#author lady-phasma

[lauraneedstochill]

god, I loved this so so so much, absolutely everything about this is perfect 💔 the tenderness she treats him with, and how it seems like with every layer of his clothes she also removes layers of his restrain, and he eventually can’t help but give in because he craves her affection and her understanding. I love that there’s no rush in your writing, and the pacing makes it feel like I’m watching a scene from a movie unraveling right before my eyes. and it’s just so soft and so beautiful!

this is instantly one of my forever favorite pieces, thank you for writing it 💔

After the storm

Aemond Targaryen x gn!reader

Warnings: all ages, hurt/comfort

Summary: what transpired after Aemond's return to King's Landing? playing a little fast and loose with dragonflight times so let's just pretend it was raining the whole way back, okay? 900 words

Your throat tightened the moment you walked into the room. You had come to him as soon as you saw Vhagar circle the city. You had been anticipating his return, anxious about his errand. There was a chance he would come back betrothed to a Baratheon but you couldn’t care about that now. You saw his wet hair plastered to his head, his eye patch dangling from his hands, his shoulders slumped as he rested his arms on his legs. He didn’t turn toward you when you approached. He had heard the door open and close, you saw his violet eye flick toward you. But the only other movement was the sway of the leather strap between his legs.

“Did it go so poorly?” You walked slowly toward him, conscious that you didn’t want him to perceive your anxiety. He didn’t answer, he only dropped his head. You lowered yourself onto your heels next to him so you were eye level with him. His eye was closed. You caustiously laid your hand on his knee and stayed silent. His face wore a curious expression of pain and confusion.

“‘Poorly’?” Aemond breathed out something like a laugh, but when he looked at you nausea tore through your stomach. He had never looked at you like that. He noticed you flinch away from him and narrowed his eye. “What could you possibly know about it?”

“I..” you tried to reply but the words caught in your throat. He turned his gaze back to the floor and you let your hand slide off his leg. You stood and inhaled deeply, steadying your nerves.

“I couldn’t know anything about it, Aemond, if you don’t tell me,” you glared down at him. “So ‘poorly’ isn’t the word you wanted. What in the seven hells did happen?”

When he looked up at you your hands went cold and you felt a twinge of guilt at your harsh words. You had never seen him cry and you didn’t want to now. The pain written on his face made your chest ache. His violet eye flicked away from your face and you glaced at his sapphire, the skin around it was angry. You let out the breath you were holding. When you stepped in front of him he instictively rested his head against your stomach. You placed both of your hands on the back of his head and smoothed down his wet hair.

“Come,” you said as you slid your hands gently under his chin. You guided him to look up at you. “Come with me.”

You stepped back, took his eye patch from his hands, and dropped it on the table. You slid your hand into his and began to walk. He stood up, a defeated man, graceless and lumbering. Nothing like Aemond at all. You kept your face neutral and calm.

He followed you to the bed, but he wasn’t with you, he was far away. His gaze was on the floor when his eye was open at all. You stopped, turning to him. You reached up and unfastened the leather tie in his hair. You smoothed wet strands back from his face. You gently passed your thumb over his cheek. He glanced at you but it was fleeting.

You began to unlace his tunic and slide it from his shoulders. Aemond didn’t resist. He let himself be guided by you. So you proceeded to remove his wet garments and boots with very little help from him. This was so utterly peculiar that you moved as if this were a task that you had to do correctly and efficiently. You didn’t speak, only focused on each article of clothing. Your hands shook at first but then the cold of his wet clothes made them almost numb. He wasn’t shivering. He was long past that.

You left him for a moment to fetch some towels from the armoire. You gestured for him to remove his pants and you held the towel so that you could immediately wrap it around his waist. He stepped out of the sodden pile of fabric as you tied the towel around his waist. Aemond muttered something and you looked at him for clarification. Your brows knit together in confusion.

“Thank you,” he said, barely audible.

You give him a kind smile in return before he looked away again. You pressed gently on his shoulders so he would sit on the edge of the bed. Slowly and carefully, you dried his face, his neck and shoulders. You watched those same shoulders shake slightly as you pulled the towel away. He would tell you soon enough, but whatever had transpired was worse than you could imagine.

As you dried his hair he rested his forhead against you. It seemed to take a long time to dry, but when you were finally satisfied you dropped the towel to the floor onto the pile of clothes. You raised his face to yours again, this time his eye was pleading, searching your face. You kissed his forehead and smoothed your hands down his jaw. You let go and moved around him to climb onto the bed. You stacked the pillows and reclined against them. You didn’t have to instruct him. Without hesitation he laid his head in your lap and curled his knees to his chest. You let your fingers trace lightly over his head, his shoulder, his arm. Then he spoke.

“I didn’t mean for her to do it.”

Masterlist Aemond masterlist

[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[arcielee]

ānogar

Summary: Your husband helps comfort you. Paring: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, menstrual mentions, there will be blood, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging?, unprotected p in v Author’s Note: Thank you @schniiipsel and @sylasthegrim for being my beloved beta readers and making sure Daemon was Daemon-y enough. Thank you to the wonderful @zaldritzosrose for this banner! And thank you @lady-phasma! Your return to Tumblr and your anons inspired this depravity. 🖤 Valyrian translations: ānogar means blood, sȳz riña is good girl.

While the king only sought to sate the hold that the house of the dragon held within the Seven Kingdoms, the Lord Hand wished to find a wife to preoccupy the king’s brother. You were carefully chosen with this intention, the embodiment of what they both searched for, with the echo, “A sound match,” following your footsteps. 

Before you had left for King’s Landing, your mother made it painfully aware of the weight of the reputation belonging to the Rogue Prince. “You must satiate his appetite, at whatever cost,” came her hot whisper in your ear, pinching your upper arm to hold your attention, “and make sure it results in a babe.” 

Her words left a fluttering trepidation that accompanied your heavy steps, a hesitation that was twisting in the pit of your stomach as you entered the Council Chamber. Inside you could see that the king and his Hand were already seated, as well as Prince Daemon. 

The silence was thick around you, and it seemed the prince was almost amused with your apparent discomfort. His steely gaze washed over you before falling to your fidgeting hands; a smirk played at his mouth. 

“Well done, Otto,” he announced loudly, emphatically, and you burned from his informality. The king grimaced and Ser Hightower pursed his lips, but Daemon continued, unabashed: “Ābrazȳrys mazōrīnna.”

I accept my wife. 

Though you were wary of the marital obligations that your mother frightened into you, the prince quickly soothed them away. He was as insatiable as rumored, but not in the way you had been warned. Instead, there was an unseen kindness that was reserved for you alone. Daemon took care to show you consideration and the first month of wedded bliss was a heady haze, an entanglement of bare limbs and open-mouthed kisses that boldly bruised your skin. 

Though despite all this, you failed to produce an heir, and your shame came hot and slick between your legs. 

“Imagine my hurt to learn that my wife does not wish for my company.”

Your maids had just left you alone after helping you change into a sheer chemise and wrapping the heated stones to place on your lower abdomen, something to help soothe your cramps. You look up to see Daemon leaning against your doorframe, waiting. 

“I have been unwell today, husband,” you said, unable to hold his eyes. 

His brow knots with his concern and he glides across the cobblestone to your bedside, his hand reaching to touch your face. “You are flushed, but not warm,” he observes, his eyes trailing to your tight grip on the bed linen. His large hands are gentle to unfurl your hold, pulling away the layers until he sees the wrapped stones laying on your stomach. 

You squirm under his scrutiny, all too aware of how your body presses against the fabric you wore, all too aware of the crimson stain. Daemon dips his head to capture your eyes, his own showing a flicker of amusement while yours were wet with your embarrassment. “And this was reason enough for you to deny my company?” His voice was soft, but his cheeky undertone remained.  

You struggle to put the words together. “But I am unclean.” 

His eyes darkened with your admission, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s a little blood to a dragon?” He teases, looming closer to capture your lips. 

You gasp, your body already yearning to touch him. Your fingers follow along his jaw and drop to pull at his collar, to pull him closer. He growls against your skin, a low rumble that reverberates through you; his hand moves to cup the nape of your neck and he bites into your lip. 

You whine softly, a pulse of pleasure that is quickly crushed beneath the stones. You pull away. “Daemon, we shouldn’t…” but your protest is weak. Your body is already moving, spreading your legs to welcome him. 

And Daemon knows this. He smirks, his hands pulling away the stones. “If you truly believe that I fuck you for the sole purpose of a silver haired babe, then perhaps I have not done my part right.” He shifts between your thighs, his hands just as warm as the rocks removed, skimming across your flesh and pushing up your chemise until you are able to pull it over your head. “Allow me to rectify that, ābrazȳrys.”

You fall back onto the bed, bare for your husband and already burning under his potent stare. His chin falls to his chest, watching his fingers flit to your patch of hair, trailing lower and pressing to spread your folds. A cooper scent fills the air, mixing with your own arousal, and he lets out an appreciative hum. His palms press to your thighs to lower himself between, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee with a tickling touch that you squirm against. 

His hands tighten his hold on you, dimpling into the softness of your thighs. “Paghagon, sweet wife.” Breathe. The exhale with his command was a cool contrast to your heat building, your blood mixing with your passion that was thrumming to the surface. He pushes closer. “Allow me.” 

You melt from the intimate kiss he places, your head tucking to see the glint of red to his wicked grin. He watches you as his other hand moves to touch and your mouth falls open with the wet squelch of his fingers curling within you–the same that have learned you so well. You feel the stretch of your velvet walls as Daemon searches carefully, delicately, until you finally emit the softest sound. 

Daemon returns his attention to you, victorious, watching the gooseflesh ripple over you and your nipples pebbling from his touch. His fingers continue to curl upwards to that sweet spot, slow and deliberate. His other hand grips into your hip, pulling himself closer to place another kiss to your pearl that trills up your spine. “That’s it,” he murmurs against you. “Let me hear you.” 

Your body is aflame from his ministrations; the come-hither pace of his fingers have your moans falling with abandon from your lips, from the buddying warmth that spreads and begins to brim on overwhelming. “Yes,” he growls, his grip now anchoring you to this pleasure building, almost bursting. You whine, your hips bucking. “Sȳz riña, just like that.”

