#early warning signals

[farmerstrend]

Diseases do Not Announce Their Arrival: Understanding and Preventing Poultry Diseases

In poultry farming, diseases pose a silent but ever-present threat to your flock. For most rural poultry farmers, the scourge of disease can lead to devastating consequences, ranging from financial losses to the eventual closure of operations. This article aims to educate poultry farmers on the causes, warning signs, and practical steps to mitigate poultry diseases effectively. The Heavy Cost of…

[bctdigitalai]

Stay Ahead of the Curve with BCT Digital's Early Warning Signals in Credit Monitoring

In the ever-evolving landscape of financial services, staying vigilant and proactive is essential for mitigating risks and safeguarding assets. One of the key elements in this endeavor is effective credit monitoring, which involves the continuous assessment of credit risk and the identification of potential red flags before they escalate into significant issues. At the forefront of this critical function stands BCT Digital, a leader in providing early warning signals in credit monitoring, empowering financial institutions to stay ahead of the curve and protect their interests.

Understanding Early Warning Signals in Credit Monitoring

Early warning signals are indicators that alert financial institutions to potential credit risk issues at an early stage, allowing them to take timely and appropriate actions to mitigate losses. These signals can vary depending on the nature of the lending activity, the borrower’s profile, and prevailing market conditions. Examples of early warning signals include deteriorating financial ratios, changes in repayment behavior, adverse economic trends, and regulatory changes. By monitoring these signals closely, financial institutions can identify emerging risks and implement proactive measures to address them before they escalate into defaults or losses.

BCT Digital’s Early Warning Signals in Credit Monitoring: Empowering Financial Institutions

Comprehensive Risk Assessment: BCT Digital’s early warning signals in credit monitoring enable financial institutions to conduct comprehensive risk assessments of their credit portfolios. Our advanced analytics and modeling techniques help identify potential credit risk issues, allowing institutions to prioritize their monitoring efforts and focus on areas of highest concern.

Real-time Monitoring: Time is of the essence in credit monitoring. BCT Digital’s solutions provide real-time monitoring of credit risk indicators, enabling financial institutions to detect emerging risks as soon as they arise. With automated alerts and notifications, institutions can stay informed about changes in borrower behavior, market conditions, and regulatory developments, allowing them to take proactive actions to mitigate risks.

Customizable Dashboards: BCT Digital’s solutions feature customizable dashboards that provide financial institutions with a holistic view of their credit portfolios. Institutions can track key performance indicators, monitor risk trends, and visualize data in real-time, enabling them to make informed decisions and respond quickly to emerging risks.

Predictive Analytics: Anticipation is the key to effective risk management. BCT Digital’s predictive analytics capabilities help financial institutions forecast future credit risk trends and identify potential risk hotspots before they materialize. By leveraging historical data, machine learning algorithms, and statistical models, institutions can anticipate credit risk events and take proactive measures to mitigate their impact.

Actionable Insights: BCT Digital’s early warning signals in credit monitoring provide actionable insights that enable financial institutions to make informed decisions and take timely actions. Institutions can access detailed reports, trend analyses, and risk assessments, empowering them to implement risk mitigation strategies, restructure loans, or initiate recovery efforts as needed.

Join the Credit Monitoring Revolution with BCT Digital

In an environment characterized by uncertainty and volatility, BCT Digital is your trusted partner for early warning signals in credit monitoring that drive real business outcomes. Whether you’re looking to enhance risk management, improve decision-making, or protect your bottom line, we have the expertise, experience, and resources to help you succeed.

Don’t wait for credit risks to escalate. Join the credit monitoring revolution with BCT Digital and stay ahead of the curve with our early warning signals solutions.

[justsaying4041]

Paying attention to the warning signs your body is sending you

Our bodies are incredible machines, constantly working to keep us alive and well. They also communicate with us when something is wrong, but it’s up to us to pay attention and respond. Ignoring the warning signs can lead to serious health issues, while acknowledging them early can prevent complications and ensure a healthier life. Recognizing the Signs The human body sends out various signals…

[rose-chateau]

TIL most ppl track their periods not to make sure they're having them but instead to be able to predict when they happen and i cannot for the life of me figure out why that is. Like what kind of herculean experience are you having that you need days worth of notice beforehand. Do you not carry menstrual products. Do you just need someone to hold your hand and tell you when your brain is being eaten by psychosis termites. Are you incapable of recalling any information about a monthly event you've been having since 6th grade. What.

[dontlistentothemmoose]

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol* moon’s stuck in a time loop. do you have extra ammo? this won’t be enough. nasa employee: enough for…what? astronaut: *finding extra clip of ammo, pocketing it, and getting back on the rocket-ship* don’t worry about it!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *emerging from supply closet with a space harpoon, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut:   oh hey u guys are back early astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: what?  nasa employee: how did you know what i was going to say?  astronaut: *punching in key pad code for base evacuation signal, getting back on the rocket-ship* i told you…moon’s stuck in a time loop. *red warning lights begin flashing*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *rifling thru bookshelf of operating instructions, selecting one that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. hey, do you have anything to eat? i’m starving. *opens random drawer, finds nothing, closes it* nasa employee: a time loo- uh, we don’t have food in here…we can’t…eat in the control room, only the break-room. astronaut: *sighs* nasa employee:…my lunch is in like 10 minutes, though, and if my lunch is actually STILL THERE and not STOLEN, AGAIN, i can share it with yo- astronaut: nah, that’s ok…no time. *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* or…too much time. but thanks, anyway. OK, bye! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: you’re…welcome? wait, a TIME LOOP?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: yup. nasa employee: …?  astronaut: *sitting down next to nasa employee* so…do you ever like…wonder what the meaning of life is? the secrets of the universe? nasa employee: aren’t you supposed to be ON the MOON?! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: hey, what the hell is that? astronaut: that’s the code red override klaxon. moon’s stuck in a time loop. oh, and there’s an explosion imminent. But don’t worry, we can deal with that tomorrow. So, you have any siblings? *pulls beer out of space suit, cracks tab* want a drink?

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: do you know frank in IT? nasa employee: what?  astronaut: do you know frank, who works in IT?  nasa employee: yeah, but why are you guys back so early?  astronaut: moon’s stuck in a time loop. call frank, tell him there’s a virus in the security patch and the system’s compromised. then get the hell out of the base.  nasa employee: wait what? what? where are you guys going?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* back to the moon. it’s stuck in a time loop. call frank!  nasa employee: *picks up phone* ugh, straight to voicemail. i wonder wha- *alarm begins blaring*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: *grim silence* nasa employee: i said, you guys are back early…hey, what are you…?  astronaut: *randomly opening drawers until they find a pair of scissors and some duct tape, getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. *sticks head back out the door of the rocket-ship* by the way, if you go to the break-room in exactly 2 minutes and 45 seconds, you’ll catch the person who’s been stealing your lunches for the past two weeks. nasa employee: what?! WHO IS IT?! *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: *running for the break-room* FUCK!!!!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *sits down, sighs, pulls a beer out from their spacesuit* moon’s stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: …ok, and? hang on, how did you get a beer? you can’t have that in here. astronaut: what do you know about project floyd? nasa employee: I mean, the usual amount? i’m not really on the project anymore, why?  *alarm begins blaring*  astronaut: COME WITH ME TO THE ROCKET-SHIP, we don’t have ti-

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: yeah. moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *loading a pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. see you tomorrow. maybe. nasa employee: WHAT?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what?  astronaut: *sighs, rubs hands over face, and loads pistol, before getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop. and, uh…you should call your mother like you’ve been meaning to. and tell her you’re not actually mad and that you will come to dinner tonight. you’re gonna be hungry. nasa employee: wait, what? WHAT?? how do you know my mom?! why am i gonna be - *alarm begins blaring* 

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” starting to get back on the rocket-ship, but dropping everything with a horrendous clatter* FUCK! goddamn moon’s stuck in a time loop. *alarm begins blaring*

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back early  astronaut: moon's stuck in a time loop.  nasa employee: what? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop.

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-  astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*  nasa employee: what? WHAT?! astronaut: *loading a single pistol and getting back on the rocket-ship* moon’s stuck in a time loop, sweetheart.  nasa employee: what?!? astronaut: a time loop!!! i love you!!! get out of the base!!! stay alive!!! nasa employee: *presses fingers to lips, confused but intrigued, as alarm begins blaring* 

nasa employee:…. nasa employee:… nasa employee: ho hum what a regular day at the office *alarm begins blaring* nasa employee: what the hell is that?!

nasa employee: oh hey u guys are back earl-  astronaut: *grabs nasa employee and kisses them passionately*  nasa employee: what? what?! WHAT!?!? also, hey, where’d you get that duffel bag? astronaut: *grabbing two pistols, an extra box of ammo, a pair of scissors, some duct tape, a space harpoon, and a booklet of operating instructions that says “AIRLOCK MANUAL OVERRIDE INSTRUCTIONS,” shoving them into the bag, then cupping nasa employee’s cheek with free hand* moon’s stuck in a time loop. nasa employee: the moon’s stuck in a what?! astronaut: a time loop, sweetheart, but we don’t have much time ourselves, so you have to listen to me RIGHT now nasa employee: *faintly* …“sweetheart”?! astronaut: in 2 minutes and a few seconds, you need to go into the break-room and find frank. nasa employee: wait, frank from IT? astronaut: yes. nasa employee: how do you know he’s gonna be in the break-room? i can’t just call him at his desk right now? astronaut: how do i know this?! because, one, time loop, ok? and…also…because…heismaybetheguywhohasbeenstealingyourlunchfortwoweeks nasa employee: that BASTARD i KNEW it astronaut: BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT’S IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW. hey! listen to me! go in there, catch him red-handed with your burrito, and tell him lunch is on you FOREVER if he goes RIGHT NOW and checks the last security patch - because there’s a virus and the whole system’s compromised. then you need to get the hell out of this base, ok? nasa employee: …ok. ok. and…and what about you? astronaut: *cocking pistol and getting back into rocket-ship with duffel bag* me? i’m gonna shoot for the moon.

EPILOGUE:

nasa employee: so, how many loops in total? astronaut: i mean, it was hard to keep track. somewhere around six months, if i had to guess. nasa employee: damn. astronaut: yeah. nasa employee: and in those six MONTHS, the best zinger you came up with was “shoot for the moon”? astronaut: hey, you know what, i had some other stuff on my mind! nasa employee: i mean, i guess. it sounded like you found time to flirt with me each time. astronaut: yeah, like i said. other stuff on my mind. *they look at each other, blush, and look away* astronaut: sooooooo. you’re sure your mom is cool with me coming over for dinner? nasa employee: can’t make the day any weirder. plus, i owe you for ratting out frank, right? astronaut: he did help us save the world; we can’t be too mad at him. nasa employee: you’ve had a little while to get over it, i might need some more time. and it wasn’t even your food! astronaut: ok, that’s fair. what if i buy you lunch to make up for it? nasa employee: hmm, when? astronaut: tomorrow? nasa employee: well, i’ll have left overs from my mom, and you might too if you play your cards right. day after tomorrow? astronaut: honestly, anytime is good for me.

*FADE TO BLACK*

[nursing-and-wellness23]

It's important not to ignore signs or symptoms in the hope that they will go away. Different people have varying attitudes towards seeking medical attention, with some seeking help at the first sign of a problem while others postpone it even when the symptoms could be linked to dangerous conditions. In the medical world, signs are observable by others, such as a rash or elevated blood sugar levels, while symptoms are experienced by the individual and cannot be seen or measured. Symptoms can indicate an underlying illness, injury, or medical condition and are categorized as remitting (improving or disappearing), relapsing (previously resolved symptoms returning), or chronic (long-lasting).

Certain symptoms require immediate medical attention. These include chest pain or pressure that radiates to the jaw or upper back, shortness of breath, intense headaches, severe allergic reactions (anaphylaxis), unexplained weight loss, unusual bleeding, sores or wounds that won't heal, intense flashes of light or increased floaters in the eyes, swelling of the legs without injury, sudden or severe abdominal pain, fever above 103 degrees Fahrenheit or a persistent lower grade fever, sudden confusion or change in mental status, severe dizziness, chronic fatigue accompanied by other concerning symptoms, changes in bowel movements or habits, weakness, numbness, tingling, or facial droop (symptoms of stroke), changes to the breast or nipples, and suicidal thoughts or feelings of worthlessness.

It's crucial to know your body and recognize when something feels different or wrong. Not all conditions have noticeable symptoms, and some may only manifest in later stages. Therefore, it's important to pay attention to changes, no matter how subtle, and communicate with your doctor about how you're feeling. Ignoring symptoms may delay diagnosis and treatment, so it's essential to listen to your body's signals and seek appropriate medical care.

It's important not to ignore signs or symptoms in the hope that they will go away. Different people have varying attitudes towards seeking medical attention, with some seeking help at the first sign of a problem while others postpone it even when the symptoms could be linked to dangerous conditions. In the medical world, signs are observable by others, such as a rash or elevated blood sugar levels, while symptoms are experienced by the individual and cannot be seen or measured. Symptoms can indicate an underlying illness, injury, or medical condition and are categorized as remitting (improving or disappearing), relapsing (previously resolved symptoms returning), or chronic (long-lasting).

Certain symptoms require immediate medical attention. These include chest pain or pressure that radiates to the jaw or upper back, shortness of breath, intense headaches, severe allergic reactions (anaphylaxis), unexplained weight loss, unusual bleeding, sores or wounds that won't heal, intense flashes of light or increased floaters in the eyes, swelling of the legs without injury, sudden or severe abdominal pain, fever above 103 degrees Fahrenheit or a persistent lower grade fever, sudden confusion or change in mental status, severe dizziness, chronic fatigue accompanied by other concerning symptoms, changes in bowel movements or habits, weakness, numbness, tingling, or facial droop (symptoms of stroke), changes to the breast or nipples, and suicidal thoughts or feelings of worthlessness.

It's crucial to know your body and recognize when something feels different or wrong. Not all conditions have noticeable symptoms, and some may only manifest in later stages. Therefore, it's important to pay attention to changes, no matter how subtle, and communicate with your doctor about how you're feeling. Ignoring symptoms may delay diagnosis and treatment, so it's essential to listen to your body's signals and seek appropriate medical care.

[barbieaemond]

Religion

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst, misogyny, banter, pregnancy, childbirth, oral sex, p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, dry humping, overstimulation, brief lactation kink, breeding kink, manipulation (to get some), some good ol' tying up, slandering of the Gods lol

Author's note: this is the third and final part following And I dream of a grave and A curse for a curse but can be read as a standalone. Just keep in mind that Aemond did not cheat on his wife while in Harrenhal. He used Alys only for her visions.

Word count: 13k. Ye have to suffer for your smut darlin'

MASTERLIST | English is not my first language.

taglist: @multyfangirl @ladystarksneedle @arcielee @darylandbethfanforever9 @zaldritzosrose @alphard-hydraes-blog

Her mother had come to King’s Landing three days after she gave birth. Peering through the door, the Princess didn’t know if the woman was more surprised to finally see a baby safely tucked between her daughter’s arms or to witness that she was still breathing. She had chosen to believe both.

Since she was a little girl, she had been instructed in what was coming, for her and all the girls like her: how to serve men, how to serve the Realm. She knew pregnancy could be a time of great distress, physical and otherwise, and for her, it turned out to be nothing more than that.

She spent the first moons plagued by sickness, glaring at the Maesters who told her that morning sickness was perfectly normal. It would've been, if only it had lasted the hours the sun was at its highest. Instead, she couldn’t keep down her breakfast, just like her lunch, or dinner. She had lost weight, she couldn’t stand any kind of smell with the risk of rushing to her pot and empty her stomach.

Then, on one fine morning, while she was walking the gardens with two of her maids, she had suddenly bent over, hissing with pain while clutching her maid’s arm, dreading the trickle running down her thighs.

The Maesters said occasional bleedings might happen, that she only needed to rest and take some tonic to strenghten her body. But that day signaled the end of her peace and the beginning of her confinement.

Because clearly, at the first sign of something going wrong, slipping out of his control, Aemond would panic, albeit showing none of it, standing as tall and stoic as ever and somehow more than he’d ever done now that the Conqueror’s Crown weighted on his head. But she knew better. She knew how to look through all his walls. She knew he was scared—for her, for the baby, for his sister, for his whole family. It was simply too much for a single person to carry all of that on their shoulders. And it was precisely for that reason that she didn’t object to any of his orders. After all, she couldn’t. He was the King now, even if he didn’t choose to style himself as such.

Thus, her chambers became her prison.

Cobwebs didn’t have time to grow because she was quick enough to point them out to the servants. She was aware of the slight drop in the stone tiles just behind the terrace, as of the strategic point where to linger to gain some cool breeze from the sea. She knew the baby liked to sleep upside down in the early afternoon, occasionally kicking hard as he, or she, settled comfortably in her womb.

