#troublesomesnitch

[saradika-graphics]

Hey, it seemed your requests are currently open? If not I'm sorry, just ignore this. I LOVE these floral dividers you did in pastel and navy blue, would you be able to do them in just plain black too? Or something like it in black.

tumblr.com/saradika/732106557501931520/you-and-cafekitsune-have-the-best-dividers

Thank you, your dividers are beautiful!

Hi!! They are! And yes of course, I can definitely do that! I added a couple other black flowers as well. Thanks for sending this in! 🌷🖤

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[helaelaemond]

Tom Bennett + 42! I literally used an online number generator for maximum game-ification

Plain Jane REMIX ft Nicki Minaj - 'suck a ***** dick or something'

Tom Bennett x unnamed sailor - dirty talk, allusions to oral, man on man action

The sailor gives Tom a tight-lipped smile, before walking past him. “Let me know next time you need a hand. Or a mouth.”

Infuriatingly, the words slide over Tom’s skin like silk, making it difficult to retort. He clears his throat. “You should be so lucky.”

“Yeah. That’s the hope.”

That tryst was three days ago now. Tom rolls over in his bunk with a clenched jaw, and decides enough is enough. His cock is hard, and his stomach sick with want.

Back to the dining hall he goes in the depths of the calm night. He glances over the edge of the ship as he slinks silently along. Below, the inky water laps gently against the hull. How good it would be to be back home. He wonders if the woman from the dock would welcome her back into her company. How warm her thighs were, how wet she got. Trying to remember her face is pointless. Can't even remember the colour of her eyes. Brown? Blue? Black? Green? Doesn't matter. He lost himself in them that night. The ocean offers no oblivion. Not the same kind, at least.

"Hello, Tommy."

Tom's lip twitches. "Been waiting for me?"

The sailor, sitting at a table in the shadows, laughs quietly. "Would you like that?"

"Don't bother me none either way."

"Well, you've got your choice tonight." The sailor shifts slightly and his face is caught in a sliver of light from outside. He's grinning, and then he nods his head towards the far side of the hall. Tom peers through the darkness, and after a moment he sees the figures of three men. He holds his breath, and through the quiet, the sighs and noises of wet mouths fills his ears.

His lip twitches again. Perhaps once, it would have turned his stomach, but he supposes that now, as he's already fucked a man, it shouldn't bother him as much. That being said, he did think about a girl the whole time.

"Sure they wouldn't mind you joining."

"Nah, I'm alright, thanks. Just looking for one mouth. All them look a bit preoccupied, don't you think?" Tom retorts.

"Yeah, a bit."

"So." He pauses for a moment. "You free?"

"I ain't gonna charge you."

Tom actually sniggers at that. "Ain't got nowt to pay you with, anyway."

"Saving up for a whore in Argentina?" he teases. Tom glances down, and sees the strain against the man's boilersuit.

"I don't gotta pay for it, here or on land."

"That much I believe." The sailor stands up and walks slowly to him. He reaches for the buttons on Tom's suit and watches his face. "Tell me what you want, Tommy."

The girl on the dock. His sister's smile. A proper pint. Even his dad, who doesn't laugh at his jokes. Nah, don't think about that, not now. Don't get soft. "What y'good at?"

"Everything."

Behind them, soft moans are choked back by the three men. Unseen movements become quicker, more desperate. There are butterflies in Tom's stomach.

"How's your mouth?"

"Not as loud as yours."

Tom grins again, and when the other man leans in to kiss his neck, he allows it. The man's stubble tickles his skin, and his lips are hard, but he closes his eyes and thinks of her - any her he's even been with, really - it makes him throb. "Use it properly, then."

"You can do better than that," comes a whisper in his ear.

"What?"

"Say it properly."

"You want me to talk dirty to you?"

The sailor bites just below his collar. "Just once. You owe me."

Teeth make him shiver but he smiles. "Alright." He drops his voice slightly, and runs a brave hand through the man's hair. It feels strange, hair this short, but it's the least he can do. "I want you to get on your fuckin' knees. I want you to put my cock in your mouth like it's the last time you'll ever get a taste of it. And I want you to suck me off until the only thing I know is the name of the Heavenly Father. Can you do that for me?"