It erupts from you with a fiery passion, your blood searing through your veins and muscles contracting, twisting the air from your lungs. You arch your back against the mattress, your fists knotting in the sheets as Daemon continues to pull this pleasure until you see spots of light dizzying in front of your eyes. 

You are panting from this euphoria, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes before he finally withdraws his hand from you and wipes it onto the bed, a crimson red bold against the cream color. “Sȳz riña,” he repeats, and you feel something stir in your core again, sparked by the little bit of Valyrian he has taught you thus far: good girl.

“Daemon, please.” You push to your elbows, your eyes glassy. “Jaelan tolī.” 

I want more.

He glows with a sense of pride with how it rolls off of your tongue and the bed dips with his weight, leaning over for his lips to trail towards your stomach. It tingles with the mixture of his mouth and the billow of his tunic, dotted with red. “Who am I,” his each deliberate word spills as his fingers dimple into your skin, pulling himself up and closer, “to deny my wife of what she wants?” 

Your writhe beneath his weight and he moves to claim your mouth again. His lips are soft and warm with the taste of iron;  when you sigh sweetly, he swallows it. 

“You did so well for me.” His voice is velvet, a sultry praise you cherish. He shifts his body on top of you, pulling himself from his breeches and settling into the cradle of your hips. “One more for me, my sweet wife,” but he says it more as a statement than a request. 

You are already willing, already canting your hips towards him. His arm reaches between to guide his length until you feel his swollen cockhead lining with your entrance with a slick, dull pressure that jolts through you. 

He begins to move with gentle thrusts to fill you until he is sheathed deep within; Daemon stills when his hips are flushed to your own. He watches as you gasp for air, clenching to adjust, and his grin returns in tandem as he continues the slow roll of his hips, pressing even deeper. 

Your moans mix with your cry, and the sound only spurs your husband to pull upright, reaching behind your knees and pushing until the tops of your thighs touch your chest, folding you and hovering above to set a brutal pace. Each thrust sparks something smoldering through your veins and pouring into your core. 

Your cunt suctions greedily, a sticky mess. “I am close,” you gasp with the flutter of your walls. Daemon pulls away and you let out a sound. 

“Not. Yet.” His large hands grab you with force, twisting you onto your stomach. You feel his palms kneed into your lower back, a firm touch that follows up your spine, massaging your aching muscles, and you moan but in a different way. You relax into his touch, and the bed shifts again as he leans over to press his lips to your spine.

“Daemon,” you are breathless, a different ache you are begging him to soothe. “Please.”

He tsks, still grinning, still pressing his palms to your skin, and you cannot help but savor the warmth of his tongue. “Sylugon arlī.” He says. Try again.

You lick your lips. “Daemon.” You are desperate. “Kostilus.”

“Please what,” he taunts, but you can feel his biting grip into your hips, pulling your arse upwards. You gasp as he sinks into you again, stretching you from a new angle. You bury your face into the bed, muffling your moan, a wet spot forming from your spit. 

His fingers curl into the nape of your neck, pulling you up to meet with his merciless rhythm. He pounds into you, deeper and harder, and your pleasure begins to brim to the surface again. Your fingers curl into the linen as it splits you in half, a returning ecstasy with full force; Daemon allows you to fall forward, a sobbed release into the linen and its tangy mix of sex and blood. He bends over until his brow presses between your shoulder blades, a low groan as he hotly empties himself inside of you. 

There is a quiet moment that follows, the sweet exchange as you both gather your breath, the returning tenderness reserved for you alone. You feel another kiss on your backside and your skin ripples in response. Daemon pulls away, a sticky mess in his wake, and you lazily roll over to watch as he tucks himself back into his slacks, unbothered by the red stains that now adorn his clothes. 

He moves towards the door, but stops. “I will call for your handmaidens to draw you a hot bath,” his eyes flicker over towards you, “and to heat up new stones.” 

You curl into the sheets, allowing ample skin to show for your husband. “Shall you join me for the bath?” Your tone is purposefully coy. 

Daemon turns fully to look at you, his eyes raking over you and color still staining his cheeks. His heavy steps pull him back towards you, using one arm on the bed edge as the other reaches to grab you. You meet with him, hungry to kiss your husband again, and his tongue craftily rekindles the warmth you can still feel pulsing in your core.

He stops and pulls himself upright. Your eyes are wide, watching his signature smirk, his arrogant strut that takes him from the room. He leaves you with a fluttering warmth from his kiss, and though he said nothing, you trust that he and his insatiable appetite will return to you. 

general taglist: @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @abecerra611 @myfandomprompts @dixie-elocin

@darkenchantress @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent @namelesslosers @itbmojojoejo @multyfangirl

arcie's navi || house of the dragon masterlist period smut collab

[targaryen-dynasty]

my fav writers have deactivated :( do you have new author reccs ?

Oh, I’m not doing much reading lately and I‘ll probably forget some people, but I can definitely recommend to check out these blogs:

@happilyhertale @arcielee @sylasthegrim @thought--bubble @anjelicawrites @aemondsbabe @st-eve-barnes @black-dread @barbieaemond @zaldritzosrose @lady-phasma @marthawrites @aemonds-fire @youraverageaemondsimp @randomdragonfires @thekinslayed

Don’t know your preferences, but there should be something for you to read! Please feel free to add more people to this!

[psycheetamore]

Desert game, or when the hunter becomes the hunted

Summary: our lord encounters a Fremen warrior, and she will not leave his mind. After she has an intimate encounter with him, he hunts her down.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, anticipation of smut (thanks to talkative Feyd), predator/prey, scarring - the author regrets nothing

Part 1 of 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 3.8k

Somewhat based on: chapter 7 and 8 of Choosing to Follow Destiny

After the unannounced visit to his chambers in Arrakeen, she tried to seek sleep in caves on several hours of walking distance. Yet, there were thoughts that would not leave her mind and kept her awake. She relived every bulge of muscles she had touched on his body. The soft warm skin that would involuntarily contract acknowledging her touch. His breathing was controlled, countering his brisk heartbeat. His eyes that saw everything she tried to hide. His vile words. She couldn’t help but feel his longing. It woke something up in her. Never before had a man looked at her like that. Made her crumble within mere moments. 

She had heard the description that the lord na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was physically imposing. This description did not do him any justice. He was imposing even when rendered harmless and kneeling in front of her.

After their visit, Feyd-Rautha could not find sleep either. He would recall the unexpected encounter. He remembered the vulnerability. Having his arms tied behind his back, and being bound to his couch, he felt hands roam his body to dislocate his weapons, starting with the bottom of his legs and working their way up. He noticed they paused shortly after they started. As if they were startled by what they had found. They continued slow, very slow. Deliberate. As if they were not seeking to find weapons but mapping his body. He was used to having hands explore his physic, but never uncalled for. Never had he encountered something like this. A level of vulnerability he inflicted on others, without ever having undergone it himself. He knew what these hands would feel. The weapons they would find. The bodily shapes the cold hands would touch while they combed every centimetre of his frame. The hands that slowly explored him, while also disarming him, from a slender and fairly small person with almond shaped eyes that only held a hint of spice induced blue within a sea of black.  

He had managed to find these eyes and pierce right through them. After another startle, now reflected in these gorgeous eyes growing rapidly in size, they looked down. As if in shame. As if he had caught them in a devious act, or thought. 

His assailants said they were three men strong. But he knew a woman when he saw one. They were there with two men and one woman strong. There must have been a reason they referred to her as a man, as it was common that women also participated in raids and fights. He concluded that they did not know she was a woman. And would he be the one to spill that secret? It could only be to his benefit. 

While she was kneeling between his legs, he could not help but close them to press on her while he tried to lean forward. Not to frighten her; this predicament he would not be able to overcome easily. But to reflect the longing he recognised. The adoration. The interest. Again, he noticed the faintest of startles. She knew what he was doing, and she accepted it. As she leaned in to finalise her check on the back of his shoulders and his neck, something she could have also done by standing behind him, he whispered “do you like what you see? What you feel? Smell?” He heard a faint gasp and continued “it will be my turn soon.” 

While he stared straight at her, penetrating her with his hard blue eyes, he was met with a blow to his head. After he woke up, they were gone, leaving him laying bound on the ground. 

It was a new experience. It enticed him. It excited him, mentally and physically. He wondered whether his assailant noticed that during her observations. Perhaps she even felt his blossoming groin, as her frisk was well performed. He craved for more. He craved for the person that touched him. 

+++ 

With not enough information to go on, he was left with no other choice than to go hunt her down. Feyd-Rautha decided that he would be respond to all upcoming attacks on his harvesters.  

+++ 

Several days later, he responded to yet another attack. Feyd-Rautha and his guard leaped out of their ornithopter and started running. In the golden hue of the evening light, Feyd-Rautha surged. His body was nearly fully covered in black leather, with protective yet form emphasising padding over his shoulders, arms and groin, while leaving his neck uncovered. His cape flowed, giving the illusion that he was flying. Contrary to his guard he did not carry a mask or a machete. He only held a sword, next to the daggers in his belt. Despite his many tries, he was not growing tired. He was growing angry and impatient.  

He would find her. Teach her this was no way to treat a lord. Teach her how he should actually be approached. Punish her for their insolence. Over the last days, his fantasies had grown wilder and wilder. Every day his urges were not answered, they turned darker. He longed to have her begging on her knees in front of him. To end her suffering. To start her pleasure. How he was looking forward to breaking her into his new pet. 

While slaughtering guards under the belly of the crawler, she suddenly noticed Feyd-Rautha's looming figure at the other side of the harvester. She slit the throat of the soldier she was fighting and started to run for the nearby rock formation.  

Feyd-Rautha looked at the sudden disperse of Fremen warriors. He noticed this happened almost immediately after he came in eyesight of the fighters. It could only mean that he was recognised by an uninvited guest.

With new energy flowing through his mind, he decided to follow the smallest one, running towards the rocks. He was so close. He could smell victory. 

Soon he reached the rocks, not long after his targets, his guard following suit. Despite sweat flowing down his back, he was not even panting. He was exhilarated with the prospect. He couldn’t wait any longer. He shouted: “Come to your lord!” But no response came. 

He started to trail the route they were following. He was aware of the risks, but felt confident. He was chasing them, not the other way around. They saw him and they fled. He loved being a hunter, reward always being so sweet. His longing caused his blood flow to be redirected. He did not know if he could control himself if he would find her here.  