Aemond had picked some books for her, mostly about history, having her yawning at the third page. She had tried needle work, putting all her good will into it for the sake of doing something, and she had deliberately chosen to believe she was undeniably good at it. But that was a very generous lie. 

“What is that supposed to be exactly?” Aemond asked one day, peeking over her shoulder as he reached her on the terrace.

She didn’t look up, keeping her eyes fixed on her embroidery tambour, working the needle in and out. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He leaned down until she felt the long silver strands tickling her head and even without turning, she could feel him grimacing. “A bird?”

At that, she had raised her head, reading all the disbelief on his face. “It is a dragon. For the cradle.”

Aemond had simply furrowed his brow, unable for the life of him to consider what he saw as something even remotely resembling a dragon. But he thought better than to anger his pregnant wife, given her late sour spirit, but especially in light of how fiercely she had started to stick the needle in, likely picturing to stick it into him instead. He had built the most fake pleasant smile he could master and said “Very well. Excellent work, my love.”

“Thank you, husband.”

The trouble was that, as time went by, she only became sourer. She grew more and more uncomfortable, too tight in her own skin. Her back hurt, her breasts hurt, and she was starting to believe she was carrying a real dragon, with fangs and all; she had no other explanation for how hot she constantly felt, forced to lie in a thin white chemise all the time, despite the winds carrying the winter.

But maybe there was another reason why her spirits were so low and sour. She had come to learn that pregnancy affected every aspect of her life, including the most pleasant one.

She would grow wet for a kiss. She would close her legs and rub them together upon seeing him rise from the bathtub. She would moan into his mouth if he so much as grazed her nipples with his knuckles. But as she grew bigger and bigger, along with the discomfort, kisses and some intimate brushing were all she would get from him. Aemond had grown distant, not only with his presence, due to all the duties he had to fulfill wearing the Crown, but even when he was there, in their chambers, sleeping next to her, she felt him leagues and leagues away.

“Pregnancy is a very hard time for a woman.” The Dowager Queen had said to her “It is overwhelming to think that you are never alone and yet...somehow you are.”

She’d never understood what her good mother meant until she was confined to her chambers, alone with her thoughts and her fears. She didn’t expect Aemond to do something, this was women’s business. And she knew his reluctance to lie with her rested solely on concern and love for her.

No matter how much he craved to take her, he had decided to put his husband’s rights away for the delicate final moons until the baby was born. He still felt guilty, for Harrenhal, for the witch, for forsaking her only to get drunk on visions and prophecies. Yet, those visions turned out to be true. He had shut that voice in his head and tried to make amends. But they didn’t have the time to mend themselves together, to knit all the distrust and suspicions into something good; the baby was coming, and it seemed he or she did nothing but grow them more apart. 

He saw how tired she was, how some days she couldn’t even get out of bed. And how useless he felt when he would catch her crying, like that night when he found her all alone on the terrace at the hour of the owl.

She was sitting on her chaise filled with cushions when Aemond walked around her. Given the state of his white shirt and hair, he had likely just awakened and hadn’t found her beside him.

“What are you doing out here? You will catch a cold.”

“I cannot sleep.” she had kept her eyes far, on the Black Water Bay, far from him. But he saw them anyway, her reddened eyes.

“You cannot stay here in your condition.” He said almost tiredly, but when she didn’t even blink at his words, he called her name, with the tone he used in the Throne Room.

“Aemond, please.” She whispered, turning her head. “I—” she bit her tongue, unwilling to put this on him, but she knew he wouldn’t let go until she was safely back in bed. So, she said “I don’t want to hear her.”

It took him less than a moment to understand what she meant. Helaena. Helaena who lost a child, who saw her flesh and blood horribly murdered before her eyes. Helaena who couldn’t stop wailing in the dead of night.

She had looked at him, seeing that torn thing, broken and raw like a split wound; shame and guilt and rage all at once. Then, he lowered himself onto his knees until he took her cold hands and squeezed them tight. His mouth opened, but she was faster. “Don’t say it.”

You cannot keep such a promise, you cannot keep us safe. No matter how many times you say it. But she wouldn’t take that solace away from him, not that plainly. The more he said it, the more he seemed to believe it. So be it.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked, and there was a beautiful, heartbreaking desperation in his hushed voice. “Tell me what to do.”

She had built a convincing smile, running her hand through his loose hair and pushing some strands back. “Go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

Her spirits during the day would slightly improve. And between the Council and some hearings in the Throne Room, he always saved some time to go visit her in their chambers. She didn’t seem to enjoy being watched like a toddler, but deep down she cherished his concern. She cherished the way his hands would gently hold her own, or caress her hair, her belly. She found it hard to believe those hands could bestow such reverence and violence at the same time. And even in his absence, he managed to ensure she always had anything she needed. Even blackberries in early autumn.

“Myra, where have you been?” She asked in a late afternoon, when one of her most loyal maids entered her chambers after disappearing for the whole day.

The young girl had an awful look. She seemed exhausted, as if she had walked the entirety of Flea Bottom, twice. “Apologies, my Princess. It took me quite a while to find blackberries.”

“Seven Hells, it is only a craving. You did not have to go all the way through King’s Landing to find me blackberries.”

"No, I-I ought to.”

The Princess paused, frowning at the young girl. “Did someone else tell you that you ought to?”

“Well…yes…” the maid said, sinking her gaze to the floor “The King—uhm Prince Regent.”

She sighed deeply, and with heavy steps, she walked towards the terrace; her maid was immediately at her side to help her. “What did he tell you?” the Princess asked as they reached the chair outside.

The girl waited for her to sit, slowly and awkwardly given her big belly; then, a little timidly, she said “He…ordered me to go look for blackberries and not to…bother coming back if I didn’t find them.”

The Princess rolled her eyes in quite an unlady-like manner, “How in the name of Seven did he know about it?” She asked, grimacing as she desperately tried to find a comfortable position. “I have barely seen him this morning.”

The young maid helped her, fixing some cushions behind her back and whispered “The White Cloak at the door…I suspect he reports everything to his Grace.”

The notion didn’t seem to strike her that much, or maybe she was too tired, too uncomfortable and too hot to comment on the matter, or even scoff at it.

She grabbed a fan from her maid’s hands and unceremoniously shook her shoes off, placing her swollen feet on the cool tiles. Closing her eyes, she basked in that small relief; the floor was cold, the sun was about to set, and the baby was sleeping.

According to the Maesters, her time was close. She was eager to meet this little person but in truth, she just wanted it to end. She hated having no control over her body, her spirits, her marriage. She missed being a wife and being treated as such, not just as the mother of his child. She had come to think that, deep down, any woman felt that way, but they were forced to hide everything behind a joyful smile while sinking to their knees to thank the Mother. Wasn’t that the sole purpose of any girl in the world? To bleed on a birthing bed? Wasn’t that the way men measured women’s value?

She swallowed hard as the question spun in her head. Am I finally worthy of you, Aemond?

She wouldn’t dare ask him. 

“What is it? Are you unwell?”

She was too lost in her thoughts to even hear his footsteps on the terrace. As her gaze flew up, she read the deep concern on his face, all lumped in the steep furrow between his eyebrows. He must’ve seen her grimacing, thinking she was in some pain. She was, but she was too much of a coward to tell him.

She resumed her fanning, averting her gaze and stretching her legs out further on the floor. “I feel like I’m boiling.”

“Yes, I can see that.” He deadpanned, raking his eye over her disheveled state; sprawled on that chair with her legs slightly open, her white chemise all crumpled and unbuttoned, and a bead of sweat on the forehead, in the crevice of her swollen breasts. He thought the times when a mere look at this woman would make him hard were gone once the novelty of having a wife, someone rightly and thoroughly his, had dissipated. He was wrong.

“I’m well aware of my lack of decency.” She replied, seeing how he was staring, the little inquiring curve in his eyebrow. “I’m afraid I care very little about decency at this moment. Blame it on your son.”

His lips curled up, watching her gather her loose hair with one hand while she kept fanning herself quickly with the other.

“Are you still inclined to believe for certain that it’s a boy?”

“I know it’s a boy. Only men can be this insufferable.”

That little smile on his lips lingered, deepened, and then he moved, going to stand behind her. “Let me.” He said, and took her hair between his hands. She couldn’t see what he was doing but got the gist as she felt his deft fingers moving and her neck free to get some air. When he walked around the chaise to sit beside her, she saw that his hair was loose. He had tied her hair with the black lace he always wore to prevent the silver strands from ending up in front of his eye.

She loved to see him like this: hair loose, eyepatch lost somewhere in a drawer, sitting next to her, even without saying a word. The sapphire seemed to match his eye, glowing a soft violet under the setting sun. She felt that familiar lump in her throat, as she stared at him, a restless thing flowing through her whole body, demanding to be released only to be trapped under her teeth, biting down her lower lip, starved and yearning.

“A little bird told me you put a hound on my trail.” she said at one point, shutting her little fan.

Aemond didn’t look surprised to acknowledge that she knew. He had actually ventured with himself about how long it would have taken her to realise he was spying on her every move.

“You are well aware of my duties now.” He said, turning his head to look at her. But not quite. His eye seemed to linger everywhere at once, fleeting, snatching a look here and there, her legs, her sweated neck, her belly…his own testament, as if she wasn’t one already.

You left your mark on her just as she did on you. Those were Alys’ words, at which he had ugly sneered. And she had laughed at the sight, eerily, as someone who owned the truth. I’m your spoil of war and yet, you speak to me ten paces away. What are you afraid of, Kinslayer? That your skin would burn like brimstone if you touched another woman?

“Besides,” he resumes “any lady would be flattered by her husband’s genuine concern.”

“You could flatter me in different ways.” was her prompt answer and she moved incredibly fast, given her impediment, getting close to him until she filled his nostrils. She smelled different since she was pregnant. A thick smell, musky. She tasted differently. Sweeter and somehow sourer. He swallowed at the mere memory. “We have talked about this.”

“And I’ve talked to the Maesters.”

His head spun around, forcing her to stifle a smile at his ever strictly reserved nature.

“They said there’s nothing wrong, or remotely dangerous, if we…engage in our conjugal duties.”

He tried to ignore her hand, her fingers traveling up his arm like a spider’s legs. “Did you need the Maesters to learn that?”

“No, but you do. You hang on their lips…I wish you hung on mine.”

Aemond heard her voice dropping a tone, and dropped his chin down, looking at her hand roving on his chest, shamelessly slipping beneath his dark green doublet, skin to skin. She glided on his planes slowly, making sure to trap one of his nipples in the little hollow between her index and middle.

“I don’t need them to know about my private matters.” He said mindlessly, trying to hold a grip on his thoughts.

“Seven Hells. It baffles me to witness how prudish you desperately want to appear while I perfectly know how debauched you really are, to the bone.”

“My debauchery is confined to these four walls.”

“Oh, is it? What about that time on our way to the Grand Sept?” She tilted her head, so she was talking almost in his ear. “Do you remember?”

Her hand on his chest was burning, or was it his own skin? His own flesh simmering wherever she touched him.

“Don’t do that.” She whispered when she saw his long legs cross. “Let me see. You have condemned me to do nothing else.”

His eye chased her hand as she grabbed his knee and pushed to uncross his legs, so that she could see, the outline of his cock through the breeches, see how he ached for her. “Do you remember what you did in the wheelhouse?” She asked again, looking at him; the sapphire was the only thing flashing violet now. His eye was pitch black.

“You put your hand beneath my gowns…” she said and her hand slid up against his thigh “you grabbed me, harshly.” And she did the same, forcing his mouth open and a shallow breath out of his throat. “And you grinned…because my garments were soaked.” he closed his eye for a moment, perhaps recalling, or maybe because her hand was moving, palming all his length through the breeches.

“And then you slipped your fingers underneath…” and again, she did just so, unbuckling his belt and sinking her hand in. He opened his eye, and basked in what he saw: that sort of silent, desperate plea in the little wrinkle between her eyebrows, in her heaving chest, in the way she was rubbing her legs together.

Thus, just when she was about to grab him, he grabbed her wrist instead and crashed his mouth against hers with a low growling sound. She could do nothing but moan, giving him open room to slip his tongue in and taste every corner, driving his body closer and closer, but not too much as to crush her.

She, on the other hand, felt free, finally, to roam, to rummage. Her hands grabbed and pulled everywhere, at his doublet, the collar, the buttons, the thin white shirt underneath it all, until everything was loose, and she was free to touch him, all the while making the sweetest wanton sounds, close to desperate whines. “Please, Aemond…” she begged freely, holding his face “just this once…please…”

He shushed her with another harsh kiss and with a free hand, he clutched her white nightgown into his fist, pulling up, enough to stick his arm between her legs. She spread them for him, panting with anticipation, and stopped breathing altogether when he cupped her core with the large palm of his hand. Aemond trapped her lower lip with his teeth, biting softly upon feeling how wet she was, dripping on his fingers, so much that he wished to fall on his knees and wipe it clean with his tongue.

“Please…” she breathed, barely rocking her hips to urge him to touch her.

“Hush.” he said, and curled his fingers, brushing his fingertips against her centre, gaining a delicious wince from her. “Tell me of the wheelhouse.”

She smiled breathlessly, her eyes hungry and heavy, full of lust. “It was the first time I wore green.” she started to tell. “We were still betrothed. I wanted to impress you.”

“Hmm. You certainly did.” He remarked, watching her closely while rubbing his index pad against her entrance, teasingly, making her squirm. “Go on.”

She felt like burning, her face hot for the sun, the baby, the ache in her lower belly, stirring and coiling. “You told the White Cloak to take another round…” she said, breathing with her mouth open. “You grabbed my waist and forced me on your lap.”

“And you pushed me away. Twice.” he’d laughed, flashing a grin that made her willing to shove him away, to pull him closer. “What a farse you put on.” he continued, leaving a chaste kiss on her neck that resulted in her writhing some more, pushing her pelvis against his hand. “I had to cover your mouth for your mewling. You were so fucking loud.”

It was then that he finally granted her some mercy, slipping one finger inside her drenched lips, spilling a long gasp from her.

“No. Not quite.” He observed cruelly and slid another finger, this time gaining a proper loud moan. “That’s more like it.”

His two fingers started to pump slowly, and yet she was making the lewdest sounds he’d ever spilled from her, arching her back as far as she could, scrunching her face almost in pain and pulling at his collar, twisting, as if he were torturing her instead of giving her pleasure. She made his cock stir painfully, his teeth grind for the ache, for the fact that she was coating his whole hand. “Easy now…” he warned her, his tone all husky. “You don’t want to come already, do you? ‘Tis the only thing you’ll get from me, sweetling…you better make it last.” 

She whined in annoyance, forcing another grin on his ruthless lips, and with that same ruthlessness, he slowed his ministrations, only to cup one of her breasts with his free hand, squeezing softly until the thin, silky fabric slipped down, revealing her pink, swollen nipple. “I must say…I’m relieved you will summon a wet nurse…so these will be all mine.”

She had to stifle a breathless laugh at that. “Being jealous of your child is a bit too much, even for you…”

“Oh, my love” he crooned, freeing the other breast “I am jealous of the clothes on your skin.”

Wasting no time, he wrapped his lips around her nipple, causing her to arch against him once more, one hand flying down his shoulder, fisting his doublet, twisting it as he swirled his tongue and hummed with delight dripping from his tone, as if he were tasting honey, and the sweetest ever made.

His fingers resumed their frantic rhythm, sinking deep inside and stretching, hitting that special spot that made her sight go black, reduced to a mess of sweat coating every inch of her skin and a string of moans growing hoarse and high-pitched.

“Are you close? Hmm?” he rasped “How about another? Can you take another for me?”

He slipped a third finger in, causing her to wince and cling to his shoulders with her mouth open in a silent scream. “Good girl.” He praised at the sight. He wished he could savor it for a little longer, he wished to keep doing that again and again, until the sun went down and rose again, until there was nothing but ruin around them.

But she was so close now, he could feel it in her tensed arms around his shoulders, in her clenching walls around his hand, and quite frankly, the ache in his breeches was unbearable, twitching at every moan and squelching sound of his fingers inside her flesh. 

She came loudly, curling her ankles on the ground and writhing in his hold as if in a delirium. He kept her still, his hand buried inside her, feeling the quick pulsing that rivaled the one in her heart. And he watched her, gasping for air and throwing her head back, utterly spent, hair all sticked to her forehead. In his eye she had never looked this beautiful.

