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fioiswriting · 5 months ago

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The lust we share

Summary : When your husband takes you to Harrenhal, you meet his lover. And things don't turn out the way you thought they would.

Rating : Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x reader, Alys Rivers x Reader, Aemond x Reader x Alys

TW : pwp, oral sex (f receiving), p in v sex, light angst, threesome, unprotected sex, breeding kink (implied), praising kink, loss of virginity, not proofread.

Words count : 3652

AN : hi everyone!! How are you doing ? SO I know. I know I should be working on all my other works in progress BUT I had this idea and…Well. I had to write this. Who else is excited to see Alys??? Btw I’ve finished my exams and my internship, so I should have more time to write <3

Sorry, it’s filthy. As always.

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

From the moment you see her, you're mesmerised by her striking beauty, which makes her mysterious and dangerous. There's something intriguing about her gaze, as if she's reading through you, and it sends shivers down your spine every time. She seems to pierce your soul, deciphering your deepest secrets, leaving you both entranced and unsettled. She moves with a graceful confidence, her long black curls bouncing behind her. You don't know where to look. She's mesmerising. Your gaze is relentlessly drawn back to her. She has curves where you don't. A confidence you don't have.

You can only see in her what you lack in yourself, and in a way, you understand Aemond.

But Alys is surprisingly gentle with you. Her eyes show a kind of pity. You were nervous, frightened, and the edges of your thumbs can testify to that. After all, Alys is the other woman. Or maybe it's you, the other woman. Alys was there before you, after all. And she exudes a confidence, a poise, a maturity that you'll never be able to match, as if she were able to bend anyone or anything to her will. You can see why they say she's a witch.

With you it's different. Alys is patient. You just don't like the pitying tone she uses when she talks to you, as if you were a frail little thing to be pitied, as if she's afraid to break you – but you're no doll. You're not made of glass. You don't need pity. She knows you had no choice. You were forced to follow your husband to Harrenhal. Maybe that’s why she pities you.

She wonders how you manage to stay by his side, when you know the horrors he's committed, and it's something you wonder too. Every step he takes is made of ashes and blood, and you know the cries still haunt the walls of Harrenhal. The blood is probably still fresh, soaking the cobblestones.

She's made a habit of brushing your hair, stroking your long curls, cradling you and talking to you, and there's something comforting about the way she mothers you. You seek solace in her arms, when your husband is distant. At least you are not alone.

Your marriage to Aemond is recent. She listens as you confide in her and caresses your head. You are young and frightened, and you know the King needed an alliance to continue the war - your father had military and financial support to offer him. Marrying into the Targaryen family is a privilege no one can refuse. And especially not when your husband is the Prince Regent.

"Does he treat you well?" Your gaze meets hers in the mirror, but you are quick to look away. There's something too sincere in looking into her eyes. You feel as if she can see into your soul, read the truth, reveal your secrets, and that makes you uncomfortable.

" He's cold. Distant," you reply. Because it's true, Aemond is caught up in the gears of war, and he doesn't have much time for you, but you accept the place he's given you. He has a need to control, you've noticed. He controls and owns and dictates the rules of the game. Maybe it's comforting, for him, maybe it's his way of coping. He never shows vulnerability, at least not to you.

"Does he satisfy you?" Your face immediately turns red. You don't know how to tell her that you haven't consummated the marriage yet. You got married in a hurry. You didn't have time for -

At least he insisted you accompany him to Harrenhal. He didn't want you waiting for him in the Red Keep, he wanted you close to him. Because you are his wife, he said.

"We... We didn't..." You babble. You search for your words. And then you see her smirk, a subtle hint of a smile, almost imperceptibly curling the corners of her lips. You hardly know her, it's strange to discuss such intimate matters with your husband's lover. She knows him better than you do. Perhaps he showed her vulnerability, perhaps she knows what scars his soul. You wonder what she's thinking. She's indecipherable. Alys is a mystery. She exudes a special aura.

" What a pity," is all Alys answers. She has finished combing your hair. She takes the strands that have fallen across your chest and pulls them back behind your back, admiring her work. You hardly recognise yourself. You look bold. Almost confident. Your cleavage is accentuated. You look pretty.

You let her fingers brush over your bare shoulders, the touch light and pleasant. She places the finishing touch around your neck; a sapphire necklace.

"Now you look like a future queen," she whispers, her lips painted red in the hollow of your ear, and you shiver. With desire or surprise, you don't really know. There's a kind of certainty in her voice that intrigues you. You're not quite sure what that is. For a brief moment, you have the feeling that you detect some truth in her words, and you say nothing. Her eyes are shining.

Perhaps there's a part of unspoken desire there that you keep hidden beneath your innocent appearance.

You feel your husband's burning gaze on you all evening. You are alone at dinner. The two of you. The servants have brought the dishes and left immediately. He's at the other end of the table, his head held high, separated from you by steaming plates that make your mouth water. He has barely spoken, but you know that Aemond is a man of few words. He's all about quality.

"You look beautiful."

You politely accept the compliment. You like to feel that he fancies you. But then again, who doesn't like compliments? You cut your meat, your movements precise and delicate, like the lady you've been taught to become all your life. You play your role to perfection, it's a form of comfort, at least.

"I'm pleased that you find me to your liking, husband."

He looks satisfied. A silence falls over you. You are still hesitant in his company. You still have to adjust to him. You need to know how far you can go. What are your possibilities and your limits.

" She's intriguing, your Alys. "Your voice doesn't sound quite the way you would like it to, and you blame yourself. It gives the impression that you're reproaching him. That's not what you want. He stares at you with his one good eye, unreadable.

"My Alys," he muses. "She is, indeed." He lets a doubt linger, and you regret having brought up the subject of Alys. "She sees much and more. She saw a future for me." He pauses. You raise your eyes to him, puzzled. "For us." You and him, he means. And for a split second, you wonder if this has anything to do with what she told you. A future queen. She said you looked like a future queen.

Your pulse quickens. The idea seems dizzying. But there are certain desires that should remain buried, you know it. You don't want to appear power-hungry, even if your core is burning at the thought of having the whole Kingdom at your feet.

Perhaps your husband can see it in your eyes.

Aemond wears the Conqueror's Crown on his head like the Prince Regent that he is, and you can't help but think that it suits him so well. It's what he is made for. He looks like a statue carved in marble, ethereal and suspended in time, the embodiment of Targaryen beauty and grace.

How can such an angelic face hide such a cruel man?

"But don't be jealous, wife." He continues in the face of your silence. His voice is cold. It cuts through the air like a sharp knife. "For it is you I have chosen to marry, and I intend to be a dutiful husband."

You feel your cheeks flush. He's watching you so intently. His good eye shines even brighter than the sapphire you know hides under his eye patch. You feel as if he's undressing you with his gaze.

"I want you, tonight."

The statement sends a wave of heat between your thighs. You know what he means. You want it too. But to hear him express his desire so clearly, as if leaving no room for discussion, awakens a familiar sensation in your core. Aemond wants to take what he wants, what is rightfully his, and you may be sick in your head because the idea excites you as much as it frightens you. He's dangerous. You know what he's done. And yet. And yet, you can't help but want him.

By the time the meal is over, he's already standing in front of you. Tall. He towers over you, and as he leans towards you, forcing your chin up with the tip of his forefinger, he whispers, "You wouldn't deny your husband, would you?"

Gods, you can feel your arousal forming between your thighs, spreading across the fabric of your underwear. He's looking at you, his purple eye burning with desire. Between his legs, a visible bulge is already stretching the linen fabric. You notice it easily; it reflects the hunger you can read in his eyes.

"I wouldn't. Not when you are already so desperate."

To back up your words, your eyes drop to his crotch. He clenches his jaw and remains silent for a moment. You wonder what he's thinking, what thoughts are racing through his brain right now. He looks at you with a hint of curiosity in his eyes, as if studying an unknown specimen. Maybe you've been too bold. Maybe he likes it.

"I bet you are already wet."

A shiver runs down your spine. He doesn't look away, not for a moment, and your eyes are relentlessly drawn to his, as if hypnotised.

" Check. "

He doesn't waste any time. His fingers run down your body, slipping under the thick layers of your dress - you're wearing green to please him, but it's not the colour of your house. They work their way up your leg, up the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin in a long shiver of pleasure. You feel him brush against your folds; a touch so light it's like a ghost. But isn't that his purpose, to haunt you in the depths of your soul? When he ventures between your warm folds, your teeth bite your lower lip to prevent the slightest sound from escaping your lips. You don't want to give him that privilege. You don't want to show him that you need him.

"Indeed, you are."

He captures your innermost essence with the tip of his finger and immediately withdraws his hand. His forefinger touches his thumb, and he inspects the transparent thread that stretches between his fingers. You look away. Your cheeks are flushed. You're burning with embarrassment at your body's betrayal. He wipes his fingers and straightens up as if nothing had happened.

"Be there when I call for you."

And with that, he leaves the room. You're left alone, staring at the flame dancing in the middle of a candle. Between your thighs, your centre throbs. Your husband is a mystery.

You are lying on the bed. Panting, you are drowning in a combination of feverish pleasure and anticipation of what is to come. Alys plants kisses on the back of your neck, spicy and intoxicating like the finest Dornish wine. Her fingers brush over your nipples, and with a deft movement, she rolls them between her forefinger and thumb, pinching them gently. She is behind you. You lie with your back against her full breasts, her legs on either side of your body. Her long black hair tickles your collarbones as she leans towards you, and an herbal scent wafts through the air; a mixture of sage and lavender.

Her lips were between your thighs a moment ago. With devotion, the tip of her tongue explored your still untouched womanhood, collecting the fruits of your desire, her fingers drawing circles against your entrance. She's experienced. She knows what she's doing. You've never felt anything like this before. And when your thighs have closed around her face, one of your hands buried in her thick mass of black hair, she welcomed your climax into her mouth. Her half-closed eyes looked up at you from under her long lashes, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She seemed proud of herself, and of her work. You're sure she can still taste you on her lips.

When she had finished, she remained between your legs for a moment, tracing little circles on your lower stomach, her lips still glistening with your essence and her own saliva. Your chest rose and fell quickly. Red with embarrassment, you didn't dare meet her eyes and see the blatant traces of your shared sin still staining the lower part of her face. She let you catch your breath. Regain your senses. Come down from that little cloud you're still on.

It's Aemond who moves first. He stands and joins Alys, wiping what's left of your desire on her lips with his thumb. He looks satisfied. You wonder if he liked what he saw, if he liked seeing his wife tremble under the caresses of another. He pushes his thumb between Alys's lips, forcing her to taste you once more, and she sucks his finger with infinite compliance. You can see in their eyes that they know each other intimately, that he has already tasted her body. You can see it in their eyes, in the glances they exchange. You wonder if there has been more than carnal pleasure. You think there is. He kisses her chastely on the lips.

Aemond looks in your direction. He burns with desire, excitement and anticipation. You are about to become his and he can't hold back any longer. He needs to possess you.

"She did well," Alys murmurs, amused. "Give her a moment."

But he doesn't want to wait, he wants his wife. He undresses, and that's when Alys comes up behind you. She strokes your hair and whispers a series of praises into the hollow of your ear. You're cottony between her fingers, but your core is throbbing again at the thought of feeling your husband inside you.