After having climbed quite a few rocks, he lost all trails. Frustrated, Feyd-Rautha called a nearby ornithopter, and received confirmation no-one had left the rock formation. That meant they were still here. His hope increased again. He felt he was close.  

Driving on this knowledge, he continued to scout the surroundings. Every corner, every cave, he hoped to find her. Putting up a fight, but laying her weapons down eventually. While his mind roamed freely, seeing himself ravish her on these very stones, he landed in an ambush in a narrow strait between high rocks. One Fremen warrior stood on the top of the rocks, with the smaller one in front of him. Within the blink of an eye he was back again in this world. But rather than being scared, he was still on the hunt, so he tried to look in their eyes to recognise whether this was the woman he was looking for. But he wasn’t sure, just yet. 

“You wanted us. Here we are. Kneel and drop your weapons!” a nervous voice said, trying to mask itself with determination. 

“Why?” he replied tauntingly. His mind told him to pay attention, to not underestimate the seriousness of the situation. But he couldn’t. He was on a quest. 

“Kneel and drop your weapons, NOW.” 

Feyd-Rautha knew the guard that followed him would be here any moment now. That would throw the Fremen off, and would shuffle the cards in his favour. He needed to buy time though, so he decided to provoke a conversation. 

“You are standing here with two. I am just by myself. You should not fear me”, he said as sweet as possible, while he taunted his adversaries by switching his sword between his hands. 

As he looked to the person standing before him, he felt his knees being kicked in, and his hands slammed to the ground. The person that was standing on top of the rocks had jumped down and removed his sword.  

The person before him continued to speak: “you should not be here.” He could hear a slight tremble in the voice.  

Cockily, the na-Baron said: “I rule over this planet. Everywhere is mine to go” as he tilted his head, trying to look at the person behind him. Talking means no killing. 

“You are so stupid. Why would you be here? All by yourself? I could have already killed you and leave your corpse here to rot.” 

A knife was pushed under his chin by the person standing before him, forcing him to move his head up high, back to the person in front of him. He complied and saw black almond shaped eyes under the face covers. Eyes surrounded by long lashes. Butterflies wrapped around his abdomen. He had found her. He could not contain his smile as he seductively said: “why fear me? You know why I am here. We know why you did not kill me, again.” 

He was beautiful, in his own unorthodox way. Enticing. Mysterious. Despite his body being nearly entirely covered, she could see his face, his neck, part of his shoulders, his hands. It was all so powerful. This man did not know fear, only focus, only desire and creed. Everything about him craved to be touched. Touched by her. She recalled their encounter the other night. His despicable words. She knew he was dangerous, yet she could not contain the urge to learn what he had to offer. 

A gasp was audible, as he saw the eyes caressing his body and briefly closing. A small hum came from behind the face coverings.  

His pupils widened. The ends of his mouth started to create a small smile showing familiarity. He knew she wanted him. And she knew he wanted her. His mouth opened and with a menacing purr he said, for only her to hear: “I found you. Yet, here again, I am on my knees.” He heard a small sigh as he continued: “you are intoxicated in my presence. Don't hide it, my darling. There is no need.”  

She stopped breathing, as she felt a flutter in her core. He had recognised her desire. He had noticed the smallest cues that she had believed she could hide. How could a brute like this pick up on those details? 

He breathed in loudly and bit his lip before finishing: “hmm. You like me like this. I can see the blush on your cheeks. I am even more entertaining once the roles are reversed.” 

“Shut up!” she shouted as she slapped his face. More meant as a slap to herself. 

His head was flung to the side as a response. He licked and smacked his lips, as he tilted his head to slowly look up to her again. She could see the delight in his face, how his body reacted to her attention. He was excited about what she did, and she could not help but start to think about other responses he could give.  

As if he wanted to provoke her to take more actions: “you want me to shut up? I am just voicing your own thoughts.”  

She slapped him again. 

“But what I do not understand: why did you hide from me? Forcing me through all this trouble to bring you back to where we met last time. While we both know you will come with me.” If his clothing would have been any other colour than black, she would have seen his growing bulge as proof of how she enchanted him. 

He saw their eyes open widely and was sure he had heard a gasp. He indulged in the fear that he clearly installed. The confusion. Clearly, he had unveiled something never meant to reach the surface. He wanted to spill more threats, cause more reactions, but abruptly eye contact was broken, as something heavy fell next to him. He looked to his right and saw the body of the other Fremen lying on his belly, with his guard standing behind him.  

This changed their dynamics. 

While he tried to get up, she had leaped over him, kicking him to the ground, and started to fight his guard.  

As she was occupied, he collected his sword and simply waited. Either his guard would succumb, and he would drag her, now tired, away. Or his guard would gain the upper hand, allowing him to take over. He would win in each situation, so he decided to observe. And for some kind of reason, she felt safe enough to fight his guard, without too much consideration of him being behind her. 

He saw his Fremen prey fighting. He heard her grunt and pant while she was slowly gaining ground towards his guard. His guard was strong, but not agile nor quick, and she managed to utilise her surroundings better than him. She would provide for a delightful treat once he had dragged her to the safe environment of his palace.  

He noticed that his breathing and his enticement both increased. He started to remember everything he was planning to do. His pay-back for the humiliation earlier, which was delicious nonetheless. How he would strip his new Fremen pet, let his knife roam her body as her hands had roamed his frame, get her to beg for mercy, get her to beg to offer him everything he demanded in exchange for her life, get her to inflict pain on him, get her to taunt him. Mould her. This could be so much fun. 

His guard has sustained several injuries, while not being able to land any substantial blows. Feyd-Rautha's guard was clearly limited by his helmet, yet strong enough to stay standing. But still, it took too long.

Softly, he creeped up behind his little Fremen warrior to make an end to this nonsense. Leaping in, he covered her mouth with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist to pick her off the ground, ordering his guard to disarm her.  

She felt a boost of adrenaline as he had grabbed her. His strong frame pushing against her back. Knowing what he was planning on doing, she needed to get out of here. She did not know how she would react and how long she would be able to maintain her dignity. Get away from him as far as possible.

Once he placed her back on the ground, she tried to get him to let her go by thrashing herself, but his grip was too strong. Frantically, she managed to turn around to face him and decided to throw herself on the ground. He would either follow her to the ground, allowing her to wrestle him while his length would be less of an advantage to him, or he would let her go.  

He did not let her go, joining her on the ground. In the fall she managed to push her feet against his hips, keeping him at bay. She tried to keep him under control and kick him away, but he knew what she was doing. With the rocks scratching her back, he grabbed her feet to push her legs to one side, allowing him to lunge at her on her other side. She underestimated him as he managed to mount her from the side in the process while also grounding her arm that held her weapon. The Harkonnen she had fought before were not so well trained as him. 

She started to buck and tried getting him higher up her torso, so she could use her legs as leverage or in any case free her arm. But he sat as a rock, and with a knife in his hand he focussed on was he was set to do: see her. As anxious she became, he became calm. “Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be. Just succumb.” He took the knife and digged into her stillsuit around her bellybutton, ripping it open up straight up. As if he was skinning an animal. 

A golden skin of her belly became unearthed, littered with scars yet soft. “You are holding many secrets from me, Fremen. But I will learn who you are.”  

She became increasingly distressed. She was outnumbered, and he had ruined her suit. Getting out here alive would already be a challenge. With insufficient gear surviving the night would be equally complicated. But what could she say or do to get her out of this predicament?  

As he leaned on her shoulder with one hand to put leverage to proceed to cut to her neck, his knife hooked into a band around her chest. “What do we have here?” he said with a smoky voice, as he tilted his head and looked her in the eye. “I suspected you were a woman. With this confirmation you just became incredibly more interesting” he sighed. He saw her breathing became heavier and heavier, while she had stopped resisting him. He grabbed her chin to look in her eyes, only to see them averted. “No no no. You have not yet given up, have you? There is no fun in that. I was hoping for a longer hunt” he taunted. 

He continued the destruction of the suit until his prey's torso lay bare in front of him. 

How he was delighted. This was everything and more. A perfect present.  

Placing his nose into her neck to inhale her scent, while his hand touched her chest, he growled. Speaking to himself, more than to her: “you will bring me so much enjoyment.” A hand moved up to wrap around her neck: “and you will enjoy all of it.” He wanted to taste her fear there, on the warm rocks of the planet he now owned.  

She shivered at the thought, while something also bubbled up deep in her core. Her brain took over and told her this man was ruthless. Without any morals. With the dead body of her friend next to her, she knew she needed to get out. But how? She knew that if she were to be dragged into his lair, it would be the end of it. 

However, he also remembered his plans. He wanted to break her. And for that, he needed to create more tension, have more surprises. Make her scared. Taking her here, in front of his guard, would only prepare her for what was to come.

He seemed to ease up a bit, as she had stopped bucking. He released his hands from her shoulder and neck, and sat up a bit straighter while shifting a bit back to see the scene in front of him. Her bare skin, littered with scars, as well as goose bumps from what was happening and the coldness of the night. Tummy swiftly moving up and down to replenish the body with fresh oxygen. For unclear reasons he had left her face covered, but she knew he would also remove that any moment now.  

His rough hands roamed over her stomach, up to the middle of her chest, going sideways to fully uncover her breasts. Feeling the curves, touching the scars. He had warm hands. She shivered at his touch. His hands knew what they were doing, and knew the reactions they were inflicting on her body, but she could not allow that. She had not allowed any man to come this nearby, and he would not be an exception. “You are a little fighter I see. You know you have a debt to pay me for what you did. And with your friends not being here to save you, you have triple the debt to pay, as he tapped in the middle of her midriff.” Moaningly he continued, pressing on some fresher wounds: “receiving my scars would be a good way to start repaying. That way you will always remember me. And our pleasant times.” 

“Fuck you” she spat at him. A jolt ran over his back. “Feisty. I like them feisty. More of a challenge, more to break down” as he crouched over her again and bit her neck that he pushed up high. “I will teach you how to address me. You will learn to yearn for me. Although, I believe you already do that” as he shoved his hand under her suit, between her legs. “I can feel it”. He drew his tongue over to the other side of her neck as he continued “but don't learn too quick. I like game. It tastes better if it has been hunted, if it has experienced fear.” 

