prepare you, increase your attention, and still maintain control over you drives you insanely crazy.

“Aemond, uncle, please -” You whimper, trying to reach out your hands to touch him. But he just laughs against your inner thigh.

"Sweet niece." He speaks, and from his tone it almost sounds like he's warning you. "So impatient."

Still, he does as you ask and soon you feel his warm breath against your core. You're breathing hard now, your chest rising and falling and the heat is almost scorching on your skin. When his tongue licks a wide stripe against your clit, it takes everything in you not to shudder at the sensation, a sigh leaving your throat in a sound that echoes Aemond's name.

He, in turn, has now abandoned all pretense. Unlike a few minutes ago, when he wanted to taste and tease you, enjoy you and listen to the orchestra of sounds he could extract from you, the warrior nestled between your thighs now seems determined to devour you, to make you scream. His mouth, his tongue, his breath against you and his fingers moving in and out in rhythmic thrusts are directly aimed at driving you crazy, and soon your hands are reaching down and finding purchase in his long hair, tangling your fingers in his almost white locks, scratching his scalp. This only seems to encourage Aemond, a noise that feels almost primal coming from his chest and landing inside you.

“Fuck, babe.” He groans, taking a moment to let you calm down after your body threatens to pull out from under him with the intensity of it all. "So sweet, you're soaking wet. I can't wait to know how you feel around my cock."

Despite how embarrassed his dirty words must make you, your head is starting to feel very light, his fingers curling every time he pulls them out to hit the perfect spot in you, again and again, until you're rocking on his tongue asking for more. 'More' that's exactly what you get, the curled fingers sliding open you like scissors as they press right into a sensitive spot.

“Oh,” you sigh, “Aemond, this feels so good – I can’t please –”

He smiles at your pussy, pausing the oral assault to thrust his fingers in even faster. “I'm going to mess you up, girl. It's a promise."

As if he needed to prove his point further, his other hand gives your ass a generous squeeze, determined to make you squirm more and more around his fingers. Even as you rock against his hand, you can't keep up with the blistering pace he sets.

"Time for another lesson: good wives come when their husbands tell them to. Come for me, little dragon."

This time you practically scream, thighs shaking and threatening to close around him. He basically rips your orgasm out of you, the harshly satisfying pounding inside your walls with his thick fingers making you release everywhere. Eyes closed, your vision clouds with shapes and colors that seem to mimic strange dreams, lost in the fog of your own lust.

"Gods." Aemond purrs and you shiver a little more, just from the tone of his voice. "You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life."

His words threaten to almost overwhelm you once more, and you sob into your next breath, feeling his fingers briefly move in and out of you before carefully spreading themselves inside you once more. You struggle to control the breathing in your chest, each breath escaping as quickly as it came, your grip on his hair growing tighter. The world around you threatens to collapse beneath you when Aemond suddenly tilts his head and lets his breath blow hot against your sensitive clit, still throbbing from the last orgasm.

"W-wait!" You scream, throwing an arm over your face to try and erase the world around you so you can recover. Your thighs try to close around his head, but he pushes them against the bed with one large hand. "Aemond, uncle, please, please- enough, I'm so sensitive-" You should have been mortified at the sound of your voice so desperate, on the verge of sobs, but your entire world had narrowed like a tunnel to the feeling, the presence, Aemond's touch.

"Not yet, wife." He smiles, but you can also feel his impatience. "Think you can handle one more for me?"

You sob and furrow your eyebrows, but against all common sense, you nod hesitantly, freeing your arm to look at him with watery eyes half-closed and flushed skin.

Aemond practically grows at the look he finds on you, managing to grunt out a “Good fucking girl-” before adding another finger inside you. Now there were three fingers inside you! This time you sob loudly, the stretch too much all at once but so good, so complete.

“So good…So wet and open for me. Do you think I can fit into this little thing, love? You hold my fingers so well, but I don't know if you can take much more than this..." He murmurs mischievously.

You shake your head hard, lungs closing and almost leaving you speechless. "I-I can! I'll be good and accept it, I know I will."

"Accept what?" The words come out as a growl, animalistic and threatening. “Big girls use their words.”