His mouth hangs open slightly, and he nods. "Uh- yeah. I can do that."

"Good g-" good girl. "Lad. Good lad. Go on then. Get on with it."

He does as he's told, and quickly. Tom's head drops back, and he fights back moans.

God, he misses girls - but no one has sucked him like this jolly sailor bold.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

A long time fixture in my notifications, I clicked on @troublesomesnitch's profile and saw that within 60 seconds of me having done so they had posted an Abraham fic. The universe's way of telling me that I was meant to follow this person, I think, so today I am giving flowers to them. Only one fic for fandom so far, but it's a good one, and they are incredibly supportive of other Ewanverse writers.

Favourite fic of theirs: Abraham (Grantchester) x reader

[arcielee]

Writer ask game, except I made up two extra questions:

a) How do you come up with a title for your fics?

b) was there a fic you really wanted to finish but for some reason just couldn't?

2023 In Review

Hello my darling 💜

How do you come up with a title for your fics?

Sleep Walking Animals and Florence + The Machine also helped a lot, but naming things... I am terrible and indecisive. Luckily, I have wonderful Tumblr kindred spirits who sometimes help me out. 🥰

Was there a fic you really wanted to finish but for some reason just couldn't?

Hmm. I was editing The Sapphire Prince on ao3 to bring to Tumblr, but lost the motivation. That story is technically complete, but I am never satisfied.

I have some WIPs right now... but I have nothing that I abandoned, I think? The ideas thrum inside my head and I have faith it'll spill from my fingertips when it is time.

Thank you so much!

[peachysunrize]

Advertising his medieval shampoo while terrorizing everyone!

Requested by @troublesomesnitch 💕✨

[sassypossum]

Getting A Rise...

Aegon Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader

fluff/suggestive ~ Word Count: 617 @troublesomesnitch, ty for stoking my Aegon inspiration!!!

Fights between spouses occur, but between you and Aegon, they are perpetual...

Aegon ducked as the vase that had only moments before sailed past his head, smashing without ceremony against the stone wall. 

You two were fighting, a practice that had come to be all too common in your marriage. For a Baratheon, you were notably level headed- some might even dare call you sweet tempered on a good day. 

This, however, was not one of those days. You weren’t entirely certain at this point what Aegon had done to get under your skin, but he had, and at the moment that was the only thing that seemed to bear weight. 

“Sweetling, please-” Aegon tried, raising his hands in an attempted surrender. The gesture might have swayed you had it not been accompanied by one of his shit eating grins.

 He was enjoying this. 

When you’d first been introduced, two opposing views had been formed. You’d decided him to be an insufferable lout with a pension for chasing skirts. Aegon, on the other hand, had decided you were surely the stiffest, most painfully plain woman it’d been his displeasure to meet. 

While your uncharitable view on him had never entirely thawed, his had on oddly enough your wedding night. Aegon had gotten outrageously drunk, and in an ill attempt to get a rise out of you, he’d pinched your lady in waiting’s arse and all but shoved his tongue down your younger sister’s throat. As you proved increasingly unmoving, his mood soured, and as his mood soured he drank more. 

It had taken a drunken fool shouting about a ‘bedding’ ceremony to raise your hackles- and rise they did. Aegon’s eyes had widened at the flush that’d rose to your cheeks, and he’d felt his trousers tighten as you’d verbally lashed anyone that’d dared to try laying a hand on your person. 

In the end it’d been Aegon himself who’d slung you over his shoulder with a solid pat to your skirted arse and a chuckle of, “Marriage might not be so bad after all.” 

“I swear, Aegon, if you do not rid yourself of that insipid smirk-” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose. Aegon took the opening to slide easily behind you and wrap lithe arms around your waist. 

“You’ll what, sweetling?” He murmured teasingly, kissing your temple. “Feed me to a stag?” You fought a smile as you softened to his touch, easing against his solid form. You hated it when he spoke to you in that honeyed tone, both for how easily you bent to it, and for how well he knew it worked. 

“Silver tongued churl.” You muttered half heartedly, running a finger along the stitching of his sleeve. 