He pulled his fingers out, making her wince slightly, and brought them to her mouth, smearing her spent desire on her own lips, like the final touch to a painting. And then he kissed her, humming at her bittersweet taste. He held her face gently, grabbing her jaw and angling her head to taste her better, eliciting a blissful sigh from the back of her throat that made his hardness throb. As if she had felt that, her hand had slipped between them with purpose, sinking past all his layers and taking hold of him.

She rejoiced in the little whimper he gave her, and started to work her hand up and down, making it impossible for him to kiss her any further, if not for a sloppy and panting mess of spit and teeth. 

Given the unbearable pressure building past his navel, he knew he wouldn’t last long. And she knew that too. But she didn’t want to have him this way. Awkwardly, she stood up and spread his legs to make herself some room, but as soon as Aemond, despite the lack of blood in his mind, caught her intentions, he stopped her, grabbing her arms firmly.

“No…” he croaked. “Not on your knees.”

She couldn’t help the little surprise on her face. Aemond had never been this considerate, especially in bed. He could be gentle in his own way, subtly. Little hidden things in the way he would run his fingers through her hair once she had reached her peak, the way he would regain air once he’d spilled inside her, breathing into her neck and running his lips lazily against her skin. But most of the times, he was very diligent, all focused in giving her and himself the pleasure they both craved; he was somehow harsh, ruthless, a mirror of who he was outside the bedroom, possessed by some kind of urgency that would break her in the most beautiful and cruel way and put her back together at once.

But then again, she imagined the promise of his heir living inside her was affecting even one of the most ruthless of men.

She sat down again and watched him stand up, his breath labored and open-mouthed as he looked down at her, working the few laces of his breeches still tied. She didn’t need an invitation, an order, a mere tilt of his chin to sit upright and put her hands alongside his snatched waist.

She looked up, and he found himself swallowing hard, cursing silently at the sight of her looking straight into his eye with his cock a breath away from her, all hard and glistening on the tip. Shamefully, he thought that would have done it for him.

A coarse grunt left his lips as soon as she wrapped her mouth around it, teasingly swirling her tongue on the slit without ever averting her gaze from him. He hissed painfully when her lips started to travel along his length, trying with all his might to hold back and not spill into her mouth so soon.

She, on the other hand, seemed eager to watch him come undone, just as he had done to her a few moments earlier. She started to suck him eagerly, like a starved creature, because on all those nights and days when he had taken her apart, learning every inch of her and how to bend it to his will, she had done just the same.

She knew how to make him wince and moan openly, while on her knees on their bedroom floor or on a fucking terrace during a late afternoon, with likely anyone to walk on them at any moment. With the Gods watching.

She didn't care. The Gods didn't care for them anyway. Let them see to whom she fell to her knees.

He couldn’t stop looking, how pretty she was like this, swallowing him whole, up to the hilt, hitting her throat with a gagging sound. So lecherous, so holy.

He was so close he had to bite his lip to restrain himself, letting out a string of curses until he felt the pressure growing stronger, and then, he thought, he might as well have it his way.

“Stop…” he croaked, grabbing her cheek but delicately, slipping out of her mouth and running his thumb over her sore jaw. She closed her slicked mouth, a drop of spit running down her chin and she looked at him, with such devotion he thought he had nothing to envy the Gods.

“Let me…” he pleaded, wiping her chin clean with his finger. “Let me fuck your mouth, sweetling. Would you?”

A question that needed no answer. Indeed, he wasted no time and grabbed the back of her head, tilting it slightly up for a better angle. He sheathed himself all the way in, gasping deeply at feeling the hot walls of her mouth, her cheeks hollowing.

His fingers curled into her hair, but never in a hurtful way, enough to keep her still as he started to move his hips against her face back and forth, his open mouth quivering as the pleasure began to build where it left off.

“Fuck—” he cursed once, and then twice, fucking her mouth faster to chase his peak, pulling ever so slightly at her scalp until he went still altogether, pushed his waist hard against her, and grunted loudly, in a pretty uncharacteristic way, as his cock twitched and spilled down her throat until the last drop.

Panting harshly, he pulled himself out and watched her close her mouth, eyes fixed on him, working her cheeks and making no mystery of the white essence on her tongue before swallowing it, thoroughly.

Aemond let himself fall on that chaise and she watched, she drank that sight: his hair all disheveled and damp with sweat, a shade of pink on his cutting cheekbones as he slowly pulled himself together, breathing through his open mouth while buckling his belt and breeches.

“I think I’m going to take a bath.” She said at one point, clumsily standing up. He had mumbled something in return, still caught in the throes of what they had done, but before she got back inside, she turned and said “Oh, just so you know…all of this was a ploy.”

She smiled cunningly at his frowning. “I never had any cravings. And I knew about the White Cloak at the door since the first day you put him there. You are not as subtle as you think you are, my love.”

A man of few words, but loud actions.

Her pains came during a peaceful afternoon.

In haste, nursemaids began their frantic rounds in and out of the Princess’ rooms like soldiers, carrying hot water and boiled rags. The Dowager Queen abandoned her perch beside Queen Helaena, or what was left of her, and went to assist the Princess. Having borne four children, she had quite a bit of advice to dispense, things she had learned on her own skin, things that any Master would never have told her because oblivious and convinced they knew what happened to a woman's body at such a delicate time based on how deep they had buried their nose in an old dusty tome.

Alicent helped the Princess rise from the bed, clutched her arm firmly and helped her walk. She said it was vital to walk, that it would ease her pain and help the baby come sooner. She told her to squat when the pain hit. She rubbed her back and wiped the sweat off her face as if she were her own daughter. It felt like that. Even though the Princess seemed to face it all with a stiff lip, Alicent could see that she was scared and in terrible pain, that she probably wished for her mother to be there. She had wished the same, no matter how many times she had faced it.

“Your Grace?” The Princess asked after another wave of pain had come and gone.

“Yes, child?”

“Do you think your son would forgive me If I said this one is both the first and the last?”

The Queen had smiled at that. “If the Gods bless you with more children, it will be easier, I can assure you. The first time is always rough. But it shouldn’t be long now.”

Well, her good mother turned out to be wrong. Because the pain plagued her for a full night, giving her no peace. At the hour of the nightingale, the nursemaids forced her to bed, and she gladly went. She was exhausted, she could no longer walk without hissing at every step, and by that time she was so used to the pain she no longer whined or anything, only scrunched her face and ground her teeth.

The servants stripped her bare and replaced her sweat-soaked nightgown with a fresh one. They dabbed her face with a wet cloth, but she could barely register anything, floating into unconsciousness only to be brought back to the present as another pain choked her breath.

“Perhaps some Milk of the Poppy?” One of the nurses said at one point.

“No.” the Maester said. “She may need to start pushing any moment now. We need her vigil.”

Her heavy-lidded eyes opened, wandering helplessly around the room. Useless research, for she knew he wouldn’t be there. She didn’t expect him to be. The birthing bed was no place for men, save for the Maesters, although she was starting to doubt their real usefulness when all they could do was pull her nightgown up, take a close look and shake their heads. They might as well let Aemond be there.

She imagined he must’ve been waiting outside, or in the Council, and yet she ached to see him. She closed her eyes and searched for him in her mind, clutching the sheets in her fist as if she could clutch his hand instead. And then she felt someone’s hand closing around her own, loosening her grip. Alicent, smiling down at her, and holding her hand tight.

It was holding her good mother’s hand that, at the first light of dawn, she gave birth to her child. A boy, healthy and all screeching as soon as he was out of her womb, clad in blood and grease.

Aemond had decided to name the child Aenar, if it was a boy, after the first Targaryen Lord, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes or force her tears back when he was finally admitted to their chambers and took their son in his arms for the first time. 

Alicent was beaming at the sight, squeezing his arm. “Congratulations, my son.”

But Aemond didn’t seem to even register her mother’s words, or presence, utterly enraptured by his little creature. He cast a look at his wife, a secret little look that told her how proud he was of her, how relieving it was for both to have come this far after all that happened, to have this little thing, this little ounce of peace amidst all the chaos of war.

What she didn’t know at that time was that Aenar was not exactly a peaceful child.

She had believed there had finally come the time when she could be herself again. But from the earliest days, Aenar proved not to be an easy child to deal with. The newborn cried and cried for hours, plagued by belly aches, and seemingly able to calm down only when in his mother’s arms. They had obviously called on a wet nurse; highborn ladies did not feed their children themselves, let alone a Princess. But Aenar had categorically refused to latch onto his wet nurse’s breasts. Alicent had proposed to summon another one, but as they dawdled and wavered, the Princess felt her heart break into pieces each time she held her little baby in her arms, all red in the face, hungry and in pain, turning his head towards her cleavage, desperate for her milk. Thus, she had put aside ceremonial court and all of that and chose to feed him herself.

But it was a strenuous task. The Maesters had warned her it would be tiring, sleep depriving, but she really had no choice. She had to do it every three hours, sometimes less, because being latched onto her breast seemed the only thing that would prevent the baby from screaming at the top of his lungs all day long. The nursemaid had recommended fennel and chamomile for belly aches. And, instantly, Aemond had ordered an astounding amount of both to be delivered to the Red Keep’s kitchens.

Queen Alicent taught her to hold the baby on his stomach, to rock him, but not too fast. They told her to take several breaks during breastfeeding, to make the baby belch often and prevent air from his belly. In the first week after Aenar was born, her mind was all but a vessel of do this, do that. No, not this way. Don’t ever wake the baby when he’s sleeping. Try to sleep when he does. Don’t eat spicy dishes.

In the midst of all of this, Aemond turned more and more suffocating in all his well-hidden, self-consuming concern. A handful of white cloaks, the most trusted by Ser Criston, were constantly guarding the door, day and night. He had a secret passageway that led to his rooms walled up, and she could swear he slept with his dagger beneath the pillow. Evidently not at peace with such extreme measures, he had the cradle moved to his side of the bed, within his reach, so that every time she had to wake up because the baby was wailing, she had to walk around the bed and pray that she would not tumble to the floor in the dark.

However, she was at least grateful to have Aemond’s support, for the little he could do. If he wasn’t occupied with warfare or hearings, he spent all the time he had with her and their child. And in those moments, no matter how exhausted she was, she would always find the strength to smile at the view when he held their baby, tracing his long fingers over the velvety grizzled skin of Aenar’s small hands; even when he’d speak to him in Valyrian, at which she had frowned at first.

“You do realise he’s one week old?”

“”Tis never too soon.”

“Mh. What’s next? Bring him to the skies on dragonback?”

“I’ll have you know Vhagar is perfectly safe to—“

“Over my dead body.” 

He had smiled and stood up, going to place the baby in her arms. Aenar immediately began to fuss, whining and turning his head against her chest. She had started to unbutton her chemise but then stopped, looking up, where Aemond stood still like a sentry, and watching.

She raised an eyebrow. “Am I putting up a show?”

“Usually, you do.” He drawled. “Am I not allowed to watch? It seems my son and I already share a few interests.”

She looked away, smiling, and then she freed her left breast, watching as the baby immediately latched onto it. A moment later, Aemond took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. He stared at her, and she saw that familiar glint his eye.

He trailed his thumb over her lip, barely breaching inside. “Soon?” was all he asked.

“Soon.” Was all she answered.

The soreness and the bleeding were reducing, and she was back in her tight flesh.

But the Gods must have cursed them some more, because that “soon” never seemed to become “now”.

The sickness didn’t seem willing to leave the poor child alone, along with his parents and the entirety of the Red Keep who had to suffer through his heartbreaking cries day and night.

The Princess had started to feel hopeless and guilty, no matter how many times the nursemaids, and even Queen Alicent, told her it was not her fault, that it was natural. No matter how many times she tried to convince herself they were right. Her heart broke any time the baby cried, wriggling desperately in her arms, in Aemond’s, in the cradle. She would end up crying too as she tried to soothe him, caressing his back with her cheek resting on his timidly silver-haired head.

She was working herself up to exhaustion, often falling asleep with the baby still latched onto her breast. It was Aemond who would take the baby to the cradle, it was Aemond who would button her chemise and pull up the blankets.

She hit rock bottom two weeks after Aenar’s birth, when she realised she hadn’t bathed in four days. Even Aemond, she could swear, was starting to look a little ragged around the edges. You don’t want to be King and take decisions in the middle of a war only to come back to a screaming infant at night.

But then, like a curse lifting, the sickness stopped. Amidst all those days she had stopped counting or even being aware of which was which, Aenar stopped crying. She was ashamed to admit that the first night he slept peacefully in his cradle, she had gone to check on him five times, to see if he was still breathing. 

She began to gradually return to her former self, able to enjoy motherhood with a more rested mind, at least. Physically, she still felt worn out, given how much time she spent breastfeeding or rocking the baby to sleep. But now she was strong enough to take the baby out, walking the gardens with her maids and smiling proudly as the court ladies stopped to congratulate themselves and say how beautiful her baby was.

By doing this, though, she also became aware that she had lived in a bubble for so long that she had almost forgotten there was a war raging, there were battles being fought across the realm.

Reality hits her one day when Alicent goes to visit her and her grandson, bringing the news of a very important victory near the Honeywine, a large river flowing in the Reach, thanks to Prince Daeron Targaryen who had arrived all victorious on that very morning, riding his blue scaled dragon, Tessarion.

The news stuns her for a moment. She had no idea of it, partly because she had been too caught up with Aenar, but also because Aemond had not told her. Yet her family came from the Reach, they lived there, not very far from the Honeywine; her older brother fought for the Green Army. Still, not a word from Aemond.

Taking advantage of Aenar sleeping and the fact that Alicent offered to watch him, she leaves her chambers and heads for the Council. There’s a bustle of lords coming out of the door when she gets there, barely paying her any attention as they hastily babble about armies and supplies and men; always more men to be sent to slaughter.

She stops at the door, widening her eyes at the silver head crossing the threshold, one she hadn’t seen in a long time. “Prince Daeron.”

The youngest son of Queen Alicent and late King Viserys was nothing but a boy. But war had taken its toll on him too. He stood like a man, a Prince, and more than anything, a skilled dragon rider.

“Princess.” He says, tilting his chin down.

She curtsies and sees an immediate gentle smile softening his Valyrian features. “I believe some congratulations are in order.”

“Well, in all fairness, you shall be the most celebrated, my Prince. I’ve just heard of your recent victory.”

His gentle smile lingers, but loses its sparkle. “I must say I much prefer to celebrate life…rather than…the death of innocent men and women.”

There can’t be objections to such a statement; she just nods and casts a distracted glance inside the Council.

“Please…” the Prince says then, making room to let her pass “I won’t keep you away from my brother.”

She turns her head and smiles, tightly. “I’m afraid it is your brother who keeps himself away from me.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the Crown.”

“Indeed.”

The Prince bows to her and leaves.

Closing the door behind her, she glances at Aemond sitting at the head of the table, in the King’s chair, with such effortlessness that he seems to have been born exclusively for that purpose.

“I thought I heard you.” he says absent-mindedly, scribbling down a small piece of parchment. She slowly walks to the windows, casting a single furtive glance down, but she can’t possibly make out what he’s writing, or to whom.

“How’s—"

“Aenar is fine.” She cuts him off. “He’s with your mother, sleeping.”

He stops scribbling, glancing up for a moment. Her voice is tight, cutting. He knows that tone. It’s the same one she used in Harrenhal, as if he should have fallen to his knees and be grateful for the mere fact that she was speaking to him. But he doesn’t have time today to circle around her like a coiling snake, so he goes straight to the point. “Is something the matter?”

“You didn’t tell me of the Honeywine.” She says after a moment, gazing at the Bay.

Aemond sighes, a sign that he was expecting such a question. “You were looking after our son.”

“And?” she’s quick to rebut, quick to reach him at the table and stare down at him. “You didn’t deem it appropriate to inform me of a battle raging in my family lands?”

“I am your family.” He says, stoically, as if common law, and she has to stifle a bitter laugh. The nerve of him. “That is a very lovely concept. Strange how it got lost on you in Harrenhal.”

“Enough!” he barks, and the sudden harshness makes the quill pierce through parchment. “I thought I’d made myself clear.” He warns. “I don’t want to hear another word about the witch. Ever.”

She obediently looks down, regretting having said that, but not entirely. Perhaps she has spent so much time beside him that she, too, can’t let go of her grudges.

“I did not tell you, for I did not want to upset you.” He says, resuming his collected tone. “You were worn out by the baby, I didn’t want to put more weight on your shoulders.”

She knows he’s sincere. Still, her nod is stiff as she looks away, biting her cheek. She is just so sick of it all. Of being regarded as a cunt to be bred at first and now a weakling nailed to a cradle with an infant sucking the life out of her. She knows she’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.

Aemond leaves the quill and stands up, circling until he’s close to her. “Your family is fine.” He tells her, lingering behind her. “Daeron spoke to your brother this morning.”