Gods, this is embarrassing, but you know exactly what he wants to hear.

“I can take your cock in my pussy, husband,” you mumble, cheeks on fire, eyes tightly closed, teeth biting your bottom lip.

Pleased with your words (an understatement, really), Aemond hums and buries his fingers inside you, curling and uncurling them right against that soft spot inside you until you're crying and writhing beneath him. The sounds your wetness makes as he moves his fingers in and out of you are nothing short of absolutely filthy, but you can't bring yourself to care, drunk on the feeling of Aemond, Aemond, Aemond-

That coil that has started to purr inside you threatens to loosen, and then you have to reach down and grab Aemond's wrist tightly, making a series of incoherent pleading sounds for him to restrain himself.

“No-” You choke and squeeze your eyes tighter, shaking your head. He mercifully slows down when he notices your panic. "No-not yet. Please, inside, please, I want it with you inside, please-"

Aemond breathes hard and even with your eyes squeezed shut you can feel the way he's curled up against you, every muscle tense in anticipation of what's to come.

"Fucking beautiful girl." He coos. "So good at begging me to fill you up - but do you even know what you're asking for, love?"

No, you don't.

But you nod, desperately, the logical part of your brain almost fried with pleasure. You know the man in front of you is probably as big as his tall frame indicates, but you don't care, you want to test the limits of this new pleasure he had offered you, opening up to him and letting him deepen even more, deeper into you.

“Aemond-” You whimper, tears pricking the corners of your eyes now. Swallowing hard, you try to regain some composure as you offer, “Kostilus, valzȳrys…” (Please, husband.)

He chokes on a needy, raw sound in his throat, and you know you've finally reached him, tested the limits of his patience, and with that sound, watched him shatter into a thousand little fragments.

“Fuck-” He curses, biting his tongue before moving quickly, removing his fingers from inside you and making you whimper at the loss. "Wait, babe. Just give me a minute, do you think you can be patient with me, yes?"

You don't know if you have patience left in your body, but you nod anyway, wanting to hear him say again that you were doing so well, being a 'good girl', gods-

Aemond stands up and tugs at the ties of his baggy pants in a single hasty motion, the defined muscles of his pale abdomen and chest glistening in the firelight with a soft sheen of sweat. You watch with half-closed eyes, your body shaking in a mix of overstimulation and anticipation for what awaits.

But when the warrior in front of you finally, finally, breaks free from the confines of his pants, that numbing lust seems to crash over you and send you back to earth.

Big.

Aemond is big.

Growing up surrounded by brothers you can't claim that you've never had glimpses of their genitals before. But that was years ago, and they were boys' penises.

That's another thing.

It's definitely not a boy's penis in front of you. It is a penis very obviously belonging to a man.

Suddenly you're not sure if you could accept him anymore.

The reality of it all seems to shine through in your eyes and facial expression, because when Aemond's hand comes down on his own shaft - thick, veiny, pale at the base like the rest of him, but rosy at the tip that glows with a clear liquid, he paused.

"Hey." His voice manages to penetrate your thoughts. "Hey, Y/N, look at me, look at me."

You do so with a shaky breath, swallowing hard as your eyes dart upwards towards his gaze. There you meet his focused gaze, a watchful violet eye and a sapphire stone sharp and cold - but almost gentle as he looks at you.

"Let's take it slow, okay? If you need me to stop, just say the word and we'll slow down, does that sound good?"

You nod after a moment, feeling your heart pound in your chest. The sound seems to multiply as Aemond crouches over you, crawling towards your face where he leans his head against yours once again.

You think he's about to kiss you, but he grabs your wrist, his eye fixed on you as he guides your hand where he wants it. You sigh loudly and blush when you feel the heat of his length on your fingertips, before he makes you wrap your palm around him. The first thing you notice is how he's throbbing in the palm of your hand, leaking all over the shaft at this point. That's good, right? And this is all for you? You can't tell whether you hold back the moan that rose in your throat or not at that fleeting thought.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear when your hand moves tentatively up and down, sliding easily with the wetness leaking from his tip even though you can barely wrap your fingers around him. Even though you were scared and nervous, you couldn't deny the excited twist in your stomach at feeling him like this. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

He kisses the top of your head sweetly — like he's not about to rip you in half with that thing between his legs — but it still sends a shiver down your spine that brings you a little closer to madness.