“As you’re well aware, my queen,” He purred, turning you in his arms, pressing you firmly against his chest. “My tongue is a  fair tradesman at many,” Dipping his head he pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Tasks.” You shivered as the deep rasp of his voice trailed down your spine setting your blood ablaze as it coiled lower and lower, aided along by his lips trailing down your neck. 

“You’re attempting to distract me.” You murmured, fighting the haze of lust teasing the edges of your sanity. His lips curved into a grin against your skin. 

“Attempting,” He chuckled, nipping at your chin playfully. At your shudder, Aegon hoisted you up, pressing subsequently messier kisses down your throat as he carried you towards the nearest surface. Setting you down roughly on his desk, he chuckled at your gasp. “Or succeeding?” Planting his hands on either side of your hips, Aegon raised a brow. 

“Ass.” You grumbled before pulling him forwards into a rough kiss, finally wiping the smirk off his face. 

[hoosbandewan]

@troublesomesnitch requested: Tom Bennett and Olivia Wilde side-by-side nod comparison

[thought--bubble]

Fic Recs (Modern Aemond)

All Stories below I have read myself and love! Spreading some love in this fandom :)

Back to my Masterlist

Modern Aemond fic recs

Page 1,

☣ @neptuneiris ☣

True Intentions

Sparks Series

☣ @marthawrites ☣

After the closing shift & After the study Session

☣ @asumofwords ☣

The Sublet Series

Till Death Do Us Part

☣ @sepherinaspoppies ☣

Never Let Me Go

After Hours

Riding the Dragon

☣ @flowerandblood ☣

Glass Cuts Deepest Series

The Downfall

The Vanity and Variability Series

☣ @youraverageaemondsimp ☣

No Escape

☣ @st-eve-barnes ☣

Burn

☣ @targaryen-dynasty ☣

Rumble and Sway

Mine and Mine Only

Love me Tomorrow

Shadows Play on Idol Hands

In The Space Between

Evening Delights

Longing

☣ @troublesomesnitch☣

Modern Aemond Breeding Kink

Phonesex

☣ @anjelicawrites ☣

Birthday Boy

One Step from you

Lend a helping hand

☣ @the-dendrophile-bookdragon ☣

Camping is fun, she said

☣ @aemonds-fire ☣

Another Chance?

Crush

Photoshoot

Hearts and Handcuffs

☣ @sapphire-writes ☣

Our Last Summer Series

☣ @elaratyrell ☣

Misery

☣ @arcielee ☣

Silk Binds

To feel the rare before & after

☣ @ripdragonbeans ☣

Run away with me

☣ @adragonprinceswhore ☣

The Commune(Series)

Rumors(Series)

☣ @happilyhertale ☣

Words of Love

Missing You

☣ @venmondiese ☣

New Years Traditions

Stress Relieving Purposes

☣ @ewanmitchs ☣

Headcannons (Thoughts on BF Aemond seeing you in his sweats)

☣ @fairysluna ☣

Let the light in

☣ @hopelesswritergall ☣

His Muse

☣ @two-white-butterflies ☣

Fucking in my BMW Sedan

☣ @bucknastysbabe ☣

AI Aemond

☣ @boobamilktease ☣

Studying

☣ @aemondfairy ☣

Bad Idea, Right?

Last Updated 10/24/24

[vhagar-balerion-meraxes]

Send this to all your favourite moots and pass the pumpkin round! KEEP THE PUMPKIN TRAIN GOING 🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃

My wifi is crap at the moment and it’s difficult for me to open people’s blogs without tumblr crashing, soooo I’m just going to do one big post to send this to all my moots. Have a pumpkin! 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

@thought--bubble @dr-aegon @vipervixxen @heretherebebookdragons @peachessndreamss

@pendragora @anjelicawrites @snowblack-charcoalwhite @very-straight-blog @st-eve-barnes

@livmondcole @aemondstark @lady-phasma @barbieaemond @zaldritzosrose

@a-fall-of-stars @thesunfyre4446 @peachysunrize @arcielee @visenyasdragon

@alicent-archive @kingaegond @aegon-the-elder @sylasthegrim @babyblue711

@flowerandblood @lovelykhaleesiii @wolfdressedinlace @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryen-dynasty

