sorcerousundries

[sorcerousundries]

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Robb and Jon’s curly hair

Warnings: P in V sex, hair pulling(obv), cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex(wrap before you tap), slight marking if you squint(Jon),

A/N: I’ve read their blog for so long and I think @dipperscavern would like this.

Jon’s hair falls around your face while he pounds his hips into yours, the dark curls messy with sweat and exertion, you can’t tell if your hot or cold. The cold air of winterfells snowy winds drift in through the window and bite at your skin but the heat that courses through your cunt and abdomen make you sweat.

He groans when you thread your fingers through the dark tresses and tug at his scalp “careful” he grits a warning through his teeth, his hips slowing to roll in a circle hitting the soft spot inside you with every roll.

Squelching plaps echo the room as his hips sped back up again, it has you moaning and dragging your nails along his back.

That’s gonna hurt in the morning yet he can’t bring himself to focus on that, his senses have zeroed in on the way your snug cunt wraps around his cock. as he looks down to where your connected, those curls fall infront of his face, making you tuck them behind his hair so that you can look upon him as you cum all over his cock.

Robbs hair isn’t as long as Jon’s but that doesn’t mean you can’t grip onto it while he’s knuckle deep in your cunt.

You can grip the auburn curls to ride his face while he smirks up at you, his tongue curling and lapping at your clit. Your legs are hiked over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as your toes curl, he’ll even give you his fingers if you ask nicely, “yeah?, y’ like that?” as he curls them into your g-spot.

Your jaw falls open in a silent scream as your stomach twists and turns with as if filled with molten lava.

Your fingers curl around the auburn strands, providing even a small amount of grounding as your orgasm rushes towards you. Your thighs clench and twitch as he shakes his head, the friction almost mind-numbing as black spots start to dot your vision.

And you know he’ll smirk at you as he rises from between your legs, the scratchy hair on his chin that leaves your inner thighs red raw is soaked in your juices. he pops his fingers in his mouth, sucking them before he encases your mouth with his.

The taste of yourself tart on his tongue.

Even when he pushes your legs up to your chest to sink himself into your cunt, you can’t help but grip at the curls.

[sorcerousundries]

Hii do you still take requests for Kili?

Yes I do!, I take requests for all of Thoríns company

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with Daenerys Targaryen (moodboard)

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with Sansa stark (moodboard)

[sorcerousundries]

Spoiled rotten

Being greywinds favourite

Warnings: everything’s fine AU

A/N: a lot of these scenarios are inspired by my dog

Robb was being replaced

He knew it plain and simple. He first started to notice it when he’d saunter into your shared chambers, eager to strip himself of his leathers and nestle under the furs with you while the fire crackled something fierce.

He had been thinking about it all day in fact. The only thing keeping him motivated while he pushed through seemingly endless council meetings and letter responses alike.

Yet when the time had finally come and he pulled the covers back he was not greeted with the empty space reserved just for him, instead a great big direwolf was cuddled into the space with your arms wrapped around him.

He swears he could even see him smirking as if taunting him.

To rub salt on the wound you even giggled at him as you told him “I have a new cuddling companion now” it’s like you wanted him dead.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After weeks of carefully planning greywinds mealtimes so that he’d be able to sneak under the covers before the wolf padded into your quarters as if he owned the place, Robb though that would be the end of the business.

How wrong he was.

The chances he was granted to be able to come visit you during the day were slim but not impossible, most days he was able to slip away and sit beside you while you read.

You would chat to him about anything; the topic of your book, the dream you had that night, what you had for lunch. Anything.

But after walking into the library and seeing greywind pressed at your back like a sentinel pillow, his victory was lost yet again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When night fell and the castle fell silent, the winds blowing strong outside. You could always count on Robb to keep you warm at night, aswell as the thick furs that sat heavy on the bed.

Yet when a chill started to curls round his shoulders and he tried to pull the covers up to shield himself from the cool air, the fur wouldn’t move.

No matter how much he yanked and tugged, the fur refused to move.

As he looked down to try and identify the source, he was greeted with the happily snoozing face of his canine companion, sprawled over your legs with his head happily resting in the dip of your waist.