"Come on-" He moans impatiently and sullenly as he bites your shoulder, as if he himself hadn't placed your hand on his cock, "Come on baby, let me fuck you. I've waited too long for this..."

He doesn't let you continue exploring his cock for long, making you stop just as you felt you were starting to pick up some proper rhythm, but when you start to protest, Aemond steals words from you with a hard kiss.

“Besides, I still have so much more to teach you,” he murmurs against your swollen lips, wrapping his hand around your hip and dragging you better beneath him, spreading your legs until he was kneeling between them. For a moment he looks at you as if you were some border territory to be protected, another dilemma to be resolved, some land to be conquered - and all you can think is that even though he still has the same dusty pink tint to his pale cheeks, the same straight silver hair, and the same feverish hands; he is also infinitely far from being the same boy who was teased and mocked when he was younger.

He is the most powerful swordsman in Westeros now, feared and admired by all, the rider of the largest dragon in the world and he is getting on his knees between your open thighs as if you were an altar to be worshipped.

With that thought, you separate your thighs as much as you can, wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and nod. Your heart is beating fast, your skin is flushed and damp with sweat, your breathing is ragged with apprehension - but by all that is holy, you have never wanted anything more in your life.

Aemond doesn't say anything, just presses his sweaty forehead against yours, supports his body with one of his forearms on the bed next to your face and positions himself with the other.

You feel his wet tip press into your entrance and you bite your lip hard, almost drawing blood when he finally pushes in enough so that an inch of him is inside your heat. Just the tip of him seems to take your breath away, and after another delicious inch of him settles inside you, you have to stop and breathe, prepare yourself.

Aemond is practically shaking on top of you, one hand wrapping around your hips and almost bruising you.

You're full, so full, you can feel the deep stretch, your legs spread wide on either side of his waist in an attempt to give yourself more room to adjust. Your entire form is shaking, sweating, and for a brief moment you wonder if you can do this.

Then Aemond's cock twitches inside you and the sensation threatens to bend you from the inside out. The two of you let out a sound that merges as one, and soon he's sinking in once more, pushing further along your tight walls, deeper into your depths.

The process seems to take forever, and more than once you have to ask him to pause, with one hand resting on his belly and the other on the back of his neck. All the while he coos breathless praises at you, his thumb making gentle circles on your hip as you take him all in.

"Fuck, you're so tight, love. Taking me so well, shh- take your time, it's, hnng, it's okay. You're doing so well -"

When he's finally completely, wonderfully deep inside you, your pubic bone flush against his, you're crying.

And it's not because of the pain - not that it isn't there. But it's the sheer overwhelming feeling of accepting him. To accommodate another part of this man inside you.

You two were once best friends. Then you became nothing, strangers, soulmates separated by a tragedy greater than any of you. But now...now you two were more than all of this combined. Both fell apart only to rise stronger, more intense, deeper.

"I missed you." You whisper through your tears, squeezing the soft hair at the back of his neck. Words too simple to contain everything that has been stored in your chest for years in relation to this man. But somehow you know that's all he needs to hear right now.

Aemond is breathing heavily, the silver strands falling around his face and yours like a curtain, his cheeks flushed and the muscles in his arm trembling as he tries to contain himself. But something in his violet eye shines at your words, something in the tears of longing that roll down your cheeks seem to reach him. He is definitely not the boy from your childhood. But this man hardened by life's obstacles, this unknown man and yet so familiar, this man with a frown on his face and a heart with high walls, with stone in his eye and ashes in his hands...this man yearns ardently for you.

"Me too." He looks at you before pressing a kiss to your lips. It's soft and gentle, full of the answers you're looking for and questions he's afraid to ask. You press your lips against his, running your fingers through the hair of his neck. Although the kiss starts out chaste, it doesn't take long before you delve deeper into it.