"Open your legs," Aemond commands. And Alys gently spreads your thighs so that you reveal yourself to your husband.

Aemond details your body. Every part, from your lips to your breasts, from the valley between your breasts to your navel, and then the curve that leads to your centre. Alys follows the path of his gaze - her fingers on your nipples, and then her fingers running along your abdomen to your folds, caressing them gently. Her index and middle fingers slide between your flesh.

"Look how ready she is for you," Alys whispers to Aemond. You’re wet. His eyes are locked on you, right where you want him most. His member is hard, slightly curved against his belly, its angry red tip already leaking white beads.

And you are ready. You're just waiting for it. Desperately. The orgasm Alys gave you with her tongue has awakened a new, hungry desire in you. You stifle a moan that Alys encourages you to express with her lips along your throat.

Aemond leans over you, capturing your lips with his own. He nibbles at your lower lip. You feel his dominance, his need to own you. He's rough with his kiss, as if he's waited too long. Maybe he has.

You moan. Where Alys' body is soft and full of curves, Aemond's is angular and made of muscle.

"I want you," he whispers again against your lips. His fingers slide down your body, lingering on your breasts as he caresses your already erect nipples. Then he moves them between your thighs. He's meticulous with his movements. Precise. He traces your slit, spreads your folds to tease your little bud. You stifle another moan.

"And I can tell you want me too."

His fingers are against your entrance, which clenches around nothing as you feel him draw circles without ever entering you. It's frustrating. Slowly, he inserts a finger. You move your hips, desperate for more contact, desperate to welcome him deeper into you.

"Stay still," Aemond whispers, pressing down on your lower body. Behind you, Alys runs her hand through your curls. She strokes your long hair and when you move, she shushes you.

"You'll take what I give you," he adds, his lips against your jaw, his fingers inside you. "But if you are patient, you will be rewarded. I always reward good girls." You feel a slight stretch as a second finger enters you, and the sensation is delicious. Delicious, but not enough. Even when he starts to move his fingers back and forth - they are subtly crooked inside you, even when he traces the curve of your breast with his mouth, catching your nipple between his lips.

"You're doing well," Alys breathes, praising you. There's her body behind you, and Aemond's lips on your breasts, his fingers buried inside you, deep, and your body is on fire. But it's not enough.

"I'm ready," you moan. "Please."

Behind you, Alys chuckles softly, her chest rising and falling as she senses your desperation, senses your desperate need for more. The impatience of the youth, she thinks - for Aemond is like that, too. Impatient. Impulsive. She had to teach him as well. As Aemond withdraws his fingers and positions himself between your legs, you feel Alys hold your thighs apart. Her fingers are hot against your skin, but there's something soothing about having her against you, around you. Her presence calms the too-rapid beating of your heart - an inevitable form of apprehension at the thought of what is about to happen.

There's something strange about the idea of sharing such an intimate moment with your husband and his lover. It's not what you imagined, and yet you love the feeling of having them both against you. You're safe. You feel safe. The war can't reach you when you're between their bodies - it's a silly thought.

And then, his round tip rubs between your folds, testing your entrance. The contact is hot. When he finally enters you, the stretch catches you off guard, your fingers close in the sheets, then around Alys' arm.

"Fuck. You're tight." Aemond grunts.

The sensation is new and incredible - the slight pain you felt at first quickly dissipates, replaced by pleasure.

Soon you feel nothing else. Alys' hands leave your legs and move up your body. One hand on your breast, the other at the top of your folds, where she draws slow circles around your pearl. She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing, and so does Aemond. And there they are, both slaves to your own pleasure.

He sets his pace. She sets hers. You know you won't last long; your walls are already beginning to tighten around his member. You feel him so deep inside you, and there's this one spot, this one precise spot that he hits at a steady pace that makes you feel like you're seeing stars.

Soon your husband's movements become sloppy, messy.

"Fill your wife, Aemond." Alys whispers in a commanding tone, and there's something about hearing her give orders to your husband that sends a wave of warmth through your lower belly. She reaches out her hand, strokes his hair, his cheek. "You need an heir, don't you? So, spill your seed, I know you can." She addresses Aemond, but her honeyed voice echoes in your ears. You shiver, once more. The thought. The thought is -

You feel your release sweep through your body like a wave washing over you. You throw your head back against Alys, who is already kissing you. Her fingers leave your folds. Aemond brings them to his mouth - he cleans every trace of you that still stains her skin with a hm. It's filthy. It's indecent. But you're too far gone to think about that now.

All you can think of is Aemond's arms around your waist as he pulls you up so you're sitting on top of him, facing him, his forehead against yours, as he spills his seed deep inside you, white ropes painting your wombs. He holds you against him, his hands on your waist, the grip mean and possessive. You put your arms around his neck, your breasts pressed against his chest. And he holds you like that, against him, when his member stops throbbing between your inner walls, when he feels his member softening inside you. When you come to your senses, still high from your second release of the evening.

"Now you truly belong to me," he whispers against your lips, and all you can answer is "Yes, I do".

As you lie back, you can still feel the sticky combination of your two fluids dripping between your thighs. But your eyelids are already heavy - your lovemaking has exhausted you. Alys strokes your hair, under Aemond's watchful eye. He's still hesitant, despite what's happened between you - but it's hard for him to be vulnerable.

"You did well," she mutters, but she doesn't know if you can hear her or if you're already asleep. Aemond finally reaches out to caress your face with a gentleness you don't recognise; his thumb against your cheek. He's soft. You look so peaceful, asleep between them.

You are not sure what tomorrow will bring. You are not sure what the future holds. But when you close your eyes, your dreams are made of crowns and sapphires.

Ashes and flames too - but you'd rather forget that. Outside, the war still rages.

#aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #alys rivers #alys rivers x reader #alys x reader #aemond x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond x alys x reader #aemond x reader x alys #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #alysmond x reader

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mysticstarlightduck · 6 months ago

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Late Writeblr Intro!

Hello, friends!

I figured it was about time I made an actual blog intro of my own since I forgot to make one when I started this blog last year. Better late than never, lmao!

Pls, reblog, like, and/or reply to help boost the blog! 💕

Let's get started:

Personal Stuff! 💜🩶🖤

My name is Anna/Anya but you can call me Mystic, Ducky, or just Anya on this blog! My personal nickname is Ani and I adore it (:

I am an Asexual woman (my pronouns are she/her!) and I'm also personally an atheist who puts my faith in the spirits of Mother Nature, though I respect all other religions equally!

I'm Gen Z and Latina (Brazilian). I was raised bilingual (Brazilian Portuguese + English) and I love learning languages - currently, I'm working on learning French and Spanish! Career-wise I am studying in college to become a character designer and hopefully animator, as I want to pursue a career as an artist and writer! I also wish to have my WIPs published in the near future (:

Some fun facts about me!

My favorite shows are Critical Role, Game of Thrones, Castlevania, The Legend of Vox Machina (animated series), Star Wars, Voltron, The Dragon Prince, Avatar the Last Airbender, Legend of Korra, and DC Comics content, as well as many more lmao. I love watching movies and series!

My favorite Vox Machina characters are Vax'ildan and Percy (:

I am a younger sister 💖

My hair is short and curly (pixie style, similar to the haircut Rapunzel has at the end of the Tangled movie!)

I adore listening to music, especially songs that can inspire me to write my WIPs! Playlists are a huge part of my writing process and something I really enjoy making.

I'm currently rereading Shadow and Bone (+ Six of Crows) and I am always looking for more good dark fantasy/historical fantasy books to read so book recs are always welcome! I also am a huge fan of the Percy Jackson series and Trials of Apollo (by Rick Riordan), though I'm usually more of a gritty/dark fantasy fan (like Game of Thrones)!

I have three dogs and two cats!😺🐶

I know how to play the piano, though I haven't done that in a while because things have been chaotic for me, but I'd like to start playing regularly again in my winter vacation.

I have worn glasses since I was 5 years old and have terrible eyesight without them (and some days with them, lol, so bear with me).

My friends and I are doing a DnD campaign every Sunday, where I play as a half-elf rogue named Aeryn (he/him). I'm adoring this adventure so far, it's so fun!!!

I love to bake and am rather good at it, but am a painfully average cook lmao (some specific recipes I make are actually rlly good, but it depends a lot on my mood and the 'alignment of the stars' lol)

I want to learn how to knit/crochet! 🧶

I'm a theater nerd and love musicals (:

About my Writing!🏹⌛

I write fictional works mostly in the genre of fantasy (high fantasy/epic fantasy/dark fantasy/historical fantasy/urban fantasy, etc. You name it!) and science fiction (space opera/cyberpunk/superhero, etc).

My works usually revolve around themes such as epic quests, secrets, adventure, rebels fighting an oppressive system, sibling bonds, acceptance/respect, outcasts, and much, much more! I love fluff and whump equally, and though my stories tend to focus on serious topics (or at least darker/heavier themes) within a fantasy/sci-fi setting, I like to have a good bit of humor, lighthearted fun, and comedy to my stories to lighten up the mood!

My main WIPs:

Song of Thorns

🌹WIP Intro: (here)🌹

Genre: dark fantasy, medieval fantasy, adventure/mystery, dark fairytale, eldritch horror (mild)

Style: Standalone (possible Trilogy)

Tags: #wip song of thorns #song of thorns

Short Summary/About: "A peasant girl moves with her siblings from her struggling seaside village to the kingdom's glittering floating capital, but after her older brother is kidnapped, she ends up discovering the dark, bloody secrets hiding behind the long-lasting royal family of the town and must team up with a young dhampir thief, the exiled prince, and a lonely druid girl to save the dying kingdom from this web of lies".

Supernova Initiative

🎇WIP Intro: (here) 🎇

Genre: space opera, adventure, exploration, laboratory whump, heist, thriller/mystery

Style: Episodic book series with an overarching plot (each chapter/group of chapters equivalent to an episode in a TV series)

Tags: #wip supernova initiative #supernova initiative

Short Summary/About: "A young intergalactic thief and his crew are captured after a heist gone wrong and forced to accept a strange deal - complete a mission for the Junction, retrieve important missing files, and get their freedom back. All the while that is happening, Jack Tithus, the protagonist, finds himself trapped as a test subject to an immoral, and elusive, man known as the Director."

Enchanted Illusions

💀 WIP Intro: (here)💀

Genre: Victorian fantasy, adventure, mystery, gothic fantasy, dark fantasy, crime-solving

Style: Possibly a trilogy

Tags: #wip enchanted illusions, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "On a magical setting inspired by Victorian times, a group of strangers and outcasts must work together to thwart a powerful secret organization and stop a murder spree that could lead to another civil war between myths and humans."

Of Starlight and Beasts

✨⚔️WIP Intro: (here)⚔️✨

Genre: medieval fantasy, epic fantasy, adventure/quest, dark fairytale, sword and sorcery, prophecies

Style: Book Series

Tags: #wip of starlight and beasts, #enchanted illusions

Short Summary/About: "A young knight in training and an amnesiac star mage embark on a quest to prevent an ancient prophecy from coming to fruition as a vengeful sorceress queen's army marches relentlessly onto their land with the intent to destroy all their kingdom has built."