He sat up straight again and looked at her, while tracing his wet finger across the middle of her chest. “So pretty. So strong, yet... so fragile.” His finger wandered north, to stop just beIow her chin and tilt her head to an uncomfortable position to force her to look at him: “I need to see your face.” 

He leaned over to uncover her face, moving slowly and turning up his gaze to her with an equally leisurely pace. As his dark eyes pierced hers, she tightly grabbed the left side of his uniform, bucked explosively and rolled him to her right side. This gave her just enough room to escape from under him and get up. He fell with his head on the ground, causing his lip and skin on his jaw to chap on a piece of stone. Clenching his skull, he shouted “grab her!” to his guard. She knew she needed to dodge him, and feinted some moves, to get him to open room for her to make a run for it. But he simply lunged at her, grabbed her shoulders to smash her against the walls of the rock formation. Her body came to a stop with a punch, causing her head to bobble.  

As the na-Baron wiped the blood of his lips and chin, he walked to her to remove her face covering forcefully. She looked at him with wide eyes, a slightly open mouth, while being held against the wall, largely uncovered yet trying to protect her modesty. With her chest rising and falling rapidly, and still dizzy from the blow, she oozed fear and discomfort. He was delighted.  

He rubbed his blood laced thumb over her lips, as if to mark her, and smiled to her. "You do not disappoint. You will taste just perfect.” She saw bad thoughts in his eyes, menace, cruelty and yearning combined. His knife lingering over her body and face, indecisive of where to cut and leave his mark.

Suddenly she felt the blade carve the side of her neck in a vertical line, from jaw to collar bone, followed by a near-immediate lightness in her head.

As she fell in his arms, losing all support and control of her body, he instructed his guard: “this one will do. Get her in the ornithopter and bring her to my chambers. I want her cleaned up.” Looking up to his guard he said: “don’t touch her. She is mine to defile.”

Slowly passing out she was dragged away. 

+++

Next parts listed on my pinned post

Also posted on AO3

[1800-fight-me]

Little moments

Aemond Targaryen x Female!reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Pregnant reader, no others - this is pure fluff 

Word count: Almost 600- it’s a lil one

Synopsis: Aemond takes pleasure in the little moments with his little family. 

Author’s note: This came to me before I fell asleep last night and I wrote it in between sets at the gym this morning lmao 

P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! My askbox and taglist are always open! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist

Aemond sighed as he strode into his chambers. 

Another lengthy small council meeting that he wished he could’ve resolved with force rather than listen to the squabbling of power hungry old men. 

Of course Aegon would do his best to sluff off this responsibility to Aemond. 

His head and scar were beginning to ache from stress and exhaustion. 

He shut the door quietly behind him and his lips already began to curve into a smile as he thought of what would be awaiting him. 

The candles were extinguished, the only light provided by the quickly dying fire in the hearth. 

He unlaced his boots and left them along with his outer coat and weapons by the door. 

He strode over to his massive bed and smiled softly at the sight of you sleeping soundly. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was his son also sleeping in the bed, curled into your side. 

His tiny hand rested on your rounded stomach. He must’ve been eagerly waiting to feel his sibling move within your belly before he fell asleep. 

Though he often chided you for being too soft on the boy, he loved the bond you shared with your son. 

He leaned over and scooped up the little four year old in his arms. 

He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Aemond. 

“Kepa,” he murmured before he snuggled into Aemond’s chest. 

Aemond hugged him tighter as he walked to the adjourning room that was his son’s. 

He laid him down in his bed and knelt down next to it. 

He ruffled his white hair and kissed him on the forehead. 

“I thought we discussed you sleeping in your own bed,” he chided softly. 

The boy yawned as he looked at his father. 

“But I like sleeping with you and muña,” the child whined. 

Aemond chuckled softly. 

“I also like sleeping with her, alone, without a child in my bed,” he teased and the boy sighed. 

He kissed him on the forehead once more. 

“We are only in the next room if you truly feel like you need us,” he whispered. 

The boy nodded, a smile on his lips that were the same shape as his father, and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Sleep, little dragon,” Aemond murmured as he rose to his feet once again. 

He was fast asleep once again before Aemond even finished crossing the room. 

He closed the door softly and made his way towards you, once again relishing in your beauty as you slept. 

He tugged off the remainder of his clothes, leaving him shirtless and only in his underclothes before he climbed into bed with you. 

You immediately, as if on instinct, rolled over and curled into him. 

He wrapped his arms around you and led you to rest your head on his chest. 

“‘mond,” you mumbled, “missed you.” 

He smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand rubbed your swollen stomach where his child grew. 

“I’m here now, my love,” he replied. 

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his chest. 

You quickly fell back asleep in the safety of his embrace. 

He took a deep breath and felt calm and relaxed, at home, with your scent around him and your warmth against him. 

As sleep took him too, he couldn’t help but ponder on the joy that you brought to his life. Happiness he never thought he could experience, that he was sure he didn’t deserve, filled him, and a soft smile remained on his lips as he slept. 

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment @salome-c @hb8301

Aemond taglist:

@fultimefangirl @dumpsterfirecee @adderess @flowerpotmage @theold-ultraviolence @lady-phasma @aemonds-war-crime @schniiipsel @mommyslittlewarcriminal @batsyforyou @signyvenetia @sirenofavalon @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @padfooteyes @percyjacksonspeen @aemonds-sapphire @wrendermeuseless @mllemarianne @slutforaemond @a-beaverhausen​

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Wednesday (TV 2022)Rating: Explicit  Warnings: Rape/Non-Con  Relationships: Larissa Weems/Captain Phasma, Phasma/Larissa Weems  Characters: Larissa Weems, Phasma (Star Wars)  Additional Tags: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crossover Pairings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Abuse of Authority, Police, phasma is a policewoman, larissa is an entitled rich lady who parks her fancy car wherever she wants, if anybody cares it's cadillac escalade bc i love that fucking car, Bribery, Blackmail, Rape/Non-con Elements, Extremely Dubious Consent, Porn With Some Plot lol, overall bad porno vibes, Porn, Car Sex, Dildos, lipstick stains, porn features a Very Important Addition which is, chrome dildo, to reference phasma's armour, no don't ask me how a chrome dildo would work this is my emotional support porn shoo shoo, Strap-Ons, Face-Fucking, Face Slapping, Daddy Kink, degradation kink, Humiliation, Vaginal Penetration, Manhandling, Handcuffs, Police Uniforms, Butch/Femme, Butch Phasma, technically i guess this is self-cest bc they're both gwendoline christie characters lol, so uh, Self-cest, i guess, but i imagined them to like, have different faces, and being very distinct and different characters even if they have some similarities, Such as height, but you can imagine whatever floats your boat! 

Summary: 

Larissa doesn't want to get her license suspended, and Phasma wants to fuck a pretty woman with her chrome dildo. They come to an arrangement.

[dreamlandcreations]

2 truths, 1 lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

I should pick ONE WIP?????? Okay, okay, I can do it, it's easy *lies* Ooops

Thanks for the tag @evita-shelby @lady-phasma 🥰

No pressure tags: @kasagia @zablife @becauseicantthinkwritings @marvelmusing @youvebeenlivingfictional @withmyteeth @massivecolorspygiant and anyone who wants to

[horizon-verizon]

https://www.tumblr.com/lady-phasma/751676108988088320/the-dance-of-dragons-game-of-thrones-i-wouldnt?source=share

I'm fed up with people who bring out this scene to make people believe that they are right to be neutral...

To an extent this is true, the sides ravaged the land during the war....and then you see that the greens began this war just for their own gain, most of them were responsible for most of the disasters (the riverlands burnings, Strong extermination, Bitterbridge; invitation to Dalton Greyjoy [yes Daemon later invites him, Otto did first and the blacks anticipated so this is "both" kind-sorta]). And later the greens stole the treasury so Rhaenyra couldn't properly feed or "restore" KL as much as you can during an active war.

I think that it's important to remember that Shireen is talking to her father/the man trying to gain the throne thru his maledom and blood relation to the last king AND her entire life has been relatively in the shadows. She's a kid dependent on him raised by both him and her mom to be more or less obedient to authority figures and keep most of her thoughts to herself as to not stir shit, from what I remember. Finally, in Westerosi history, it's been taught ever since the Danc ended that the war was more a tragic travesty that decimated the kingdoms and not that Rhaenyra was a usurper, as Stannis thinks. Yes, there would be some who cite her gender as reason enough for her not to be queen AND by and large women are seen as incapable of fully ruling, the other thing is that the Targs and Robert by extension (bc some have used his Targ grandma to legitimize his rule) derive their claims through Rhaenyra's bloodline. Not Aegon's. And still, she had more supporters based on a head-of-house' right to choose and others to mind their business about it. Aegon was thought of as "grasping" by the respected Grandmaester Kaeth. So again, an unfortunate and catastrophic event where siblings fight each other and the realm (ironic, bc those lords chose to fight 🙄) suffers for it.

Even if she thought, genuinely, that Rhaenyra was the rightful ruler, she's not gonna tell her dad that (likely). Finally, I don't know if she ever said something similar in the books, I always count down the pages when I read through Davos. Not conducive to fair understanding of characters.

Still, Books > show adaptations. Esp when it's GoT and HotD, both which have adapted the orig characters form not well to horrifically ands way off base. You're just reinforcing Condal's ego thrashing that's already been shown to mirror D&D's.

[weemssapphic]

hi, can I ask for your top ten favorite fics ? :)

hi! you absolutely can :) here are some fics that literally altered my brain chemistry. this is by no means an exhaustive list. some of these I have mentioned before, some I have not. the order is also completely random, as I would die if I had to rank these - they don't deserve to be pitted against one another and, in any case, many of them are so different from one another that it would be impossible to choose which is "better".

anyway, gonna put this under a cut!

Little Cat by @lady-dimimi when I tell you every single chapter of this fic has me giggling and squealing and kicking my feetsies - it's so sweet, the idea of Larissa turning into a cat (and having such gay panic) is something I never knew I needed but now cannot live without. so well-written and every time a new part comes out I literally drop everything to read it.

Life Eternal by @milfsloverblog I've linked the first part but there are 4 parts in total which can be found in her masterlist. oh boy. I have never sobbed this hard at a fic before. I cry quite easily anyway but something about the beautiful way this was written just had my stomach in knots and tears streaming down my face. but I would read it over and over again because it's just that good.