Aemond moans against your mouth and runs his tongue over your lower lip, asking for entrance. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out to meet his. Another growl leaves his lips and you swallow it. His hips stutter against you, an instinct barely controlled and he pulled away to apologize. Before he can, however, you grind your hips against his, letting out a pained moan as you feel his wide cock pressing against your tight walls. You feel so stretched and full.

It is not bad.

It's just 'too much'.

It's enough to practically burn. Yet that fire only seems to merge with the untamed flame that licks at your stomach, wanting, wanting more, needing to not only be satisfied but also to move.

You flutter around him at the thought, and the sensation must have been the last straw in Aemond's resistance, because he releases your lips with a grunt and thrusts into you without thinking.

You see stars.

You can't even make a sound, your jaw dropped and your eyes is clouded with tears as he pokes something deep inside you that makes you practically boneless, limp, except for his hand supporting you.

"Fuuck - gods, I'm sorry babe, I didn't want to- seven hells, but you feel so good. Are you okay?" Aemond babbles above you, not sounding truly sorry, but you can't respond immediately, busy watching the constellations behind your eyelids unfold.

“Aemond-” You finally speak, voice breaking. "It's so-so much, but it's so good..."

He lets a rush of air rise up his throat, a sound relieved and excited at the same time, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip and making you whimper.

"Yeah?" He asks, breathless. "I promised I'd make you feel good, baby. I said I'd fill you up. You're so tight, fitting like a damn glove around me-"

He gives another little shake of his hips and this time the noise in your throat pops.

“Please, Aemond-” You murmur, trying to focus your vision on him. You don't even know what you wanted at this moment, sated with him inside you, but needing more, something more to chase that unbelievable feeling that teased you from a distance.

"That's it, love." He stills above you. "Don't be in a rush, but - holy shit - the things you're doing to me right now. I wish I could see this forever, that's all, you taking my cock so well, under me, so perfect. I wish I didn't have to see anything else for the rest of my life."

You sob loudly, both from the effect of his words and the way his warm tongue gently slides around your breast, soft lips wrapping around your sensitive nipple and sucking it into his mouth once more. You're on fire. You had seen babies sucking on their mothers' or nursemaids' tits dozens of times and you knew it wasn't – couldn't – be anything like what Aemond's mouth felt like every time he sucked you like that.

The pain of union disappeared faster and faster, and now you felt like what you had experienced before – your body waiting and preparing for something to sweep you away, to happen – only now you know what it is and what you want. That thing – that fleeting moment was the best you’d had in a long time. And so you let your body assume your modesty and work for it.

You wrap both legs tighter around Aemond's body, but this time you slide your feet down until your heels rest against his firm buttocks and when he pushes, your heels push him a little deeper.

"Fuck!" He curses, and you know you've surprised him, but well, at this point, you don't care. He sucks vigorously on your nipple and you arch against him with his next thrust, your heels pushing him even deeper.

You feel your throat tighten with an ungodly scream and you grip the man's body tightly. Your hands slide over the sweaty muscles of his back, one of them finds his silver hair and delves into it, pressing his head against your breast. He responds by opening his mouth and licentiously sliding his hot tongue all over your breast, as if he's planning to swallow it whole. He quickens his pace and you try to keep up, pushing his hips with your heels faster and faster.

"Yes, yes, that's it, little dragon," Aemond encourages you, "Fuck me."

The bed creaks beneath you and you both pant and grunt as if you're suffocating. Aemond leaves your breast and holds the back of your head, grabbing your hair like you did with his. He presses his forehead to yours and your eyes meet as your bodies maintain the frantic coupling.

You no longer feel like a lady, not even a human in fact, but a true animal, a dragon at last, fucking and being fucked in return by an equal.

Aemond bites your lip and pulls your hair and you just scratch his back in return. He lets out a strangled laugh and his thrusts become savage. The bed groan loudly now like a wounded animal, but you are very close. You slide down the bed a little and his next thrust hits you in the perfect spot.

You can hear the sounds you makes as you reaches the edge again, your pleas too loud in your own ears. "Please, Aemond, oh-"

He's so deep.

He's growling against your lips.

He's squeezing your hair like a vise.