@witheredoffherwitch @gwenllian-in-the-abbey @aemondsbabygirl @the-dendrophile-bookdragon @worms-on-multiple-strings

@just-some-random-blogger @all-that-glitters-is-goldfish @sapphire-writes @please-buckme @exitpursuedbyavulcan

@adragonprinceswhore @aemondsbabe @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @superprincesspea @playlistashton

@jamesfrain @ara-meyy @schniiipsel @lemonhemlock @troublesomesnitch

@gemini-mama @targaryenrealnessdarling @venmondiese @lynnlove501 @joekeerys

@mermaidslabyrinth @theoneeyedprince @cyeco13 @franzkafkagf @elizarbell

[helaelaemond]

I saw this pic on Pinterest and it's giving INSANE Billy W energy to me!

THIS IS SOOOO BILLY WASHINGTON LAZY MORNINGS ON THE SOFA WITH BILLY MOOD WHILE YOU STROKE HIS HAIR AND PLAY WITH HIS HANDS AND GET TO SEE HOW HE SMILES SPECIAL JUST FOR YOU

[barbieaemond]

From somewhere within (teaser)

moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x maid!reader

Warnings: angst, smut, grinding, fingering, oral sex (more to be added)

based on a request from @troublesomesnitch

Coming soon!! 💚

SNEAK PEAK

The smell of roasted pig twisted his stomach, lingered inside his nostrils all night long, tossing and turning in bed, trying to quench the pent-up anger painfully rattling his bones, only to find no release, no peace to the ceaseless raging pit buried inside him since Driftmark.

That spineless bastard and his mocking smile were etched before his eye, hammering his nerves until every breath taken came with a shudder. Until he hastily removed the sapphire from the ugly socket and threw it away.

Her name glided on his tongue like a command shrouded in honey, a plea hidden by thorns.

But he paused, blinking into the quiet dark of his chamber, and the word slid back down his throat.

She’s not here.  

Of course she wasn’t. Her duties as servant were long over. There was no reason why she should have been in his chambers at that hour late. But there was one reason, however selfish and dangerous that might have been.

It had always been there, since the very first day she attended to him as his maid.

They had filled the distance with words, formal words and then words of different nature. Words excavated from his violent lungs but spoken with a quiet tongue. He didn’t know why.

Perhaps it was the gentle touch of her hands while she helped him with the ointment for the socket.

Perhaps it was the sound of her voice when, one night, the hole was pulsing harder than usual and he had asked her to read to him.

Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, as if she had not seen the sun for ages.

[lauraneedstochill]

this was truly a fascinating read! it’s quite a delicate subject, so the fact that you managed to write such a beautiful story speaks volumes of your talent, honestly. I like how realistic it all was but then you also gave us moments of softness and hinted at the bond that definitely started forming between these two ✨

and oh, how you describe him! I LOVE IT

Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar. He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening.

💙

Make Your Hands Unclean

Aemond x Wife!Reader - Period sex drabble

Premise and bits of dialogue shamelessly stolen from The Borgias.

Contents: drabble, pure filth. Menstrual sex, p in v, anal touching, graphic imagery. Internalised misogyny and harmful attitudes towards menstruation. Aemond is an asshole. Porn with weird plottish vibes.

Words: 2300

idk what this even is, this thing kind of wrote itself and I just went with it. It is kind of a mess tbh.

You were supposed to marry a lord.

That is what you were raised for, and those are the skills you were taught. To sing, to dance, to play the harp; to make yourself look pleasant. Your septa taught you to sew, and a woman from Essos taught you to weave, and in the afternoons the maester taught you history and linguistics, astronomy and arithmetic, and other things that ladies rarely speak about, but nevertheless must learn. 

For it is the lady, not the lord, who runs the castle. Who manages the household, and oversees the people it employs. Such a lady must ideally be both kind and commanding, generous and frugal. She must know how to handle serfs and noblemen alike, and she must be proficient in numeracy; able to record expenses and perform difficult calculations. 

To be a prince’s wife requires no such skills. 