That morning Robb woke up with a stiff neck as he gave in and shuffled down the bed in order to completely cover himself, neglecting his posture as his head was denied the privilege of resting on a pillow.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The evening air was crisp and cool, with the gentle crackle of the fire filling the room with warmth. You sat on a plush fur rug in front of the hearth, wrapped in a soft blanket, feeling the flickering flames dance across your skin. The atmosphere in the great hall of Winterfell was cozy, a welcome contrast to the chill outside.

Robb entered, shaking off the cold as he closed the heavy wooden door behind him. His cheeks were flushed from the brisk air, and a smile broke across his face when he spotted you. “I thought I might find y’ here” he said, his voice warm and inviting thick with his Northern accent.

You smiled back, patting the space beside you.

Without hesitation, Robb settled down next to you, the soft fabric of his cloak brushing against your side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The heat radiating from the fire mixed with the warmth of his body, creating a perfect cocoon of comfort. resting his chin atop your head. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, soothing and strong.

As you nestled into his side, Grey Wind padded into the room, his fur a dark shadow against the flickering light. He sniffed the air for a moment before making his way over, his golden eyes bright with affection. With a soft whine, he settled down beside you, leaning against Robb's leg.

Robb had to resist rolling his eyes as your hand came down to scratch greywinds ears, running your fingers through his thick fur. “He always knows when we’re havin’ a moment.” He groans.

You sent Robb an incredulous look before giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you settled deeper into his comforting hold, feeling safe and cherished. As you gazed up into his eyes, a playful spark ignited between you. You nudged your nose against his, a silent invitation that led to a soft, lingering kiss. In that instant, time seemed to stand still, and the world outside Winterfell faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and affection.

But even that blissful moment was gently interrupted by Grey Wind’s piercing whine, a sound that sliced through the tranquility like a sudden gust of wind. You pulled away from Robb, chuckling softly at the absurdity of it all.

“Alright, alright,” you coo , shaking your head as you leaned down to meet Grey Wind’s expectant gaze. His dark eyes shimmered with a mix of longing and playful annoyance, and you couldn’t help but smile. You pressed a kiss to his wet nose, the familiar gesture eliciting a soft huff from him, as if he were grumbling about being neglected.

With the fire crackling and Grey Wind’s soft breathing filling the room, you felt utterly content. The warmth of the hearth, the closeness of Robb, and the gentle presence of Grey Wind created a serene atmosphere. It was a simple moment, but in that cozy space, surrounded by the two beings you cherished most, Even Robb had to admit he wouldn’t actually mind being replaced.

[sorcerousundries]

“Not all men-“

You’re right. King Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, eldest son of House Stark, declared King in the North, wouldn’t treat me like this.

[sorcerousundries]

Fic Rec’s masterlist (Ongoing)

- not all of these are full fics some are Drabbles or imagines -

Smut - *

Multiple ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Being Luwin's Apprentice & Childhood Friends with Robb, Jon, and Theon by @cdragons

House Stark & Spicy Food by @cdragons

Stark men eating you* out by @dipperscavern

stark men and a tyrell reader by @sehaedazokla

Robb Stark ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Gold rush | Robb Stark by @nationalanthcm

distracted* by @maysileeewrites

Welcome home soldier* by @justmymindandstuff

Robb and your cat by @angel-faced-heartstopper

Jon snow ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In the palm of your freezing hand* by @swordgrace

Couldn’t resist* by @axelsagewrites

nonsexual dominance with jon by @glossgojo

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with Jon Snow

A relationship with Robb Stark

A relationship with Theon Greyjoy

A relationship with Sansa Stark

A relationship with Daenerys Targaryen

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with Theon Greyjoy (Moodboard)

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with robb stark (moodboard)

[sorcerousundries]

A relationship with Jon snow (mood board)

[sorcerousundries]

How does Pinterest see me? (Sport, hobby, animal, instrument, song lyric, famous painting)

Idea from @dipperscavern

[sorcerousundries]

Her Graces loyal protecter

Criston Cole as your sworn protector

(the one where he’s injured during a tourney)

Warnings; Fem!Reader, Established relationship, Reader is described with Targaryen features(Violet eyes, long silver hair, implied pale skin), Rhaenyra is wed to Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra and Reader are heavily implied to be twins, Dubious age dynamics, stolen Rhaenyra dialogue, Daemon loves his niece in a non creepy way

A/N: He’s so fine when he shuts up

Content under the cut

The carriage jostled as it went over rocks and bumps in the road, the road to The Red Keep was always long but the road seemed to forever go on as the uncomfortable silence bore on.