You are helpless and frustrated, responding to your body's every whim. But so loved, so cared for, outside of your own body and in another world where the only thing that matters is his weight, his penis, the perfect angle...

"Come on, come for me, wife. Squeeze my dick with that wet pussy, make a mess of me..." He whispers as he looks into your eyes and that's all you need.

And suddenly you do, with a particularly firm punch of his hips against yours, you let go of what little resistance you had left, feeling yourself thrown over the edge, past the cloud dome and into the great glowing expanse and beyond.

That spiral inside you breaks, flooding every inch of you with something you can only describe as paradise. What little strength in your limbs leaves you all at once, core pulsing against Aemond and dragging him further, deeper into you with each vibration. You let out a silent scream, arching your back and constricting your throat with something silent but powerful, screaming as you are overcome by the sheer intensity of it all.

The white you see is so powerful that it takes you a while to come back, but when you do, your legs feel like jelly and the shaking is still intense. You're so sensitive, Aemond's cock is inside you again, again, again, thrusting, fucking, slow and lazy, deliciously.

You're vaguely aware of how he's whispering a few praises above you, but it's only when he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a deep, passionate kiss that you snap back to reality. Your breath hitches, you kiss him back without any refinement, but also without restrictions.

There's a moment where your tongues seek each other - heated and sloppy - and then he turns his body on the bed to grab you by the hips and pull you towards him. You break the kiss, pressing your forehead to his as he arranges your limbs and your body over his, sitting you on his lap as he lies down on the bed.

His cock is as hard and wet as before, resting erect between your bodies as he kisses your neck, leaving soft teeth marks on your skin.

You would never describe yourself as an “immodest” lady, but since the night and your own husband had already given you more than enough permission for such a thing, you were going to explore it.

You place a hand on his strong chest and pull his hair, separating his mouth from your neck and instead try to replicate the action yourself. You keep pulling his hair until he offers his neck to you. You kiss, lick and run your teeth along his neck, paying attention to the sounds he makes to find out what he seems to like most. You scratch his right nipple with your free hand and you can feel his cock pulsing against your belly. He groans through his teeth when you slide your sweaty skin against his length.

Aemond holds your head again and takes you into his mouth. His deep, tongue kiss makes you feel like you're drowning and burning at the same time. You're both panting into each other's mouth, but when he cups your breast and pinches your nipple, you completely lose the rhythm of the kiss. He did it again, making you moan and you feel him smirking into the kiss.

You stare at each other as he caresses your breast and makes you moan. You feel sticky between your legs again, your uterus pulsing and tightening, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

Aemond shifts in bed to better accommodate himself, his silver hair spread out on the pillow, his cheeks flushed and his pale skin illuminated by the flames. He's beautiful.

He pushes you lightly until you're sitting upright on top of him, holding his cock to rub between your folds, making you both moan. He places him at your entrance once again. He pushes your hips up enough for his head to enter, then grabs you when you squirm hesitantly and moan softly at the sensation.

“It’s like riding a dragon,” he breathes with a smile that’s nothing short of wicked, “you’re very good at this, I’m sure you’ll know what to do, girl.” You search his gaze as you bite your lip, seeing how his violet eye is half-closed and drunk, the blue stone shining next to it, and he nods in encouragement.

Taking a deep breath, you place both hands on his shoulders and experimentally push your hips down. His member slowly fills you as you come down and you feel impossibly fuller than before - impossibly better than before.

"Seven..." You choke, closing your eyes, "ooh!Aemond -"

“Fuck,” he swears at exactly the same time as you, squeezing your waist tightly. "Fuck yes, that's it love, keep saying my name...I want it to be burned into your skin for the rest of our lives..."

You shake your head, already overwhelmed once again; All combined, you feel so completely satisfied that you wouldn't mind staying still like this forever. Aemond's hands, however, tighten each time on your skin and you know that he wants you to move, to allow him to achieve his own hitherto postponed pleasure - to ride him, as he said.

Slowly, you lift your body, still leaning on his shoulders. His eye is closed now, eyelashes so long they brush against his cheekbone - so you dare to look at where your bodies are joined. You continue lifting your body until most of his penis is out, slick with your juices and veiny along his length, the sight makes you blush and at the same time clench around him at how disturbingly erotic it is.

And then, you let yourself fall once again.

Too quickly, you realize, panting from being practically impaled in half.

"Fuck!" He curses in surprise but apparently satisfied with the rude blow.

He opens his eye this time, watching intently as you repeat your movements, a little faster each time. You begin a slow but steady rhythm under his gaze, your hand searches his thigh behind your back, tilting your body back.

Your movements become more fluid - it really does feel a bit like riding a dragon, you think with a deep blush.

His hand goes up to your mouth and his fingers caress your lips.

“You're too quiet,” he says, his index finger touching the tip of your tongue. “I want more, I want to hear you. Tell me how you feel right now." He commands.

Your hips stop rocking, you feel the blood rushing to your face and chest. “I-II...” you stutter shyly.

“No,” Aemond’s other hand palms your buttocks, urging you to move. “Ride me and tell me how you feel.”

You resume the undulating movements of your hips. It's one thing to tell him about it when he's not watching your face, and it's another while it's not only happening, but he's looking right at you. Your left hand slides down to his chest and stomach, your right placed on his thigh, helping support yourself. You close your eyes and think about his demand.

“It-it’s much better…much better than riding a dragon.” You try, with a slight touch of humor in your shy lines. Although it's clear to both of you that you are, in fact, riding a dragon at the moment.

"Yeah?" he grunts smiling breathlessly, his hand sliding from your mouth to your neck, where he gently squeezes and simultaneously presses his thumb under your chin. “Tell me more, wife.”

“I...I feel so satisfied”, you confess between labored breaths. "I didn't know...I didn't know."

“You didn’t know what?” He presses, his hand squeezes your neck a little tighter. Your movements quicken in response.

"This – this, makes me feel complete. It's amazing Aemond, you feel amazing." You babble. It's not just the arousal or the release, there has been an intense feeling of completion since you impaled yourself on his penis. It's divine.

“Seven hells,” he groans. You open your eyes when you feel his arms suddenly wrap around you, holding you tightly against his body. You return the hug, your arms around his shoulders. He presses his forehead to yours and you blink slowly at him. The hunger in his violet iris collides with yours as his arms help you bounce on his cock, faster and faster.

Your earlier self would be horribly mortified by the carnal sounds your bodies make together, but the girl (the woman) now is moaning with delight in his face - in the face of the feared 'Aemond One-Eye'.

“Y/N,” he moans your name, disjointed.

“Aemond, Aemond -”, you sing in response.

"Do you want to cum again? Hmm? Do you want to cum and let everyone in the Red Keep hear how good I am fucking my wife?" He growls close to your ear and you nod and nod, cooing in agreement, the only word that makes sense in the cacophony of whimpers that leave your lips is his name and some pleas of 'please, yes'. "Hmm, fuck, of course, you're such a good girl. Go ahead, cum for me. Let everyone hear who this pretty little pussy belongs to. Come on, scream for me love."

You do just that, screaming his name loudly when he thrusts so deep inside you that it feels like the head of his dick is on your cervix. The pinch of your clit against his pelvis sending you right over the edge.

You tighten like a vise around his cock, your walls fluttering and convulsing as more and more juices run down his length, down to his balls and the tops of his thighs. It's a mess. You shake against him, panting and crying, as you hold on to his shoulders for dear life as the world around you feels like it's falling apart.

You barely hear Aemond growl and curse near your ear, thrusting once, twice, three times into you, grunting with each movement of his hips as he did so. With a final, stuttered sigh, he stills, breathing hard, face tilted into the crook of your neck as you gasp and shudder against him.

The two of you remain like that, bodies shaking, breathing barely enough to satisfy the hunger for air in your lungs, senses fuzzy with the aftermath of your climaxes. You feel yourself squirm after the aftershocks of your orgasm, core still vibrating around Aemond's length inside you. The squeeze is almost painful, but you lose yourself in the lingering effects of the sparks dancing behind your eyelids, your breath catching in your chest.

Aemond holds you tightly as you try to come down from that impossible height, lips pressed against the soft skin of your neck as he too shudders. With his hands spread over the soft skin of your back, his breath tickling your jaw, he calms himself as you both try to float back to the surface, try to start and distinguish your bodies from each other.

You can feel a wave of heat within you from a distance, reaching the deepest parts of you. For a brief period, you panic, an automatic response to thinking about the consequences. But as quickly as it appears, the panic disappears.

A child. Yours and Aemond's.

Gods, it wouldn't be so bad, right?

So instead, you allow yourself to savor the sensation, feeling how hot you are inside, how full you are with Aemond completely sitting inside you, locked inside, filling you with the aftermath of his climax. It's utterly filthy, and for a moment you whimper at the sheer depravity of it all.

"Issi ao sȳrī?" (Are you okay?) Aemond murmurs, voice rumbling in his chest. You warm to the question, placing a smile on his shoulder as the hazy pleasure of your climax lingers in your senses.

"Hmm." You murmur back, the sound vibrating against both of you. "Nyke sȳz. Olvie sȳz." (I’m fine. Very fine.) You reassure him, his thumb brushing your back comfortingly.

Aemond sighs, the sound more like a rumble of satisfaction than anything else.

Do you like it. Tucked into his arms, his embrace around you, the hazy residue of his touches covering your senses with pleasure. His skin smells like sweat and heat, some citrus note hidden beneath it. You breathe in, letting the aroma settle on your chest before lazily rolling to the side with a tired sigh, his cock freeing itself from your cum-soaked walls.

"You did well." He says after a few seconds, in a low voice, “So good, absolutely perfect.” And then he holds you, pulling you into his arms, and you go without complaint, wrapping yourself around him, fitting perfectly, belonging, as he takes you both under the covers.

You accept everything, even though you're still burning with pleasure, you don't feel any cold, and if you ever did, Aemond holds you close enough to push it away from your memory. His nose is pressed against your head, and his arms are around your waist, holding you tightly, as if he's afraid you'll run away.

You won't, this is where you belong now.

“I’m really satisfied with this arrangement,” You never thought you’d say that, but it’s the truth, and the breath of relief you feel in your hair makes you smile slightly in response.

"I'm too." Aemond says almost gruffly, and if you could still hazard that there was something of that old boy in him, you'd say he even looks embarrassed. He leaves a kiss on the top of your head, his fingers caressing your hip, “Now sleep, my wife.”

Your smile only gets bigger.

Since the day the two of you separated, you had sporadic glimpses of that same restless desire to renew your friendship. To resolve problems and leave sorrows behind. Aemond was a precious friend in your childhood and you valued him dearly; he was kind, a good listener, honest (too much, sometimes) but he had always been careful with you. For years you wanted that you both to be able to regain the bond of friendship you once had.

But that...

'My wife.'

That feels even better.

That feels...right.

In truth...

Tagging: @croatianprincess @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @hanihoney88 @supmymainhuman @navyblue-eternity @gothicxs @toodlesxcuddles @loving-enemy @ostricx @azperja @echos-muses @thedamewithabook @schniiipsel @snowprincesa1 @nezzlysixx @maximizedrhythms @maviee @ammo23 @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @hotdsworld @darylandbethfanforever9 @malfoytargaryen @qyoquixote @pick95 @moonxhunt @tired-ninfa @fcbformulaeri @daydreamy-me @vyctorya @lovelymoonkiid @babyblue711 @zondereleutheromania @diosademuerte @spookymicrowave @wintrr13 @namelesslosers @chainsawangel @beautbuck @arcielee @ratfromdeepspace @brianochka @greenowlfactif @qyburnsghost @rwdkarla @dontforgetoctober3rd @violetexpress1

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 4 months

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RABBITS RABBITS RABBITS!

Happy 2024, wishing you all the

best in the new year.

#jd johndeacon or jackdaniels #john deacon #jd chats #rambles #rabbits rabbits rabbits #first of the month #white rabbit #first day of the month #january first #first of January #new year #2024 #rabbit rabbit rabbit #good luck

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 4 months

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Happy fucking Birthday Nikki Sixx!

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jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels · 5 months

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Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

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