She keeps nodding, keeping her gaze down on the table, all scattered with maps and little dragon-shaped tokens, some black, some green. She frowns, letting warfare soothe her petty spirits. “What is this?”

“Our next move. A defense plan…which happens to be an attack plan too.”

“A pincher?”

She turns just in time to see the little surprise on his face. “My brother talked of nothing else when we were children. He slept with warfare books as pillows.”

“Hmm.” He muses, and takes a step closer, slipping his arm around her waist and resting his chin on her collarbone. “Show me.”

She shudders at his sudden proximity, at his breath blowing on her neck. She shudders at anything these days. A hand on her back, his legs fumbling beneath the covers and casually brushing against hers. She’s tight as a fiddle string.

“A pincher is nothing else but a decoy.” She explains. “You let your enemy believe they have you trapped…” and in saying this, she grabs his hand and moves it across the map. “And then…at the right moment…” she makes him hold a green token between his fingers and brings it near a little division of black ones “you strike on both flanks.” And with a swift flick of her wrist, his hand scatters all the black tokens across the table. To do so, she must lean over the table, accidentally brushing her lower back against his bulge. He’s not hard, yet, but it thrills her to feel the lightning quick effect she has on him.

“Hmm. Good. Very good.” He praises next to her ear as she withdraws her hand; his voice is so low it makes her spine shiver. But she keeps herself grounded and asks “When will this happen?”

“Soon.” he whispers, placing his hand flat on her stomach. “There’s another Small Council shortly but Aegon wanted to be present. They went to fetch him.”

“Well, then I shall retire to my chambers. I feel a bit lightheaded from all the thinking.”

He ignores her jab and keeps her still by the arm when she tries to move. There’s a little sly smirk pulling at his lips. “I have some time to spare.”

“And how do you propose we spend it?”

“Enough with your pantomimes. I can feel your legs squirming.”

Curse him.

He slips the other hand straight into her corset, cupping her breast and humming with delight at how full she is, how it fills his large hand entirely. “Are you wet for me, my love?”

His teeth sink down her lobe, and at the same time, he pinches her nipple between his thumb and index, forcing an indecorous whine out of her. “My, my…” he laughs darkly, torturing her sensitive skin until he feels something wet on his fingertips, probably milk. “I could make you come just by doing this.”

Powerless, she yields, leaning completely against him, rubbing her lower back for some friction. “What if someone enters?”

“We’ll make it quick.”

“But I don’t want it to be quick.” She pants, grabbing his hand on her breast and squeezing; the other crawls behind her back to try to feel him through his breeches. 

Hissing, when she starts to palm him, he says “Then we let them watch. They get to see how pretty you look when you come on my fingers, or my cock. Which should it be?”

“Both. Anything.” She answers hastily, pulling at his collar to bring him close enough to kiss him. He hums contentedly when she does, twirling his tongue around hers. It soon gets messy, each of them fighting for dominance, winning and losing in turn, until he spins her around, so he can look at her and with both his hands, he seizes her gowns and pulls up, furiously rummaging through them.

“How many fucking layers have you on?”

“I’m not pregnant anymore.” she points out, unbuckling his belt.

“Pity. Perhaps I should fuck another one into you to keep you in your skimpy robes.”

“Don’t you dare, Aemond—” 

“Gods be good, brother! That eager to make another one?”

They both startle like little children caught doing something naughty, turning their heads towards the door, where two servants are carrying King Aegon on a chair. Aemond sighs annoyingly, letting go of her gowns as she does with his belt, trying to compose herself.

“My King.” She says, greeting her good brother with a tight little smile.

Aegon’s appearance has improved since Rook’s Rest, just as the burnings, but he carries with him the smell of Milk of the Poppy and rotting skin everywhere he goes. 

“Good-sister. What are you doing here? Apart from being ravished by my brother... should you not be breastfeeding?”

Aemond gives him a level stare and then looks at her, hoping she will not take the bait. Aegon and his wife never got along well, to say the least. Things had only escalated with time, to the point that whenever they found themselves in the same room, one of them would wisely leave, his wife most of the times, lest they start to hiss at each other like two cats fighting for territory.

“What if I intend to stay and attend the council?”

Aegon giggles, as the servants put down the chair, and after a quick glance below her neck he says “I’m afraid you would be a little distracting. And my brother is not one for sharing.”

Before she can ask what in the Seven he is blabbing about, Aemond takes her arm and makes her turn, shielding her from his brother and the Lords coming through the door.

“You should retire.” He curtly says.

“Are you taking his side again?” she asks, wriggling her arm to free herself from his hold.

“You’re leaking.” He informs her, flatly. 

At that, she frowns and dips her chin down, watching the front of her dress practically soaked in milk. “Oh.”

“I shall join you when I’m done here.” He tells her, and lets her out through the side doors.

Aemond did not join her.

The council lasted until the evening, a recurring thing when Aegon attended. Aemond was stern and concise in his decisions. Aegon liked to laze around, enjoying the wine in his cup, rattling his younger brother’s nerves. Deep down, she was convinced that Aegon did not really want to attend the Council because really interested in what to do, but only to remind his brother that he was still breathing and that the Conqueror's Crown on Aemond's head was a temporary measure.

But it didn’t matter. She would join him for the banquet in honor of Prince Daeron.

She was thrilled to go. It was not a proper feast. Since Helaena had fallen into grief, the atmosphere within the walls of the Keep had become rather austere. But a banquet still meant an occasion for conviviality, and after weeks and weeks spent locked up within four walls, the Princess was eager to spend some time outside her chambers. She had felt like a terrible mother at the mere thought. She loved Aenar, how could she not? But she also loved herself, her family, her marriage, Aemond. Especially Aemond.

Once she had put the baby to sleep, she had ordered her maid to prepare one of her favorite dresses, a green one, and to tie her hair in an elegant braided bun. When she had looked in the mirror, she had almost grunted. The scarce and troubled hours of sleep were all evident in the dark circles under her eyes, but it was nothing a little egg-white couldn't temper.

When she arrived at the banquet, Aemond was already there, standing in his usual soldierly stance, intent on talking to his mother. She approached them from the side, Aemond's blind side precisely, so that when she announced herself, he had to turn his shoulder to look at her. He cast a glance at her hair, ran his eye over her entire figure. She wasn’t expecting any kind of sappy words, and certainly not in front of his mother, nor did she desire them. She could feast on that look alone.

Queen Alicent excused herself to give order about the banquet, and they were left alone, while some musicians gathered in a corner of the hall.

“You said you would join me. I thought they abducted you.”

“More or less.”

“Ah. Yes, I'm sure it must have been so hard for you to listen to the lords snapping like little soldiers at your command.”

“It pains me to acknowledge how little you know me, when you think I'd rather talk war with those wimps who can't even hold a sword than fuck my wife till dawn.”

“That was your plan?”

“We have some unfinished business, don’t we? And don’t play dumb. You’re wearing green. You’re not as subtle as you think you are either.”

“Good. I’m sick of subtleties. So, are you going to ask me to dance?”

Aemond rolled his eye and gave her a stare that told her he’d preferred to walk barefoot on lava.

“Still not fond of dancing, eh?”

Prince Daeron suddenly appeared between them, with his cheerful manner and his head of silver curls, dressed in dark green just like his older brother. “Strange. You were the only one listening to the lessons when we were children.”

“Yes, because you and Aegon acted as court jesters the whole time.”

“I’ll have you know, brother, I have refined my dancing skills in Oldtown. So…may I dance with my good sister?”

Aemond gave him a simple nod, and Daeron bowed to her gallantly, raising his palm up.

She kindly accepted the invitation and placed her hand on his. “Don’t sulk too much.” She whispered to her husband before following his brother.

Aemond watched closely as they started to dance, stealing all the attention, and despite that little primitive tug at the sight of his woman dancing with another man, even though that was his brother and there was absolutely nothing malicious in his or her intentions, he was glad to see her like this, spinning and twisting around instead of lying still in the cold with dread eating her alive.

When the dance ended, Daeron escorted the Princess back to Aemond and took his leave. “Remind me again,” she asked as she watched the young Prince leave “How is it that your brother is still unmarried?”

Aemond sighed deeply and took her arm to escort her to the table. “I’d give you one week before you’d get bored of him.”

While they waited for dinner, the lords and ladies of the court were obviously very eager to hear Prince Daeron. Alicent in the first place, after so much despair, and after being separated from her youngest son for years, seemed to smile with her eyes every time she heard him speak.

“Hear, hear!” one of the lords cheered after listening to Prince Daeron’s retelling of the Battle of the Honeywine. “A brave soldier and a brave dragon rider! I propose a toast.”

At once, everybody stood up, raising their glasses. “To Prince Daeron, to House Targaryen!”

“And to House Hightower.” The Prince proudly stated, raising his glass towards his mother.

As they sat back, the Queen ordered the servants to serve the dinner. The table was gradually filled with a great variety of dishes, many of them Prince Daeron's favourites, specifically ordered by his mother to make him feel at home. It had been weeks and weeks since such a banquet had been seen at King's Landing. Prince Daeron seemed very pleased and grateful, as did all those present who watched the rich dishes crowd the table, and lastly, the huge tray of fresh fruit that a servant laid in the middle.

“I can’t quite believe my eyes. Blackberries? This far in the season?” said Lady Bracken.

“I’m afraid that is entirely my fault.” The Princess chirped, catching Aemond’s attention from across the table.

“I had a sudden craving, while I was carrying Aenar.”

“I had one too with my first.” Lady Redwyne joined in. “Plums, specifically.”

“Did you find them agreeable, Princess?”

“Oh, very much indeed.” She stated, casting an innocent glance around, but lingering for just a moment longer on her husband. “I devoured so many…I still feel the taste on my tongue.”

Devious woman, he thought, fighting back his cursed smirk. He had half a mind to excuse themselves and retire to their chambers, if he managed to endure it all the way and not take her in the middle of a hallway.

She seemed able to read his mind, judging by the way she was looking at him, unfurling a napkin on her lap. He knew her well enough to foresee when she was in a teasing spirit, and he was all in for it.

But then, just when they were about to start eating, her trusted maid came in, going straight to the Princess. “Apologies your Grace.” she said to her ear “but the Princeling is awake.”

Aemond saw the concern instantly widening her eyes and then a shadow passing over her face. “Yes…” she said, and stood up talking to all the present. “My apologies. I must retire.”

“See?” said Lady Bracken as Aemond watched his wife leave the hall. “This is why I refused to breastfeed. No matter how my second would scream…”

By the time she had done breastfeeding, her chest hurt so much that the maid had to place some rags soaked in cold water directly on her nipples; the instant relief had made the Princess close her eyes and almost moan. She had planned to go back to the banquet as soon as Aenar had had his fill but as she gained relief by pressing those wet rags to her breasts, she realised her son wouldn’t let her get away that easily.

As soon as the maid had taken him, trying to put him to sleep, he had begun to fuss and wriggle, whining in what she knew would soon turn into a high-pitched, deaf inducing crying.

Perhaps he’s cursed too. She had thought exhaustingly, promptly kissing his silver little head.

She gave up on her plan to go back to the banquet and rocked the baby herself, pacing before the windows while whispering sweet soothing words.

As soon as he had dozed off, she put him in his crib and absent-mindedly grabbed a book from Aemond's desk, lazily leafing through it while rocking the cradle with the other hand.

Aemond finds her like this when he opens the door on his way back from the banquet. She looks up from the page and sees him striding purposefully towards her, snatching the little book in her hands and throwing it on the bed.

She’s shocked, to say the least. One might say he treats books far better than his subjects.

“What—“ she tries to say but he takes her hand and pulls, forcing her to stand up and follow his steady gait.

“Aemond?” she asks down the corridor, a girlish grin climbing on her lips. “Where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t bother to answer but she doesn’t have to wait long to find out. They stop before a door down the corridor opposite to their chambers, Aemond pushes her inside without so much grace and shuts the door behind them. 

She looks around briefly; the room is warm, the fire in the hearth is lit, as the candles scattered all around. This is all familiar. “These are my old chambers…” she says with a little frown, turning to him.

“Quite the observer, wife.” He drawls, and takes a few steps. His stride is different now. Slow, contemplating, as his gaze raking over her, as if he in the first place doesn’t know why he brought her here and he’s assessing what to do. A war map, and he knows where all the faults lie.

“I thought we could spend some time together” he starts, walking past her to go sit near the fire “Alone.” he adds once he leisurely sits down, crossing his long legs and resting his hands on the armrests. “What better place than a vacant room? No one will come looking for us here.”

She tries as hard as she can to stop the little smirk at the corner of her lips; she walks closer, stopping right in front of him, staring down. “They might hear.” 

“Hmm. And that is much of a trouble for you, isn’t it?” he asks with the most fake genuine tone, taking a cup from the nearby table, and then “You sucked my cock on a terrace and begged me to fuck you in the Small Council…I thought I told you to quit your act.”

She smiles openly now, watching the wine pouring in the cup, his eye fixed on the liquid as his eyebrow shots up. “Besides, I know exactly what to do to muffle your noises.”

“You should be proud of my noises.”

“I am.” He says, taking a sip of wine, his eye piercing through her above the cup’s brim. “But for once, Aegon is right. I’m not one for sharing.”

His arm moves to put the wine aside but she takes it, only to feel his hand pulling the cup away from her. “You cannot drink.”

“Fine.” She concedes, leaning on him. “I’ll have it my way.”

She holds his face and with her left hand she glides her fingers on the left side of his face, delicately but with purpose, pushing the eyepatch off. And then she kisses him, eagerly, licking his lips and then breaching inside to taste the wine on his tongue, on the roof of his mouth.

She sighs deeply when he locks his tongue with hers, and feels his lips curling.

“Did you hear it?” He says breaking the kiss, breathing into her mouth. “That one is my favorite.”

“Your favorite what?” She asks mindlessly, chasing his lips but to no use, because he tilts his head back, his cursed smirk ghosting.

“Noise. It’s a little thing…” he tells her, locking one hand around her neck “in the back of your throat, close to a sigh but not quite…” his fingers trails against her throat, chasing her swallowing “It tells me you’re dying to.”

“To do what?”

“Fall on your knees for me. Be a supplicant.”

She grabs the back of his neck, driving his head close and looks down at his arched mouth “You cannot live without God, can you?” She looks up, her mouth open to breathe “Seven of them seem to have cursed me. I had to find my own.”

His eye widens at that. He looks straight into her eyes, so devoted, so raw. She’s right. The Gods would curse her some more if they saw she looks at him the way she should look at the Gods.

“Then do it.”

“What?”

“Flatteries don’t work on me, sweetling. You should know that.” With his hand on her neck, he slightly pushes her away, making some distance between them. “You will have to show me.”

“What would you have me do?”

His hands let go of her completely, resting on the armchair. The gemstone glints blue, and yet it’s nowhere near the bright cursed thing in his eye. “Get on your knees for me. Now.”

She should be ashamed of the pull in her bones, the muscles willing to move on their own accord and fall to the ground. But why, why does it have to be sin? Why can it not be religion?

When her knees hit the ground, she sees his chest rise, his long fingers spreading flat on the armchair. But her eyes fly back to his face as soon as he speaks, as soon as he commands. “Take off your dress.”

His eye sinks down, watching her hands work the corset, steadily. It’s the only sound in the room, this tugging, at the dress. But she tugs at his cock too. She tugs between her own legs.

When the dress is nothing but a pool of green on the ground, she goes to pull down her white chemise, but she suddenly stops. Aemond uncrosses his legs and the air hitches in her throat as his hands go straight to his belt, unbuckling it.

He revels in the little lump in her throat. Perhaps later he will let her have what she’s craving, but not so soon. “Give me your wrists.”

“My—”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Swallowing, she keeps her eyes on him and raises her hands, like an offering. Aemond takes off his belt and leans forward, enough to take her hands and cross her wrists. She shudders at the sharp tug when he wraps the leather around, tying them tight.

“On your feet.”

And up she goes, testing her hands briefly but finding soon that she cannot move them, at all.

“Come.”

It takes one swift movement of his leg, bending the knee while the other rests loosely on the ground, for her to get the gist and walk closer, sitting on his knee, sideways.

“No. Like this.” Quite harshly, he grabs her hips and turns her so that she’s straddling his thigh. He can hear her little gasp when he pushes his thigh firmly against her core. He can feel her warmth through the fabric, stirring his cock. But he pays it no mind, for now.

“What now?” She asks, poised precariously on his thigh. 

Aemond tilts his head, and he just looks at her. In the spur of a moment, a boyish one that doesn’t sit well with how he’s built, he thinks he might be quite contented by merely looking at her. Because she’s beautiful and mine, mine, mine.