You braved a glance to the other side of the carriage. Alicent Hightower. your Sisters Best-friend sat on the other side of the bench like seat.

You remember a time when all three of you would sit underneath the great tree in the courtyard, huddled together with mud staining the bottoms of your dresses, reading the song of ice and fire, one of you shrieking that you weren’t done reading the page.

It felt like centuries ago, now you both sit with blank stares. your father sits at the head of the carriage, before you left, you had a rather nasty row regarding your betrothal.

Your sister had done the same, your father told you.

Your thoughts were cut short as the carriage swayed to a stop, you had to cringe to stop yourself from rolling your eyes when your father took Alicents hand in his, giving her a soft smile.

You sat alone with your thoughts for a couple moments watching through the small window as the two figures disappeared up the steps of the royal box.

You looked down at your gown, typical Targaryen colours, Red and Black.

The rounded neckline encrusted with rubies along with the bodice giving way to panel of red in the middle of the skirt, two dragons on either side of the skirt panels.

“Your grace” you heard someone call, your cue to make your way to the box.

Stepping out of the carriage and taking the steps one at a time, trying to drag out the length before you would have to sit in her another awkward silence before the start of the tourney.

You took your seat, huffing as the velvet crinkled around your form, looking over at the array of knights, you recognise some.

A Greyjoy, a Baratheon, a Hightower, your uncle Daemon and the one you were seeking.

Criston.

In silver armour and a Dornish patterned shield on his forearm with his white cloak splayed on his horses rump, you could not see his face but you smiled at the image of his tan skin and dark locks flickering in your mind.

You’re snapped from your gawking as drums sound, the start of the tourney.

People cheering rings in your ears, you clap as the competitors line up.

Your Aunt Rhaenys blesses Boremund Baratheon with her favor, but it was in vain as he is struck down from his horse.

Your uncle in turn chooses Gwayne Hightower to joust. You can feel the air tense as they take their sides.

You can’t help but snicker as your uncle is very literally taken off his high horse, the second time he gets lucky, darting his lance out to swipe his horses feet from under him.

Gwayne lands hard, Daemon with a smug smile on his face, you stand as daemon trots over to the box.

“Nicely done uncle” you smirk, leaning your forearms onto the bannister, “thank you princess” he grins, “it’s in all certainty I can say that I will win these games lēkianna, yet having your favor would all but assure it” he says, pointing his lance at you.

You snort silently as you walk over to seat, grabbing the red and white knights favor, you lock eyes with Alicent, paralleling her as she done the same thing moons ago.

You toss the favor, it circles his lance before landing at the hilt.

He smiles before trotting back to his place at the tilt, knights chat among themselves before the herald cries “Ser Criston Cole will now tilt against Ser Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the city”.

This stills your heart and you lean forward in your seat, watching as both men take their places.

Both waiting for the other to make their first move, the tension is palpable, almost thick enough to cut with a knife.

In a blink of an eye Daemon spurs his horse forward and both men charge towards eachother, the first lap Daemon nicks Criston, when they swap lances and charge again it felt like it was in slow motion.

Criston jabs Daemon and he falls like a rag doll being dragged by his horse down the tilt bar before face planting onto the ground.

You smile with relief as you watch Criston steady his horse, clapping and cheering for him as the crowd roars.

But your relief fades as Daemon challenges Criston to a contest of arms, they swing at eachother.

Daemon with a sword, Criston with a mace, you watch incredulously as the men swing desperately, their shields breaking down.

Your mouth turns upward in an almost shocked expression as Daemon is struck to the ground, Criston taking the victory, he slaps Cristons hand away as he attempts to help your uncle up.

Both men limp off, you jump from your seat, not minding the puzzled look your father shoots your way, you pick up your skirts as you rush down the stairs, the uneven steps and winding hallways familiar to you.

