Lets Get Spooky

Once Simon feels as though you are ready, he notches his tip at your entrance, and your eyes begin to water just from the slight burn. He rests his elbows on either side of your head, digging into the mattress where his arms cage your head in, and he places a feather light kiss to your soft, swollen lips.

He pushes in slowly, and when you cry out, he kisses you harder, swallowing the sounds of pain that have yet to turn into pleasure as if he can’t bear to hear you like this. Pulling away, he stills inside you with only the tip in, rocking ever so slightly without pushing anymore in. Your walls stretch around him, tightly wrapped around his length, slick coating him to make it easier.

“It’s okay. You’re okay… you’re doing so good,” he praises, waiting for your body to adjust, for you to tell him you’re ready for more.

When you nod your head, he pushes in some more, but your body is so tense he can barely sink another inch into you. His thumb quickly finds your clit, and he rubs slow, tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves to ease your body into relaxation. You moan louder for him, your body giving in to the pleasure racing through every last inch of you, and your walls relax around him, allowing him to sink the rest of the way in.

Tears well up in your eyes when he stops, fully buried inside of you with his tip leaking precum against your cervix, and he kisses you with the utmost passion. He takes away the pain of your first time, rocking into you slowly, barely pulling out before pushing in again. Your walls mold to him, the burn and stretch from his impossibly large length turning into the most blissful feeling the longer he works your muscles.

"So good for me… you feel so good for me," he praises, resting his forehead against yours, letting your warm breath mingle with his from the proximity.

He pulls out further now, the delicious feeling of his length inside of you consuming everything you know. He takes you slowly, the veins and ridges of his cock sliding through your walls, filling you up to the brim, leaving no space inside of you empty for long.

You moan out from the sensations running through you. Your nipples drag against his chest, your cheeks are wet from tears due to the previous pain, your mouth hangs open from the overwhelming feeling of being so close to the man you love. You whimper and whine, you cry and beg for more, for so much more.

"Goddamit- you're so tight lovie," he curses, your walls wrapped so tightly around him, and he tries his hardest to hold back his release from happening too early.

Arching your back from the mattress, your chest presses against his, and the warmth of his skin floods your body. Your hips meet his every thrust, your body begs for more without you having to say a word, and he meets you there in every way. His fingers find your clit, and he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves with tight, quick circles. His pace picks up as he begins to pound into you, pulling out until only the tip remains before sinking back in and knocking against your cervix.

It isn't until he slides a pillow under your hips that you truly feel the pleasure he can give you. He thrusts in hard, hitting your sweet spot with precision, and stars burst in your eyes when your lids shut tight.

"F-fuck Si," you cry out, your hands curling around his biceps where your nails dig into his rough skin and you listen to him grunt out from the pleasurable pain of you.

He keeps hitting that same spot, over and over again, devouring the way your body writhes beneath him, knowing he is the first person to ever make you feel this way. Heat pools in your lower belly, unfamiliar and scary, and as it sits there like a coiled spring ready to snap at any given moment, you try to warn him.

"Simon… p-please it feels weird," you whisper, pulling his body closer to yours, unable to control the feeling building inside of you as he continues to please your body.

His thrusts slow, his fingers on your clit matching the same pace, and he moves his mouth to suck in a nipple. It peaks between his teeth, and he sucks, bites, licks against the sensitive bud until you're writhing again despite the slow pace. He builds up your orgasm, knowing what it is even if you don't, and he reassures you the best way he can.

"Just let it happen lovie," he says, slowly picking up his pace again, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot buried so deep inside of you.

The feeling builds again, undeniable and intense, and before you can protest, his lips find yours and he swallows the words right out of your mouth. He thrusts into you fast, deep, hard, anything to push you over the edge that your body so desperately craves. Your walls tighten around him, pulsing and clenching with need, your body becomes rigid and your muscles draw taut.

Cum gushes from your entrance, soaking his length in your pleasure, leaving rings of cream around his base as he continues to fuck you through your peak. You squirm beneath him, the feeling so foreign and addicting, and you give your body to him, knowing he can take care of you in every single way it demands.

"That's it… you did so good for me," he whispers, placing kisses along your jaw, moving down the length of your neck where he finds the spot on your soft, salty skin that makes you weak.