The Last Wrath

🔥⚔️WIP Intro: to be made...⚔️🔥

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, political intrigue, espionage, adventure/quest, medieval fantasy, whump

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip the last wrath, #the last wrath

Short Summary/About: "In a land torn by an ancient war between two sides of a continent, a mageborn girl finds herself trapped amid the bloodshed after her past comes back to haunt her and her family. Now, stopping the war may be the only chance she still has to survive."

Tales of Wilted Flowers

🥀WIP Intro: to be made...🪻

Genre: RPG-inspired fantasy, high fantasy, adventure, fairytale, epic quest, heist story, whump, light fantasy

Style: Trilogy (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip tales of wilted flowers #tales of wilted flowers

Short Summary/About - "A group of youths rejected and betrayed by society in many different ways come together due to unexpected circumstances and must rely on each other to prevent the kingdom's corrupt Head Sorcerer and the King from reviving an ancient evil."

Realms of Loss

🍂WIP Intro: (here)🍂

Genre: dark fantasy, warfare, medieval fantasy, high fantasy, ancient times fantasy, Viking-inspired, prophecies & curses

Style: Book Series (currently on hiatus)

Tags: #wip realms of loss #realms of loss

Short Summary/About - "In a continent destroyed by the fall of the Old Gods, and trapped in an endless toil for survival, a cocky young prince discovers his role in an ancient prophecy after his brother, the King, is murdered and assassins come for him too. Running away into the forsaken land beyond the walls of his kingdom, he'll have to learn to be a leader and save his people as a dead, murderous God awakens."

Mutant Inquiries/Open Secret Files

🤖 WIP Intro: to be made..🤖

Genre: superhero, cyberpunk, futuristic, dystopian, science fiction, urban fantasy

Style: Episodic Series, still in development

Tags: #wip mutant inquiries #wip open secret files #mutant inquiries #open secret files

Short Summary/About: "In a dystopian, high-tech future, a group of mutant teenagers become vigilantes and crime fighters to rebel against the oppressive government regime and survive their crime-ridden city."

I have a few other smaller-scale WIPs I occasionally, less frequently work on, such as Lies Untold and Jade Ruins, but those up above are the main ones that I wish to publish. I've also got a big, secret extra WIP I'm working on for fun and will share it with you guys soon!

#writers on tumblr #writers #writeblr intro #blog intro #wip intro #writeblr #writing #writerblr #my wips #character writing #writing community #writers of tumblr

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writingforstraykids · 1 year ago

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Minchan Masterlist🖤

Fluff: 🌹 / Angst: 💭 / Smut: ❤️‍🔥

Work Count: 56

More Minho | Chan content here: Collection of Masterlists

Info: Every fic without the fem/male/gn Reader attached in the title is a Minchan only fic

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

No more secrets (femReader) - 💭🌹

Minho longs for nothing more than to show everyone how much he loves you and Chan. Due to past events and worries about their careers, only Chan's and your relationship is public. After getting back from a trip, he can't cope with being Chan's and your dirty little secret anymore.

Only joking (femReader) - 💭🌹

After dance practice Chan and Minho get into a small fight and one of Chan's jokes crosses a line.

Be nice - 🌹💭❤️‍🔥

Sometimes, Chan helping him out isn't what Minho wants, and this time, they get into a fight. Later that day, they talk it out, but it never stays at that with them...

Safe space (femReader) - 💭🌹

Minho has always been the strongest, never showing when he's upset to never worry Chan and you. When he comes home hurt one night, that starts to change.

Pretty please (femReader) -❤️‍🔥

You've ended up in bed with Minho or Chan as friends with benefits a few times by now. Chan and Minho had a similar agreement for quite a while themselves. After proposing to Chan to all spend some time together, he promises to talk to Minho. Coming home from an event Chan can't keep his hands off Minho, completely ignoring Minho's concerns about you still being home.

Second chance (femReader) - 💭🌹

Chan and you help Minho the night he gets out of his abusive relationship. Due to your shared past Minho seems anxious to intrude. A year later things seem to be going well until a situation escalates and triggers a panic attack.

Soft thoughts on Minchan-🌹

Title says everything.

Only the best for you -🌹❤️‍🔥

Felix's birthday party turns thrilling for Chan and Minho as they sneak away for a moment of privacy...more or less.

My heart remains with you - 🌹💭

Prince Minho, the neglected second son of the king finds a dear friend in Chan who later becomes his knight. When war parts them the lines of friendship and love start to blur.

I always see you - 🌹💭

After their break Minho isn't quite happy with his currently gained weight. Struggling to accept himself, his friends make it worse by pointing out the changes of his body lovingly and teasingly. Chan tries to figure out what's wrong, but it takes a while until Minho lets him.

Whispers of the Moon - 🌹💭

In the heart of Seoul, beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and ancient palaces, lies a hidden world of magic and mystery. Chan, a gifted healer, and Minho, a shapeshifter hiding as a sleek black cat, find their destinies intertwined in this enchanting underworld...

Ready, pretty?❤️‍🔥🌹

One night, after sharing a few drinks, Minho feels safe enough to overshare a little, thinking Chan is too drunk to remember the next day. He doesn't know that Chan remembers every word and is more than willing to help him with his little issue.

100 types of kisses - 🌹

Prompt 22 -> A kiss in a rush of adrenaline.

100 types of kisses -🌹💭

Prompt 20-> A kiss on a scar

You always come first -🌹💭

Worrying Chan is by far one of the things Minho hates most. So when he hurts himself during practice one day, he'd rather die than tell his boyfriend. His body isn't quite happy with his choice, forcing him to open up at some point...

A worthy opponent - 🌹(💭)

Chan comes home late, once again finding Minho already asleep in their bed. Minho makes sure to get his love comfortable and grant him some rest.

Scenarios/Drabbles

Anon ask 1-❤️‍🔥

Sometimes you and Minho make Chan feel so good he forgets he's the one in charge and starts begging.

I need a hug - 💭🌹

Minho can't relax after their concert and searches for the comforting warmth of his only hyung late at night.

I need a hug (smut edition) - 💭❤️‍🔥🌹

The same as above but with smut

Minho comforting Chan after a rough day - 🌹💭

...title says it all.

Mhm, I know - 🌹

Minho overdid it a little at their practice room and Chan's there to take care of him.

Minchan x reader series

More than friends (femReader) - complete

More than friends Pt. 1 - 💭🌹

Having a crush on both Minho and Chan, you hate seeing them stupidly in love and happy. One day, you snap at Chan, hurting Minho in the process. Minho picks you up the next day since you two have a lot to talk about...

More than friends Pt. 2 - 💭🌹

Things with Chan don't work out as expected and he seems a little irritated by your sudden deep bond with Minho, feeling left out. When he doesn't feel well you're the one taking care of him...

More than friends Pt. 3 - ❤️‍🔥🌹

Chan and you grow closer as time passes by and after your first kiss things are still unclear. That's until Chan walks in on you and Minho and you walk in on Minho and him only shortly after..

More than friends Pt. 4 - ❤️‍🔥🌹

Chan has trouble forgetting about the day he stumbled in on Minho and you. With Minho gone for business and stress rising he decides to take matters into his own hands...accidentally calling you instead of Min ...

More than friends Pt.5 -❤️‍🔥🌹

On your ride home, Chan notices Minho needs some extra attention tonight, and before you know it, you're invited. Chan makes sure Minho and you feel comfortable throughout the process and lets you experience your own dominance once Minho fully submits to the both of you...

I owe you a kiss (femReader) -ongoing

I owe you a kiss (femReader) - 💭🌹

As the upcoming comeback gets closer, Chan starts isolating himself from you and Minho, getting overwhelmed. He can't quite deal with feeling so much and nothing at all at the same time and takes it out on the two of you. Minho and you try to help your husband out.

I owe you a kiss Pt.2 (femReader)-🌹💭

Minho and you work out a few methods to help Chan acknowledge his feelings, good or bad. Both you and Minho have nothing but Chan's best in mind, slowly realizing how insecure Chan truly is...

I owe you a kiss Pt. 3 (femReader)-🌹💭

Whilst Minho and you grow closer his relationship to Chan is strained, suffering from all the responsibility he has to carry for the group. You want nothing more than your boys to work things out..

I owe you a kiss Pt.4 (femReader)-🌹💭

Chan arrives at the hospital to be there for his family in person. The news they receive about you aren't what they expected and Minho can't help but blame himself. Your husbands try to navigate their life as you recover.

I owe you a kiss Pt.5 (femReader) - ❤️‍🔥💭🌹

Chan and Minho enjoy their evening together before realizing how much they truly missed each other over the past six months. After their shared lazy night, they get an important call...

I owe you a kiss Pt.6 (femReader) - 💭🌹

Once you're back home, your husbands try their best to support you, but the circumstances are taking their toll on you. It all goes well until you find out who was the one driving that night...

I owe you a kiss Pt.7 (femReader) - 🌹💭

The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

I owe you a kiss Pt.8 (femReader)-🌹💭

Three weeks later, you're still feeling left out. Your therapist suggests communicating your worries to your husbands, but this doesn't go as planned.

I owe you a kiss Pt.9 (femReader)-🌹💭

Minho and you spend a day at the art gallery, Chan takes you out for dinner by the river. Both of them try their best to make room for you and reconnect. You haven't been so happy in a while.

Minchan series

Addicted to you Series (mainly Minchan)🌹💭❤️‍🔥 - completed (requests open for additional content)

Minho and Chan have been secretly in love with each other for ages. One day, they act upon their feelings, and their new bond grows without any clear boundaries. Whilst Minho is hopeful for their future, Chan is scared of the public finding out; a big fight seems to destroy everything they have and takes a toll on the whole group. Will their love for each other outweigh the hurt and fear of possible consequences? Or will they keep on hurting and longing for each other without finding any common ground?

Chapter 1 - 🌹

Minho and Chan are very good friends, with nothing but friendly admiration between them. At least, that's what they both fail at pretending to. The most simple acts of kindness seem to draw them in deeper without the other one knowing...

Chapter 2 - 🌹(💭)❤️‍🔥

Listening to previously recorded audio files of Minho makes Chan question his feelings for his younger friend once more. It gets even harder to ignore when Minho joins him and notices. One thing leads to another, and they both deal with Felix almost catching them differently.

Chapter 3 -🌹(💭)❤️‍🔥

Chan and Minho finally decide to talk more in-depth about their experiences and current feelings. Chan slips up once again, and Minho finds himself in his lap sooner than he thought.

Chapter 4 - 🌹❤️‍🔥

The next morning, Minho gets caught slipping out of Chan's room, only to find out that Felix knows damn well what happened the night before. Chan can't help himself, teasing Minho right back into bed. Minho decides to trust him all the way...

Chapter 5 - (❤️‍🔥) 💭🌹

Felix tells Minho how much Chan adored him months ago already. Chan and Minho reminisce about the times they realized they loved the other one. Everything seems to be great for months until it isn't, and Chan feels like everything is too much. Minho tries to accept it for a while but gets into a fight with him as he snaps at Jisung.

Chapter 6 - ❤️‍🔥💭

Minho misinterprets a message of Chan and climbs his balcony despite his fear worried for him. Chan finally opens up to him about what's been worrying him. Another fight during dance practice makes Chan realize how much he's hurting Minho and he has his own way to fix things.