This castle already has two queens, and besides it is not for royal women to concern themselves with practical matters. There are ladies-in-waiting for that, and stewards, chamberlains, maids and matrons; an army of servants hundreds strong to ensure that you may always be spoiled and idle. More than a lady, but less than a queen, left to twiddle your thumbs and wonder when, if ever, the oppressive walls of Maegor’s Holdfast will begin to feel like home.

You do not like it here. 

The days are long in King’s Landing, and the air is foul, polluted by the smoke of ten thousand hearths, by the stench of filth and unwashed bodies. It seeps through every crack and crevice, and you like the early mornings the most, when a cleansing mist blows in from the sea, and the ship’s bells ring over Blackwater Bay. 

Your husband rises early too, though it is for different reasons. Prince Aemond adheres to strict routines, to noble pursuits and rigorous discipline. He is exactly as people say: a stoic, severe in both temper and countenance, condemning indulgence and deriding depravity. 

Yet for all of his moral posturing, he does seem to have developed a taste for it rather quickly. 

You couldn’t say the exact number of times the prince has had you, but it has been many, and often, and in every position imaginable, and you dutifully report it all back to your family. As they have instructed you to do.

Before you were sent off to the capital, you were relentlessly reminded that there will never again be an opportunity such as this. That a marriage to a royal prince is a rare honour for your family, and one that was only made possible because the crown finds itself at war. Your house is not a great one, and your father is not the noblest lord, but he is very wealthy. And on the field of battle, wealth does tend to triumph. 

You do not know what other promises were made, what lands or titles were negotiated. Only that so much now depends on you; on your ability to please your husband and give him healthy children. Preferably male, but even a daughter would markedly strengthen your position. So you play your part as best as you can , and you pen your secret letters, divulging all the details of your intimate affairs. That the prince sleeps with you frequently, and seems to find great pleasure in it. That he performs his movements to completion, and expends his semen inside your body. 

It is a grave responsibility to have on your shoulders, and you were utterly crushed when you woke to find your insides churning, and your sheets stained with blood. 

They will be most displeased, your mother and father. Your brothers and uncles, and your cousins too. Prince Aemond's seed has not yet taken. 

-

In the evening he knocks on your door. Two determined raps, and you are thoroughly surprised. Your maid will have told his mother of your ailment, and she will have told him, and he too must be disappointed. But you know it is the prince, for there is no one else who would visit you at this hour. 

You know very well what he has come for, too. 

“We can’t tonight,” you sigh. 

“And why is that?” he says, amused, as if the idea that you would refuse him is ridiculous. 

“My blood - I am bleeding.”

Prince Aemond hums, but he walks to your couch and begins to undress himself, unbuckling his doublet and unlacing his breeches, tugging off his boots while you wring your hands. 

He can’t be serious. He can’t mean to take you like this. 

“It’s not - it isn’t proper,” you protest. “Our maester said it is ill-advised - most men find it unclean - “

“I am not most men,” he scoffs. 

There is no arguing against that, and he says it with all the confidence of someone who knows it to be true. Aemond is a royal prince. A dragonlord, a scion of a greater people. Second to no one but his king and brother, and if he wants to get himself all bloodied, then you suppose that is his right. 

He rids himself of his undershirt, and you reluctantly move to the side to let him join you in bed. It isn’t proper, but your insides flutter when he pulls you against his naked body, letting you feel the warmth of his skin, his manhood against the back of your thigh. It is hard, and twitching when he runs his hands over your figure, your breasts and your stomach, your waist, your hips, the tops of your thighs -

“No, you mustn’t - ” you squeak, but he rucks your gown up anyway and slips his hand in between your legs.

You are wet there, with blood as well as with desire, and you can feel the stickiness when he spreads your lips, curving his fingers and sliding them back and forth along your slit. His breathing is hoarse just from caressing you, from feeling your wet, your warmth, your little swollen nub begging to be touched. You whimper when he circles it with the gentlest of strokes, light and teasing, until you arch your hips up in frustration and breathe oh please. 

Prince Aemond likes it when you beg. Only then does he press down, but not enough to bring you to a peak. Just enough to make your insides tighten, and more blood gush from your womb.