Hot Chocolate on ao3 by AllTheMoreSapphic, Yennefer Payne (madamspellmans_met_tet) Larissa Weems is a virgin and Zelda Spellman is a dominatrix and jfhlkjdshagkdj this fic has me in a chokehold okay I cannot explain it you just have to read it, you won't regret it I promise. it's so well-written and there's just something about it that scratches an itch in my brain.

Heat by @rippersz a (so-far) 2 part series with a third part perhaps coming. quite literally one of the hottest things I have ever read, dear lord. jaw-droppingly hot. but seriously all fics by @rippersz are an absolute delight to read, one of the most talented writers I have ever had the pleasure to come across. would devour anything they write.

Find What You Desire by @pro-weems-places super hot smut with a hint of fluff and just the best vibes overall, I re-read this one so often because it's absolutely amazing. @pro-weems-places characterization of Larissa always makes me fuzzy inside, one of my favorite writers truly <3

push me gently (into love) by @yourlocaldisneyvillain one of my fav fav fav writers, her writing is so unique and so immersive. and this fic is EVERYTHING. so silly, so much fluff, some of the most divine smut you'll ever come across. Larissa deserves her goth gf okay??

Anticipatory Grief by @wh0re4women such an amazing author, all of her fics are incredible. but god this fic HURT. had me bawling like a baby. and you know what? I loved every second of it. so well written that you can feel the grief coming off the page in waves. highly recommend if you need a good cry.

Warmth of Your Doorways by @alexusonfire and @daydream-cement have I mentioned this fic multiple times already? yes. and I will continue to do so until I'm blue in the face because I love Jane Murdstone and I love the writing and I love the plot and this fic will always have a place in my heart and my brain. <3

Shapes of Love by @dianneking Morticia x Larissa wherein Larissa is a sex worker and is hired by Morticia. this fic literally has everything I could ever want in a fic and it's finally (and kind of sadly tbh) complete - queue me re-reading this gem over and over again (all of their writing is fire though by the way)

Sugar Mama on ao3 by valda (need an ao3 account for this one) I have mentioned this one before but it will always be one of my favorites. Phasma x Rey sugar mommy AU that unfortunately I think has been abandoned, but I just love everything about it. rip never forget.

[lady-phasma]

Dragon Friends Collab Masterlist

This amazing group of writers (and moots) came together because of a request that had been in my languishing in my inbox. The excitement and enthusiasm for these characters and this collaboration has blown me away. This has been a joy to participate in. Please check out all the wonderful period smut we wanted to provide for anon.

Licking Wounds - Daemon x niece!reader - by @aemondsbabe

Forbidden Temptation - Aemond Targaryen x niece!Reader - by @aemondtargaryenonlyfans

Lend a Helping Hand - modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader - by @anjelicawrites

Āngoar - Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader - by @arcielee

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader - by @happilyhertale

Bathed in Silk and Blood - Daemon Targaryen x whore!reader by @lady-phasma

Devour - Daemon Targaryen x wife reader - by @marthawrites

Fear is a game for children - Aemond X Aemond Wife Reader X Daemon by @thought--bubble

Sanguine Obsession - Vampire!Aemond x Human!Reader - by @zaldritzosrose

(Alphabetically by author)

All boards by the lovely and talented @zaldritzosrose

[zaldritzosrose]

Two Truths, One Lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

Thanks for the tag, @sylasthegrim !

Two truths and one lie for my upcoming threesome one shot, which includes Harwin Strong, Daemon Targaryen, and Otto's Wife!reader (specially requested by @sylasthegrim to be used for this game!). I will link it here when it is posted.

I'm curious to see what you guys choose!

No pressure tags:

@foxyanon @lady-phasma @legitalicat @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @anjelicawrites @aemondsbabe @aemondtargaryenonlyfans

[lya-dustin]

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Thanks for the tag @ewanmitchellcrumbs !!

Sweet mother (rhaenicent ft painted table)

Last wolf of Lankiveil (werewolf!Feyd Rautha x reader pov(oc))

All is bliss (aemond x velaryon!niece!oc(aemma))

Shock and delight (aemond x aemma , bridgerton au)

Delirium (drugged!aemma accidentally kills villain!alicent)

Tagging @lady-phasma @houserautha @sansaorgana @arcielee @idontevenknowhowtolife

[aemondsbabe]

two truths, one lie

Rules: In the poll, list two true things that occur in your WIP, and one that is a lie. Responders then must vote for which one of the three options they think is the lie. Check back in when the author posts their WIP to see if you were right!

thank you for tagging me ange & lana!! @bouncehousedemons @zaldritzosrose 🩷🩷

two truths, one lie for the third (and final) chapter in my claimant series! 🔪

curious to see what everyone will think lol

no pressure tags: @aemondtargaryenonlyfans @schniiipsel @arcielee @toms-cherry-trees @marthawrites @lady-phasma & anyone else who wants to do it!

[psycheetamore]

Another escape, another hunt 

Summary: Our lord has managed to get his Fremen prey into his palace. But she will not succumb to his desires so easily, even if her body wishes to do so. How he loves his game.

Tags: MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, anticipation of smut, predator/prey - the author regrets nothing

Part 2 of 6 of my contribution to the predator/prey thrope for Kinktober of @lady-phasma - nr 1-4 are chapters of 1 story (1-3 Feyd/OC hunt related, nr 4 is the reward for our lord), and nr 5-6 is me sharing my favourite chapter that I have written to date with the hunt between Rabban/OC. The 6 bits will be posted through daily posts.

Word count: 1.8k

Losely based on chapter 11 of Choosing to Follow Destiny

His slaves were standing outside of his quarters, as the na-Baron sought entrance. 

“Is she readied?” 

“My Lord…” and the slave paused. “My lord, we could not get the cuffs on” as she fell to her knees and started to grovel asking for forgiveness.  

He kicked her to the floor and proceeded: “you are lucky. I am in a good mood.” 

Several minutes ago, the terrified slaves that had dressed the new interest of the lord Harkonnen, locked her up in a separate room in his quarters. It did not take a lot of effort to force the lock. She felt vulnerable, dressed in clothing that did not deserve that word considering how little of her frame it covered and that could be meant only for ladies of the Harkonnen night. Feeling the mark he had left on her neck, which seemed to have been treated. Her braids loosened to have her long black hear flow across her back. Horrible shackles the slaves tried to put on her. She could not allow herself to think what he was planning to do. For her sanity, and to keep control over her physical urges that seemed to long for him. She could still feel his strong fingers gracing her lips. Yet, it could not distract from the recognition that she needed to move. The longer she was in his vicinity, the more difficult it would be to escape.  

Feeling her heart throb in her throat, against the healing wound he had left, she surveyed his chambers for any weapons or other tools that could help her gain some leverage. But it did not come at a surprise that nothing was present. It could not be anything else than that he prepared for roaming around here. Fear started to seep into her bones as she started to understand the gravity of the situation she was facing. The second-best option was looking for heavy blunt objects. Something that could allow her to issue a blow and try to get away. As she was scouring as quickly as she could for such objects, she heard him arrive and talk on the other side of the door. She grabbed a plaid laying over his bed and scooted softly to hide in the darkness next to the door.  

She noticed a body drop and the door opening. This was her one chance. As he walked in, she threw the plaid over his head and pushed him, making room to run away.  

Surprisingly, he was disconnected for a blink of a moment, just enough. She did not wait for a second opportunity, and dashed.  

The hallways were as dark as his room, the night having fallen and scarcely lit. There was no distinction between the left and the right side of the hallway, so intuitively she took off to the left. 

From a distance she heard him shouting: “run. Run as far as you can. Challenge me. We both know you will end up chained to my bed.” Shivers flowed over her back. 

She ran and ran. She should find some light coming from the moons anytime now. That would give her guidance on where to go. It felt like she ran for hours, probably mere minutes. Corridors went up and down. What was this place other than a maze, she thought, completely lost and getting out of breath. Functioning on pure adrenalin she forgot her fatigue and anything else holding her back. She just ran. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming from a corridor she was running towards. With muted steps she backed up against the wall, carefully peaking around the corner. A chance to sip some air, and perhaps more. A guard, dressed in a black Harkonnen uniform, was paroling. He did not seem to be on high alert. Perhaps her escape did not yet reach everyone. She pressed herself against the wall, waiting for the guard to walk past, so she could overtake him. Completely oblivious the guard walked past her. It took her one well-placed kick to the backside of his knees to get him to fall on the ground. He fell on his hands and knees, but it still made a terrible noise. This would surely attract other guards or Feyd-Rautha himself, so she immediately started kicking him to the head, bruising her feet, adrenaline masking the pain it caused. It took a few kicks for him to lay flat on the ground, allowing her to grab the bat and dagger he was carrying. She started to run in the direction he came from. 

After yet another corner she took, she lost the little sense of direction that had remained. But there was no time to worry. 

She continued to run until she abruptly recognised an imposing figure in the shadows from afar. The stance, the body, the clothing: it could be no other than her captor who had spotted her, staring at her with a tilted head and black smile on his face. She stopped, froze for a second, turned around and started running the other way around. Even with her newly acquired weapons she was aware that she would hardly be a match for him in these circumstances. 

Feyd-Rautha chuckled. Feisty and spirited. He was happy to see that she lived up to his expectations. He did anticipate she would free herself from the first room, and try to make a run for it. There was a reason he did not bring guards. He had, however, imagined that he would be able to keep her in, as he had carefully removed all sharp and heavy objects. A true fighter he was dealing with. And, by god, she even managed to obtain some weapons. Lovely. She clearly had not given up just yet, just like he asked.

His hunter instinct was kick-started by seeing her flee away. How he loved a game like this. With his longer legs, boots, and overall better condition, it did not take too long before she was within an arm's reach of him. 

She heard him gaining distance on her. His footsteps grew closer and closer. She gave it her all. She needed to outrun him. Her heart was throbbing in her throat from exhaustion. She needed to push through. Or find a way out. But where? No tangible options presented themselves. A sudden ambush perhaps. Short term, but still. 