Chapter 7 - ❤️‍🔥💭🌹

Another two months later, things seem to stabilize again, and Minho is happier than ever with Chan despite his injury slowing him down. Everything seems to be perfect until their friends confront Chan about a possible relationship, and Chan's fear of being out in the open gets the better of him. He notices too late that Minho's right there, hearing everything...

Chapter 8 - 💭🌹

Felix and Jisung stay the night with Minho, making sure he's okay. The next day, Minho tries his best to avoid Chan as much as possible but fails miserably. Finally alone, Chan follows his heart...

Chapter 9 ❤️‍🔥💭🌹

Felix decides to try a new way to cheer Minho up for a bit, falling back into old patterns with him. Chan walks in on them and at first, Minho doesn't care...until he does.

Chapter 10 - 🌹💭

The night Felix and Minho have shared raises questions amongst their friends and Minho feels pushed into a corner. Another fight with Chan escalates and Felix and Changbin step in. Minho and Chan try to work on their differences and get closer.

Chapter 11 -🌹💭

Staying together for the night, Minho and Chan have trouble fighting against what they both long for deep down. Making out in the kitchen, they get caught by Felix, who isn't very amused. Both Chan and Minho try and figure out how things will develop from here on.

Chapter 12 -🌹💭

After weeks of pushing himself beyond his limits Minho's body gives up and he collapses during their live performance. It's Chan who's by his side when he does and also when he wakes up again...

Chapter 13 - 🌹💭

Back home, Minho decides to make the best out of his break and opens up to his mother about the past events. After finding some letters his friends wrote him, he calls Jisung. It takes him a week to finally open Chan's letter, which seems to change everything...

Chapter 14 - 🌹💭❤️‍🔥

Chan decides to stay for a few days, and they can't stay away from each other for long. Minho's parents let Chan off with a gentle warning. Chan shows Minho the songs he wrote about him and Minho takes it differently than expected.

Chapter 15 - 🌹💭❤️‍🔥

Chan bottoms for the first time, enjoying it much more than he thought he would. While Minho and Chan are busy, their friends can't help but wonder what they're up to at the moment. Minho shares his thoughts on further steps with Chan...

Chapter 16 - 🌹💭

Chan takes the news better than expected and they end up having a casual date night. The next day Chan has a little surprise for him, making things official for the two of them in private.

Chapter 17 - 🌹❤️‍🔥

Chan and Minho enjoy their newfound comfort in each other despite all the headlines their recent strolls around town made. Chan invites Minho and his parents to dinner to celebrate their "anniversary. " The boys spend their evening alone in a nearby hotel, worrying their friends about possible consequences...

Chapter 18 - 🌹💭

After their shared night Minho wakes up to Chan packing his things. He sure finds out why and Chan's plans backfire, sending Minho down the spiral of anxiety and trust issues. Minho decides to fill in the rest about some recent decisions and his true mental state.

Chapter 19 - 🌹💭

Minho enjoys his time back with the boys and teasing Chan on set for Red Lights before returning home. He joins his friends for the upcoming week abroad, knowing there'll be some interviews coming up. On their flight, Chan and Minho settle some ground rules for the near time.

Chapter 20 - 🌹💭

Back in public Minho tries to build up the courage to open up about what really happened without revealing too much. His friends support him every step of the way, hearing some things for the first time as well. Chan has to decide how open he really wants to be and walks the fine line of supporting his boyfriend and keeping their relationship a secret. Especially after Minho's first performance doesn't go as planned.

Chapter 21 - 🌹💭❤️‍🔥

Chan and Minho organize a long break for the whole group, knowing they all need one after these troubling times. Five months later, Chan gets a taste of Minho in his best form, and he couldn't be more proud.

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 years ago

Text

if these walls could speak (nsfw 18+)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

written for anon request: Daemon x reader x Aemond nsfw fic (threesome, not a love triangle) - reader's house is not specified

word count: 2.5k ▪︎ masterlist

You've always been drawn to the dangerous and alluring, the temptation of such giving you an undeniable thrill. And in all of the Seven Kingdoms, you've never found anything more intoxicating than two Targaryen princes. And as fate would have it, they feel the same about you.

... have at it, all you filthy animals 🔞🖤

You have always been expected to act like a lady, given the importance of your house in Westeros. To be proper, to be pious, to never do things unbecoming of one with your status. You devote your days to having lessons with the Septa, assisting your father in his council meetings, attending feasts and tourneys. Normal activities, fit for a noble lady such as yourself.

But your nights are filled with something more unmentionable. Exciting. Deliciously addicting.

As your father is part of King Viserys’ council, you have become a ward in King’s Landing. You practically grew up with the Targaryen and Velaryon children, forging lasting friendships. Even Aegon, considering that he has grown to become quite the twat.

You've grown to enjoy living in King’s Landing, mostly because of the company. The dragons also fascinate you greatly, and, well… some of their specific riders have also caught your eye. Namely those of Caraxes and Vhagar. Both savage, menacing, and yet exquisite creatures among their kind. Both the dragons and their riders.

Their riders which are the reasons why your nights have been occupied, and not just with the comfort of slumber. Although, you’ve been experiencing greater comforts than you’ve ever had before.

These nights would be spent with your Daemon, perhaps your first love, the rogue prince who always goes back to you, without fail, despite his ill-fated marriages throughout the years. And just recently, there would also be Aemond. Now also, your Aemond, as he has sworn his devotion to you. Both princes were content to have your heart, however you would let them.

A smirk grows on your face, in anticipation of what is about to unfold. The midnight air drifting in from your windows feels cool and crisp, and it carries a distinct scent that can only be present in the hour of the owl. Pulling the hood of your dark cloak over your head, the one Daemon gifted you at the beginning of this affair, you feel just as crafty and mysterious as he is. Having this shared secret, only yours, Daemon’s, and Aemond’s, makes you feel alive.

You once jested about how your father would certainly shun you when he finds out, to which Daemon replied, "He can bloody well try. Surely he would not be opposed to our dalliance if I were to wed you."

Aemond had glared at his uncle, unable to hide his distaste at the suggestion. If you were to wed anyone, it should only be him. Compared to Daemon, he believes his affections to be pure and ardent.

You make your way toward the corner of your chambers, and forcefully slide a pilaster to the left, the motion feeling all too familiar. A deep, gravelly sound echoes, as it reveals the secret hallway that runs all throughout the castle. You rush inside, taking the path that you now know by heart, feeling like a spy creeping through the walls. Down a flight of stairs, a turn to the right, a long and narrow hallway, another right, then a left. You know the way so well; you’d be able to find yourself through it with eyes closed.

Until you reach… there. The panel has already been pushed to the side, and you see faint candlelight reflected inside. You slow your pace as you enter.

"My prince?" you call out, awaiting a response from either of them.

Someone shuffles from the corner of the room, partially covered in the shadows, and makes his way over to you. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and your back is pressed against Daemon’s chest.

“Little dove,” he lowers his lips to your ear, slowly dragging them across your flesh as he does so, “Have you come to play?” You breathe deeply, reaching behind to caress Daemon’s face.

“Of course she has,” Aemond’s voice rings true, as he makes his presence known to you, “this little dove always comes, don’t you, my pet?”

“Our pet,” Daemon corrects his nephew chidingly, “Although, she was mine first.” He spins you around quickly, making you even more lightheaded, and desperately connects his lips to yours.

Daemon’s grip on your jaw is firm but gentle at the same time. He snakes his tongue past your lips, making you groan against him. Aemond refuses to just stand by and watch. He has accepted this arrangement, dividing your heart and your flesh between him and his uncle, but a part of him just wants you to be his and only his. Rogue Prince be damned. Aemond would face his uncle in battle for your hand; he would risk everything so that you might favour him. But tonight… as with many other nights, he lets this continue. He delights in seeing the unabashed ecstasy in your eyes, knowing that the two most coveted and most infamous princes in the Seven Kingdoms were both yours.

Aemond begins to unravel the ties on your dress, and your bodice falls slightly, revealing your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. You feel him nuzzling your shoulders, his lips lightly sucking on your skin, raising goosebumps in his wake. He grips your arms and pulls you back against him, causing you to break apart from Daemon. Aemond grows restless, biting your neck from behind. You crane your neck to look up at him. At the same time, Daemon roughly pulls your dress completely to the floor, followed by your undergarments, leaving you completely bare to both princes.

You stand in between the two halves of your heart, your back snug against Aemond’s chest, and Daemon in front of you, licking and sucking your breasts in a torturous pattern. You struggle to stand upright, one hand gripping Daemon’s hair and the other reaching back to hold Aemond’s neck as he kisses you.

“Mmm,” you bite your lip, and let your thumb flit over Aemond’s mouth, cheekily whispering, “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you, my love,” Aemond purrs, burying his face against your tresses, “No one in this world can ever hold a candle to you.”

Daemon chimes in, straightening from his position, “He speaks the truth, little dove. There will only ever be you, for us.” He emphasizes the last word, growing aware of Aemond’s possessiveness over you as of late.

You’re almost certain Aemond’s expression hardens behind you, knowing he isn’t one to welcome assertiveness from anyone. His voice is more forceful when he speaks, eliciting an even greater desire within you, “Then shall we take our little dove to bed, uncle?”

You’re caught in a flurry of movement, as both Daemon and Aemond grabbed hold of you, pulling you to them. With each of your arms in the grip of each prince, you can’t help but let out a giggle at how this must look. Like two little boys fighting over their precious toy, unwilling to share with the other.

“Alright,” you shrug out of their grip, “both of you,” and slowly walk across the room, stealing a playful glance at them over your shoulder, “I thought we agreed that you would behave.”

Daemon is first to respond, walking after you, “Oh, my lady, all this time I was under the impression that you take pleasure in what my misbehaviour usually brings.”

“That I do, my prince,” he reaches you at the foot of the bed, and you begin undoing his tunic. You meet Aemond’s hungry gaze from across the room, and coax him over, “Come here, my love.”

“Hmm,” he makes that sound, the one he knows you love. You once told him that his sly, little hmms can bring you to your knees, which caused a genuine smile to stretch out on his lips. “In that case, little dove, I’ll have to hmm more frequently, for you,” he had said slyly.

Daemon’s clothes fall to the floor in a heap, and he pushes you down on the plush, velvet sheets. He kisses you hungrily, almost devouring you. He nips down to your chest, your stomach, your hips, and pauses just above your throbbing cunt, his lips suspended above it tantalizingly, like an impending storm cloud.

Aemond reaches for your face, hovering above you, having just finished undressing himself in a rush. You are overwhelmed with his familiar musk, and his silver locks frame your head like a curtain. Just for a second, you think you can detect rage in his eyes. An unspoken agony. Before you can mention it, he claims your lips in a searing kiss. Carnal. Feverish. As if he wants to erase any trace of Daemon on your lips.

Seemingly on cue, Daemon’s lips clamp down on your cunt, and you moan loudly against Aemond’s lips. He takes it as a sign of encouragement, gripping your face and licking a stripe across your cheek.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “Aemond, Daemon,” The latter looks up at you, his mouth glistening with the juices from your cunt, “I’m going to make you scream, little dove.”