But his hands are burning, they might fray and wither if he doesn’t touch her. He unties her hair, running his fingers through them as they fall around her shoulders. The Maiden. The Mother. And yet something better, something worse. Because her eyes are hungry, her mouth is starving for air, for his flesh.

“You must toil to find God.” He says, and then he grins. A savage thing, full of promise. “Bring yourself to come.”

A flash of thrill lights up her face, darkens her eyes and Aemond tilts his head again, biding all the time in the world, for he knows she will.

Tentatively, she pushes her body down, against his thigh, feeling a timid shot of pleasure traveling up from her core, ending in a short, labored breath.

That noise, that might be his second favorite.

Soon, her hips start to move back and forth, each time trying to push herself down as hard as she can, making little breathless cries each time she fails to give herself the friction she needs. She has little balance due to her tied wrists, so she rests her palms on his chest to gain some leverage. And that seems to do the trick.

She tilts her head back, moving faster, doing little jumps on his thigh, panting harshly as sweat lumps on her forehead and pleasure coils in her belly.

Aemond hikes up her chemise, watches her cunt brushing back and forth against his leg, leaving a trail of wetness on the fabric of his breeches. He has to choke down a growl. “Gods, you’re soaking me…”

She looks down at him, her cheeks pink, her lips open in a little o. He can’t help himself. He sticks two fingers inside and how relishing it is that she waits for no invitation or order. She laps, twirls her tongue around his fingertips, sucks them.

“Look at you…” he croons, taking his fingers out, leaving a trail of saliva down her chin. “But you can’t, can you? Perhaps I should fuck you before a mirror, so you see. You see how pretty you are when you’re desperate for me.”

His hand travels down her neck, tossing her hair back and then grasping the strap of her chemise, pulling it down, revealing her swollen, turgid breast. He leans forward immediately, cupping it in his hand, and takes the nipple into his mouth, crooning contentedly and then some more when he feels her wince and cry out loud.

Her tied wrists writhe in their merciless hold and he stops her, gripping both her hands with one of his own, keeping her still, lapping and sucking at her nipple until he feels something wet and saccharine on his tongue, humming all the better. He grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud, and she cries out again, bucking violently against him, turning sloppy and frenzy as she feels the fall close.

He feels it too, feels her thighs trembling around him, and that’s when he takes her hips in a tight hold and forces her to stop altogether.

“Did you think I would make it so easy?” he asks spitefully, seeing her dazed expression. Wasting no time, he holds her firmly close to him and stands up. It takes him only two of his long steps to reach the bed and place her above. In a moment of illusive freedom, her tied wrists fly to his breeches, to his evident hardness, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing her arms above her head, keeping them there with a firm hold. “Stay still.”

“Aemond—“ she pleads.

“Hush. Spread your legs.”

She obliges, eager for him to do something, anything to stop the aching. Aemond wets his fingers on his tongue and brings them down, breaching inside her with two of them, watching her gasp, arch her back and twist her wrists in his hold, uselessly. “Easy…” he cruelly laughs “I have just started.”

But she hasn’t. She’s a few steps away from the precipice of her previous denied peak, it would take him so little to push her over the edge. Instead, his torture is so slow that the whole coiling in her belly falls apart and she must climb her peak again.

His two fingers slip in and out ever so easily, their wet sounds echoing through the room, mixed with her panted breaths and his own. He aches for her to touch him, he aches so much that his cock is pulsing, painfully, but this is just too thrilling. Now he knows exactly how she felt in Harrenhal, when she had him chained up to a chaise.

Her hips rock frantically against his hand, trying to speed him, to get there faster. Mumbling nonsense, her legs tense like iron, her cunt clenches and sucks his fingers in like a vice. “Yes…yes, please…Aemond…please don’t stop—‘m so close…”

And just like that, he slips his fingers out; a dark pleasure dances on his candle-lit features as she writhes and whines for the loss of his fingers, swinging her lower back and forth, desperate for the barest friction that would end her misery.

“Aemond, please…” she says, and even with only one eye, he can’t mistake the tears of frustration at the corners of her eyes.

“What, my love?”

“Plea—” she’s cut off by his hand, pushing his sticky fingers inside to make her clean up her mess.

“We said enough with subtleties, did we not? Speak. Tell me…what you need me to do?”

“Let me come please…please…”

At that, he finally lets her wrists go, and she almost winces in pain, for the time she had them tensed above her head. He stalls for a moment, unsure, running his eye over her whole body, sweating and feverish, and so beautifully plump because of motherhood. He unbuttons his doublet, and then his shirt, his breeches. He bares himself completely, catching her eyes following his deft hands everywhere, breathing heavily.

He kneels between her legs, spreading them. And it’s embarrassing, really, the way she tumbles as soon as he puts his tongue flat against her drenched folds. If only she cared.

It takes only a couple of twirls of his tongue around her lips, and she comes undone, shaking all over, canting her slit against his face. He helps her ride out her climax, by not stopping at all. Instead, he doubles his efforts like a man possessed, pushing his mouth open against her cunt as if he wished to devour it, sucking harshly until she whimpers hard, choking on a loud sob. “Aemond—wait—I can’t—”

She cannot take more so soon. But he’s utterly deaf to her complaints.

He feasts on her, lapping and dipping his tongue in, parting her folds to go as deep as he can, humming while drinking all of her; his voice reverberates through her flesh, it makes her bones rattle.

His long nose rubs against her bud and he looks up: she trashes about the sheets, cutting herself as the belt leather scratches her skin. She tries to push him away with her tied wrists, to no use. She clamps her legs around his head, in a desperate attempt to chase him away, sobbing for the unbearable stimulation. And yet…and yet her hips move on their own whim, bucking with sharp jolts until the wave starts to rise, higher and higher, and she drowns in it, letting go a high-pitched cry, clutching his scalp with both her tied hands, scraping, pushing him against her as she rides her peak against his face.  

He swallows everything, licking her clean, moaning softly at feeling her pulsing on his tongue.

“Enough…I—Aemond you have to stop…” she rasps breathlessly.  

“Why?” he asks, finally rising from where he had perched himself; he climbs on her, until he speaks to her face. “I am only making up to you. Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

She can smell herself on him, she can see herself, glistening on his mouth, chin, even his cheekbones.

“Answer me.” His hand grips her jaw “You said you wanted everything.”

She chokes down a whimper when he leans completely on her, feeling his cock against her cooling flesh, while he’s hot and hard and heavy.

“I will give you more.” He says, brushing a strand of her sweat-soaked hair from her temple. “I will give you another child. Keep you all aching and wet for me while you swell with my child. Do you think I don’t know? How you ached for me? D’you think I didn’t?” he presses himself down, so she can feel it thoroughly, furrowing her brow as her body already answers to his call.

 “I can feel you in our bed…” he keeps rasping “rubbing your legs together. And you know how much that bothers me. Your pleasure is mine to take…and to give.”

Her lips part, gasping roughly. She was so hung on his lips that she hadn’t even registered that he had taken hold of himself, bending her knee on his left hip, and guided himself in.

She arches against him while he slowly sheathes himself all the way in, moaning with long-awaited relief. He stays still for a moment, adjusting, but also because he takes her wrists and sets her hands free.

Thrilling as it was, he wants her hands on him, he craves her touch.

He wants her to cling to his shoulders as she always does, digging her nails down.

He wants her to clamp her fingers on the back of his neck, scraping and pulling his hair to keep him close enough to moan into his mouth.

He wants her hands on his back, sliding down, to push him even deeper while rutting inside her.

And she does all of that. She finds God.

[moonchild9350]

Sweet Mornings

Summary: morning sex with Chan after he’s been away on tour.

Pairing: idol!Chan x fab!reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut-18+MDNI

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: somniphilia, handjob, kissing, p in v penetration, creampie (don’t), cockwarming

Notes: wrote this in the early morning hours. They’re disgustingly in love lol

If you enjoyed, consider a like, reboot, comment as it keeps me motivated 🤍

Please do not copy, translate, modify, or repost my work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024).

Chan is back.

That’s what runs through your head, as you open your eyes from sleep, blinking into the early morning sunlight that’s pouring through the windows.

You feel a warm body next to yours, their arms wrapped snuggly around you, caging you in so your bodies mold perfectly together. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he peacefully slumbers, actually sleeping for once.

You’ll tease him about it later and he’ll go on to say it’s because he’s back at home with you, his love, his comfort.

You slowly maneuver yourself so you’re facing him, silently chuckling at how his arms are still wrapped tightly around you.

You take the moment to gaze at your boyfriend, view him undisturbed in the morning hours. A smile graces your face as you see the sun has highlighted his features, his eyelids seeming almost translucent as it shines on his skin, allowing you to see the faintest blue of his veins. His eyelashes flutter as he dreams what you hope are good dreams and hopefully filled with you.

His hair is haphazardly a mess, something that has always tickled you, as he always looked like a train wreck when he first woke up. He’d whine when you’d tease him and then press a kiss to his lips to silence him which he always accepted.

His lips are slightly parted, his breath fanning out evenly signaling he is in a deep slumber.

Staring at him you feel a tingle, an ache that starts to form, soft and gentle at first. You take a breath and let it out, as a small trickle of slick leaks out of your pussy.

You reach your hand towards his face, your fingers lightly dancing across his skin, as soft as a feather drifting through the wind. The pads of your fingers brush over his cheeks, feeling the peach fuzz, the ends of the strands barely bending at the disturbance.

The ache grows larger, settling in your core, the walls of your pussy clenching involuntarily. You feel almost an electric feeling settling in over your body, making each sensation you feel that much better.

You’re aware of your bare legs beneath the sheets, the fabric brushing against them with each movement, the way your shirt touches your nipples, the slight stimulation causing shivers to run down your spine.

In that moment you realize once more Chan is home. You’ve missed this, his presence, how he feels inside you. You’ve missed him.

You reach your hand below the sheets and touch his bulge, slightly hard in the early morning hours. You smile as you lean forward and press your lips to his, sighing as they mold to yours immediately, even though he’s still asleep.

The moment is soft and slow as you press your lips to his, not fully removing them, just wanting to feel them on yours after so long. With each press you give his cock a squeeze, the appendage hardening further with the pressure.

With your next shaky kiss, Chan’s eyes open, the brown orbs zeroing in on you. He closes his eyes once more, however this time he puts more into the kiss as his arms tighten around you even more.

“Baby,” you whisper, the syllable barely formed as you continue to kiss your lover. “Need you.”

You slide your palm faster and harder against his cock, feeling the wet fabric as his precum leaks out.

“Yeah?” Chan breathes, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your t shirt, causing you to arch slightly into him.

You push his boxers down, the fabric obeying until it hits the swell of his ass. You whine at the resistance, wanting to rid him of the offending agent as quickly as possible.

Chan chuckles at your struggle and at your desperation. He lifts his hips and you quickly slide them down, a soft sound falling from your lips as if you were purring.

You can feel him now, his cock hard and warm in your hand. You wrap your hand around the head, pushing a finger into his slit, listening as Chan hisses at the pressure.

He lets out a low moan not long after as you stroke his cock, hard but gentle. His fingers pull at your shirt, silently asking you to take it off.

You hesitantly release his cock and shuck your shirt off, your tits now bare for his viewing pleasure, your nipples hardening in the cold air. You slide your panties down your legs as well, needing to have no further interruptions.

You snuggle up to Chan once more, your hand finding his cock again. You stroke him faster this time, his precum aiding in the glide, a soft slick sound echoing in the room as your hand slides up and down.

“Y/n, y/n, baby,” Chan whispers out and then whimpers as the pleasure courses through him. He missed this feeling, the only one you can bring him.

You smile at his turmoil, your slick now steadily leaking, coating your folds and your thighs. You kiss him again, your walls clenching as he lets out a growl deep within his chest.

Before you can fully register, you’re on your back, your head hitting the soft pillows, as you let out a huff. Your hands reach out to touch his arms, your eyes seeking out his.

Chan nudges your legs open, so he can fit more easily between them. His eyes stay on yours as he grabs his cock, bringing the head to your soaking folds.

He lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your warmth, a feeling he’s missed over the last few months. He knows you feel the same, as your fingers dig into his biceps, your lips slightly parted as you breathe in anticipation of finally feeling him, your tits heaving with each breath.

You both are a mess, as your moans ring out throughout the room, Chan’s cock finally sinking into your warmth. You whine at the sting, your walls slowly spreading, stretching, after not having anything inside for months.

Chan is nice and easy, knowing it’s been a while. He knows his cock is big and your hole tiny. He pushes in inch by inch as you let out each breath until he’s flush against you, your walls keeping him in with how tight you’re wrapped around his cock. He waits a moment, waiting on the signal from you that he can move.

You steady your breaths, the feeling of him inside you too much, that pleasurable ache growing with each passing moment as he lays there cradled in your arms.

“Channie, move…please,” you beg, your fingers playing with the hairs on the back of his neck.

Chan withdraws his hips and rocks them back into yours, coaxing a low moan out of you. You wrap your arms tighter around him, his neck buried in yours as he rocks, rocks, and rocks.

The pleasure is heightened, after not feeling him for so long, the warm sensation building quickly in your core as he massages your walls.

Chan fucks you softly but deeply, savoring this moment of early morning bliss. You mewl out as he shifts his hips ever so slightly, angling his cock to drag along your sweet spot, causing your toes to curl and legs to tighten around him.

Both of your moans accent the quiet of the room, the only other sounds being the evidence of how wet you are for Chan and the shift of the fabric as it travels over your bodies.

You’re stuck to him, a thin sheen of sweat forming over your bodies, as Chan continues to make love to you. You squeal as the new position allows the hairs on his pelvis to apply just enough sensation against your clit, the bud teased with each thrust.

The warmth builds, growing larger, threatening to spill. You can tell Chan is close too, as his breathing becomes more erratic, his hips not as rhythmic as a few moments ago.

You clutch onto him more, pressing your tits into his chest, wrapping your legs around his ass as you focus on reaching your high, your core feeling like it is on fire.

With a few more shaky breathes, you let out a loud moan, Chan’s name on your lips like a prayer as you release around his cock, your walls spasming, clenching around him. You can hear him groan and then let out a grunt, as he spills within you, the feeling of his cum coating your walls causing you to moan.

Your both a mess of sweaty bodies as you lay there, neither one of you moving except for the rise of your chests as you breath to come down from your highs.

The sun rises higher in the sky as time passes, the light brighter as it shines through the room. It’s quiet, except for the sound of Chan’s beating heart as you’re now resting on his chest.

His cock is still buried within you, soft and warm, his cum still buried within you. You lay there in his embrace, snuggled to him bathing in the post orgasmic afterglow.

You feel the threat of sleep linger over you, your body exhausted after the activities of the morning. You start to slip, your mind slowly leaving and entering into that dream world that has been your haven the last few months.

However, this time you enter into a different sleep, your mind understanding that your dreams have come true.

Chan is home.

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght

[slut4nicholas]

𝙋𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙇 𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙀𝙍 | 𝙉𝙄𝘾𝙃𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙎 𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙓𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀𝙕

a/n: I'm currently awake at 4 am and unable to sleep ive been having some thoughts that I needed to release, and writing this is helping me feel better. this is my first time writing something explicit, so I apologize if it's not the best. please forgive any grammar mistakes. i hope you enjoy reading it. <3

summary: you are searching for a personal trainer and come across an online ad. after calling the trainer, he arranges a session at his home gym. things start to take a spicy turn between the two of you.

warning: smut! 18+ oral (m receiving), spanking, getting manhandled, fingering, pet names like “doll, babygirl” squirting, praising, degrading, rough!!