You always did find it strangely beautiful, the blood of your cycle. Deep maroon, and scarlet red - but you are ashamed to see it coating the prince’s fingers when he withdraws them. It is thick, and clotted, and he takes a moment to study it before he wipes his hand clean on your shift. 

“Are you not displeased with me?” you whisper. He should be, given that you have failed to conceive. That there is no way of knowing if you can bear children at all. 

“One mere month is not cause for concern,” the prince says. 

You breathe a faint sigh of relief. It is a comfort to know that at least your husband doesn’t hold your failure against you - yet. 

He tugs on your shift, eager to expose your body, but you cross your hands over your chest.

“Let me keep it for tonight,” you plead. 

You can’t rid yourself of the thought that you are unclean, and you would feel so much more at ease if he didn’t see your heavy, aching body. But you don’t want to entirely deny him access to it, either. Seeing as you are bleeding, the chances of begetting a child are small, which means that his wish to sleep with you must come from genuine desire rather than obligation. And that makes you very happy, as you imagine it would any wife. 

You will make sure to include it in the next letter you send back home. Hopefully it will lessen their disappointment. 

The prince looks somewhat displeased, but he lets you keep your dress, resorting instead to bunching it up around your waist. He is stern, but never cruel to you, even if he does pull at the neck to bare more of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, and then his hand moves downward again, and you throw your leg over his hip to give him more room to touch you. 

This time he does it properly. His fingers find your pleasure right away, and he swiftly brings you to your rapture, impatient as he is to have you. It leaves his hand stained and tainted, and once again he wipes it off on your shift, but this time you don’t care. 

With the position you’re in, it is easy for him to crawl over your leg and take his place between them, and he kisses you as he presses against you, deeply and hungrily, rocking his hips, his manhood throbbing and leaking between your legs. 

Your parts are soaked, but he is careful when he pushes inside. Despite the prince’s relentless pursuit of knowledge, he must not know all that much about a woman’s blood, at least not in practical terms. Where it hurts, and how much, and whether this intrusion will make it worse. You can’t hold it against him - you don’t believe there are many scholars who would want to write about the topic, and how then was he supposed to learn?

“Harder,” you pant, and he obliges, moving faster and pushing deep inside. 

You let him find a steady rhythm, hooking your legs over his hips, and letting your hands wander over his body while he has his way with you. You stroke his balls, imagining that what he keeps inside will take root in you. You pinch his nipples, all hard with pleasure, and you slide your hands down to his lower back, to the base of his spine, where the skin is dusted with downy hairs. Where you can feel each of his thrusts; the rolling movements of his hips, the rhythmic clenching of his buttocks. 

Your dainty touch makes him shudder, and you move your hands to his arse, and then further still, slipping your fingers in between his buttocks. To where he is warm and tender, and where his skin starts to pucker. 

It is filthy, the way he twitches there. The way he throbs. A dirty place to touch, and a sinful thing to do, but you have found that the prince likes it. No added pressure or attempts at entry, just gentle strokes with the tips of your fingers. Soft caresses over his opening. 

He buries his face in your neck and groans, and you can feel that he is nearing his peak. His movements are fast and shallow, his chest heaving and slick with sweat. 

“Yes, my prince,” you whisper. “Fill me with your seed, put a son inside me - “

He likes that. He hisses loudly, gripping the headboard for purchase, and you look up at him when his hips stutter. Prince Aemond’s face is always handsome, but never more than when he is on top of you, in the throes of ecstasy. His brow is furrowed and his eye squeezed shut, and the tension in his body makes the damaged side of his face convulse, his lip twitching up towards the scar. 

He wouldn’t like for you to see that, but in this state he does not feel it happening. 

You lie still as he peaks, allowing him to rut into you wildly, groaning and grunting as he spills his seed. Hot, and wet, and adding to the mess inside you. He lies limp on top of you to catch his breath, and when he finally withdraws, the blood is everywhere. On his softening organ, on his sack, and crusted to the soft hairs on his thighs. 

“I’ve made you dirty,” you state. 

“Yes, you have,” he says. “In more ways than one.” 