Aemond brings his mouth close to your ear, muttering something meant for only you to hear, “Not if I make you scream first.”

The two princes grow wild, like two dragons set on a race to make you see stars. You’ve come to know their ways in bed; Daemon being more unhinged, quick and demanding. It doesn’t take long for the Rogue Prince to have you arching your back in utter rapture; his intensity can only be described as maddening. Aemond, on the other hand, prefers to take his time, his hands and lips memorizing every inch of your skin, while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You could never doubt his devotion.

Two sides of the same coin. They could not be more different, they could not be more alike. And you are irrevocably enamoured with them both.

Daemon continues in his onslaught of your pussy. His tongue moves frenzied, his thumb padding with your clit, and his nose pressed against your heat. Admittedly, you used to feel a pang of envy at the thought of all his previous whoring, but you’ll be damned if you don’t appreciate the skills he picked up from it. Because, seven hells, the Rogue Prince’s tongue might just be a gift from the gods.

A glint of sapphire shines in your vision, as Aemond looks down at you in adoration. You reach down for his cock, and he spies the lust evident in your eyes. “Come,” you plead, “let me taste you.”

“Oh, my little dove,” he positions himself beside your head, his thick cock already glistening at the tip. You drag your tongue at the base, and right away, he moans, “Gods, my love. Take me.”

His palm gently guides your head, pushing his member deeper in your mouth. Your fingers curl at the base, keeping him steady, relentless in stroking.

“So good, pet. Only you… only…” he pants, as your head bobs even faster, “My only love.”

Only you. His words echo in your mind, and digs roots in your heart. Only you, he said. You would say the same in return, if you could. But it can never just be him. Not while another Targaryen prince is still breathing, the very same who is making you writhe and spasm with his lips on your heat, his nails leaving a faint trail on your thighs.

Daemon glances up at you and Aemond, and without a second thought, he shuffles upward. Craving your attention, he sours at the sight of your lips wrapped around Aemond's member. It remains a miracle to him that he is capable of sharing the object of his desires. But if you wish it, you shall have it. And he knew you wanted them both.

"Come now," Daemon pulls your face towards him, remnants of Aemond shining on your lips. He drags his thumb across your mouth, cleaning it off, before kissing you yet again.

Aemond repositions himself, settling between your thighs. You feel his cock pushing at your opening, and he drags it along your folds, collecting your juices. Tempting you.

Daemon moves on to your neck, and you glance down at your one-eyed lover. "Please, Aemond," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" He taunts, knowing he's got your full attention now.

"Fuck, my prince, just... just... fuck..." your words are lost as he enters you, careful and languid, stretching you out. He falls forward, interlocking his fingers with yours. Daemon leans back, rubbing his shaft, revelling in the untamed expression on your face. You breathe heavy and you bite your lip; you moan as Aemond slams into you yet again.

Daemon catches your eye for a moment, as you continue to unfold. "You look fucking perfect like this, little dove," he strokes himself faster.

"Mmm," you look between your two lovers, utterly content.

Aemond is slow in fucking you. With each thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his thick cock disappearing completely inside you. "Gods, Aemond," you pull him in for a kiss, one which he eagerly accepts.

"My love," Aemond purrs, "you feel so good, wrapped around my cock. So tight, so perfect."

You mewl in return, and Aemond picks up the pace. He grunts in your ear, the sound of it low and deep that it fires up your core. He rams into you, quicker than usual, mercilessly plunging his cock into your pussy. Unbeknownst to you, this is his way of staking his claim. You might want the two princes, but soon, one day, Aemond would ensure that you're only his.

You remember your other lover, and reach for him as he lays beside you. Daemon is more than glad to let you take the reins. You stroke his erection, your delicate fingers easily sliding up and down his length.

Both lovers lunge forward to kiss you, Daemon nipping along your jaw and Aemond smashing his lips onto yours. You feel yourself begin to come apart, eyes half-lidded, hazy with pleasure. You cling to Aemond's shoulder, while your other hand strokes Daemon's swollen cock.

Three flushed bodies entangled atop the lush sheets, lost in a familiar heated dance. The two princes are overtaken with how they crave you, melding their skin onto yours.

The sounds echoing in the room would be enough to make the virtuous weep. Moaning and grunting, skin slapping against skin. Vulgar whispers shared, even promises of undying passion.

"You fuck me so well, my love." Your voice shakes.

"No one else can have you. No one else can make you ache so beautifully." Aemond, your dark prince.

"Your pretty fingers around my cock. Don't cease. Make me come onto you." Daemon, the first to possess you, to make you untamed.

Aemond shudders above you, his pelvis spasming, yet he continues his manic penetration of your already raw and throbbing cunt.

Daemon is first to reach his climax, and he positions himself hastily, spilling his seed over your breasts, your nipples covered in the milky-white spews from his cock.

You feel the warmth building up, low in your belly. Aemond spreads your legs even wider, burying himself even deeper, hitting that one fucking spot each time.

"Oh, fuck," your back arches, Daemon's cum dripping from your chest onto the sheets, "I'm coming."

"Let go, my love."

"Come, little dove."

The two princes watch in awe as you writhe, climaxing around Aemond's cock. At the sight of you, Aemond lets go, filling you with his seed and rutting inside you.

"Gods, I love you," he presses his forehead to yours. Your heart swells, you've always known that you love him too.

Daemon makes a clicking noise with his tongue, as if to chide his nephew, "As it happens, dear nephew, I just might love her more than you do."

"Now, now, my princes," you caress their faces, "my heart has just enough room for the both of you."

"Only you, my Aemond," you kiss each one in turn, "and you, my Daemon."

A moment later, Daemon positions himself at your entrance, which is still glazed with yours and Aemond's cum.

He smirks, "My turn."

》《》《》《

Let's just say that they have an arrangement with the maester that the reader is administered with a less harmful form of moon tea after these nights. 😉

Not me realizing near the end that I've been writing this in a way that favours Aemond (I can't help it you guys)

Also, I don't claim to be any expert in the ancient lore of threesome fanfiction so please don't sue me if anything sounds weird or out of place 😂

taglist: @angel6776 @huntycola @sanguinalia @random-human02 @thelastcitysposts @schniiipsel @just-a-harmless-potato @outundertheocean @thermiting @witchofthenorthstar @m00n5t0n3 @throughgoeshamilton @xcallmetaniax @wrendermeuseless @m-indkiller @mikariell95 @nsainmoonchild @lttflower99 @aemcndtargaryen @fairaardirascenarios @blackravena @daeneeryss @wondergal2001 @graykageyama @my-dark-prince @darylandbethfanforever9 @boofy1998 @itscheybaby @caspianobsessed @moni-cah @avalyaaa

#aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen smut

974 notes · View notes

lavampira · 9 months ago

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wip wednesday

tagged by @hylfystt 🖤 I’ll tag @hythlodaes @birues @coldshrugs @scionshtola @lilas @galadae @impossible-rat-babies @thedeadthree @gwynbleidd @ahollowgrave if anyone has things to share!! I’m still redoing sections of the stormblood-era sidalia wip but I’ll drop this bit of exposition from the beginning since I like the way it’s turning out <:

That fateful eve is not the first time that D’alia had been laid low among the Gyr Abanian sands.

Before that, she had failed to protect the resistance, returning much too late to prevent the carnage that had awaited her. Screams filled her ears and smoke choked her throat as she had raised her sword to the Garlean crown prince, but her efforts had been in vain, for he had cast her aside as though she was merely a nuisance, leaving her in a heap at his boots with crimson pooling beneath her and anguish smoldering in her heart.

It takes days to recover enough to help clear the massacre.

While what remains of her fellow Scions return through Gridania’s guarded walls with their plans to reconvene with new approach, D’alia continues northward, slinking back to Ishgard to nurse her wounds, both of her flesh and of her pride. She avoids her own home and even the inn for another day to brood within the manor that she had once failed as well, but Sidurgu still finds her frowning at its stone walls through the falling snow when she finally deigns to leave it, their shared young charge in tow.

And so, at the true beginning of it all, it comes to this: a broken crystal, borrowed aether, and a mysterious boy’s even stranger request.

#i’ve been having a rough time writing but uh yeah #wip tag #dani.txt #oc: d'alia liveq #stormblood spoilers

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smutandfluffohmy · 2 years ago

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Prince Charming pt.2

From: Smutandfluffohmy

Character Parings: Peter Pan X Reader X Mystery Girl

Request: hey sorry if this is last minute but i've recently been binge reading all of your peter pan x y/n stories and they're so good but I was wondering if you could write a second part to your prince charming one and if you already did whats it called because I cant seem to find it :) if you can't thats ok I was just wondering xoxo❤️🖤

Warnings: Smut! Bisexual reading just for context

A/N: Long time no write. Yes I did come back answering requests with heavy smut. Yes I am trying to get better at writing smut. Yes I still don’t know who the mystery girl might be or what their deal is just ignore please.

Word count: 2.9k

Read the first part here

Huffing you dropped the empty bottle, this day has been more complicated than you bargained for when you woke up this morning. Stalking up behind them you gently tapped their shoulder “You really meant what you said?” you said turning to face them.

They only nodded, shocked. Shocked that they were actually doing this, shocked that you had shown up when they were ready to mark you off as a no-show.

“Lead the way.” You said smiling, waiting for them to walk up ahead, your blade tucked safely ready to be used at any signs of betrayal. They strode up ahead, constantly looking behind, making sure that you were still following.

Getting to the small house they unlocked the door stepping inside, their eyes filled with nervous energy. You looked around the room, stove, table, scratch that tables, chairs, mirror, bed, things you couldnt make out. No place for anyone to hide, good atleast it wasnt a trap. Looking around you still inspected, you can’t have a good time if you were too worried about someone was going to stab you with your pants down, literally.

A soft cough came from behind you “Ive. I have n- I haven’t” she said, looking around the room trying to keep her gaze somewhere else that weren’t your eyes. You smiled placing your bag on the table next to a small stove.

“Never been with a girl? Don’t worry most women haven’t, I’ll teach you” You said strutting over to her, taking your coat off in the process. Her eyes widened, mouth in a soft line sitting on the edge of her bed.

She shook her head looking up at you “Anyone.” she whispered, you almost didn’t catch it but you did catch the deep blush that spread from her cheeks all the way to her neck “I’ve never been with anyone.” she said a bit louder.

“Well this is a real pleasure for me then.” You said with a big smirk, kneeling in front of her you start tugging at the ties that tied her skirt tightly to her waist. “Tell me.” you whispered, trailing your hands down tugging off her boots, afterall if this was her first time you needed her to be undeniably smittened by you. “How does a pretty girl like yourself get off if nobody has ever had the pleasure before.” You said looking up at her, your hands resting on her knees.

She shook her head, “I don’t know what you mean.” she said, looking like she was either about to cry or run away from sheer embarrassment. Your hands gripped her legs a bit tighter, she looked cute flustered.

“You must get lonely at night. Show me what you do.” You pushed, a mix of turning her on and pure curiosity about what she was going to show you and how exactly it was going to help you getting her off.

A beat, silence. Her eyes quickly flickered towards the small slim table in the center of the room pushed against a wall, a small mirror hanging over it.

You stood up, hands leaving her knees grabbing her hands instead “Show me.” You said trying to pull her to her feet, her hands gripped yours tightly.