˖⋆࿐໋

when you move to california to pursue your dream of becoming a model or influencer, you leave behind your family, job, and friends. unfortunately, the move also means leaving behind your favorite place: the gym.

many label me a gym rat, but I simply embrace my love for the discipline it brings and the amazing confidence it gives me in everything I wear.

in the evening, while browsing through tiktok , i suddenly felt a wave of boredom. i let out a sigh, turned off my phone, and began searching for an engaging activity. normally, in situations like this, i would change into my favorite workout attire and head to the gym. however, as i am not at home, i need to find a gym or a personal trainer of my own in this new location.

i opened my macbook and started searching for personal trainers in my new area. I came across a profile of a man who seems to have a lot of experience in the gym and is conveniently located nearby. i must admit, he looks delicious. i decided to message him to arrange a meeting and inquire about his session rates. he responded promptly with his pricing and availability, and it turns out he's available tomorrow morning. as we exchanged goodbyes over text, my mind couldn't help but focus on meeting him in person. if I'm already feeling this way based on some online pictures, i can only imagine how I'll feel when we meet face to face.

i wake up suddenly to the sound of my alarm. as i pick up my phone, i see that it's 5:30. the familiar feeling of nervousness churns in my stomach as i realize that I'm in a new city, about to meet someone new. i made sure to wake up extra early just to ensure that i look my best.

after my shower, i breeze through my skincare routine and add a touch of mascara and some lip balm. I'm just heading to the gym, so nothing too over-the-top, i tell myself. i apply a light moisturizing lotion and a spritz of my favorite perfume. i slip into my matching black bra and thong, then into my sleek all-black workout set with cute black leggings and a fitted black tee. i slide on my nike socks and lace up my new balance 574’s. i brush my hair and secure it with a stylish claw clip, still debating whether to leave it down or tie it up. I'll make up my mind in the uber.

i send him a text to inform him that I'm on my way to the location he had sent me. he reads the message but doesn't reply. oh well, I'm on my way already.

as we pull into his driveway, i can't help but notice how stunning his house is. i wonder what he does for work; being in california, he must be wealthy or famous. i tip my uber driver in cash, thanking him for the ride, and he wishes me luck. I'm definitely going to need it.

i grab my phone out but before i can send him a text i hear a whistle which caught my attention i looked up seeing him standing next to his front door i can’t help but check him out and oh my goodness he’s more attractive in person i can just rip his clothes off right here and there but i have to remain calm im not here for that.

he is wearing grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, with a gold chain around his neck. his hair is lightly stuck to his forehead, indicating that he had a workout before I arrived.

“hey there” he smiles and waves signaling me to come in with his hand

i smile back and step into his house him standing behind me the whole time closing the door and walking towards me

"I'm nicholas, I'm your trainer. It's nice to meet you." oh my, his smile. his smile. his smile. I'm going to fold, i know I am, but I have to keep my calm. i don't even know him. i don't know if he's single or even married.

“hi, i’m y/n” i take his hand shaking it lightly

"come on, don't be shy," he takes us to his gym and confidently sits down on a bench, gesturing for me to sit next to him with a wave of his hand.

so demanding already.

“so tell me a little bit about yourself, i know you told me you just moved here but what’s the reason for the move and why are you looking for a trainer?” he asked curiously.

“well, i moved here to cali so it’ll be easier for me to achieve some of my goals, i have some experience in the gym but i really feel like ill learn a lot more with a trainer if that makes any sense” you smile shyly causing nicholas to chuckle a little.

“no need to be shy sweetie im here to help you you already look great im sure you’ll do a great job” i cross my legs just at the sound of his voice saying those loving praises, oh i need him so bad.

he notices but tries not to make it so obvious he grabs his water bottle taking a sip and putting down standing up tapping the side of my thigh gently “come on let’s get started”.

we begin with some easy stretches to warm up before the actual run. i couldn't help but notice that he mostly stood there, watching, instead of actively instructing and guiding me, which did bother me a bit.

“do an extended puppy pose for me” i look up at him and he just winks OH. he knows what he’s doing so i decide to play along as well.

as i get on all fours getting ready to get in the pose arching my back a little i can see nicholas from the side of my eye starting so hard i can’t help but silently giggle to myself.

“am i doing this good enough nicholas?? how’s my arch looking” he chuckles at my words a little.

“oh you’re doing so good y/n, you look amazing but i think you need a little help here” he comes down next to me getting on his knees right behind my ass and pushing my arch down so my stomach is hitting the floor beneath me.

“just like that?” I question.

“just like that, good girl” those words sent shivers down my spine i let out a soft sigh.

“what’s the matter sweetie?” he questioned.

i shake my head not responding to him “can we just do the next exercise?” i get on my knees so i can stand up but he comes in front of me putting one hand on my shoulder keeping me on my knees.

“let’s do some leg spreads i’ll help and guide you”.

i lay on the mat on my back and nicholas gets down on his knees again grabbing one of my legs bending it back a little.

“let’s start of slow sweetie i don’t want to hurt you”.

after doing a couple of reps nicholas stops and can’t help but notice something.

he chuckled “someone’s excited?”.

“what?” i ask not getting exactly what he’s talking about.

he spreads my leg a little further back.

“you’re so wet you’ve leaked through your panties it’s all on those leggings of yours”.

“i-im so sorry i-“ he cut me off.

“don’t worry about it doll, im having way more fun than you could possibly imagine” he bends down to kiss me and i went full in, tongue and everything.

after a few minutes of us making out he rips open my leggings with his bare hands which caused me to throw my head back and lightly groan, his eyes burning into my skull the whole time. never once taking those beautiful brown eyes off of me.

he pulls my panties to the side.

grabbing my mouth harshly “open and spit”.

i did as told, he sticks them in my mouth reaching the back of my throat causing to me gag.

he laughed and smiled “think you take all of my dick in there huh babygirl?”.

he pulled my panties to the side and started playing with me lightly flicking the clit and switching between fingering me and playing with my clit.

the groans escaping his mouth seemed a little animalistic like he hasn’t touched a woman in a very long time he’s eager and i can tell he wants to fuck me into the ground literally. 

“mmm you’re so fucking wet, you’ve been excited since you got here hm? or was it those photos i sent you last night that has you like this for me? horny and ready to get fucked by her trainer? it’s only day one babygirl and here you are legs spread open pussy juice dripping all over my fucking fingers, what am i going to do with you”.

i moan loudly his words. his actions. the sounds. everything just feels and sounds so fucking good i didn’t want him to stop.

“oh im gonna come” i felt the urge to release the feeling you get in your stomach when you know your going to cum and go crazy “please dont stop nicholas”.

“such a fucking good girl” he kept pumping his big thick fingers in and out of me which caused me to release all over his gym floor.

“oh shit baby, look at you fuck” he says rubbing my clit on a fast pace, i grabbed his hand trying to get him to stop since it feels way to good to handle.

“please” he grabs my face and kisses me harshly shoving his tongue all down my throat saliva dripping down in between the both of us.

“come on take this off” he removes my shirt and bra taking off what’s rest of the leggings throwing it somewhere in the gym.

he takes his shirt and sweats off leaving him completely exposed no boxers or anything on, he knew what he wanted to do.

“come on baby get on your knees let’s see if you can fit this dick all in that pretty mouth of yours, gagging on two fingers. that’s pathetic sweetheart you got to do better than that”.

i get on my knees and take his member into my hand lightly kissing and licking his desperate throbbing dick leaking pre cum everywhere, i quickly take my tongue and clean up the mess he made.

“now this is a great mouth exercise for you pretty you’ll love it” he laughs and i roll my eyes member still in my mouth looking up at him not breaking eye contact.

“oh come on” he pushes my head down taking his whole dick into my mouth repeatedly touching the back of my throat i tap and grab on his thighs signaling i needed to breath and catch my breath, he threw his head back in pleasure looking back down grabbing my hair and pulling me off of his dick.

“told you you couldn’t take it”

“mmm stop let me do it” i pout he reaches his hand and cups my cheek and caressing my hair rubbing circles on the top of my head.

i grab his dick taking him all in and taking him out grabbing it and lightly jerking him off, as i continue to jerk him off i suck off what’s left that i couldn’t fit in my mouth.

“mm fuck”

“just like that baby”

“such a good fucking girl for me”

i take him in once again feeling him twitch making sure he’s hitting the back of my throat so i can swallow all of his sweet juices.

he grabs my hair making it into a makeshift ponytail fucking my face at the perfect pace for him, he looks so good he can just take control and do what he wants at this point.

i feel him twitch again which means he’s super close this time he didn’t let me go he made sure he stayed in the back of my throat resting his cock in my mouth while he released all inside of my mouth.

“swallow that shit baby be a good fucking girl for me”

oh boy, this is just the first session i wonder what’s going to happen next time.

˖⋆࿐໋



[kingkatsuki]

— lush

It’s no secret to Bakugou that his friends think you’re hot, but he’s never allowed them to act on it before. Until they catch him using a remote controlled vibrator on you—

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader, implied Sero Hanta x f!reader, Kaminari Denki x f!reader, Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, toys, Bakugou let’s the guys control your lush vibe, dub-con (consent isn’t explicitly stated so could potentially be seen as non-con), long distance, sexting, public setting, nudes, squirting, dirty talk, the guys talk pure filth about you.

Word Count: 3.6k.

Bakugou did not want to be here, and frankly he wouldn’t have turned up at all if it hadn’t been for you. Especially when he knew what was waiting at home for him— you kissed him at the door with a promise to wait up for him when he returned home. Knowing that you’d more than likely fall asleep on the couch by the time he stepped back into the apartment, having to scoop you up into his arms and walk you into your bedroom.

This night out for Sero’s birthday had been planned weeks in advance, and rather than unwinding with him after your long day at work you practically forced him into the shower— alone no less, and made him get ready for drinks at a popular bar in central Musutafu.

Taking a sip of his cold beer as his friends talked animatedly around him in the plush booth, catching up with each other after a few weeks apart. Gathering as Pro-Heroes wasn’t as easy as his days back at U.A. Conflicting work schedules meant that it became near impossible to find the same days, or even evenings off as each other. So this was something to be savoured. Or at least, that’s what you told him as you watched him get ready. Sitting on your shared bed wearing one of his old Dynamight agency shirts and a pair of shorts while he pulled a plain black shirt out of his closet to wear tonight.

Nothing had annoyed Bakugou more than leaving you alone in your apartment to be here, the taste of your gloss still lingering on his lips as he thought about being home with you instead.

You’d made it abundantly clear what your plans were going to be tonight, pulling the little pink toy he’d bought for you out of your magic drawer (as he called it) and settling yourself on your shared bed.

“You put that in I ain’t goin’ at all, sweetheart.” He groaned, leaning against the doorframe as you shook your head with a laugh.

“You’re going,” You reached up to squeeze his cheeks together into a pout, the rough stubble on his face tickling your fingers as you pulled him down into a kiss, “I just need something after the day I’ve had. I’m probably gonna take a bath and wait for you to get home.”

“Then I’m at least controlling that shit.” He growled, pulling his cellphone out of his jeans pocket, “Give me access now.”

Maybe he’d be able to have one more drink before excusing himself early so he could get home to you and sink himself into your warm, wet cunt.

And god, you would be so fucking wet. You’d be soaked from the way his thumb continued to absentmindedly draw patterns against his phone screen. The pink cursor ascended for a few moments before dragging it back down. Picturing how you looked right now with the little toy stuffed inside your pretty pussy as you writhed on top of tussled sheets all because of him.

You[8.59PM]: Kats, stop teasing and let me cum :(((

The notification banner signaled at the top of the screen, causing Bakugou to grin. He’d been teasing you for the last hour with the toy, knowing that the settings he was using weren’t quite enough to have you coming undone for him. But just enough to have you riled up and begging for more—

Bakugou[9.00PM]: You’re the one that wanted to play these games, sweetheart.

You[9.01PM]: Yeah, but I wanna cum :((

The words had Bakugou’s cock throbbing in his pants, pressing against the rough denim as he tried to mask a groan through a tickly cough. Pressing the back of his hand to his lips as he typed another response to you.

Bakugou[9.02PM]: I promise I’ll take good care of you when I get home, baby.

You[9.05PM]: Turn it up a little please, baby? I need it.

With that text you’d sent an attachment. He’d been hiding the screen of his phone beneath the table all evening to avoid any prying eyes or accusatory questions, but this made him shield the screen from any unsuspecting gazes. A photograph of you staring up into the camera with needy eyes, your glossy lips curled into a cute pout as you pulled your shirt— his shirt, above your chest as the fabric bunched together to reveal your perfect breasts.

God, you were so fucking perfect.

Bakugou decided to take pity on you, his fingers pulling the circle up the screen to increase the vibrations. His free hand reaching forward to grab his bottle as he downed the rest of its contents. Determined this would be his last drink before excusing himself to come home to you, not that he’d have to think of any particular reason.

“Work still trying to contact you, bro? It’s gone nine.” Sero asked, leaning his forearms against the table.

“You have been on the phone a lot, is everything okay?” Kirishima looked concerned.

“He’s probably texting his girlfriend,” Denki practically sang.

“Shut up, idiot. Everything’s fine.”

Slipping his phone back into his pocket as he stood from the booth, smoothing his hands down the black denim on his thighs as he made a beeline towards the bar.

“It’s your round yeah, Kats?” Kirishima called after him, the sound drowned out by the loud bustle of the bar as Bakugou leaned against it waiting to be served. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, knowing that it was texts from you. But he didn’t want to unlock it to read them now, not when anyone could look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse at what was his.

Forgoing a tray as he held the neck of the beer bottles between his knuckles as he carried them back towards the booth to a cheer and raised arms from Denki. Sharing them out as he resumed his seat and wrapped a palm around the cold base of the bottle, distracted as he pulled his phone out to finally respond to you.

You[9.21PM]: I can’t cum with this, baby. It’s driving me crazy.

You[9.23PM]: You are the biggest tease I swear, Kats. My clit is throbbing :(((

Bakugou grinned as instead of responding to your messages, he left them on read. Opening the lush app as he went back to dragging his thumb across the screen, increasing the vibrations to give you some much needed relief. Except this time Sero was quick to notice the app on Bakugou’s phone screen, quick reflexes snatching the phone from his hands.

“Is this what I think it is?” Sero’s eyes sparkled with mischief as his mouth settled into a wide grin, “No wonder you’re talking to us even less than usual tonight, Bakubro.”

“Give it back, tapeface.” Bakugou practically snarled, reaching across the table to try and grab his phone back. Knocking his beer bottle over in the process, which Kirishima’s quick reflexes managed to save with minimal spillage, the head foaming up from the movement.

“What is that?” Denki asked with curiosity as he leaned over Sero’s shoulder to look at the screen.

“You guys ever seen this app before?” Sero turned it to face the table, the circle still sat in the middle of the screen. An indication of the consistent hum of vibrations pulsing through the toy for you right now.

“No, what does it do?” Kirishima tilted his head slightly, “Is it like a game?”

“It’s an app for a remote controlled vibrator,” Sero explained, “So unless it’s inside you right now, man—”

“Piss off.” Bakugou snarled, baring his teeth.

“Then I’m guessing it’s inside your girlfriend.” Sero surmised, turning the screen back to face him.

“Oh,” Kirishima’s lips parted in surprise, and Bakugou could see the cogs turning in his mind as his thoughts clearly went to what you looked like with this little toy stuffed inside your pussy.

“Wait” Denki’s brows were furrowed as though deep in thoyght, the cogs turning in his mind, “So that means she’s got it in right now?”

“Looks like it.” Sero held the phone in one hand as he used his pointer finger to drag the circle down to the bottom of the screen, stopping the vibrations completely, “How many times has she cum already?”

None of your fucking business, Bakugou thought to himself as he sneered across the table. But he hoped you hadn’t cum at all, wanting to return home and experience the luxury of you coming undone on his cock firsthand.

“Oh fuck, man.” Denki whined, “Your girlfriends so fucking hot. How did you get so lucky?”

“Maybe you should give that back, Sero.” Kirishima shuffled beside Bakugou, clearly intrigued with the conversation but he tried to ignore the dark, depraved thoughts that were running through his mind at this moment.

“Yeah, give it the fuck back.” Bakugou snarled, swiping for the phone again as Sero held it over his head and away from Bakugou’s reach.

You[9.30PM]: Baby, why’d you turn it off completely that’s so mean?

“Oh shit,” Sero read the text that came through from you, “Happy birthday to me.”

“Give me the fuckin’ phone,” Bakugou practically snarled, venom laced in his tone as he hoped you wouldn’t try and send another selfie.

“Come on, man. Five minutes,” Sero pleaded, offering the phone back to Bakugou as a peace offering, “It could be my birthday gift, you know?”

Having his friends fawn over you like this had a warped sense of power rolling over him. It was debauched, depraved and downright scummy but Bakugou found himself falling into the sovereignty.

Bakugou knew he should call you to let you know that he was surrendering control to the app to his friends, or at the very least send you a message to let you know. But deep down he knew it was something that you would probably enjoy, maybe a bit too much, if you knew. Often talking to him about uses for the toy, and whether he’d ever share access with it with his friends. The thought of going home to tell you who had been controlling it just to see the wide-eyed look on your face had his cock throbbing beneath his jeans in anticipation.

“Five fuckin’ minutes.”

“That’s the spirit, happy fucking birthday to me.” Sero grinned as he began to slide his finger against the screen, “You shoulda brought her with you, that woulda been the best gift.”

“You’d never be that fuckin’ lucky, tapeface.” Bakugou snorted, taking a sip of beer as Sero’s tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration. Swirling his finger along the screen with such precision, but Bakugou was certain he had no real clue what he was doing.

“A girl online gave me her code to one of these before,” He grinned across the booth, “Let me watch her on video while I did it too—”

“Don’t even think about it.” Bakugou would rather blow his phone up completely than let his friends see you on video.

“How do you even know she’s got it in right now?” Denki asked, “You could just be messing with a dead toy.”