You end up at the entry flap of his tent, you can hear other knights and nobles speculating and gossiping about the tourney, you open the flap, bowing your head as to not ruin the array of braids neatly arranged on your silver head.

There he sits, shirtless, his tanned muscles flexing as he wipes the gashes on his arms and abdomen, groaning as they sting.

“Ser” you say, grabbing his attention, he looks up immediately “princess” he smiles.

You return the grin, slinking over to him to stand between his legs, taking the blood soiled cloth from his hands, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you dab at the blood dripping from the corner of his lip.

“I’ll admit you had me worried for a moment” you murmur, his dark eyes are wide and soft as they look up at your violet ones.

“And why would that be princess?” He smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I thought my Uncle had finally got the best of you when he falsely claimed his victory, but it seems you proved me wrong” the praise dripping with honey from your lips as you apply the egg white and wine mixture onto his wounds.

“You certainly know how to make an entrance, don’t you Ser?, I thought you were supposed to be a fearless knight, not a fallen one” you jab playfully.

His smirk grows “I like to think of it as a dramatic flair, besides, I didn’t want to steal all of the attention from the other knights”. You laugh lightly “well you certainly succeeded, now hold still I don’t want to make you look even more of a fool” you seat his shoulder lightly as he squirms from the sting of the paste mixture.

“If you keep talking like that, I might just need to start charging you for my championship, a knight should not have to endure such teasing with proper compensation”.

You raise an eyebrow, “oh?, and what compensation do you have in mind, Ser Criston” you giggle.

He grins “perhaps a dance at the next royal feast?, I promise to keep my feet to myself this time” he chimes, you chuckle as you remember the first time you tried to show Criston how to dance, your toes were sore for nearly two moons after it.

“Is that a challenge?, I’ll have you know Prince Ommen Macklyn told me I was the most charming dancer this side of the emerald sea.

He bows his head as deep laughter reverbs through his chest “I’ve seen how you handle a sword, i can only imagine how you handle the dance floor. I’d be the one needing protection then” your jaw drops in mock offense.

You finish placing the cloth bandage on his jaw before you lean closer, almost touching noses with him, “you know, if you keep flirting with me, I might just honour you with a kiss the next time we dance together”

“That is a dangerous offer to make, I might just take you up on that offer” he hums, gripping your hips softly in his calloused hands to pull you onto his lap.

“Oh of course, how terrible it would be if you took me up on the offer. I suppose I could compromise by offering you a kiss now” you roll your eyes playfully, “truly wicked” he mutters before his lips seal over yours.

[sorcerousundries]

RIP your would’ve loved…

Rip Thoríns company you would’ve loved…

Warnings: none

A/N: I love them so much

Content under the cut

Thorín

- 3D printing

-Board games

- History documentaries

Balin

- classic literature

- speciality tea

-book clubs

Dwalin

- heavy metal

- barbells

-extreme ironing

Kili

- skateboarding

-London fashion week

- fashion influencers

Fíli

- culinary school

- photography

-camping vlogs

Oin

- Greys anatomy

- weed

-podcasts

Gloin

- financial advisors

-Barbecues

Ori

- comics

- Jane Austen

- the sewing bee

Bofur

- reality shows

- stand up comedy

Bombur

- gordon Ramsey/ Mary berry

- great British bake off

-man vs food

Bifur

- DIY

- a pet parrot

Nori

- metal detectors

- Graffiti

Bilbo

- GPS

- garden gnomes

-Hiking

[sorcerousundries]

My baby, Your my baby say it to me

Corlys with a reader having a hard labour

Warnings: graphic depictions of birth, birth problems, spot the rhaenyra reference

A/N: take a shot every time the word babe is said

Content under the cut

Corlys paced anxiously in the corridor, his gaze fixed on the door of the birthing chamber. It had been a difficult pregnancy, one you had found far from enjoyable. He heard the blood curdling screams coming from inside the room. It made his stomach twist and churn uncomfortably.

Finally, the door swung open, causing the lord to halt his restless pacing. “How is she? What of the baby?” Corlys asked, his heart racing, before the midwife could respond, he heard your anguished cries echoing from within and, without waiting for an answer, he stepped past her and into the room.