She shook her head, after shaking her head so many times her hair starting falling all over her face, cascading softly around her face. “It’s really stupid I- I just…” she murmured, her eyes bouncing from you to the table and back.

Now it was your turn to shake your head. “I’ll decide if it’s stupid. show me” you said with a smile pulling her to her feet, untucking her shirt from her skirt. Pulling her into a kiss you stepped back slowly leading her towards the table. Your tongue swiped across her lip, grabbing her soft waist by one hand and the back of her neck with the other.

You sat her down gently on the edge of the table, shaking her head she wordlessly turned around movingslightly to the rounded corner of the table.

Her skirts pooled over her thighs. Her hips rocked back and forth, her clit hitting the corner of the table sending jolts of electricity through her body. Placing your hands at the collar of her shirt, feeling the frills, tugging it slightly urging it to come off her body. Moving her arms, nothing keeping her shirt up now her breats falling out resting softly on the top of her stomach.

“Well, aren’t you pretty.” You whispered in her ear, tracing the curves of her face and grabbing her chin “Look” you said, making her look at her own reflection.

“Let me feel you.” You said ricking her hips against the corner of the table, she hurriedly nodded. “Say it. Say I can feel you.” you pushed, moving her hair to the side lightly racking your teeth on her neck. You kept pushing her heads back and forth.

“You can. Please I. You. Fuck please touch me.” She breathed out.

Your hand reached over her thigh and between her legs. She was soaking wet and getting to look at herself in the mirror was the only thing keeping you from getting her on her back. Slipping two fingers inside of her pumping softly, a moan left her lips.

Taking your fingers out of her you sucked them clean “Do you know how good you taste?” you said, she whimpered at the sight of her cum glistening on your lips. You took your fingers, grazing them over her wet clit. “Open up.” you said and she quickly obliged.

Her lips closed around your fingers, sucking herself from your fingers. In the mirror you could see her cum glazed lips, her eyes hazy, it was driving you crazy. Your hands grabbed at her breats massaging them while you sucked on her neck. Her breath hitched, bucking her hips against the table, her hands grabbing yours squeezing her breats and helping your hands travel down between her legs. This was your breakingpoint.

Her face pressed against the mirror, her breath fogging up the hazy surface. With your feet you spread her feet apart wanting to help her out. Playing with her clit, your other hand massaging her thigh, wondering what it would feel like to be squeezed by them.

Her breats pressed against the wall, her hands laid flatly on either side of the mirror grabbing hopelessly at the wall.

A string of curses fell from her mouth as you picked up the pace, one hand pumping in and out while the other circled her clit. Big movements, small movements, faster, slower, any combination that made her knees buckle under her sliding down the wall. She started to whimper, looking down at her her breats pushed tightly against the wall making them pool on the top. You started to slow down “Show me what you do.” You whispered in her ear, leaving trails of sloppy kisses from the bottom of her ear and down her neck.

Her hips buckled feeling for your touch and when she was found with none she reached down to find your hand. One hand still pumping in and out of her while the other left faint touches over her clit. She grabbed your hand and rubbed her clit with it faster.

And faster.

faster.

Faster.

Your hand was drenched with cum dripping from your fingers. “Oh fuck please don’t stop please.” She said breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You said keping up her rhythm, her muscles twitched around your fingers. You could feel her start coming around your fingers, her moans were unintallable and so loud it was all you heard. She came, her warm twitching body against your own, sweat sticking her hair to her skin. Your pace on her clit didn’t let up, you were relentless.

“I don’t think I can go again” She whispered, tears stinging her eyes. You took your fingers out of her, walking her to the bed. As soon as she sat down she let her weight bring her down to the bed collapsing from exhaustion. You turned around grabbing her a glass of water, filling it from the pitcher from the other table. The other table that didn’t have the best time of their life, at least not today.

Turning around you placed the cup of water in her hand “You taste amazing. Maybe next time I can get a good taste.” You said putting your face inches away from hers, so close you could smell her and she could smell herself from your lips.

After all of that her face change to beat red. “What about you? I didn’t touch you.” She said already reaching towards you. Your clit ached and you tried to ignore the wet cum trailing down your leg.

You grabbed her hand and placed it on her breats “If you touched me, you might drive me wild and you’ll never get rid of me.” you sighed looking down at her, your eyes looking over her body.

You went towards your clothes reaching into your bag. Clinking of coins against each other filled the silence in the room, your fingers graced against objects, coins and knives finally finding what you were looking for. Taking out a small seashell that had been made into a necklace, that matched your own.

Walking towards her you sat on the edge of the bed. “If you ever need me. Just blow here and I’ll come running.” You said placing it gently in her hand.

She turned it over between her fingers, bringing it closer to the flame “What is it?” she said looking up at you.

“A seashell”

She laughed “I can see that. But what does it do?” she asked, bringing it closer to her face trying to figure out how to use it, afraid she might be missing something completely obvious.

You lightly took it from her hands “It sends me a message, I don’t really know how it works some mermaid friends of mine gave it to me.” you shrugged, flashes of memories going through your mind remembering exactly how you got those seashells.

She looked up at you with bright eyes “You’re friends with mermaids?” she whispered like there was someone else that could hear this amazing secret only you and her shared.

You laughed to yourself “Yea. Friends” you said shrugging your shoulders. “Whenver you need me again. Just blow.” you whispered rubbing your thumb over her lips gently.

She propped herself up from the bed with her hand “You’re leaving? What if I need you now?” she pleaded, unconsciously pushing her breasts out enticing you in.

You smiled, trying your best to look at her eyes and only. At her eyes. “I don’t want to wear you out in one night.” “Do yourself a favor and don’t see anyone else, at least not for now.” You said pulling your pants on, your shirt going over your head.

“Or what you’ll kill me?” she scoffed dropping back into her bed , feeling the seashell in her hands watching you tug on your boots and gathering your things in a clean swoop.

You leaned over, brushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear “No never. But I don’t promise the same for your friend.” you winked, walking out of the house leaving your new friend at a lost for words.

Putting on your coat and your hat you nodded at a few guys walking past you with the same untucked shirts just like you, both of you giving eachother a look, a laugh and a wave knowing exactly what had just happened.

“The entire bloody kingdom could hear you screaming and yapping.” Peter said emerging from the shadows, his face hot from anger or arousal you didn’t know and you don’t really care.

You rolled your eyes at him you didn’t know if he was a perv or a prude “You’re such a creep lurking in the shadows.” you scoffed leaning against a wall knowing this could take a while “Besides. They weren’t my screams.” you smirked crossing your arms over your chest.

Peter stepped closer, his nose scrunching as he did “You smell like. Well like.” he said flustered, knowing what your words were going to be as soon as his own words finished leaving his mouth.

You gave him a big smile “Pussy? Yup taste like it too.” you gave a little shrugged leaning against the wall looking up a head “Not that you would know anything about it.” you laughed .

Peter walked to stand in front of you “I was married once.” he blurted out wanting to be on your level even just for a little bit.

You scrunched your eyebrows letting out a quick huff “What to a little boy.” you said

His face fell “There’s no convincing you that I’m not a giant pervert huh.” he said, feeling defeated wondering where his quick quips and witty remarks when he needed them.

You pushed yourself off the wall stepping closer to Peter “Tell me do I look stupid to you?” you said getting in his face, anger rising inside of you.

A smile creeped across Peters face “You look gorgeous to me.” he said sincerely.

Your nose and mouth twisted in disgust “Yuck. Grow up” You said, peter pissing you off each passing second. “I heard your little bullshit back there.” you said shoving your finger in his face.

Peter reached to push your hair out of your face “What bullshit?” he said, you swatted his hand away not wanting him to touch you even the slightlest bit.

You stood taller “The soulmate bullshit.” you said placing your extended fingers on his chest shoving him backwards after each word.

He shook his head “It’s not bullshit.” he said hurt.

You scoffed at his reaction “You really think I’m going to fall at your feet? What do you want Peter? You want me to swoon?” you teased turning him around “Oh catch me Peter I feel faint. By the great heavens im slipping catch me in your strong arms.” you said fanning yourself, stepping closer making Peter to stumble slightly backwards.

You pushed him against the wall, your forearm pressing his shoulders against the jagged stone wall “Listen to me. And listen to me well.” you said between gritted teeth, grabbing at your knife the polished metal glittering under the moon light “You don’t know me. You don’t want to get to know me. Whatever or hoever you think I am you’re wrong.” you said shoving the knife into his face hoping it would scare him enough to save you a fight.

His eyes never looked at the knife, never leaving your eyes “I know who you are.” he whispeed to you.

You scoffed slightly shaking your head, squinting your eyes accusingly at him “You really don’t. You think you do but you don’t.” you whispered to him, not knowing if he was just stupid or just dense.

“Then tell me who you are.” he said, moving closer to you, the blade of your knife digging into the soft flesh on his cheek.

You didn’t give in, you push it harder his cheek trickling small drips of blood “A dangerous person. An evil person.” you said

Peter looked into your eyes, searching for some hint of a lie, a bluff but he didn’t find any “I’m dangerous. People fear me.” He said, hoping you found the same sincerity in his eyes like he found in yours.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders “Whatever you want to believe pretty boy.” You scoffed pusing him harder against the wall, leaves rustled around you.

You turned around, slashing your knife down, “What the fuck!” someone yelled stepping closer to the light, grasping at their face.

“I told you. Don’t fuck with me again or I’ll give you a matching scar.” You said pointing your knife up at Felix whos hatred for you was all but spilling out of him.

He clenched his jaw “You smell like cunt.” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and stepping next to Peter.

You shrugged “So I’ve heard” You smiled at Felix pissing him off even more, if that was even possible. You turned to Peter “Leave me alone Pan or I’ll make sure you regret it.” you threatened pointing the blade opf your knife towards Peter.

Peter let his head tilt to the side “Come on princess just give me a chance. I’ll make it worth your while.” he smiled walking quickly behind you trying to catch up.

You came to a halt, your boots tracking up dust with them. “Sorry Pan but you can’t rent me out like a wench, I sleep whoever I chose to and you are far from what I would choose to do.” you griminched looking at him

“That’s not what I meant! I’ll do the whole courtship! I’ll take you wherever you want!” Peter said urgently trying to search for the correct words, not sure what the correct words were with you exactly.

“Piece of advice Peter. Don’t fall in love or lust or whatever you’re doing.” You said making little circles at peter “It’s well…” you took a deep breath “Pathetic” you said flatly yurning around walking away from Peter and Felix.

“Felix would I be mad for taking her face?” Peter said dreamily as he pointed at the general direction where you had your little friend.

Felix rolled his eyes, damming his luck for having this girl out of all the thousands of girls Peter could’ve possibly been with “Do you honestly want me to answer?” He huffed running his finger across his cut.

Peter’s eyes never left you, watching you attentively as you walked off “I need to be with her.” Peter said tightening his jaw, pissed that this was all getting too complicated too early on.

#Peter Pan Fanfiction #peter pan imagine #peter pan smut

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heavenboy09 · 25 days ago

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5 Years Ago Yesterday, On October 18, 2019

👩🏻 😈👸🏻👸🏼🤴🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚‍♀️🏰✨🖤

Disney Presents

The Retelling Of A Original Classic Disney Fairytale

Returns Once Again

In the five years since King Stefan's death, Aurora has benevolently reigned as Queen of the Moors, alongside Maleficent as its powerful guardian and protector.