“She sent a text begging me to turn it back on.” Sero grinned, “He’s probably the one that put it in her, lucky prick.”

Bakugou wished he was the one that positioned the toy inside you, although he definitely wouldn’t have made it to the bar if he had. There’s nothing in this world that could’ve torn him away from your pretty little cunt.

“Can you get her to send us a picture?” Denki continued, “Do you have pictures?”

Bakugou had multiple pictures, and videos, of you using the toy. It had originally been a way for him to help you climax whenever he was called away on long missions, a fun addition to the already steamy video calls you’d have at random hours. The time differences were often large as he’d find himself fisting his cock for you on camera at four in the morning, helping you to cum just before you were getting ready for bed.

“Shut up, asshole.” Bakugou growled.

There was no way he was going to show them a picture of you, especially how hot you looked right now. Remembering the photograph you’d sent him just as he made it to the bar, of you spread out against soft sheets as you gave the camera a sultry gaze. Man, he really was a fucking idiot coming out tonight and leaving you at home.

“Oh, he’s definitely got pictures,” Sero smirked, “Look at the look on his face. I bet she looks hot in them too—”

“Don’t you dare, you fuck.” Bakugou made a swipe for the phone, but Sero was quicker. Handing the cellphone off to Denki as he leaned forward to pick up his bottle of beer with a chuckle, taking a large swig from it as he leaned against Denki’s shoulder to watch his friend play with the app.

“Have you used this when she’s out in public?” Denki asked, looking across the booth at Bakugou while his finger criss-crossed over the screen with speed— probably torturing your poor pussy with the intense changes.

“No.” Bakugou answered curtly. Neither of you had really toyed with the device outside long distance, but it’s definitely something that you’d both talked about before. You’d even suggested he wear it one night, so he could feel exactly what it did to you for himself.

“Man, that’s so boring.” Denki pouted, “If she was my girlfriend I’d have her wearing it to the grocery store.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to make a girl cum by yourself.” Bakugou scoffed, taking another sip of his drink as Denki scrunched his nose in response.

“Yeah I do,” Denki turned the screen to face him, giving anyone in the bar who looked over a glimpse at the adult app on the phone in use right now, “In fact I’m gonna make your girl cum without even touching her.”

Bakugou hoped you weren’t coming right now, especially with how intense Denki had the vibrations. He knew you were already riled up and desperate, and this was exactly what you needed to have you tumbling over the edge. But he’d never live it down if Denki was the one to make you climax, he’d never hear the end of it.

“You should invite her next time, man. We could do this with her here.” Denki continued, his finger pausing on the screen while the dot was sat at its highest point. Indicating that the vibrations were on the most intense setting as Bakugou pictured you writhing against the sheets while the toy buzzed inside you. Picturing the creamy slick that drooled out of your hole at the sensation and stuck to your plush thighs. Wishing that he was there to clean you up instead of fantasizing about it. His cock jumped at the thought as he palmed himself subtly through his jeans while shifting in his seat.

God, he had to go home and bury himself inside you.

“Can I have a go?” Kirishima mumbled shyly, his cheeks glowing as red as his hair as he fisted his beer bottle nervously.

“Knock yourself out, man.” Denki held the cellphone out to Kirishima like it belonged to him, the dot still sat at the highest point on the screen.

What Bakugou hadn’t been expecting is the amount of teasing Kirishima was doing for you. His thumb barely moving the circle above the slowest setting, the low rumble of the toy inside you would’ve been barely enough for anyone and Bakugou knew it had to be driving you crazy right now.

You[9.40PM]: I told you to stop being a tease. I was about to cum. :(((

“Oh, she’s texting you.”

Kirishima showed him the screen as he read the text, and Bakugou had never been so happy that Kirishima had managed to seize control of his phone and the app before Denki had a chance to actually make you climax.

Breathing a sigh of relief as he grinned in satisfaction, certain he’d never hear the end of it (from you or Denki) if he’d managed to make you cum.

Kirishima was gentle and cautious as he continued playing with the app, barely letting the vibrations go above the middle of the screen. But thick fingers continued to make it constant, pushing down to wiggle the line every few seconds as he began to make almost swirling patterns against the device.

“Come on, man. Turn it up to the max.” Denki whined, his arms going across the table in a silent plea to get the phone back into his hands.

“So you can make her completely numb?” Sero scoffed, “You know she’d stop being able to feel anything with you.”

“She’d be able to feel a lot.” Denki grabbed at his crotch crudely as the men sat at the table began to laugh, even Bakugou snorted as he took a large swig of his beer. He had to get home to you soon.

“You ain’t ever made a girl cum in their life so what makes you think you could make my girl cum?” Bakugou deadpanned as Denki pouted.

“I have too!” He whined.

“Oh yeah? When was that?” Sero pried.

“Come on, man. Don’t be on his side—”

“The girls on those camsites don’t count, I’m pretty certain they fake it too.”

“I don’t even use those anymore.”

“Oh wow.” Kirishima breathed deeply when Bakugou turned his attention back to his best friend. Noticing he’d opened the texting app and now a photograph you’d just sent sat open on the screen.

“What the fuck, man?” Bakugou grunted, grabbing his phone off Kirishima has he shielded the screen with his body. Curling over the table as he held the device beneath it.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault. I saw the notification and I clicked it—” Panic was evident in Kirishima’s tone as he begun a feeble attempt to explain himself. An attempt that would’ve been easier were it not for the alcohol currently circling through his veins, his voice slurred as his eyes glazed over. Trying to commit the picture he’d just seen of you to memory, as though he’d just had a near death experience and had witnessed the pearly gates.

“Let me see,” Denki practically begged, “God, dude. Please— let me see. Eiji got to see, it’s not fair!”

“Shut up,” Bakugou cut both men off, trying to focus on the picture you’d just sent.

It was a photograph taken from above your body, between the gap of your thighs and your chubby mound as he noticed the dark stain that now splashed across your bedsheets. Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when he noticed the text message that you’d sent with it.

You[9.45PM]: You just made me squirt omg

You[9.46PM]: You’re cleaning that up when you get home it’s not my fault :(((

“Fuck, she squirted.” Bakugou mumbled, eyes roaming your exposed skin and the mess you’d made on the screen.

That’s it, he was going home to you now.

“What?!” Denki gasped in surprise, practically jumping over the table in the booth to read the messages, “You made her squirt?”

“Clearly it was me that got her close enough to do it,” Sero grinned, “Eij just got lucky to get her last.”

“And she sent a picture? Can I see it, man? Please.” Denki looked as though he was about to cry, his knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the table, “Please just one pic.”

Bakugou chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, debating on whether to show the personal picture you’d sent. A picture that had clearly been intended for his eyes only— but he’d explain to you later.

Turning the screen to the rest of the table, ensuring it faced away from the busy bar as his friends leaned in to look at it. Eyes darting across the imagine to try and memorise it in the few seconds that Bakugou had given them.

“Holy fucking shit.” Sero grinned.

“That’s not fair that you get to go home to that,” Denki threw his head against the back of the booth with a groan, “I’d lick it off the floor.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ freak.” Bakugou sneered, scrunching his nose at the debauched comment.

Locking his phone before leaning forward to pick his beer bottle up to down the rest of its contents, slamming the empty bottle back down on the table as he grabbed his jacket.

“Well, you’ve seen what I’ve got waiting for me at home, I’m out.” Bakugou fist bumped Sero as before shrugging his jacket back on.

“Any chance at a video call?” Denki pleaded, clasping his hands together as Bakugou shot him a glare, “What? I’m just asking.”

Bakugou text you as he left the bar, moving quick on his feet to get home to you as quickly as possible as he hailed a taxi.

Bakugou[9.52PM]: I’m not cleaning that up when I get home, I’m making it worse.

[roosterforme]

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

--------------------------------

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once. 

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like." 

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

--------------------------------

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!" 

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

-------------------------------

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

-------------------------------

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word. 

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

---------------------------

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

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[jo-speaks]

POV: you’re at your wedding reception with Luke and you do that trend when your bridesmaids hand him risqué Polaroid pictures throughout the night to get his reaction

WEDDING NIGHT SHENANIGANS

overview: luke gets a few early gifts on your wedding night.

warnings: suggestive content below the cut, mentions of alcohol consumption (other than that it's pretty smooth sailing)

note: this might be one of my favs honestly. thank you for requesting nonnie 🫶

Today didn’t feel real. As of an hour and fifteen minutes ago, you were officially Mrs. Luke Hughes. The ceremony had gone exactly as planned, your wedding dreams coming to life with the man you love waiting for you at the altar. 

Now, you were sitting at the table with Luke, his hand on top of yours as it rested on his thigh, thumbing at the wedding ring that found itself around your finger. You laughed as you watched Jim and your father attempt to do the worm on the dance floor. 

“He’s too old to be doing this.” You joked, your husband laughing along with you.

“You’re telling me.” He replied.

The two of you shared a smile, something that had been happening since the first look. He watched with admiration as the purple strobe light hit your face, illuminating your features. Luke cupped your cheek, the cool feeling of his wedding band sending a chill down your body as he pulled you in for a loving kiss. 

You pulled away after a few seconds, your lips lingering with his. Even with the sweet moment, you decided now was as good a time as any to give Luke a gift. One he could carry in his wallet, glove box, or anywhere else he wanted to get a good look at you when he was away.

“I’ll be right back. M’gonna go talk to my mom.” You whispered, placing a parting kiss on his cheek before standing up and making your way to the table at which his mother and yours were sipping wine. 

One of your bridesmaids noticed you flash her a glance, effectively receiving the signal that it was go time. She grabbed it from her purse before making her way over to Luke.

As she approached, he met her eyes and flashed her a friendly smile, not expecting her to have something to give him. She handed him the Polaroid face down, giggling slightly before walking away again. 

Luke raised an eyebrow before he flipped it over, the other eyebrow coming up as well. In his hand was a picture of you in lingerie, posed in a risque position. A heavy blush rose to his face, hidden by the strobe lights which had now turned red. He could feel himself getting aroused, but not yet to the point where it would be noticeable if he stood up. 

“Lukey! Get over here and come dance!” Quinn called out to his younger brother, not knowing of the gift he just received. 

Luke quickly nodded, stashing the picture in his inner suit pocket, standing up to join his brothers on the dance floor. He snuck a glance at you, seeing you be so innocent and friendly as you chatted with his mother.

~✩~

It had been a few minutes since he received the first of many images for the night. He had processed the first one, not letting it distract him during the dance-off your, now intoxicated, friend had started. Your families and friends had been split up onto the two sides of the floor, one of your best friends currently going against Nico, one of Luke’s best men. 

The room erupted in laughter as Nico began doing what looked like an interpretive dance as she attempted to breakdance. In the midst of all the chaos, another one of your bridesmaids had managed to sneak to the other side, her eyes darting around to find your husband. 

She found him, subtly sneaking up to poke his arm. He looked down at her, seeing she was holding out her hand to silently tell him to do the same. Once he did, he was blessed with another Polaroid. 

He blushed, anticipating what he would be met with as soon as he turned it over. Luke cupped his hand along the side of it as he flipped the small rectangle, his smile widening as he took in the contents of this one.

This time, it was a picture of you covering your breasts with your hands, the rest of your body still on display. Luke covered his face with his hands, catching the attention of his former teammate, Ethan. 

“You alright, man?” He asked, noticing the joyful look on his friend’s face.

Luke nodded, running his hands down his face before they fell back to his side, “I’m good. My girlfriend thinks she’s quite the comedian though.”

“You mean your wife?” Ethan corrected, laughing at the way Luke’s smile grew at the new title. “Well, from the times I’ve met her, she’s fucking hilarious.”

“You have no idea.”

~✩~

The night was still young, the party still thriving. 

By now, Luke had received six more polaroids, all of them making it extremely difficult for him to keep back from dragging you away from the celebration.

However, he managed to keep his composure, laughing with you as the two of you watched, yet again from your table, as Jack got whisked away by three children you recognized as your cousins, all of them bombarding him with questions about hockey.

“You having fun?” You yelled, wanting your voice to be audible over the music.

Luke side-eyed you, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is the most fun night I’ve ever had in my life, baby.”

You didn’t even get the chance to respond as you noticed your maid of honour approaching the table. Luke started laughing, rubbing his hands together as he knew exactly what she was bringing him. His reaction caused you to giggle uncontrollably, not expecting him to be this excited.

He put his hands out in front of him like a child begging for candy as she proudly placed the image in his palms. Luke excitedly turned it over, his eyes shutting as he put his head down, his brain short circuiting as he took in the picture. 

This one was you, fully nude, his initials inked into your skin right on your hip. You knew exactly which one this was, having planned the best for last. 

In the previous pictures, your panties had been on in order for the tattoo to be a surprise. You had gotten it a few weeks ago, wanting it to be healed in time for your wedding night, and it had been a struggle to keep it from Luke. Thankfully you had managed to keep the secret, making this moment that much more special.

“Do you actually-” He cleared his throat to compose himself, “Is that actually on your skin?”

You smirked, “Yeah. Thought you’d like it as much as I do.”

By now, the blood had not only rushed to his face, but to his cock as well. He reached over to hold your hand, gripping it slightly to keep his composure as he leaned over, his lips right by your ear.

“Enjoy the night, baby. Because the second we get out of here you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

[bctdigitalai]

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[qcomicsy]

Random convo I bet happen between civilians and vigilantes

Civilian: What hair product do you use man?? My man's hair is shiiiiining

Nightwing, chuckling: I just let it dry (lying)

Civilian: Naaaah, man I see you jumping from rooftop to rooftop everyday, tell me your secrets–

---

Gothamite: And who's gonna pay for this scratch on my car?!!!

Robin (Tim), trying damn hard to stay stealth: Don't you have insurance?

Gothamite, don't giving a fuck: No!

Robin: You should have–

Gothamite: You know what? HEY TWO-FACE–

Robin: No, no, no– Hold on–

Gothamite: HE'S RIGHT HE–

---

Gothamite: Okay- Cannabis is very much legal in L.A.

Batman: We're not in L.A.

Gothamite: Yeah that's funny because– *runs*

Batman: *Runs after him.*

---

Gothamite: See I don't hate you

Signal: Always good to hear that–

Gothamite: You doing a pretty good job.

Signal: I–

Gothamite, also a bus driver: But you gotta stop being thrown at my window–

Signal: I don't control where villains throw me.

Gothamite: Yeah bro– But you better start, otherwise there's gonna be one more out there–

---

Gothamite, also a security guard on his phone at 3 am: Yeah, no honey it's literally desert here–

Gothamite: HOLY SHIT

Batman:

Gothamite: Fucking warn a guy, mY GOD–

---

Gothamite: I thought you were taller.

Nightwing: I heard that a lot.

---

Gothamite: How do you see on that thing?

Batgirl (Cassandra):

Batgirl: I don't.

Gothamite, terrified: Oh okay–

---

Batman: Shouldn't you be at home?

Gothamite, who's also a teenager very much snicking out at four am: Shouldn't you mind you business?

Batman:

After being forcefully driven to home on the batmobile

Gothamite That was really unecessary–

---

Gothamite: Are you alone??? Where'd your dad? Where's Batman?

Robin (Tim Drake, early days): Batman's not my dad.

Gothamite:

Gothamite: See now I'm concerned.

Robin: Oh no–

Gothamite: What's is this a internship...? A job...?

Robin: You know what? Yeah, Pretty much.

Gothamite: Really? Oh okay, okay. I'm less concerned– Because–

Robin: Yeah I can see–

Gothamite: Like "is he kidnaping those children"?

Robin, chuckling: No, no–

Gothamite: You get paid?

Robin: Not really.

Gothamite: I'm back at being concerned–

---

Gothamite, from her window: Have you eaten yet?

Robin (Dick): No– (lying)

Gothamite: Oh, the poor child– Oh shame on you

Batman:

Gothamite: The poor kid– You're dragging him alone with you to fight crime on a empty stomach?

Batman:

Batman: I–

Gothamite: Unbelievable. I expected more on you– Hold on sweety I'll see If I have some cookies here to give you.

Dick: :)

---

Robin (Damian): Do I look like a fucking child?

Gothamite: Do you want me to answer that?

---

Old Gothamite being around the city since Batman year 1: You sound different.

Batman (Dick Grayson): No I don't.

Gothamite: Yes you do–

---

Gothamite: She looks different.

Gothamite: Mark is the same girl.

Gothamite: No honey, she looks different, she's was taller

Gothamite: Honey you're being paranoid.

Gothamite: She was a red-head!