He was just steps away from her, she could hear it. She decided to push for a last final sprint, to get him to speed up as much as possible, allowing her to suddenly divert her track and use his momentum against him. In the process, she managed to dart around him, while brushing the dagger across his arm. Now standing behind him, he turned to face her. Wearing his evening clothing, but still with boots and a belt with weapons, he showed her the blood on his fingers, which came from the wound she inflicted. Yet another wound he would have her repay.

“It is a dangerous game you play, little one. I have killed for smaller offences” he said menacingly, although his face gave away the joy he felt. "How is my mark on your neck feeling?"

“Kill me” she taunted. “Let's get this over with.” 

“No” he answered. “We both know I won't do that. You are far too lovely to meet such an end. In any case not such a quick end” as he grabbed a knife from his belt in a leisurely pace. He started to walk towards her, shifting his head from left to right, seeing straight through hear face into the inner workings of her brain.

She tried to maintain their distance by moving back as he closed in on her. But there was only so much space, as she was backed against the wall.  

He tigered around her, managing to get her into a corner. “Your strike, lovely lady. I will give you one strike” as he invited her through a gesture to come at him.  

She looked in his eyes and saw darkness. This was a dangerous man, with dangerous games. He was in control. Her only way out would be to disarm him, and hold him hostage until she could get out.  

She decided to make a go for it. Holding the club in her right hand and the dagger in her left hand, her strategy would be to get him to focus on her left hand, lose the club, switch the dagger to her other hand and strike.  

But her eyes gave her away. As she tried to execute this plan, he knew what was coming. He had seen every step that she had anticipated, and before she knew it, his hard chest, just covered with an evening tunic, had pinned her against the wall. She could feel his heart beat through the nothings they both wore. She could feel the heat flowing from his body to hers, as he kept her legs in check by pushing one of his between hers. His growing groin pressed against her bottom. Her body started to respond involuntarily, creating the moisture he craved. Forcing her hand to open, he managed to release the remaining weapon and kick it away. Only now did he turn her to face him, while holding her shoulders with an iron grip. 

She tried to kick him, causing him to push his entire body against hers to keep her still. As response, she pushed her hands on his upper arms. His strength was felt as she was pinned against the wall. His solid arms, his muscular torso, the growing excitement in his nether regions. It caused a further growing excitement in her nether regions as well, the likes of which she had never encountered before.  

“Why do you resist me? You belong here. You want to be here. You want to kneel before me and take everything I have to give to you.” Vile, tainted words came out of his mouth as honey, while his lips touched her neck and ears. He started to kiss, nibbling on her ears, allowing his warm tongue to roam over the ridges of the wound that was sure to become a scar from her ear to her shoulder, claiming her, marking her as his, while holding her head still. “Don't resist” he said with a chanting voice, feeling how her breathing located to the top of her chest. With nearly nothing covering her, she started to fear he would feel the warmth and wetness radiating from her body onto the leg that he had positioned so strategically against her most sensitive area. He wrapped his arms around her back to press her against him, as he softly bit on her neck. “Don't resist. Succumb to me” he continued to chant. He felt she was slipping away, as if her legs were not providing support anymore. 

“I can't” a small voice said with a deep sigh. His mouth on these sensitive areas, his vicinity, all the vile words that had left his sculpted mouth; she started to loose control. Breathing more heavily and rapidly, which he could feel through his chest that still forced her against the wall. 

He knew she was starting to break. All it took was a bit of affection. It was quicker than he had anticipated.  

He softly replied: “you can. And you will” as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Pinching her bottom, awfully near her core with a mind of its own, he said: “you want to submit to me.” 

+++

Next parts listed on my pinned post

[1800-fight-me]

Broken Vows Part Two

Part One Part Three Epilogue

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Explicit sex, infidelity, angst (also some fluff!), canon level sexism, the reader is a lady of a great house but the house is unspecified and the reader has no description. (As a forewarning, though this story has dark themes and tons of angst it absolutely will have a happy ending!)

Word count: A little over 6k

Synopsis: How long will you be able to hide your son’s true parentage and control your desires for Aemond?

Author’s note: Part two is finally here!! There will be a part three!! Thank you so so much to my lovely beta readers @just-here-for-the-moment and @lady-phasma y’all are the best!! P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist           Part Three Sneak Peek

“You asked for me, mother?” Aemond said as he strode into Alicent’s quarters. 

“Yes, sit with me,” she said as she reached her hand out to him and smiled gently. 

He placed his hand in hers and squeezed it softly as he sat on the couch next to her. 

“I have news and wanted to share it with you before you heard it from any others,” she said. 

He nodded and waited for her to continue. 

“Lady Stark has given birth to a child. A son,” she said carefully as she attempted to gauge her son’s reaction. 

Aemond pursed his lips and swallowed as he processed the information. 

He nodded once again. 

“We should offer the Starks our congratulations on their happy news,” he said, his voice rough with concealed emotion. 

“I have already sent a letter. It was only about eight or nine months ago she was here in person,” she said. 

“Hm.” 

“Aemond,” she sighed. 

He stared at her as his mind churned like the sea with this new information. 

“I know you have always loved her,” Alicent said gently. 

“Hm,” Aemond clenched his jaw and turned his face to avoid her gaze. 

“Tell me my fears are not true,” she begged. 

“What fears do you speak of, mother?” he asked, his voice hard, though he of course knew what she meant. 

“I do not wish to say it for fear it is true,” she said as she looked at her brokenhearted son. 

“Then there is nothing to say. I shall take my leave, I have responsibilities that need to be attended to,” he said as he stood swiftly. 

“Aemond,” she protested as she grabbed his arm. 

He swallowed and pursed his lips before he turned back to face her. 

At the barely concealed anguish on his face she sighed and let him go. 

Aemond marched straight to the training courtyard for his thoughts were swirling and spiraling and he was unable to make sense of his emotions. 

Sir Criston was there and after a few curt words they began to spar. 

Aemond’s chest heaved as he blocked and parried Sir Criston’s blows. He couldn’t decide if he was trying to avoid his feelings or straighten his thoughts enough to sort through them. 

Hours passed and his sparring partner changed multiple times but still Aemond did not stop. 

Sweat dripped down his face as he fought and fought and fought. 

He raged against the need inside him to call upon Vaghar and fly north immediately. 

The last man in the courtyard bowed out and called the fighting to an end. 

Aemond stood alone with only the moon as a light. 

He threw down his weapons and stomped his way to the dragon pit. 

He resisted the urge to punch the stone wall for it would surely only break his hand and not offer the relief he was looking for if hours of training were any indication. 

Soon he and Vaghar soared through the skies. 

An experience that usually brought him peace and comfort, but now did little in the face of the torment his soul currently faced. 

Good gods, what had he fucking done. 

There was, of course, a chance the child was not his. 

What was he doing, was he going to fly to Winterfell and start a war by taking away Lord Stark’s wife? 

You should be his. He despised the circumstances life had put you and him in. 

He should be there to hold you and his child and kiss you both. 

If the child was not his, he felt nearly just as broken hearted at the thought. You should be his wife and bear his children and be filled with his love and care. 

Vaghar reached the border to the North and cold pelting rain began to pour. 

With gasping breaths Aemond commanded her to land. 

He climbed off and slid to his knees on the muddy ground. 

The rain streaked down his face along with tears. 

He could not go to Winterfell and take you away. He could not start a war over a child he was not sure was his and any attempts to see you and the babe would endanger you more than he already had with his reckless love led actions. 

As he screamed in anguish, Vaghar roared in empathy for her broken rider.

_______________________

One month later 

“My lady, here are some letters for you,” your lady’s maid Brienne said after you laid your sleeping son down in his crib. 

“Oh, thank you, you can put them on the desk there. I’ll look through them later,” you said. 

“I think you want to look at this now and not leave it lying around,” she said, her voice strongly toned. 

You looked up at her in surprise as she placed the letters on your desk but handed one of them to you. 

You gasped softly as you recognized the handwriting and seal upon it. 

“I see,” you murmured. 

She stared at you, and with a loving but reprimanding tone she told you she was taking her leave to give you privacy. 

The letter was addressed to you, though it was written with your maiden name rather than addressed to Lady Stark. 

You took a deep breath. 

You opened it with shaking hands and saw the one worded message. 

“Congratulations,” it stated in a careful cursive scrawl you were all too familiar with from years of passing childhood notes. 

It was signed, “Aemond Targaryen”. 

Your heart pounded as your fingers grazed the letters your lover had written. He had made a carefully calculated decision when he wrote and sent you this letter. 

He had not put anything incriminating in it, though it was certainly suspicious on its own for you to receive a personal letter from the prince. 

But you knew what this letter meant. It meant that he knew. He knew you had a child and at the very least he suspected it was his. He was also, in the most formal way he could, offering you his love and affection for your efforts to bear a child. You wished you could tell him that your son was his. 

You could not send him any sort of confirmation or acknowledgement back, it was too dangerous. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as your heart burned from his loving gesture. 

You hid the letter in a drawer and pulled it out and traced the words again and again when you missed him. 

_______________________

Two years later 

“No,” you said stubbornly. 

“Do my ears deceive me? Surely you did not refuse your Lord Husband,” Cregon seethed at you through clenched teeth. 

“I said, no,” you said as you glared at him. 

“It is a royal decree! We must go! You cannot refuse the King! We have already turned down two royal invitations from both the Queen Regent and the Queen Mother since our son was born, all due to your excuses” he yelled as he threw his hands up in the air in frustration. 

“Fine, then you go without me,” you said and he sighed deeply. 

“Woman, your stubbornness knows no bounds. If you wish to remain in Winterfell then I suppose Eddard and I can-” 

“No. You will not take my son away from me. He is only two years old. He needs his mother. You can go yourself,” you said angrily. 

“The King requested our entire family! Not just me! What is this sudden change in attitude you appear to have? I thought you had fond memories of your childhood in the Red Keep, do you not wish to visit again? Your father will be there. He is ill and it is unlikely you will have many more chances to see him before his life ends.” 

“My father is the last person I want to see. You would know that if you knew anything at all about me,” you practically spat at him. 

He rolled his eyes. 

“I am the Lord of this house and you will obey my words. We will all depart for King’s Landing in a week’s time. That is final,” he said as he left your chambers and slammed the door behind him. 

You collapsed into the closest chair and buried your face in your hands as you attempted to take deep calming breaths. 

You feared that the dangerous game you’d been playing of hiding your child’s parentage could soon be over once he was seen in the same room as his true father. 

Though the child was a near copy of you, his silver hair and the shape of his lips clearly marked him as Aemond’s child. 

As you lived in the cold north you frequently kept a hat on his head so rumors would not spread but that would prove impossible in the warm climate of King’s Landing. 

Rumors that you were an overprotective mother and that he was a sickly child due to you always keeping him bundled up and close to you ran rampant, but according to Brienne, there were no speculations on his parentage. Truly, she was one of the few people who had ever seen the color of his hair including your husband and the maesters. 

You decided to cut his hair shorter prior to the trip, it would not hide the color but perhaps it would draw the eye less. 

Gods help you. 

Weeks later, your nerves frayed as the carriage you and your son were in grew closer and closer to the Red Keep. 

“Listen to me, my little dragon heart,” you whispered at your son as he sat in your lap, grateful that your husband had decided to ride in the front of the group rather than in your carriage for the last leg of the trip. 

He looked up at you, his face solemn and so like the expressions you used to frequently see on Aemond. 

“You are to stay close to me, okay? This is a new place and I want you by my side always,” you urged and he nodded. 

He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled close into your chest. 

“Hold hands?” he asked 

You grinned at his adorable question and nodded. 

“Yes, when we leave the carriage we shall hold hands,” you said and placed a kiss to the top of his head. 

You pulled a light hat onto his head and hoped he would keep it on until you got to your rooms. 

Finally the carriage stopped and with your son on your hip you took your husband’s hand and stepped out into the courtyard of the Red Keep. 

You looked up to see the Queen Mother and the Queen Consort there to greet you. 

You took a deep breath and gulped. 

As you walked forward, your son wiggled out of your arms. You placed him on the ground and held his hand to allow him to toddle next to you as you strode towards the queens. 

Heleana clearly still cared little for decorum as she immediately embraced you. 

“Hello dear friend,” you said to her as you hugged her back. 

“It has once again been far too long,” she said and you agreed with her. 

“Hello Lord and Lady Stark, you are most welcome here,” Alicent said as you and Helaena ended your embrace. 

You smiled and curtseyed and she smiled back. 

“Thank you, my queens, we are happy for our long travels to be over,” Cregon said politely. 

“The King regrets that he could not be here to receive you, he had urgent matters to attend to, but will surely see you at the feast this evening,” Alicent said and your husband nodded. 

Alicent then embraced you while Helaena knelt down and greeted your son. 

“It is good to see you,” she whispered to you. 

“You as well,” you said. 

She pulled back and with a look at your son asked you, “May I?” 

You nodded nervously as she picked up your son and looked at him. 

“Hello, handsome,” she said to him with a gentle smile. 

“Hi!” he said with a grin. 

“It is far too warm for this hat,” she said in concern with a glance at you and then pulled it off his head. 

You held in your protests and when she saw his hair, she did not look at you in shock. 

She ran a hand over his full head of snow white hair as she smiled and made cooing noises at him. 

“He is a beautiful boy,” she said as she handed him to you, and her gaze lingered on you, far too knowing. 

“Thank you, your grace,” you said, your heart still in your throat. 

You were led into your rooms, again the same room you grew up in, with your husband’s room next door. 

You were quickly settled, though your nerves seemed to be unable to settle as easily. 

Thankfully your father sent you a messenger to tell you he was feeling too ill to attend tonight’s feast. At least you could delay that confrontation for another day. Though your father was a stubborn and unkind man, he was not an idiot and would immediately know your child was sired by Aemond rather than your husband once he saw him. 

That night at the feast you were quiet and reserved as you attempted to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. A feat that was markedly more difficult due to Aemond’s stares. 

It was clear he wanted to speak with you, though he would not do so in front of others. 

Your son was not allowed at the feast, thankfully this was an event without children, but rather than allowing the castle servants to care for him, he was safely tucked away in your chambers with Brienne. The fewer people in the Red Keep that saw him, the better. 

Your desire for Aemond was kept better in control due to your need for survival and the importance of the safety of your child. 

Both your lives could be forfeit should your husband discover your betrayal and treachery. 

So, you avoided Aemond’s gaze and other than a cursory nod during the initial greetings, you refused to acknowledge him. 

His fire still burned within you, however. If only you could fall into his arms, introduce him to his child that you love so dearly, be his and his alone. 

But you could not dwell on what could have, or perhaps even should have, been. 

Toasts made their rounds and Cregon and several other noblemen paid their tributes to the King. 

Your hopes that this dull affair would end quickly were dashed when Aemond stood and raised his cup as he stared at your husband. 

Then he looked at you. You stopped breathing. 

He said your name, not your title, your first name, and it sounded all too familiar as it fell from his lips. 

“To you and Lord Stark,” he purred, you knew he would never refer to you as Lady Stark for in his mind you were and always would be his. 

“And the son you have brought into this world, the little Lord Stark, I hear he is exceptionally handsome. Congratulations,” he said, voice like silk but dripping with cockiness. 

Everyone toasted with him and you took a large gulp of your wine. 

You schooled your expression and did everything in your power not to glare at the prince. 

You nodded back at him. 

“Thank you, my prince! What kind words!” Cregon said as he patted your shoulder and grinned, oblivious and stupid as ever. 

Of course he did not pick up on Aemond’s veiled intentions, either to jab at your husband or to get a rise out of you to test his already rapidly forming assumptions. 

You forced a smile at him and Aemond, who smirked before he sat back down in his seat. 

After the feast, you returned to your quarters to find little Ned already fast asleep in his adjoining room. You dismissed Brienne gratefully for the night after she helped you undress and put on your nightgown. 

You were thankful that your husband had a separate room next door and that he did not attempt to bother you that night. 

You fell asleep, thoughts full of Aemond and the heated looks he sent you. 

You felt the bed behind you shift as someone laid down behind you. 

A large hand was placed on your waist and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Not tonight, Cregon,” you practically hissed in anger that you were now awake. 

“I find myself offended that you would mistake me for that piece of shit,” you heard Aemond’s voice say behind you and you gasped. 

You rolled over quickly and saw his face in the flickering firelight. 

“What are you doing here?” you whisper- yelled. 

You didn’t need to ask him how he snuck into your rooms for he had done so nearly nightly through the hidden tunnels in your shared youth. 

“I thought you would be happy to see me,” he said as he smirked at you and gripped your waist a little tighter. 

“After the shit you pulled at dinner?” you snapped at him and he chuckled darkly. 

“Tell me the truth of it. My mother is correct, yes? The child is mine. I would like to see him.” 

He pulled your body close to him so your chest was flush against his. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered as you shook your head. 

“You look beautiful tonight, dear heart,” he murmured as he ran his nose against your cheek. 

“You endanger me and my son,” you whispered as your body began to shake with need for him. 

The heat of his body against yours, his familiar scent, the comfort of his large calloused hand on your waist, all combined made your head swirl as if you were drunk on him. 

“Our son,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours. 

You could not hold yourself back from kissing him with passion and desperation. 

“Hm,” he hummed, clearly pleased, as he pulled himself back from you. 

“Tell me, my love. I want to hear it from your perfect lips,” he whispered as gently ran his fingers up your arm and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“Yes, Aemond,” you gasped out as he pressed a kiss to your jaw. He gently pushed you back so you laid on your back and covered your body with his. 

“He is your son, the child was born of our love,” you whispered the forbidden truth and he groaned in response as his lips trailed down your neck. 

He pulled back and pressed a kiss to your wanting lips. 

“I will protect you both,” he vowed and you nodded with tears in your eyes. 

His hands roamed your body possessively as his lips trailed down, lower. 

“I am still cross with you,” you said with a gasp, though it was difficult to sound serious as your body was filled with the pleasure only he can provide you. 

“Be cross with me. Tell me of it. Yell at me. Break my heart. Just be with me, allow me to be in your presence, allow me to love you. I thought I could survive this life without you, but I find it unbearable. Be mine, and mine alone,” he said passionately between kisses to your chest and stomach as he rucked up your nightgown, his voice low and fervent.

Your eyes filled with tears.

“Yes,” you gasped out.  

His mouth reached near your core and you tangled your fingers in his hair and forced him to look at you, to meet your gaze. 

“My heart has always, always, belonged to you and you alone. But tell me, my love. How do we survive this? How do we-” 

“Leave it to me,” he said darkly and he spread your legs before he licked you exactly where you so desperately wanted him. 

“Aemond,” you whimpered and you slapped a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans of pleasure as he gave you what you’d been dreaming of for years. 

“Good gods, I have craved your taste,” he groaned deeply into your dripping heat. 

You whimpered. 

His tongue circled your clit and your breath sped up as you neared your peak far quicker than you ever had before. Your body was desperate for him and just his presence was enough to make you come. 

“I’m going to-” 

He pulled back and you gasped in shock and anger that he would stop when you were so close. 

You sat up to better meet his gaze and he smirked. 

“Tell me you are mine,” he commanded. 

You took a shuddering breath. 

“I’m yours, yours, only yours, my love,” you whimpered. 

He growled low in his throat in satisfaction before he buried himself between your legs again. 

You fell back onto your back again and bit down on your hand to muffle your sounds as you came harder than you had in years. 

You panted as you attempted to catch your breath, but he didn’t give you any time as he crawled his way up your body and kissed you deeply. 

You wrapped your legs around his trim waist and he buried his hardened length deep inside you.

He moaned into your mouth as his tongue danced with yours. 

“You feel so good, so fucking perfect,” you groaned. 

“As do you, my love,” he murmured with a kiss to your jaw. 

He began slow thrusts that made you feel so perfectly full you couldn’t stop yourself from whining his name. 

Your hands roamed his body, you relished  in the feeling of his skin against yours and his tight muscles as he moved within you. 

“You are mine,” you whispered to him and he sped his thrusts as he groaned deeply.  

He hit the spot inside you that made your brain go fuzzy and you moaned loudly. 

He covered your mouth with his large hand and began to pound into you. 

You continued to whine, but your sounds were now muffled. 

No other words were needed as you stared deeply into his eye and his sapphire eye glimmered in the low firelight. 

You watched pleasure overtake his expression as he grew closer to his release. 

He pulled out of you and stroked himself, only a couple times, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, before he came and his seed spread across your stomach and chest. 

You reached for his arm and grabbed it before you yanked him down on top of you again and kissed him soundly. 

“I love you,” you whispered to him. 

“You are the love of my life,” he murmured and kissed you again. 

———

“I wish to see him,” Aemond whispered in your ear as his fingers traced gentle patterns across your bare stomach. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as it draped across his shoulder and spilled onto your chest and said, “I know, but it is late. And he is asleep.” 

“I will be quiet,” he said and you nodded, unable to keep him from his child, your own selfish heart also desired to see him meet his son for the first time. 

“Get dressed, then,” you said as you reached for your nightgown and placed it back on your body. 

He was quickly dressed and you took his hand and led him to the door that joined your room with little Ned’s. 

“Do not wake him, he is starting to speak and if he babbles something to Cregon about a white haired man in his room at night there will be hell to pay,” you whispered and Aemond smirked and nodded. 

You cracked open the door and as you saw him still sleeping you led your love into the room. 

You smiled as you looked upon your child sleeping so peacefully. 

You then looked up at Aemond and saw that he had unshed tears in his eye. 

“He is perfect. He looks so much like you, my love,” Aemond whispered as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You bit your lip as joyous tears made their way down your cheeks. 

“He looks like you as well, sometimes he looks at me and I swear he wears the exact same expressions as you,” you whispered with a smile in your voice. 

Aemond chuckled softly in joyous wonder. 

You tugged on his hand and led him back into your room and shut the door quietly behind you. 

Aemond was staring at you in awe. 

“When no one is around I call him my little dragon heart,” you said to him with a small, almost bashful, smile. 

He stepped closer to you and kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away. 

“I love you,” he groaned into your mouth as he led you back to your bed. 

His hands shed you of your clothing at breakneck speeds and you could hardly breathe as he gripped your waist and pushed you back onto the bed. 

“Aemond,” you gasped. 

“I love you,” he said again, his tone strong as he laid himself atop you and kissed you desperately. 

His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned as his fire once again filled you. 

“Aemond, I love you as well, but slow down-”, you whispered as he pulled back with a wild look in his eye. 

“I wish, no I need to fill you again. I need to fill you with my child again,” he panted and you could not deny the rush of arousal that flooded you at his words. 

“My love, we cannot. We must continue to take precautions. One white haired Stark child is dangerous enough, but two?” 

He took a deep breath and nodded. You placed your hand on his cheek and he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm. 

“Soon, I swear to you, I will remedy this and you and our child will be mine and mine alone. And I will fill you with my children until I can see you round with my child myself,” he promised and you whimpered in desire. 

“That is my true desire,” you said and he kissed you, softly this time. 

“You are perfect and so is our beautiful son you have brought into this world.” he said and you smiled. 

“My prince, how you flatter me,” you teased. 

“Hm,” was his only response before he kissed you again until you couldn’t think of any more teasing retorts. 

_____________

“Do you wish things could be different?” Helaena asked you the next morning as you sat in the private sanctuary of the Godswood with her, her children, and your child. 

You basked in the warm sunlight, something you got so little of in the north. 

“What does wishing do but cause pain?” you asked her and she nodded. 

Her children giggled as they ran around little Ned and he toddled after them. 

“Are there things you wish were different?” you asked her curiously. 

“I wish you were here more often, none of the other ladies of court are as kind as you,” she confessed and you reached over and squeezed her hand. 

“Truthfully, I wish for that as well.” 

“The children seem to be getting along well,” she observed and you laughed. 

“Yes, Ned doesn’t often get to play with other children so he’s thrilled.” 

“He’s so cute!” Jaehaera squealed as Ned giggled and chased after her. 

“Mother, is he our cousin?” Jaehaerys asked Helaena. 

You pursed your lips, you were worried something like this might happen. 

“No, he is a Stark,” his mother replied and he just stared at her confused. 

“But he looks like us? I thought only Targaryens had white hair,” he said with a bluntness that only children can achieve. 

You coughed awkwardly. 

“Uncle Aemond!” Jaehaera yelled in excitement as Aemond walked towards the group of you. 

The twins squealed and ran to him and little Ned trailed after them once again, but fell down and sat there while he watched them. 

“Hello, little ones, are you enjoying your day?” he asked them as both twins clung to each of his legs. 

They babbled over one another, each talking rapidly, and he grinned. 

“Uncle, uncle, look! Look at our new friend, little Ned! Isn’t he the cutest?” 

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys ran back to Ned and grabbed each of his hands and led him to Aemond. 

Aemond knelt down on the ground and smiled softly. 

“Hello,” he said gently.

Ned looked back at you and you nodded at him encouragingly. 

“Say Hi, Ned,” you urged and he grinned. 

“Hi!” he exclaimed and then promptly reached out and yanked Aemond’s long hair. 

You placed a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. 

Aemond chuckled as he reached out and detangled his hair from Ned’s chubby little fingers. 

“You are trouble, handsome boy,” Aemond teased and Ned and the other children giggled. 

Ned then ran over to you and threw himself on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair and hugged him.

“Did you say hello to Prince Aemond, my little dragon heart?” you asked him and he nodded at you with a grin. 

You did not miss the way Helaena looked at you in surprise at your words, but chose to ignore her for you knew she would never betray you and Aemond. 

The twins continued to bounce around Aemond as he strode over to where you and Helaena were sitting. 

“Aem-” Ned tried to say but looked at you in confusion as he forgot the second half of the word. 

“Aemond,” you said to him, slowly so he could imitate you and pronounce it. 

“Yes, my lady?” Aemond asked you cheekily and you smirked at him. 

“Aemond,” Ned said slowly and actually pronounced the word correctly. 

“Good job, my love,” you said and you kissed him on the cheek. 

“It is my name, do I not get a kiss as well?” Aemond asked and you shot him a reprimanding look that caused him to smirk. 

Your son slid from your lap and walked over to Aemond where he sat next to Helaena and climbed onto his lap with unexpected boldness. 

Aemond smiled and pushed his hair behind his shoulders where it would be safe from little hands before he held onto his son. 

You pressed your lips together and attempted to control your emotions as you watched your son sit on his father’s lap for the first time. 

“Aemond,” Ned said again as he reached for his father’s face. Aemond allowed the boy to caress his cheek and then did the same back to him. 

“Are you alright?” Helaena whispered to you and you realized you were crying. 

You sniffled and quickly wiped away the stray tears. 

“Yes of course,” you whispered back but as Aemond met your gaze you could tell he was feeling emotional as well. 

Soon, your son, being a typical little boy, got bored and wiggled off Aemond’s lap to once again run around with the twins. 

Aemond spent the better part of an hour with you, Helaena, and the children, and you felt happier than you had been in years. 

Before you left, you looked up at the Red Keep and saw your husband where he stood and watched you from a balcony. Your heart jumped into your throat and you worried about what all he had seen and whether or not he would put the pieces together and become doubtful and suspicious of you. 

He turned and left as soon as he saw you spotted him. 

________________

Your husband strode into your room that evening. 

You looked up at him in surprise. 

Honestly, you hadn’t seen much of him the entirety of this trip and you liked it that way. You also hoped against hope that he had only spotted you and Ned in the Godswood after Aemond left. 

“Good evening,” you said to him as he sat in the chair opposite you before the hearth. 

Ned sat on the floor and played with toys while he babbled. 

“I came to inform you that we shall be departing for Winterfell earlier than planned,” he said. 

“Why?” you asked carefully. 

“First you did not want to come and now you do not wish to leave? Is there no pleasing you, woman?” he asked sharply. 

You took a deep steadying breath to quell your temper. 

“Aemond,” Ned said with a giggle. 

Your heart stopped and you felt as if you could vomit from the tension. 

Cregon looked at him in shock and then at you with anger. 

“Why is he talking about the prince?” he asked, danger in his voice. 

“Oh, we spent time with the queen and her children today and the prince came for a while. He was learning all their names and it seems the prince’s name was easiest for him to remember and pronounce,” you said as casually as you could. 

“I see,” he said as if he didn’t believe you at all. 

“And did the king happen to come by as well?” he asked. 

You snorted, “Of course not.” 

“What is it you have against the king?” he asked in an accusing tone. 

You sighed. “I told you he is dangerous and you need to be careful around him.” 

“And what of the one eyed prince? Many say he is cruel and dangerous as well, yet you appear to be fine with him being near our son,” he said angrily. 

“I-I had no choice. What am I to say to a prince of the realm?” 

He huffed and glared at you, but you knew it meant he had no retort back and you had won the argument. 

His suspicion, however, worried and stressed you. 

You had told him, years ago, that you and Aemond were close as children like everyone said, but had a falling out when you were older so he would not question the tension between the two of you and instead write it off as being due to residual anger and hurt feelings. 

It seemed that lie was no longer enough to dissuade his concerns. Your marriage was a teetering tower of lies that only a gust of wind could topple. 

“The festivities come to a close tomorrow, we leave the day after,” he said firmly with a glare that prevented you from protesting, then he stormed out. 

That night when Aemond arrived in your chambers, you walked swiftly to him and clung to him. 

“He says we will be leaving for Winterfell the day after tomorrow, Aemond,” you said, near panic as you looked up at his face. 

He pressed his lips together in frustration. 

“Do not let him take me away again. I-I can’t survive it. I want to be with you. I want to be home. Aemond, I can’t, please-” you gasped out as hot tears fell from your eyes and streaked down your face. 

“Shhhh,” he held you tighter and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“I promised you I would protect you and our son, did I not?” he said calmly. 

You nodded, your face still pressed into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat calmed your frayed nerves. 

“This is a mere stumbling block to my plans, but one I shall resolve. You will not be forced to leave my side again, dear heart. I promise you that,” his voice was deep and reassuring as he rubbed your back. 

“He is suspicious,” you warned. 

“Do not fret. I shall handle it,” he said. 

You nodded and sniffled as you attempted to stop the tears. 

“I am scared,” you admitted in a small voice. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he placed a hand on your cheek and jaw and tilted your head up so you could meet his gaze. 

“Of course,” you breathed out. “With my life.” 

“Then trust in my promise,” he said gently. 

You nodded and he kissed you, soft and slow and reassuring. 

He deepened the kiss and as you tasted a mix of him and the saltiness of your tears, your worries began to melt away. 

To be continued….

Part Three    Epilogue