Despite her service, the neighbouring kingdom of Ulstead, home to Prince Philip, still sees Maleficent as a dangerous villain.

Diaval, Maleficent's raven and confidant, overhears Aurora accepting Philip's proposal of marriage.

When he relays this to Maleficent, she advises against the union, though Aurora vows to prove her wrong.

But Soon A SINSTER Plan from someone in The Kingdom Of Ulstead

& A Mysterious Force Of Nature Makes Itself Be Known To The World 🌎

A War Is Coming To The Race Of Mankind

& Only

The Dark Fae, Known as Maleficent

Has Something to do with it or Needs To Find A Way To Avert It from Happening.... BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE

DISNEY PRESENTS

THE QUEEN OF DARKNESS👸🏻😈🖤 OF DISNEY

IS BACK

ANGELINA JOLIE 👩🏻

MALEFICENT 👩🏻 😈👸🏻👸🏼🤴🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚‍♀️🏰✨🖤

MISTRESS OF EVIL 😈

HAPPY 5TH ANNIVERSARY TO DISNEY'S

MALEFICENT 👩🏻 😈👸🏻👸🏼🤴🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏼‍♀️🧚‍♀️🏰✨🖤

MISTRESS OF EVIL 😈

#MaleficentMistressOfEvil #Maleficent #PrincessAurora #PrincePhillip #Diaval #KingJohn #QueenIngrith #Conall #KnotGrass #Flittle #Thistlewit #TheMoors #SleepingBeauty #Disney

#Maleficent Mistress Of Evil #Maleficent #Princess Aurora #Prince Phillip #Diaval #King John #Queen Ingrith #Conall #Knotgrass #Flittle #Thistlewit #The Moors #Sleeping Beauty #Disney #SoundCloud

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vampire-exgirlfriend · 2 years ago

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Iron and Ash

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon ward reader

Rating: E

Warnings: knife play, cutting, blood exchange, smut

A/N: I had originally intended to stretch this story out to about 15/16 chapters, but when I thought about it (and cried to @jadore-andor ) I knew I had to end it here. There are so few happy endings in Westeros and these two deserved one, which I wouldn't have been able to give them had I continued on with basically a rewrite of the Dance.

I am by no means done with Aemond, but for the most part, I am done with reader insert. It just doesn't bring me the same joy as oc and ship fic. If anyone is at all interested, I'm posting weekly updates to my enemies to lovers mafia au featuring Aemond and ofc Viserra Velaryon, Paper Crowns. I am also working on a viking au centered around Aemond and an ofc that I am so, so excited about.

This has been one of my favorite stories I've written and I appreciate y'all taking the time to read it 🖤

masterlist

chapter seven - an ending

The castle sept was aglow, candles lining the aisle and littering the dais at the front of the room, throwing shadows over the walls to creep up toward the ceiling. Courtiers crowded to either side of the great room, whispering amongst themselves at the sudden surprise wedding of the one eyed prince, the sullen second son of Viserys the Peaceful. Hushed voices spoke of the Stormlands girl from a small house who had ensared him, who had surely used witchcraft to climb the Targaryen ladder straight to the top.

The queen had managed to uphold her end of the bargain with no bloodshed. What she had promised Borros and Coldwater was a mystery to you, but the old boar and his plain faced daughters had left court the day after she had broken the engagements with not a single word of farewell. It was Helaena and her maids that helped ready you, that braided the hair away from your face and wove the small silver diadem into the twists. It was Helaena that kissed your cheeks and called you sister, not the girls you had grown up beside.

And now you walked alone through the sept in your white gown, the neck high, the fabric over your chest sheer and dotted with little jewels. Flared sleeves hid your trembling hands, the fitted bodice tight around your ribs before falling into a soft skirt edged in lace. Your slippers made a hushed noise against the stone floor, the sound suddenly so loud in your ears as you approached the dais. The breath was stolen from your lungs when Aemond turned to face you. His hair was pulled away from his face and he was wrapped in a fine tunic, black velvet edged in gold thread, his sword fixed to his belt. He sighed, a soft exhale, as you came closer, a smile breaking over his face, his fingers wrapping around yours to help you up the last step. The crowd murmured at the sight, at the genuine happiness on his sharp face, the crack in his eternally stoic veneer.

Read the rest here on ao3

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #my fic #iron and ash

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adragonprinceswhore · 14 days ago

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Romancer

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: Happy Halloween! 🖤

Word count: 4200

‘Twas but a fleeting instance.

A dragon, the Red Queen, and her traitorous rider burst through the floors of King Aegon II’s coronation.

Chaos followed. Shrill voices begging for mercy, children weeping, sobbed ramblings closer to nonsense than prayers.

Prince Aemond, whose seeing eye had been fixed on his wife before the tumultuous entrance of Rhaenys Targaryen, steps to the side to protect his sister from Meleys’ wrath.

When their cowardice wins, and the dragon and her rider leaves, his seeing eye falls back to where he had last seen his beloved.

Only now, he cannot find her.

As members of the King’s guard swarm around the royal family to protect them, a futile gesture far overdue, Aemond pushes between them to rush down the steps of the elevated platform made for the Targaryens to bask in the admiring gazes of their people.

She couldn't have left, she was here just moments ago.

His eye is frantic as it searches the soot-covered ruins around him. His silvery hair whips to the side as he desperately jerks his head from one side to another. Then, he catches sight of her hair.

She lies on the ground, pushed down by large stones crushing her body.

Aemond hauls them off with a strength bestowed upon him by his despair. A sob leaves his throat as he pulls her into his arms, gently stroking her hair, burying his face there and inhaling the dust decorating it.

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange.

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore.

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze.

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long.

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye.

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning.

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer.

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones.

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame.

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her.

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process.

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it.

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes.

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting.

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before.

He finds slumber next to her, if only for a few hours. By the hour of the wolf, he’s once again awake, laying on his back, staring at the intricate carvings in the wooden canopy above him. In a moment of weakness, he reaches for her hand to hold, but when his touch is met by freezing cold fingers, he winches and quickly lets go, instead placing his hand on her stomach, covered by the quilt he’d placed over her.

His mind is too restless to let him find slumber. One hundred ideas, possible scenarios, flash in his mind. Thoughts of how to fix this; how to undo this, won’t let him rest.

The Seven say that death is final, but is that truly the case? Surely, in Old Valyria, where dragons roamed free and the practitioners of the dark arts ruled, warlocks would not be content with leaving death to the Gods?

Another day passes by as Aemond is deeply submerged in his own contemplation.

This cannot be the end of her; of their life together. His dear wife. His one true ally. The sweet mother of their future heirs. She is not gone. She cannot be.

By next daybreak, an idea from his latent mind floats into his consciousness, and causes the troubled prince to finally see clearly.

Necromancy. The art of bringing back the dead.

Fuelled by the fire of determination set ablaze within his chest, Aemond reluctantly leaves his lover's side, throws on a cloak, and orders a member of the King’s Guard to guard the door to his chambers with his life.

Before he leaves, Aemond throws one last glance at his wife’s lifeless form, and kneels by their bed, pressing a chaste kiss against her cheek. ‘Tis cold and stiff, as he should have expected. Still, his heart breaks when his lips are not met by the warmth he so wishes would still flow within her.

“I will bring you a cure”, he promises next to her ear, and ventures out into the dark, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Flea Bottom is as he remembers.

Filthy and depraved.

The mere smell of the streets corrodes the insides of his nostrils, air so thick with stench from pigsties and tanneries the prince buries his nose inside his hood and breathes through his mouth.

Around each corner of the dilapidated buildings lurks another distraction; whores beckoning him into their lairs, conmen trying to trick him into buying false treasures.

‘Tis not a place for the educated. Nor is it for the devoted. Flea Bottom is reserved for the lowest of men; the ones who revel in debauchery and make a living of their falsehood.

With the help of a few silver stags, Aemond manages to navigate the dirt-filled cobblestones of King’s Landing’s foulest corner. By the hour of the eel, he’s directed towards a short, stocky man with small eyes obscured by thick, bushy eyebrows.

At last, he has found what he’s looking for;

A foreign man familiar with the dark arts.

He smiles when the prince tells him of the task, cold yet amused, resembling a serpent,

“There is always a price to pay, my prince. What are you willing to sacrifice?”

“Anything”

“What if the sacrifice is your own selfishness?”

Aemond does not need convincing. He has already made up his mind. Without her, warm and comforting and breathing in his arms, he is willing to offer the sorcerer anything. The strange man inspects him with beady eyes that shine in the fire dancing against the stoney walls,

“10 gold dragons. And I will restore your lady once more”

In the shadows of the night, Prince Aemond brings the warlock into his chambers.

The mysterious man does not ask for much in order to perform his sorcery.

He orders a servant to bring him boiling water, sage, dirt from the courtyard, and a small vessel.

The staff of the Red Keep work quickly, and when he has all he requires, he pulls out a short, thin dagger from the inside of his pocket, and hands it to his prince,

“A drop of your blood, your grace”

Aemond complies, and slashes the tip of his ring finger with the small blade. The warlock catches his blood with the vessel and proceeds to the bed, cutting the skin of the prince’s wife as well, mixing her blood with his. He adds the soil of their land, smoke of burnt sage, and water to his concoction before working his fingers into her mouth to force it open, and pours the brew down her throat.

Nothing happens.

Quietly, he leaves her bed to wash his hands in the basin by the hearth. He does not seem displeased by the fact that his magic did not work, or frightened by the dragon prince observing him closely.

Aemond inhales, ready to have the deceitful bastard executed, flames of anger dancing within his blood from the humiliating disappointment of trusting a common conman.

But just as he’s about to unleash his fury, he hears it.

A sigh, quiet as a whisper in the room, yet loud as thunder in the young prince’s ears, floats from their bed to where he stands. He whips his head so quickly to the side his neck hurts, and hurriedly walks towards where she lies, still with her eyes closed and in the same position he had left her in.

He carefully brings his hand out, shaking like the leaves of a tree caught in a storm. His eyes cannot see her clearly, unshed tears becoming a veil of relief over his eye. His hand gently grabs hers, and despite her still cold skin, he feels it, the drum of her heart, dancing in her chest and sending waves of thuds through her body. He leans in closer, wanting to whisper a greeting against her soft skin, yet is disturbed by the presence behind him he had nearly forgotten,

“We have not yet discussed the price, your grace”

Aemond leans back and turns to face the sorcerer. He wears the same wicked smirk as before, as if the prince’s despair amuses him.

Disgusting creature.

“You have your gold. You are dismissed”

“Oh, but that is not the price the Gods wish to see, my prince”, he says with a sickly sweet gleefulness that chills Aemond’s bones,

“Witchcraft angers the Gods. It mocks them. I told you your selfishness will be the price you pay, and They have agreed”

“What do you speak of? Spit it out”

His smirk widens, “Release her hand”

Aemond gently lets go of her, and watches as a bruise blossoms forth from underneath the delicate skin of her wrist.