Gothamite: Oh, Mark. Now the girl can't even dye her hair? Just because she's a Super-hero? Por girl can't even reinvent herself and people on this city start saying she's a different person?! Let her be! Her life must've be hard enough–

Gothamite: Jennet I swear to God that's not the same girl–

Batgirl (Stephanie), just trying to get some information:

Gothamite: You never notice when I change my hair–

[renard-dartigue]

Hi now i'm curious what is the beef with the rappers

Man this is going to be long so I'll try to keep this simple and entertaining. I hope this comes across as clear cause I'm shook right now.

Here is a glossarie to break thing up:

Prologue (The Spark 🔥)

Round 1.1 (Physical Education 💪🏾)

Interlude part 1 (Roots 🏠)

Round 1.2 (2 Warning Shots 🔫)

Interlude part 2 (Pusha the Seer 👁)

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out 🔪 )

Round 2.2 (The Nuke 💥)

Epilogue (All eyes on him 👀)

My Theory 🤷🏾‍♂️

Highly recommend checking out the tracks yourself while you read along.

Prologue (The Spark)

Let it be known that I am a neutral party and that I don't take sides when it comes to rap beef. I was here for the music and creativity. I am just trying to recount events to the best of my knowledge. Sorry if some details are inaccurate.

Okay so basically, Drake, J Cole, and Kendrick Lamar are the Big 3 of the rap world right now.

A month ago, Future and Metro Boomin (two rapper who supposedly don't fuck with Drake anymore) released a song with Kendrick Lamar called "Like That". In the song Kendrick took a shot at Drake and J Cole, saying there isn't a big 3, its only him on top.

4 weeks ago J Cole dropped a track called "7 Minute Drill" that is dissing Kendrick. However, in a move that is very uncharacteristic of J, he took down the official track and formally apologized to Kendrick. Thus signaling his exit from the rap battle.

ROUND 1.1 (Physical Ed)

Drake on the other hand dropped "Push Ups" 2 weeks ago, a diss track that went after other rappers he doesn't like but mainly Kendrick. In it, he made fun of Kendrick's height and his contracts. He then ends the song with "I was really try'n keep it PG" meaning he has a nuke on Kendrick that people don't know.

Not long later, Drake dropped ANOTHER diss track "Taylor Made Freestyle" with Ai voices of Snoop Dog and fucking 2PAC! Kendrick has stated before that 2pac is one of his idols so this must have been a deep cut. In the song Drake claims Kendrick doesn't write his own music and uses the writers of Taylor Swift. Relating a rapper to pop music is seen as disrespectful.

INTERLUDE PART 1 (Roots)

Before I continue, I want to give a brief run down on how the public perceives these two rappers.

Drake portrays himself as a superstar, he's always on social media flaunting his success and partying with other celebrities, seeing alot of women and living a lavish lifestyle. His music is catchy, something you put on in the club. Most of his fan base praise him for his sick beats and witty lyrics. He's been in the music industry for a while and is no push over.

Kendrick Lamar is a very private person, doesn't expose anything about his personal life unless its on a track. He almost never gets into fights with anyone. He is a family man, stressing the importance of being there for his wife and son and encourages other fathers to do the same. His fan base praise him for his creative lyrics and highlighting the black American condition.

ROUND 1.2 (2 Warning Shots)

2 Day ago, Kendrick Lamar came back with his first official diss track on Drake called "Euphoria". In this song, Kendrick goes in on Drakes fake personality. Drake has always been known around the community as a bit of a poser, he grew up in Canada and was raised by his white mother, a relatively comfortable childhood. He was a star on the popular show Degassi when he was young. garnering him a fan base early in his career. Kendrick doesn't approve of Drake appropriating black American culture and acting like he some tough guy. When in reality he is a Canadian nerd thats disrespectful to 2pac. All throughout the song, Kendrick hits at things that many people have know about Drake, such as his behavior around underage girls. He also called Drake a deadbeat father who isn't in his son's life, even referencing his lost battle to Pusha T. Then Kendrick finally warns him that he has more dirt that he is willing to share if Drake takes things further.

Similar to Drake, Kendrick dropped another track called "6:16 in LA" later that day. This song focuses on Drake's environment, specifically the people he hangs with. Kendrick implies that Drake paid people to dig into his background and when they didn't find anything, Drake made up stuff instead. Kendrick then says that someone in Drakes group is leaking information to him about something even more serious. Also planting a seed in Drake's mind that his supposed friends don't actually like him, just like the clout from hanging around him.

INTERLUDE PART 2 (Pusha the Seer)

Taking a quick break again, we need to discuss something that occurred long before Drake's battle with Kendrick.

5 years ago, Drake was in a rap battle with rapper Pusha T, someone who was smaller than Drake at the time in terms of popularity. Pusha dropped a song called "The Story of Adidon" where he dropped a bomb that Drake had a kid and wasn't taking care of him. Drake initially denied it but it was later revealed to be true.

Since then Drake has never responded to Pusha T's diss track, making Pusha the current winner. And Kendrick is bringing it back into the light.

Round 2.1 (Knifes Out)

Around 2 am EST time of May 4th, Drake drops his diss track, "Family Matters" one of his strongest songs, switching his flow 3 times in the span of 7 minutes. In true Drake fashion, its a club song with a catchy beat. Like his previous diss, its aimed at multiple people but the main focus is on Kendrick, even bring up "I was really try'n keep this PG".

Drake doubles down on his black identity and mocks the fact that Kendrick and other rappers are saying he isn't black, (incorrectly assuming that they are coming at him for being mixed when the real issue is that he is appropriating black American rap culture as a Canadian mixed man who grew up in a safe environment) Drake not only calls Kendrick a fraud who only raps about black issues for attention, Or that his activism is performative. He makes a shocking claims that Kendrick is a wife beater. Then Drake says that Kendrick's son doesn't belong to him and implies Kendrick's producer was the real father.

The track caused an uproar. But only for the span of 15 minutes. Because Kendrick did the unthinkable.

ROUND 2.2 (THE NUKE)

Almost as if expecting Drake's move, Kendrick Lamar did what no one saw coming. He dropped his diss track "Meet The Grahams" about 15 minutes after Drake released "Family Matters".

This time around, in a fashion almost unheard of from him, Kendrick strips all the usual metaphors from his lyricism and structures his track like he is speaking to Drake and his family, 4 parts per individual.

Kendrick begins by speaking to Drakes Son, Adonis, the same son Pusha T exposed Drake for neglecting 5 years ago. He's apologizing to him for his father's behavior. Kendrick speaks to him softly but sternly like a mentor, telling him not to be like his father. Kendrick tells Adonis all the things Drake did and warns him not to do them too: involved with escorts, plastic surgery to appear more black, surgery to look more muscular, hiding a kid. (Kendrick stresses that Adonis is black regardless of being mixed, further highlighting that he isn't discrediting Drake's blackness because he's mixed but because he isn't being himself.) Finishing of by telling the kid to be proud of who he is.

The second half is Kendrick addressing Drake's mother and father, Sandra and Denise. Kendrick speaks to her like he's revealing tragic news, explaining to her that her son is involved in disgusting things. He goes down a list of things, his tone growing more intense and angry. Kendrick then claimed that Drake is employing and enabling pedos in his group, and hopes they die. Even implying that his group is going to be raided by the feds some day.

The third half is the MOST shocking of all. Kendrick begins talking to an unnamed individual, simply calls her babygirl. Similar to Adonis, Kendrick takes on a somber tone and apologizes to her for Drakes behavior. He says its not her fault Drake abandoned her, says that she is deserving of love. He warns her not to become a target for people like Drake to pray on and says she has so much to offer the world.

Kendrick revealed Drake has ANOTHER kid and isn't in their life! (Allegedly)

To close of, the fourth half is Kendrick speaking directly to Drake, his tone tired. He tries to reiterate that he doesn't have hate for him. However, Kendrick says Drake was the first one to go after his family and he couldn't let it slide. He once again calls for Drake to take the mask off. Then says this isn't a rap battle anymore, tells Drake he is fighting himself.

Epilogue (All eyes on him)

And so here we are, waiting for what will happen next.

Drake posted an Instagram story denying the claim he has another kid. But given what happened with Pusha T, we can't quite take his word for it yet. We should wait a bit to see if anything comes out.

Kendrick hasn't put out a statement on Drake's claims about him but given the recurring theme of Drake being a manipulative lier, Kendrick clearly denies it. Given how private he is, its difficult to prove or disprove it. Much like Drake's claims, we will have to wait and see if any evidence comes out about it.

Drake and Kendrick stans are at eachothers throats right now, arguing over who one and whats real or fake.

Right now everyone is looking to see if Drake is going to continue the battle or stay silent like he did with Pusha.

My Theory

Personally as an outside observer who only followed the beef for good music. I think this goes beyond a simple rap battle.

Here is my theory: Someone from Drake's clique told Kendrick that Drake and his producers were writing something about him. Real or fake, Kendrick was pissed. And so he drafted 3 tracks, dumping everything he hates about Drake into them. And then, with the leaker's help, Kendrick baited Drake into a battle, goading Drake to drop the "Family Matters" track so he can shut the battle down with "Meet the Grahams". Or maybe his first 2 tracks were a warning to Drake that if he released a track with lies on him he would reveal he has another kid.

I do think Kendrick initially had good intentions in trying to help Drake be a better person. But maybe the more he learned about Drake the less sympathetic he felt.

But I don't know thats just how I see it.

Thanks for reading my essay. I hope it made sense heh. I encourage healthy discussions in the comments and reblogs please. But everyone agrees that Drake is inappropriate with young girls. We won't argue over that.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

For King and Kin

22/12: Party and Position Changes - Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, smut, prince regent aemond, doggy

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

“She is of a weak disposition, I heard. Perhaps she is with child.”

“The Prince Regent certainly needs an heir.”

“He has looked sour since his Lady Wife left the celebrations.”

Aemond scoffed from his spot at the high table, circling a finger over the rim of his cup, half-filled with wine. They spoke as if he did not hear them, whispering such gossip. It was infuriating.

It was true that his lady wife suffered from sickness, especially in the mornings, but not exclusively. The maesters had told him in quiet confidence that they suspected she was with child, but that it was sensible to wait until the quickening to confirm.

What an excruciating wait.

She had graced the court with her presence earlier in the evening, but when she began to feel her stomach churning, she need only pay him a furrow of her brows in pain and he was more than happy to allow her rest if she needed it.

He was willing to carry her even, excuse himself from the celebrations himself. But she reassured him she was still able to walk, with a small, amused smile.

Even with the conqueror's crown planted firmly upon his head, all he could think of was the sweet curve of his wife's body in his. How warm she is. How smooth her skin. How plush her thighs. How tight her—

“Your Grace.”

Aemond blinked, swallowing thickly as he felt his breeches tighten at the mere tangent his mind was about to embark upon. Nothing softened him faster than the sight of Ser Tyland Lannister though, smug and stood tall as if he himself had been crowned instead of him.

“I wish to congratulate you on your Regency. As always your council will remain steadfast and trustworthy. And should you ever desire a Hand—”

“Thank you, Ser Tyland,” Aemond half-smiled, half-grimaced, “your loyalty is appreciated.”

Aemond nodded curtly to Ser Tyland, signalling the conversation was over, though the Lannister lingered a moment too long for Aemond’s liking before finally bowing and stepping away. 

His good eye drifted across the festivities. Everyone was drunk at best, smiles too wide, laughter too hollow, and he was overcome with the sudden desire to leave it all behind. He glanced in his mother’s direction as he pushed his chair out, her brown eyes wide with curiosity and judgement perhaps. 

She had given him no other look since Rook’s Rest.

“I believe they’ve seen enough of me tonight,” Aemond said, his tone firm. “The realm will not crumble if its Regent retires an hour early.”

“Aemond–”

“Mother,” he interrupted, his voice low but final.

It was only in the hall where he felt he could finally breathe. Air flowed easily, no longer stifled by the pomp and proper of the evening he had just sought to leave. He opened the heavy door to their chambers and stepped inside. The fire had burned low and she was already in bed, lying on her side, her hair spilling over the pillow.

“You left early,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him.

Her eyes opened slowly, and a small smile curved her lips. “And yet you followed.”

As he reached the bed, she shifted to sit up, the blanket pooling around her waist. “I thought you’d stay longer. Your mother will have words, I’m sure.”

“She always does,” he replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Her gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers grazing her stomach in that way that had haunted him all evening. “No,” she said softly. “Just…tired.”

He hummed, “when will the maesters give their opinion?”

She looked up at him then, her expression caught somewhere between apprehension and hope. “They said it would be unwise to speculate for a few more weeks,” she replied. “But I am aware patience is not your strong suit, is it?”

He smirked faintly. “It is not.”

“You’ve waited for so much, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice warm and soothing, eyes glancing up at the conqueror’s crown sat atop his head. “A little longer won’t harm you.”

“Hm,” he murmurs, crawling over the bed towards her delicate form, pressing his face to her stomach with his hands on her hips, “spare me, dear wife. Have the maesters forbade coupling? I do not think I can wait.”

Her fingers threaded through his hair as she let out a soft laugh. “No,” she said, “but we must be careful. They warned against anything too…strenuous. Until we know for certain.”

“I am no beast,” he muffled against her shift, bunching it up as if desperate to touch her flesh, “I know restraint.”

“I seem to recall differently,” she countered with a teasing lilt.

With a hand to his chest, she pushes him back, enough to be able to straddle his lap as he sits with his back against the bed frame. For a moment his pupil widened slightly and she relished in the warm pride that spread through her at his reaction. 

She wasted no time. Unlacing his breeches was the simple part, but in this position, face to face, it was novel and intimate, more than usual. It was always Aemond on top, commanding her body to his. She wasn't sure how her husband was likely to cope with the change.

His breath hitched, eye closing as she pulled his cock free and worked him to full hardness, her slight palm massaging the ruddy tip, knowing what he liked. He was surely about to speak before she rose her hips, and the tip of him kissed her waiting slit, and slowly, slowly took her husband to the hilt.

Her movements were slow, deliberate, her hands braced against his chest as she guided them both into a steady rhythm. Aemond’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers pressing into her flesh as he resisted the urge to take control. He let her lead, his lips parting as a low groan escaped him.

“Ābrazȳrys” his voice caught, his eye blazing as he gazed up at her. “You are perfection.”

She leaned forward, her fingers threading through his silver hair, and pressed her lips to his. The dark crown brushed her fingertips, and in her annoyed breath, she slipped it from his head onto the bed. An action only the wife of the Prince Regent in this intimate moment would ever get away with.

Their breaths mingled, their shared movements growing more heated, more desperate. It felt good to roll her hips against him, each slide home was easy, aided by her unending desire to please him. But soon, she began to slow, the strain in her thighs becoming too much.

Her brows furrowed, her rhythm faltering as she let out a shaky breath. “Aemond.”

He must have felt the shake, as he was already moving her off his lap, “enough. Allow me.”

He guided her off him carefully, laying her down on her side before helping her onto her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and for a moment, uncertainty flickered across her face.

Her cheeks burned as he pulled the shift over her backside, pulling her legs apart so he might see the wetness that glazed her womanhood. She felt exposed and utterly at his mercy in such a compromising position.

Not to mention, this was uncharted territory.

“We’ve never…” she began, her voice trailing off.

Aemond smirked, his fingers trailing down her spine. “No,” he murmured, his tone low, “but we will now.”

He positioned himself behind her, and watched with curiosity and admiration, as for from this angle, he was able to watch himself disappear inside, swallowed by her silky walls. She gasped in turn, this was deeper than she had ever felt him, with her spine curved and backside held against him. Her fingers clutched the sheets as his pace began slow enough, before his restraint began to ebb away.

“Alright?” he rasped, leaning forward to press kisses along her shoulder, his voice rough with both pleasure and concern.

Her hips instinctively pushed back, “don't stop…”

Her approval shocked him, but ignited his confidence all the same as he began to push into her with renewed vigour. She was surprised at how much she liked it, the way he fit against her, the way his hands held her so firmly. It felt raw, intimate, and utterly consuming.

His hands slid up to her waist as he felt her peak quiver through her body, her walls spasming around him and in the force of it, her arms gave out and she pressed her front to the sheets. She swore she felt the palm of his hand on her lower stomach, stroking lovingly as he reached his, pushing hot, pearly ropes of his release so much inside her, that she felt it dribble down her thigh.

Aemond helped her shift onto her side, gathering her into his arms as they both caught their breath. His hand instinctively returned to her stomach, his thumb brushing over the soft skin in slow, soothing circles.

“You will let me know once the maesters give their opinion, won’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into him. “But tonight, you are Prince Regent. Let us celebrate that.”

Aemond shook his head, his lips curling into a rare, genuine smile. His gaze softened as he looked at her, his wife, who had managed to calm the storm in him more times than he cared to admit.

“Tonight, I am your husband. Nothing else matters.”

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