You look the other way to give him some privacy when he rises to tidy and dress himself. On your wedding night he stayed with you until the morning, and he has done it a few times since, but it is not a common occurrence. Prince Aemond prefers to sleep alone, and your mother chastises you for that too. She says that to rouse a man’s desire is less than half the battle, and that you must make your husband love you.

Of course if it were really that simple, then there would be no unhappy marriages and no children born as bastards, and if you knew how to make a man fall in love, you would be the richest woman in all the world. 

But you must at least try. 

“Won’t you stay with me?” You ask. “It is - important, for a woman to be embraced - to be treated gently, afterwards…”

“Next time, I will,” he says. And that is the end of that, for you will not stoop so low as to beg for his company. 

He smoothes out his shirt and pulls on his breeches, and you sit up and comb your fingers through your tangled hair. When you look down there are stains on your sheets, and a thick rosy fluid trickling out between your legs. 

“You may want to abstain from riding,” the prince says over his shoulder. “It is known to upset the balance of the womb.”

You nod, bound to obey what is clearly a command posing as a suggestion. 

“Did you know,” you muse, “that the blood of the womb is the only blood that is not born from violence?”

Prince Aemond looks at you with a thoughtful expression, one that suggests he had in fact not considered that before. 

“Quite the philosopher you are,” he remarks, with a little raise of his brow. Coming from him, that is the highest praise. 

It does not change his mind about staying, but he does press a noble kiss to your temple before he leaves you. Sore and bloodied, but content. 

You did well tonight. 

Notes

“Most men find it unclean/I am not most men” is from S1E7 of the Borgias. 

“Menstruation is the only blood that is not born from violence and yet it’s the one that disgusts you the most” is a quote by artist Maia Schwartz. I couldn’t find any more information about her unfortunately. 

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness.

[flowerandblood]

✨ Appreciative Post ✨

My favorite fanfic’s by other authors

Many of you ask me if I have any favorite authors or stories written by others. Yes! I’d love to share them with you if you haven’t read them yet.

⭐ Deep Rivers Run Quiet by @sylasthegrim

⭐ Finding the courage by @happilyhertale

⭐ His Property by @aegonification

⭐ Rev. 22:20 by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

⭐ Duty, Sacrifice by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

⭐ mad prince by @aemvnd

⭐ Smoke, Fire and Ash by @asumofwords

⭐ The Sublet by @asumofwords

⭐ Consequences by @targaryenrealnessdarling

⭐ Pearl of The Realm by @targaryenrealnessdarling

⭐ Breeding Kink by @troublesomesnitch

⭐ What is Broken by @exitpursuedbyavulcan

Thank you, thank you, thank youuu guys for your quality content! Check other works of this talented writers too! ✨

[ladystarksneedle]

Medieval picrew tag game

Create an Aemond/Aegon self insert/OC love interest.

Thank you so much for tagging me @snowblack-charcoalwhite and @sylasthegrim 💖💖

I admit I didn't see the first part and just made her quite randomly at first picturing a lady from Dorne but I came up with a small story which I'll post under the cut too

Here is the link for the tag game. Thank you for starting this @troublesomesnitch ! Loved designing her💖

Tagging (no pressure): @barbieaemond @pendragora @worms-on-a-single-string @hieronymph @snowprincesa1 @witheredoffherwitch @starstrucksnowing @sahtinekryze @moonshine999 @liv-cole @sidraofthewildflowers @fatherforgivethem @bohemian-nights @theothermaidoftarth @theoneeyedprince @humanpurposes @randomdragonfires @themoonofthesun @very-straight-blog @sunnysideaeggs @terrorofthetrident @tell-them-the-north-remembers @dr-aegon @inthedayswhenlandswerefew @arcielee @aegonx @khaleesihel @lynnbeth5172 @st-eve-barnes @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose @cyeco13 @boundlessfantasy @scaly-freaks and whoever sees this because I'm forgetting most of the people I want to tag

So she's a Dornish lady belonging to House Allyrion of Godsgrace. Their words are "No Foe May Pass". They're an ancient house, basically established by the Andals who settled in Dorne.

The Greenblood (river) lies near the banks of the castle, flowing east to the Summer Sea, with olive and lemon orchards surrounding the Keep. She spent her childhood mostly within Godsgrace surrounded by peace.