His hips roll against yours, his release inevitable as he chases it, and with a guttural groan and a few more thrusts, he's burying himself to the hilt. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out with each pulse of his cock, coating your walls in everything he has to give. He pumps himself in and out, slow with unsteady movements and jerky hips, until your pussy drains every last drop of his seed.

Simon collapses on top of you, his body warm and sweaty against your own, and you wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist to pull him even closer. He stays inside you until his cock softens and your body grows exhausted, and then he pulls out and cleans up the mess with his tongue, promising you that he will have you squirming on his face as soon as he can catch his breath.

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Though you could not make out every word, Maekar's anger was unmistakable.

Maekar took meticulous care of every horse at Summerhall. He visited the stables daily, bringing apples, inspecting hooves, and making certain their manes were properly groomed. He always claimed to have no favorites, but you knew better.

Galfrey was special. Your father had gifted the horse to Maekar after the birth of your first son, Daeron, and the prince had treasured him ever since.

You knew your husband's temper and love for this horse were not going produce a rational punishment for Ser Douglass. He'd likely get a good whack around the head, or worse if you did not intervene.

You quickly made your way down to the garden, hopeful that you'd reach your husband before he lashed out too badly at his knight.

"Maekar!" you called sweetly as you entered the garden.

He ignored you.

His tirade continued unabated while the stable boys stood awkwardly nearby, apparently having managed to stop the worst of the bleeding.

You reached your husband's side and interrupted him gently. "Oh, what accident caused this injury on Galfrey?" you asked trying to sound as if you were seeing it for the first time.

Ser Douglass turned his full attention on you, clearly relieved he'd been saved from Maekar's wrath.

"My lady, it was a simple accident! The rain we had last week loosened many of the rocks on the northern path. Galfrey stumbled and was cut." The poor knight looked absolutely petrified.

"Why was the path not checked properly before bringing the horse down it?" Maekar spat. "You've yet to produce a reasonable answer, Ser."

You walked over to Galfrey, examining his injury. "Well the bleeding has stopped, thanks to these two boys." You turned to the stable boys and offered them both a smile. "I think he shall survive, my love." You said turning back to your husband.

Maekar said nothing. He let out a grunt of annoyance and tugged the reins from Ser Douglass' hand. "Give me my damned horse you fool." He muttered to his knight.

The knight opened his mouth to apologize again, but Maekar silenced him with a raised hand. With a final scowl, he turned and led Galfrey toward the stables.

Once he was out of earshot, you offered Ser Douglass an apologetic smile. "He was rather harsh on you, Ser. Galfrey will recover, and by tomorrow all shall be forgiven."

"My thanks, Princess," the knight said fervently.

You had barely taken three steps before a voice called after you.

"Princess!"

One of the stable boys hurried forward and fell into step beside you.

"You like horses?" He blurted.

The question was so unexpected that you nearly laughed.

He was tall and gangly, all elbows and knees, with unkempt brown hair sticking up in several directions. You were fairly certain you had never seen him before.

"Forgive me, but are you new to Summerhall?" You asked.

"Oh! Yes, my lady." The boy flushed immediately.

"I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Flyn. I arrived a fortnight ago."

He sounded breathless, as though he had spent the last several minutes arguing with himself before gathering the courage to approach you.

"Well then, welcome to Summerhall, Flyn."

His face brightened at once.

The poor thing looked as though you'd knighted him.

Flyn followed you down the dirt path to the stables talking the whole way. "You're right, Galfrey will be fine. He's not badly injured. It's just a scratch. I think the Prince is being unfair about the situation!"

"Well, don't let the Prince hear you say that." You said laughing. "He is very passionate about his horses. There is nothing wrong with wanting them to be cared for properly."

"I suppose not, Princess. I meant no offense." Flyn said quickly.

"No offense taken. You are new here, and will quickly learn Prince Maekar is a serious man, a stern man, but never unfair."

You and Flyn walked in silence for a bit longer when he suddenly stopped.

"Is something the matter?" You asked.

"No, Princess, It's just that you never answered my question about horses. Do you like them as much as the Prince does?" He asked with a somewhat expectant smile.

You were caught off guard at his insistence you answer the question.

"I, um yes well who doesn't love horses?" You joked.

"I hate them." Flyn answered his voice becoming bitter.

"You hate them? