#queen of the seven kingdoms | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leiawritesstories · 1 year

Text

Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, 3

@rowanaelinn you hurt me but i did promise so here you go <3

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: NSFW, minors please skip this one

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fireheart,” he groaned in a broken whisper, every inch of him yearning to touch her, to taste her, only restrained by whatever remaining shards of sanity he possessed. “Are you sure?”

“Completely.” She cupped the side of his face, her fingertips skating over his tattoos, over the fresh bruise splotched across his cheekbone. “I am yours, my prince.”

“No,” he whispered, adoration beaming from his face, “I am yours, my princess.”

With more confidence than she thought she possessed, Aelin leant forwards, closing the fraction of space between her and Rowan’s lips, kissing him softly. He threaded his fingers into her hair, cupping his large palm at the back of her head, and deepened the kiss, his tongue gently coaxing her lips apart. She gasped softly, shifting in his lap so she could straddle him, her legs wrapping around his hips.

At that, Rowan groaned low in his throat and stood swiftly, his other arm sliding beneath her hips to support her as he strode towards their bed. One step–two–and he was setting her down atop the pile of blankets and furs, chest heaving as he pulled his lips away from hers to track kisses along her throat, finding her fluttering pulse. Aelin half gasped, half moaned when he nipped at her throat, the sensation sending electricity shooting through her body. Spurred on by her sounds of approval, he braced his arms on either side of her, leading her to lie down on her back, and traced his rapidly darkening eyes leisurely down her form, his gaze lingering, visceral.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, dragging the full intensity of his emerald stare back up to her face, a softness she’d never seen him wear gracing the harsh planes of his face.

Lost for words, she just caught his braid and tugged him down to kiss her again, moaning softly at the way his chiseled body slotted perfectly against hers. “Rowan–Ro, please.”

He traced the tips of his fingers down her neck, her collarbones, skating a whisper-soft touch over her breasts. “Please what, love?”

“Touch me,” she gasped, back arching when he did just that, his callouses scraping deliciously against her skin as he palmed one soft breast, thumb drawing teasing, too-light circles around her nipple. She groaned, leaning up into his touch, and he chuckled.

“Eager, aren’t you, love?”

“Only for you, Prince.”

He seemed to like that.

So much that he rewarded her by dipping his head to her other breast and alternating nipping kisses and flicks of his tongue, switching between his hands and his mouth until her skin was blushed and tingling, pocked with a handful of little red love bites. Aelin squirmed beneath his touch, her body responding so gorgeously to his ministrations. “Please,” she gasped, her vocabulary seemingly reduced down to that word.

In response, Rowan pulled back just enough to undo the ties of his pants, kicking off the offending clothing and leaving only his undershorts, which did absolutely nothing to hide the proudly jutting shape of his cock.

Aelin felt a rush of heat between her legs and lifted her hips off the bed, pushing her nightgown all the way off of her body. Despite the nervousness that flickered through her mind, her heart and soul and body yearned for her husband, and she felt nothing short of revered when he finally saw her in entirety and went completely speechless.

“Fireheart,” he gasped when he recovered his power of speech, “you are stunning.”

She flushed, heat blooming across her cheeks. “Says you,” she teased. “My impossibly gorgeous warrior prince.”

“My princess,” was his only response before he lowered himself back down to her, finding her lips in an all-consuming kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, dragging him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed into her. And then–“Oh!”

Without her noticing, Rowan’s fingers had drifted down her body, trailing down the dip of her waist and the soft curve of her hip before slipping across her thigh to her center, sliding fluidly through the wetness pooled there. He brushed across her core, gentle, exploring, cataloging each of her gasps and hitching breaths, until his thumb found a spot that brought a deep, throaty moan out of her.

“Rowan,” Aelin moaned, hips bucking upwards.

He smirked. “Yes, Princess?”

“More,” she gasped, overcome by the sensation of his thumb pressed against her clit, the way he somehow knew just how much pressure to apply to turn her into a desperate mess.

“Like this?” His thumb moved in circles in time with his fingers stroking across her sex, one fingertip curling around her entrance. She moaned breathily, nodding in assent. His smirk widened, and he eased that finger into her, slowly withdrawing and pumping the digit.

“Fuck,” he swore, employing all of his restraint to keep his pace slow. “You’re perfect.”

“You��re perfect,” she panted, skating her hands down his chest, careful to keep her touch gentle by his most recent cuts and scrapes and bruises. Spurred by her more primal instincts, she let one hand drop down and cup his cock through his undershorts. He groaned deeply and eased a second finger into her dripping sex, timing the movement of his hands with the way she stroked him. Aelin felt a sensation she’d never experienced building in the pit of her stomach, like a coil preparing to spring free. The feeling only increased as Rowan’s clever, wicked fingers continued to work her, brushing up against a spot inside of her that had her seeing stars ignite behind her eyelids.

Seeing how she reacted to that, he stroked that spot again, making her hips jerk. “Come for me, love,” he murmured, lowering his mouth back to her breasts. “Come for me.”

She fractured, her body shattering into a million shards of pure bliss, lost in the gloriousness of the way he made her feel. When her heaving breaths calmed down, she met his eyes, their green hue swallowed up by dark desire and love, and without quite meaning to, she gripped his cock a little harder. He swore, his abdominal muscles contracting and flexing, and slipped her hand away from him.

“Keep that up and I’ll barely last half a minute,” he chuckled.

She flashed him a tentative grin. “Are you complaining about that?”

“Hells no.” He kissed her. “But I’ve been dreaming about how you’ll feel wrapped around my cock, love, and I intend to make it as good as possible.”

Her breath caught, again. “Then why are you still dressed?”

He grinned. And pulled off his undershorts, flinging them across the tent.

Aelin’s jaw dropped just a slight bit as she finally drank in the sight of Rowan’s gloriously bare body, the tattoos and scars and injuries only accentuating his brutal beauty. “My love,” she managed, her throat going dry.

“My love,” he repeated, lowering his body back down to hers and brushing his thumb across her cheek softly, sweetly, the gesture totally at odds with the way both of their pulses thundered.

Apprehension flickered through her bright eyes. “Will it hurt?” she whispered. “Hells, no, just ignore that, I’m–”

“You’re only asking a perfectly logical question,” he broke in, touching her lips to stop her from questioning herself. “It may hurt a moment.” He kissed her forehead. “But I will do everything I can to make you feel as fucking gorgeous as you are.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed, her body melting into him. “I love you,” she murmured.

Rowan felt a surge of entirely unexpected emotion. “As I love you,” he replied.

Aelin lifted her head to kiss him, losing herself in his kiss. Her hands roamed across his back, his chest, his ass, over the muscles shifting and flexing beneath his tanned skin, feeling the strength cording every inch of his frame. He groaned, bracing himself on his forearms.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he whispered, waiting for her to nod before he slid his hand back between her thighs, making sure she was ready.

She laid one hand atop his heart, feeling his heartbeat thunder as he carefully lined himself up and pushed into her, just a bit, working in slow, shallow, rolling thrusts. Her eyes screwed shut when she felt him pushing against her maidenhead, her free hand clenching the sheets. “Ro–”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“Don’t stop.” She took a shuddering breath. “Just–new.”

Knowing what she meant, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips and stroked one hand down her body possessively, rooting her in his presence and allowing her time to adjust. And when she nodded, he kissed her deeply and thrust the last inch, his hips aligning with hers, their bodies united as one.

She cried out and gripped his shoulder, panting, her body adjusting to the feeling of Rowan buried fully inside of her. The pain was fleeting, though, quickly replaced by pure love and longing, and her hips moved of their own accord, pressing up into his.

He grinned against her lips. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

So he moved, rolling his hips in long, languid strokes, and her soul shifted on its axis. In only a few moments, she’d matched his rhythm, her body moving in tandem with his. He leaned his forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes like he could see her soul. She met the depth of his gaze head-on, her own stare just as penetrating. For a moment that felt like eternity, they didn’t need words; the raw emotion written deep in both of their twin hearts spoke for itself.

Rowan’s pace picked up, and he settled his hands on her hips and smoothly rolled them over so he was on his back with her straddling him, allowing his cock to strike a new angle. She groaned deeply at the change in position, her head tipping back in pleasure, and moved languidly atop him. He swore low in his throat and guided her to rock atop him, feeling himself rapidly hurtling towards orgasm. And she matched his fervor, bracing her hands flat on his chest and riding him hard, the clenching of her internal muscles warning him that she was just as close as he was.

So he sat up, pulling her into his chest, and whispered into her ear in the ancient language of the Doranellian warriors. She didn’t understand the words, but their meaning was as clear as crystal–he loved her, he loved her, he loved her. Overcome, Aelin slipped her own fingers between her legs, touching her clit just like Rowan had, giving herself the last little bit she needed to tumble over the edge into bright burning bliss. He grunted low in his chest and climaxed, spilling into her.

It took several moments before Aelin returned to herself, her breath slowly stabilizing. Rowan held her close, his heart beating in time with hers, stroking slowly up and down her back as both of their bodies calmed. He cupped her face with one hand, exhaling deeply, and rolled them back over so she was once again lying down, carefully pulling out of her while he turned them over. She winced slightly but sank blissfully into the bed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Stay,” she mumbled, half-asleep.

He chuckled. “I should clean us up.”

She shook her head drowsily. “Later.”

“Alright,” he acceded, succumbing to her gentle urging. He settled himself into the bed, pulling her into the cocoon of his warmth, and she melted into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

The last thing she remembered before she fell into the best sleep of her life was the impossibly sweet kiss he pressed against her temple, and the words he murmured into her hair. To whatever end, my queen.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #queen of the seven kingdoms #got au #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin smut

90 notes · View notes

ashley-jones · 1 year

Text

To Which You Crave

Aemond Targaryen x Married Sister OC x Alys Rivers

OC Name: Visella Targaryen

It is our fate, I think, to crave what is given to others. If one posseses a thing, the other will take it away. - Helaena Targaryen

From the moment she was born into this world as the youngest child of King Viserys the Peaceful and Queen consort Alicent Hightower, that she would be queen. She married her oldest brother Aegon Targaryen, the favorite but useless spoiled rotten boy. She gave birth to two very healthy pureblooded Targaryen boys, each looking like her and Aegon. She did the unspeakable, something men haven’t been able to do in thousands of years, tamed one of the untamable dragons, the most dangerous and most powerful dragon, Cannibal at only the age of 6. It was a mistake, her and Aemond had just gone for a morning walk like they did every morning, to which she had borrowed Sunfyre for a ride due to Aegon never taking him out. While resting she had entered a passage that led her straight into the cannibal’s trap of corpses.

His deathly green eyes had sat on her the moment she entered his territory, standing to his larger, overbearing monstrous height. His head reminded her of Balerion, the black dread’s skull that sits in King's Landing. He looked so much larger than Vaghar, her great aunt Leana’s dragon. He let out a loud roar that shook the ground and the skies. Her long white hair blew back behind her ruining the once perfect braid. Aemond had frozen about 30 feet behind her, unable to yell for his sister as she looked up at the dragon with pure amazement. A ball of fire could be seen filling the dragon’s throat, and as the flames were seconds from hitting her, the dragon stopped. She was smiling, her young childish features had turned to a beautiful smile staring up at him with pure amazement and giddy. The flames disappeared, slowly leaned his head down to which she reached her hand out until her tiny palm touched his snout. A deep rumbling purr escaped him, her fingers gliding along the pitch black night colored scales. “My dragon..” she whispered.

When she turned to say something to Aemond he had disappeared, Sunfyre still standing watching her closely. “Aemond?” she called out. But nothing, he had walked away not saying anything going straight back to King's Landing.

When she returned home riding the black beast, all she got was stares of amazement from the handlers. Jace and Luke watched in terror, the same with Rhaenyra once the blacks realized the greens had a very strong and overpowering dragon on their side. Alicent was quick to make sure her daughter was okay, Aemond standing in the back listening to Aegon’s teasing of still not having a dragon. But Viserys congratulated her on conquesting something men haven’t been able to touch in thousands of years.

That was 11 years ago, when she was still young and innocent. Before she married Aegon and had children. Before her older brother Aemond lost his eye to their nephew Lucerys. Before he gained Vaghar, the second largest dragon in the world. But now she’s grown up, learned what kind of world she lives in. She’s lost count how many times she has entered her and Aegon’s chambers to find him with a whore, to which she would turn and just walk out; having come so used to the sight that it no longer bothers her. Usually when it came to this she would just take her two boys and go straight to Aemond’s room, which they seemed to much prefer over their own father.

“Visella, what do you think of this one?” Helaena questioned her younger sister. The younger turned her head away from the book Aemond was reading looking at the spider embroidery. “It's beautiful, sweet thing.” she softly replied. To which Helaena smiled and looked away moving onto another embroidery. Her sons were playing with two dragon figures, one of pitch black the other green and silver. Her lilac gaze moved back to the book that was still partially resting on her thigh and Aemond’s. Her gaze scanned the pages, reading over each line; but her attention would be stolen every few minutes when her boys would talk, or Helaena would ask her questions or mutter to herself.

Soon the midwives came in to collect the boys to lay them down for a nap, each bowing to the three then walking out holding the boys hands. Aemond closed the boy after sliding the ribbon into place and setting it aside. Helaena stood muttering about nearly missing classes, saying her goodbyes to her younger siblings then walking out whispering to herself. Visella stood walking towards the place her sons had been playing, kneeling and beginning to pick their toys up to place them back into the basket. “Was he with another again?” Aemond questioned. “He was, yes.” she answered. She set the two dragons on top and placed the basket by the door so she would remember to grab it when leaving. “It removes his attention from me, to which I am perfectly fine with.” she simply said. Rejoining her seat on the floor, to which he had moved back to the chair, he head moved to sit against his leg.

His hand pushed through her white hair, carefully brushing out any knots the boys had placed when messing with her hair earlier in the afternoon. Her purple haze soon turned blac as her lids closed, eyelashes grazing her cheeks. Taking care of the boys mainly by herself was exhausting. When they cried at night in the next room she was the only one to get up to handle them, Aegon muttering about the noise then just going back to sleep too drunk to care. Then she would spend the rest of her night rocking them back to forth. Aemond has actually entered the nursery once or twice to her physically rocking Rhaegal, but mentally she was asleep, mind exhausted and unconscious, but body on active mode. Hell Aegon has walked in on it as well, only to walk out calling her crazy.

“Ziry gaomas daor gūrogon ao.” (he does not deserve you.) he muttered. “Mm Hae ao gaomagon telling nyke lēkia.” (Mm.. As you keep telling me brother..) she whispered. “Kesā sagon iā rōvēgrie dāria though mandia.” (You will be a great queen though sister.) he whispered. “Mērī sȳrkta lo nyke skoriot naejot sagon ondoso aōha paktot instead hen zirȳla.” (Only better if I were to be by your side instead of him.) he added. Slowly she lifted her head, placing her chin on his knee smiling up at him. “You would make a true king.” she whispered. She slowly stood, straightening out her gown. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Eman naejot jikagon ñuha jorrāelagon.” (I have to go, my love.) she whispered. Leaning down she placed her lips against his, arm tightening around her waist trying to pull her down onto him, but she pulled away before he could. She kissed his forehead, moving away smiling softly and leaving the room with the basket of toys sitting on her arm.

Yes Visella Targaryen, the youngest daughter of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower, sister wife of Aegon ii Targaryen, mother of Rheagal and Copious Targaryen, and the rider of the Cannibal Dragon; is having an affair with her older brother Aemond Targaryen. Aegon didn’t show her any love unless he was drunk, or in one of his rare vulnerable moments. However, Aemond took care of her, played with her children, read to them, and even taught them how to ride dragons. In other words, he was everything she wanted in a husband, everything she longed for; everything Aegon was not.

She opened the door to her and her husband’s chambers, smelling Aegon’s bath oils in the air. The sheets had been freshly changed, her nightgown laying neatly at the bottom ready to be put on this eve. Setting the basket down she walked towards the connected nursery, ignoring her husband’s call of her name and entering the nursery. Both boys were fast asleep in fresh clothes, fixing their blankets and making sure their stuffed animals were placed back beside them. Quietly she walked back into her room, closing the door quietly and walking towards her husband. “You left so suddenly this morning my dear wife.” he whispered with a cocky smile. “I had more important matters to tend to.” she firmly answered. “Always so serious..” he whispered. After a brief glance at him, she shrugged and walked away, no longer interested in what he was saying.

“Should I be worried about the fact Rhaegal is calling out Aemond’s name every three words?” Aegon questioned his wife. “Aemond is around him more.” she answered. “You know he can’t love you fully. Not with this new Alys Rivers in the picture.” he pushed. She froze her doings with her earrings, hands falting in place, eyes moving towards her husband. “I am in no relation with anyone other than you Aegon.” she muttered. “You always were a horrible liar. Though I cannot be angry with you, when I myself have been no better.” he spoke. “How long have you known?” she asked. Walking over she sat on the tub looking at his relaxed form, his lilac haze sitting against her own. “I hear of it from the maids, and you leave in the middle of the night sometimes, then return covered in bruises and bites. You have done your duties for heirs, we both have. I show no problem with this affair, because I know it hadn’t started until after you had the boys.” he explained. She looked at him with a shocked expression, confusion dripping from her gaze. “I love you Visella, but not the way they expect me to. But Aemond has been sending letters back and forth to a woman by the name of Alys Rivers, they speak of marriage and possible future children.” he informed.

Her gaze moved away staring at the stone floor, knowing her relationship with Aemond was possibly too good to be true. She hummed in acknowledgment, leaning over kissing his temple to which he leaned into enjoying the small comfort. “Don’t take too long.” she whispered. Slowly standing she walked out of their chambers, making her way out of the castle towards the beach area. Cannibal and Vaghar laid a far distance between the two, the older female dragon refusing to get within 40 feet of the Cannibalistic dragon, to which Cannibal seemed perfectly fine with. His large black scaled head lifted, horns dripping with sand; emerald green eyes pushed into her. “Rytsas jorrāelagon.” (Hello love.) she softly spoke up to him. A deep rumbling purr escaped him, shaking the ground beneath her feet. He slowly stood shaking the sand from his body, then shifting, leaning his large body over pressing his shoulder to the sand allowing her to step up onto him. No saddle, ladders, or even ropes were placed on him; no one was able to get close enough to place them. But she found it more natural, more comfortable, especially for a dragon that had been untamed for almost a thousand years. He stood up once she was sitting comfortably, moving back and stepping through the water to gain leverage, lifting his body into the air. “Soar rȳ se jēdar ñuha taoba.” (Soar through the sky my boy.) she spoke. He rumbled a deep purr, a deathly sky shattering roar erupted from him awakening the world as Cannibal took to the skies

“Your sister, the soon to be queen, she is quite pretty is she not.” Alys whispered. Aemond froze at those words, his hand stopping their menstruations in her hair. “Yes she is, she’s the Aphroditi of King's Landing as the people call her.” Aemond answered slowly, uncertain of his choice of words. “You don’t have to hide your love for her, my love, there is truly nothing wrong with it. Your brother treats her horribly, you are just giving her the love she deserves.” she whispered. Aemond moved his hand away from her sitting up, not liking the feeling of this conversation. “Why bring my sister up?” he questioned. “Because you love her as you love me.” she whispered.

The roar of Cannibal shook the lands, his head lifting and turning, feeling the vibrations of his deep dominating roar course through the skies, forcing the clouds to split for his and his rider’s entrance. Alys stood walking towards the window, looking up towards the sky, the dragon’s tail being engulfed by the clouds, but his large shadow still could be seen through the white thickness. Her shimmering emerald eyes of evil shone, but darkened at the same time. It was not a look he liked, he wanted to protect his little sister, his mistress, from becoming more a prominent target.

"Why not ask her to join our humble affair, my dearest love?” Alys whispered.