“With each touch, she moves closer to the Stranger once more. You may have her by your side, but you cannot indulge in her”

Frozen in place, the prince does not answer. What will become of his life if he is not allowed to touch his beloved? Being beside her, yet so far away.

The man forces Aemond out of his thoughts,

“Will you settle for that, my prince? Being tempted by her every day, until you draw your last breath?”

“If that is the price the Gods wish to be paid”

“Hm. And you are content with a life without heirs? Without a bedmate? Or will you look for that elsewhere? Have another bed your wife, claim the offspring as your own?”

The question turns Aemond’s stomach.

“Watch your tongue, warlock. Or I will take it”

His icy voice does nothing but amuse the man further, whose lips draw even taunter as he feigns regret with a courteous nod,

“Forgive me, your grace. I did not mean offence. Surely, you must have considered all implications carefully to reach this conclusion”

In truth, he had not. But the thought of another touching what belongs to him, his most dear possession, is so repulsive to Aemond he swallows the bile pushing up his throat.

No one else may ever touch her.

By next morning light, she awakens.

Still in a delirious state, she asks her husband to come closer and embrace her, frightened by the visions she had seen in her resting state.

The contentment Prince Aemond feels from once again speaking to her; seeing her draw breath, seeing colour reappear on her cheeks, is dulled the separation between them, and the realisation that this is how they will remain from now onwards.

He tells her of it all; Rhaenys bursting through the boards, the necromancer and the price he paid to bring her back.

A tear falls from her lashes when he tells her that they may never touch again, for she will once more decay if they do.

With a forceful swallow, she pushes down her own sadness and nods, grateful that he loves her too much to live without her.

And so, their new normality begins.

They enjoy the same things they did before; taking their meals together, reading together, speaking of their duties together.

He had told court that her life was saved thanks to a skilled maester visiting from Oldtown, aware of the dangers enlisting a man of the dark arts carries.

Should the truth about her resurrection come to light, she might be sanctioned not only by the court, but by the Citadel as well, and thus forced back into the arms of the stranger.

In their endurance, their days grow tense, each moment tainted by the unspoken heartbreak of separation.

The most prominent change to their lives together is the longing squeezing the prince’s heart.

Never before has he ached so much for something as he does for her touch.

The pain inside his heart doubles when he catches her eyes observing him from across the table whenever they sit together.

She looks so devastated by their separation, so overcome with yearning.

He knows the feeling, ‘tis the same sorrow that reflects in his heart. And yet, there is nothing they can do.

Aemond would rather spend an eternity with her, and never once more feel the warmth of her fingers on his flesh, than to watch her get pulled away by the stranger yet again.

So he endures.

An unforgiving storm whips the Red Keep with vexed, rainy lashes when he returns from Storm’s End.

He is drenched, dripping from head to toe. His face looks haunted; as if he has met the eye of death himself.

She sits by the hearth, embroidering a small, green dragon onto one of his tunics. Her needle clumsily pierces the tip of her finger as she sees her husband’s distressed state,

“What is the matter, my love?”

“Lucerys, he-, he’s dead”

Aemond shakes from the cold of the rain soaking his clothes. With shaky fingers he peels off his leathers, until he is only in his underclothes, standing right before her by the fire to seek some warmth,

“I did not mean to-, Vhagar-, she-”

The explanations die on his tongue.

She meets his gaze, bewildered and pitiful, and nods in silent understanding, unsure of how to comfort him. Aemond sinks down to his knees, feeling the heat of the fire lick against his cold skin. ‘Tis little comfort; his bones still feel freezing. As does his heart, when he looks at her. So close, yet never close enough.

Torture, that is what it is. A cruel jest from the Gods.

“How can I ease your distress, my love?”, she asks, and he nearly whimpers at her sweet concern. If he cannot confess his suffering to her, then who?

“I fear I am a selfish man, after all”, he says defeatedly,

“Even now I miss you, when you sit before me. I crave your touch - to feel you near. To be inside you. I am not whole unless I am with you - part of you, my love”

The smile on her face is filled with sorrow, piteous eyes glimmering against the warm glow of the hearth. She shuffles in her seat, pulls her hand out, and opens it in an inviting gesture,

“I can spare a few years in my elderly days if I may feel your touch for one more night, my love”

And who is he to deny his love?

To dismiss her sweet pleas?

He would never deny her anything.

He moves forward, crawling towards where she sits like the depraved hound he is. When he reaches her, he pulls the skirts of her small clothes up to reveal the soft meat of her things, and lays his head there, only for a moment.

A sigh escapes him, so content to feel her softness against his cheek once more. ‘Tis like finding salvation after a life in sin; an otherworldly experience.

He nuzzles into her skin, and she brings one hand to the side of his face, gently tracing his cheekbone and threading the silk of his hair between her fingers. After a moment of still devotion, he pushes the fabric further up to kiss her cunny, the only drink his parched lips crave.

A startled gasp echoes above him, and the hand she carefully stroked his hair with turns into a painful grip. He adores the sting against his scalp. Hurriedly, he steals a peak from her, wasting no time to finally feel whole again.

Kissing his way up her panting body, he finally tastes the reward he had coveted so. Her lips are even sweeter than he remembered them; soft, warm and most comforting.

He stands and pulls her up to do the same, leading her to their bed with quick, long strides. He removes her small clothes as if he despises them, tearing the fabric and grunting at the layers separating him from the light of his life. When she is finally bare before him, he strips himself and joins her on their bed, finding his home between her thighs. She is so slick he slides in as if he were the missing piece of her incomplete body, and they both cry out at the all-consuming bliss of finally being together, being one, once more.

His arms snake underneath her back, pulling her so close to him each inch of her skin touches his. Their lips stay locked together, moans and pleasurable sighs bouncing between their mouths.

He cannot tell if the wetness on her cheek is proof of her own relief, or his.

Nevertheless, he kisses it away, closes his eyes, and disappears into the bliss of having her again.

They stay intertwined through the night, and by first light, Aemond reluctantly lets go of his love.

The light that illuminates their chambers is scarce in the early hours of the morning, yet he can see the discolouration travelling up the limbs of his wife; painting her legs and arms in odd, painful colours.

Their indulgence had cost her greatly.

Regret stabs his heart; potent and aching.

What have I done?

‘Tis as if the small dagger the warlock carried were lodged inside his chest, reminding him of the devious man he had become.

A kinslayer.

His bloodthirsty quest for selfish pursuits; justice, comfort, love, is naught but foolishness.

And now those around him pay the price.

Aemond makes sure to keep distance from her, and he suffers immensely from it.

On the night he came back from Storm’s End, he had found peaceful slumber in the arms of his beloved. Each night since, he is tormented by nightmares; visions of his worst fears playing in his mind.

Cold skin, blood, bruises.

He fears Rhaenyra’s wrath. The retribution he will have to atone for Lucerys’ life.

Will he be the one to pay it this time?

Or will the burden of his crimes once more fall on the shoulders of his loved ones?

Aemond does not need to wait long for retaliation.

Rhaenyra’s revenge go by the names of Blood and Cheese, a ratcatcher and a disgraced butcher. The pair snook into the chambers of his young nephew, heir to the Iron Throne Jaehaerys, and slew the boy in front of Aemond’s sweet sister, Helaena.

His hands are no longer merely tainted by the crimson of Lucerys’ blood. His pursuit for vengeance cost him the life of his nephew, and his sister, so lost in grief she can no longer leave her chambers. He only visits her once, horrified by the ghost of a person the queen has become.

‘Tis my fault.

And it echoes in the prince’s mind anywhere he goes.

When he trains with Ser Criston. When he flies on Vhagar. When he breaks his fast with his wife.

‘Tis my fault.

When his mother can’t meet his eye. When his brother sinks deeper into his cups. When his grandfather no longer confides in him.

‘Tis my fault.

The only light remaining is his dear lady wife.

She still regards him with love.

Her eyes still sparkle as he enters their chambers after a long day. Her mouth still forms a smile whenever he greets her.

“Her sweetness is wicked”, Prince Aemond thinks, “So inviting, beckoning me in, yet I must remain at a distance”

They still sleep next to one another, separated by an arm’s length. A small distance that feels infinite as he longingly steals glances of her sleeping form.

A siren calling to him, taunting him with her soft, warm flesh.

He knows that a night with her in his arms would ease his distress; allow him to find slumber and wake up as a better man.

I would be a better man, for her.

And that is the last thing he thinks before he shuffles closer, gently pulls her into his arms, and buries his nose in her hair.

If he were a better man, he would have stopped after one night. But by now, Aemond knows that he is not.

He is a self-serving, weak craven.

The first night of having her in his arms while she slept did not soothe the longing aching in his chest as he thought it would. It doubled it. And by next nightfall, he waited for her to drift to sleep before greedily pulling her into his arms once more.

He sees the toll his nightly indulgence has on her body rapidly. The bruises that had decorated her limbs grow darker, like those of an apple decaying. They now travel from her hands and feet, up her arms and legs, and bloom out over her stomach, chest, and neck.

Aemond finds himself looking at her less and less.

‘Tis my fault.

“Mayhaps we need to seek out the sorcerer again for council?”, she questions one day as she carefully observes the bruises colouring her body. She presses on one and winces, lips pulled down into a displeased frown.

She is withering. Rotting away.

“I will”, Aemond says, and the lie is so bitter on his tongue, he wonders if his foul ways have caused poison to grow from within him.

He had stolen Lucerys’ life above Storm’s End. A quick affair, an instance that he regretted as soon as he saw Vhagar’s jaw close around the small dragon. He did not mean to do it; to take his life. He only meant to seek justice for his eye; for the pain his nephew had caused him. For disfiguring him.

‘Tis what he has become known for; kinslaying. The merciless murder of the young boy who wronged him. If the court only knew of how vile he truly is.

With each night that passes, he steals another flicker of the flame keeping the light of his life alive. He sees her grow paler, the bruises now covering nearly every inch of her being, slowly working their way towards her heart, drumming weaker and weaker in her chest.

And yet, he cannot stop. He needs solace; the only good thing in his life. Holding her near, feeling the heat of her melt the icy bolts of remorse and guilt shooting within him.

Tonight, he knows it is their last time. She can hardly open her eyes anymore. Her lips are purple, skin a sick melody of various shades, and her heart beats slowly, as if it is fighting with each thud.

Just like the nights before, he lies down next to her, pulls her into his arms, inhales her scent, and closes his eyes.

“This time, she perishes by my hand”, he thinks, “She gave me everything, and yet I took more”

But what is love, if not to take?

Take and take and take, until there is nothing left.

No one savours love.

No one would ever feel satisfied with only a taste.

It is meant to be devoured. And that’s what Prince Aemond tells himself, as his love finally draws her last breath in his arms.

“Forgive me”, his whisper begs,

“I have devoured you. I have let my selfishness slaughter you. Now I await my own demise, one that will come to me soon”

His fingers gently dance over her cheek,

“I welcome it. I welcome a chance to meet you once more”

He holds her closer, feeling the warmth of her body leave for the second time in their lives,

“Until then, sleep well, my love, and I will return to you soon”

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this little Halloween fic of mine! I tried to go with a bit more classic, haunting and tragic theme, and it was so fun to write.

If you enjoyed this, please check out my fic Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back. It has very similar vibes and I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Kisses!

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