You lay spread on the bed, your legs opened with a pool of blood drenching your legs, your nightgown and the sheets, your face covered with a sheen of sweat as the midwives and maester stand and kneel at the foot of the bed, some holding your calves reassuringly, one wiping the sweat from your face every now and then, your screams filled with pain as you cry out and clutch the bedsheets so hard your knuckles turn white.

The sight was not one he could have predicted. Corlys was struck mute at the sight of the blood and gore that had soaked all over the bed sheets and your nightgown. His eyes then fell to you writhing in the bloodied bed, wailing in such a primal manner.

The lord of the tides stumbled forward, pushing past the other women and collapsing at your bedside. He didn’t dare to touch you, he was far too stricken by the sight and sound of you writhing in anguish. “What is wrong, my love?” Corlys rasped. His mind racing with possibilities.

Your eyes open weakly as you turn your head to face him, panting with exertion “corlys..” you mutter weakly in recognition.

The sound of his name from your lips snapped Corlys from his daze. He quickly reached down to grab your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He was quick then to take in the sweat that beaded along your forehead. A look of fear passed over his face as he felt the clammy skin, “What happened, love? What went wrong?” He asked as he brought your hand to his face, gently peppering it with kisses.

You try to speak but your face twists with pain as a pain floods your stomach, the maester speaks for you, a fat woman with a kind face “the babe is the wrong way, we have to turn it” she speaks with a sympathetic expression

The wrong way.

Fear gripped the velaryon’s heart, his face turned into a look of dread at the realization that something was seriously wrong with your labour. He did not let go of your hand, he wanted you to know he was there. He wanted to hold you, to comfort you, to protect you but knew he could not so easily.

“What will happen to her?” He rasped as he looked to the fat maester that worked between your legs, preparing to turn the child into the right position.

“It is not fatal but it will be extremely painfu-“ you cut her off “just turn them” you grit ending with a groan of pain.

Corlys winced and gently squeezed your hand at the sound of your pained groan. He shifted on his knees, shifting his weight. Corlys’ eyes remained fixed upon your face, watching every twitch of pain and wince from your expression of pain as the maester worked to turn the baby. “Just breathe, love….it will be over soon,” He assured in a gentle, though quivering, voice.

Your cunt feels as though it being torn apart and set on fire as the maester stuffs her hands inside you, gripping the babe, your belly swells as the babe is turned inside you before deflating back down, your screams and wails die down as the pain settles into the constant thrum of pain in your abdomen.

The sound of your screaming filled his ears and caused a deep ache in his heart. His eyes remained glued to your face, watching as the child was slowly turned to the right position. All he wanted at that moment was to hold you, soothe you from the pain that wracked your body.

Corlys clenched your hand impossibly tight, “Hold on, love, hold on…” he encouraged in a desperate tone.

the maester smiles but a worried expression still rests on her face “the babe is in the right position my lady!, just a couple pushes and they’ll be here”

Corlys smiled in relief, “You hear that, love? They’ll be here soon, we’ll have our babe soon,” He assured in a reassuring tone. Though, there was a hint of desperation to it.

He shifted his weight onto his knees, keeping your hand tightly in his. “You can do this, love. Just….just push” Corlys urged.

a faint smile appears on your exhausted face, before it scrunches with exertion as you push, Corlys gently shifted to rest his other hand on your leg, keeping you as comfortable and supported as possible. All the while, he kept his eyes glued to your face. He took in every furrow and scrunch of your features as he silently willed you on.

“That’s it, Keep going You’re almost finished” He encouraged as you pushed. the maester smiles “halfway there my lady, just one more” you take a deep breathe and groan before a piercing cry echoes the room, your face lightens as the maester pulls a babe from between your legs and the midwives all rush to swaddle and clean the babe.

Corlys could have been rendered motionless if it weren’t for the fact that he watched every movement between your legs as you pushed. He saw the babe as it’s head began to crown and Corlys let out an exhale of air from holding his breath.

The lord of the tides watched the flurry of activity around you as the other ladies cleaned and swaddled his child. Corlys’ face remained fixed to your own, “It’s….it’s over, love. You did it…” He rasped.

the maester brings the babe to you swaddled in a navy blue patterned blanket “a boy!, My lady” she places the babe in your arms and you smile down at him “healthy?” You ask “kicking like a goat princess” the maester answers joyfully, you smile down at the cooing baby in your arms.

Corlys let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His shoulders sagged from the tension that had built within as he watched you gently hold the new babe in your arms. A healthy baby boy

Corlys slowly rose from his kneeling position on the floor, his fingers twitching to touch the child. Yet, he didn’t. Instead, he looked down at you as you held his son in your arms, a look of wonderment on his face.

You were safe, he was safe, he told himself. Looking down at his small family in his arms.

A feeling of fulfilment spread across his chest, making the corners of his lips turn up.

[sorcerousundries]

Out of desperation I’ve accepted this background guy as glorfindel now

Guy on the left side of Elrond

Glorfindel, circa 2001: oh…okay, my scenes got stolen by Arwen. Okay. That’s cool. I’m a feminist. I can let this slide. I’ll get my chance on the silver screen one day.

Glorfindel, circa 2022: are you kidding me the same fucking thing happened but with her grandmother this time. Shit’s fucked. I’m out. I’m over this bullshit. I quit. I’m moving to Tahiti. Y’all’ll never see this face again.

[sorcerousundries]

I’m dreaming of all the possibilities

A Valyrian wedding with Aemond

Warnings: Valyrian!reader, typical targcest, reader is Aemonds niece, mentions of rape(not by Aemond), readers hair is long enough to be braided, a lot of blood, I think dragon metaphors are romantic leave me alone, reader is described as beautiful, minimal dialogue, nicer!Aemond, shit pacing, Valyrian might not accurate

NSFW warnings: thigh grinding, marking, slight power imbalances, virgin!reader, Aemond dirty talks in Valyrian, no protection, vaginal penetration, slight voyuerism.

Translations: Issa ābrazȳrys, nyke kivio naejot ao naejot sagon aōha mīsio, aōha egros, aōha sumby, nykeā raqiros ao kostagon confide isse, aōha jorrāelagon skori ao dijāves issa, nyke kivio naejot ūbremagon naejot ao rūsīr undying devotion hae nykeā zaldrīzes would tend naejot pōja drōma, nyke krimvo aōha prūmia syt choosing issa, kostagon ao feel hae dāez rūsīr issa hae ao gaomagon va zaldrīzes arlī - my wife, I promise to be your protector, your blade, your shield, your friend you can confide in, your lover when you desire me, I promise to tend to you with undying devotion as a dragon would tend to their eggs, I thank your heart for choosing me, I pray you can you feel as free as you do on dragon back || Valzȳrys, kostagon aōha jēda rūsīr issa sagon lēdan rūsīr passion se perzys, kostagon īlva jorrāelagon zālagon hotter than vhagars perzys, nyke kivio naejot sagon pazavor, naejot sagon compassionate, naejot shifang se trūmāje parts hen ao rūsīr devotion se pāsagon, nykeā zaldrīzes emagon daor limits se neither shall īlva jorrāelagon. Ziry jāhor sagon remembered daor sepār hae union hen gaomilaksir se sacrifice yn hae mēre hen jorrāelagon - Husband, may our marriage be filled passion and fire, may our love burn hotter than vhagars fire, I promise to be loyal, to be compassionate, to understand the deepest parts of you with devotion and love, a dragon does not have limits and neither shall our love. May our marriage be remembered not just as a union of duty and sacrifice but as one of love. || Sīr vok syt issa, issa dōna ābrazȳrys - so perfect for me, my sweet wife || kotlu - please

NSFW content under the cut

When you first heard about Aemond it was from your mother, she had talked to you about betrothal before but for the most part the topic remained untrodden territory.

She understandably wanted to wait until you had came of age, remembering the unbearable pressure of being constantly presented with suitors who wanted her blood for their offspring or her place on the throne.

But when the greens offered to form an alliance on one condition. She betrothed her daughter to queen Alicents youngest son.

When your mother sat you down and told you the news you cried and screamed, even as your sobs died down your mind raced with images of what he might be like.

Would he be fat and greedy to consumed with his own need to tend to his wife preferring the company of common whores or would he be thin and unnerving with a wiry smile who would bring you to dungeons and molest you til your hole bled and throat was sore from screaming?.

You felt your stomach churn at the thoughts but they continued to race through your mind each one more grotesque than the last.

When the day finally came for you to meet your eyes stung with panicked tears, you looked at yourself in the mirror a thousand times. your white hair braided in intricate braids you couldn’t even remember the names of, a green gown with an embroidered neckline and golden details that shimmered with the flicker of candles.

You had hoped the Hightower green would please him, you felt wearing traditional Targaryen red and black would send the wrong message.

As much as you hated the situation, you couldn’t help but want to pacify it in every way you could.

———

The gathering took place in the council room, the orange light reflecting around the room making it feel dreamy.

From the moment your eyes locked with his blue ones your heart jumped, you couldn’t pull your eyes from him if you wanted to, it appeared he felt the same from the way his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, his eyes trailing up and down your figure returning to your face as if he wanted to memorise every small detail of your face, wether it be the curve of your bow or the slope of your cupids bow.

He sneered when his mother called his name, prompting him to tear his gaze from you.

You couldn’t even focus on the chatter of your mother and the greens, your gaze felt stuck on his handsome face.

It was only when he stepped forward and took your hand in his calloused one pressing the back of it to his lips you were able to focus on his words “princess, it is an honour to be named your betrothed” he spoke, his voice was velvety smooth as it reached your ears.

You were snapped out of your daydream when you felt everyone’s eyes looking upon you, awaiting your response “the honour is all mine” he smirked at this.

You can’t remember much of the meeting only that as you watched the greens sail away your mother smiled knowingly at you, kissing your forehead “it pleases me that you do not have the same reservations that I did” she comments before walking back up the pathway to the castle, leaving you standing with your dress blowing in the wind, thinking more positively about your betrothal than before.

———

Your relationship with aemond was fast paced but not unwelcome, you often sat together in the library discussing whatever topic came to mind or even sitting in silence wanting nothing more than to enjoy each others company.

You stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself similar to how did approximately nine moons ago, this time instead of green you were dressed in a white robe dipped in redm a golden headpiece said upon your head with tassels dangling by your ears.

“Princess, it’s time” one of your handmaidens called, you thanked her taking a deep breathe before starting the walk to the altar, you’d practiced it before, you counted exactly six hundred and forty eight steps, that’s six hundred and forty eight steps until you’d be married to Aemond.

The steps seemed to fly by, as your feet subconsciously sped up as if you blinked and there was aemond stood in front of you, dressed in a similar garment, his hair braided to match yours.

The officiant stood between you both first handing aemond the dragon glass shard, he brings it your lips and slices downwards, the sting painful but soothed by the cool wind blowing on your face. then your turn, bringing the shard to his heart shaped lips and sliding it down, the blood starting to drip.

His hand cups your jaw as your lips crash together, a mix of the metallic tang and expensive westerosi wine is all you taste, it makes you moan quietly into his mouth before you pull back hesitantly, a stupid grin on your face that he returns.

The taste returns to your mouth as you both drink from the same cup of blood, watered down with wine to make it go down easier. The amount of blood on your lips causing the red liquid to drip onto your dress and down your neck.

“Today we bear witness to the union of the prince and princess of house Targaryen, may their marriage be long and prosperous, filled with devotion and everlasting love to each other as their two souls bind into one, they may now recite they’re vows as oaths and promises to each other and their marriage” the officiant steps down from the altar and you join hands with him.

“Issa ābrazȳrys, nyke kivio naejot ao naejot sagon aōha mīsio, aōha egros, aōha sumby, nykeā raqiros ao kostagon confide isse, aōha jorrāelagon skori ao dijāves issa, nyke kivio naejot ūbremagon naejot ao rūsīr undying devotion hae nykeā zaldrīzes would tend naejot pōja drōma, nyke krimvo aōha prūmia syt choosing issa, kostagon ao feel hae dāez rūsīr issa hae ao gaomagon va zaldrīzes arlī” the words rolled from his tongue as if he didnt have to think to say them.

You take a deep breathe running quickly through your vows in your head before speaking “Valzȳrys, kostagon aōha jēda rūsīr issa sagon lēdan rūsīr passion se perzys, kostagon īlva jorrāelagon zālagon hotter than vhagars perzys, nyke kivio naejot sagon pazavor, naejot sagon compassionate, naejot shifang se trūmāje parts hen ao rūsīr devotion se pāsagon, nykeā zaldrīzes emagon daor limits se neither shall īlva jorrāelagon. Ziry jāhor sagon remembered daor sepār hae union hen gaomilaksir se sacrifice yn hae mēre hen jorrāelagon” you smiled, your joined hands causing the cuts on both to mix blood, feeling the bond between you both seal.

You keep your fingers intertwined as you both walk down the stone steps of dragonstone, towards the castle

———

Your dress fell from your shoulder, your breasts bouncing as the dress fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked.

Aemond sat on the foot of the bed, still in his wedding robes though he’d discarded his eyepatch, Leaving the gleaming saphire embedded in his eye socket on display, he sighs in content as his eyes rake your figure before he pats his thigh in invitation.

You straddle his thigh, your bare cunt pressed against the mix of linen and the firm muscle of his thigh. you lean forward smashing your lips onto his, the sudden change in position causing your clit to catch on the fabric, tearing a gasp from you.

The searing heat of need pulsates through your cunt as you start to grind against his thigh, you bite your lip and throw your head back.

He takes the initiative to start sucking and biting your neck, claiming you as his by marking you.

Your thighs tense and your abdomen pools with molten heat as you feel the knot in your stomach start to coil, “A-Aemond!” You moan, he licks a stripe up to your ear “cum for me, hm?” He encourages.

Fire rushes through your body as the coil snaps and wetness soaks Aemonds robes.

Your chest heaves as you pant for breath, trying to come down from your high.

Suddenly the room spins around you, you realise Aemond has flipped you onto the bed underneath him. His eyes are hungry as he gazes upon your face, a beauty only heard of in history books of old Valyria, he could scarcely believe such a beautiful woman was underneath him and all his.

He spread your legs with his lean one, slotting his pelvis flush against yours, gripping your hips as he presses his lips to yours, a sloppy clash of tongue, teeth and blood, fighting for dominance.

Your nails drag down his back, no doubtably leaving red stripes in their wake under his blood stained robe.

“Sīr vok syt issa, issa dōna ābrazȳrys” he moans into your mouth, the words slurred and murmured in need. The rolls of his tongue as he spoke the words making your cunt pulse as you imagine his tongue on your clit.

“Kotlu, I want your cock” you practically drool, bucking your hips up against the prominent bulge in his trousers.

He unlaces the front of his trousers, dipping his hand into waistband before pulling out his cock, the sight makes you moan.

It wasn’t exceptionally girthy but it was long, he laid it across your stomach and it almost reached your belly button, it curved slightly to the left. It would hit your gspot deliciously you thought, the prospect making your eyes roll back in your head.

But the thought of it was nothing compared to how it felt pushing inside your tight walls, it burned slightly, your hole never being penetrated before but his comforting grip on both your hands made it bearable as you tried to focus on the mouthwatering drag of his cock on your walls instead of the burning sensation.

It felt like an eternity before you finally felt his hips against your ass, all of his cock sheathed inside your cunt, the tip pressed against your spot, nudging it every time he shifted slightly.

“Move” you whined, his hips reeled back before he pushed in again over and over, the rhythm slow at first but he quickened as your moans grew louder, the wet squelch of skin slapping filling your eardrums along with his light groans.

You swear you could even hear maids giggling outside, at the sound of your moans they could tell aemond was practically in your guts. The image of them sneaking around corners, cunts dripping with need knowing they could never have the gorgeous Valyrian statue of a man behind you, taking you like an animal in heat made you smirk. Despite your head being stuffed into the silk pillows, moans muffled as Aemond had you on all fours, your moans could be heard two corridors down, the sounds echoing off the stone walls.

Your legs started to shake as you felt the rush of heat in your stomach again, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth “fuck, m’gonna cum!” you cried, he said something that you couldn’t hear as ringing sounded in your eardrums, your legs shook violently as you soaked aemond and the bedsheets underneath you.

He rubbed your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, hips grinding and rolling in circles as he shot ropes of cum into your cunt, filling you up with his warm seed.