She's the first born child of the second son of house Allyrion so there isn't much left for her to inherit leaving her father to prioritise a good match as well as an elaborate education for her.

This is probably her maiden portrait or something he had commissioned to be sent should an eligible suitor present himself.

She's sent to the Martells on her seventeenth name day to secure a match, basically to learn how to integrate herself into larger circles of influence. (The Martells are her maternal cousins, Aliandra Martell being her first cousin who she houses with, as she's being prepared to rule by her father.)

Around the time of the dance of the dragons when Otto Hightower writes to Qoren Martell for his support, he considers rejecting it before deciding to consider the benefits of increased trade and influence should the greens succeed. He offers conditional support sighting his reluctance to engage with the Targaryens due to their historical rivalry but willingness to negotiate should Otto's plans succeed.

After he learns of the battle at Driftmark, he plans to send Aliandra reluctantly as an envoy at her behest, to negotiate a deal with the greens in kings landing. She accompanies her cousin to the city much to the dislike of her own family.

After arriving in kings landing and learning of the death of Prince jacaerys which was kept hidden, both women find themselves stuck. Aliandra wishes to lend her support to Rhaenyra, return home and change the terms of the deal, angry at the greens for keeping valuable information hidden, yet both find themselves under the eye of the newly appointed Prince Regent who forces them to honor the terms their house laid out or come up with a revised and mutually beneficial plan to honor their shared agreement.

[sassypossum]

Flowers

Thranduil x Elf!Reader

a/n: The giftsgiving faerie strikes yet again! @troublesomesnitch, this one's for you my dear, inspired by our conversations and your love for this handsome man!!!

You slipped into Thranduil's life quite honestly without him even realizing you had.

From the moment he came across you deep in the forest picking wildflowers, you'd begun to slowly weave a path into his heart. At this point he can scarcely tell where his own heartbeat starts and where yours ends.

His finest friend, his dearest fawn, you swept into his life amidst a flurry of flowers and the sweetest of songs. Legalos took to you right away, enjoying many an evening by the fire listening to your exciting tales of life beyond the wood.

When his wife had passed, Thranduil had thought the light of life would forever evade him, and he was content with that. Mayhaps not content, but he had come to accept the quiet solitude in which he would pass through life alone. Until you.

Now he spent afternoons indulging in the quiet sweetness of your company, occasionally allowing you to crown his royal head with one of your own crowns of woven flowers. At other times, he watched as you sat by the fire - nose scrunched and eyes squinting- attempting to finish yet another embroidery that you surely could wait until morning to finish.

Your fingers laced through his, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you slept soundly- pressed firmly against his side. These were the smallest of things surely, but for him they rang loud and true. He'd have thought to have passed the darkening years without another heart to cheer his own, yet he was ever thankful that you'd appeared.

His fawn of the wood.

[arcielee]

Question Time!

Thank you my darling Tumblr kindred spirits @lonnson @itbmojojoejo @bhxrdy @poetic-fiasco for the tag! 💜

What is a bad habit you have? Picking at my nails when I'm nervous/anxious

What‘s your dream job? Published author (unrealistic) or some level of product analyst for the internal software with a company (realistic).

How many times have you been pulled over by a cop? Oh boy... too many times to remember, which makes me sound like an absolutely hellion, but fuck it.

What are the top two words your friends would use to describe you? Trusting and reliable or kind and clever. DM me and you can decide for yourself. 💜😆

Dream travel destinations? Germany or Ireland.

Are you more independent, or need lots of people around you? Painfully independent.

Have you ever had sex in a public place?

...maybe I have hellion tendencies.

Favourite beverage? Water, or Celsius Sparkling Strawberry Guava energy drink. Their grape is pretty nifty too.

No pressure tags: @annikin-im-panicin @azperja @zaldritzosrose @zae5 @snowblack-charcoalwhite @dr-aegon @fan-goddess @lynnbeth5172 @elizarbell @schniiipsel @aegonx @thought--bubble @troublesomesnitch @persephonerinyes @chattylurker @primonizzutto @pendragora @hoosbandewan @fallingintoyourlilaceyes and if this comes across your dash, please tag me because I am nosey. 💜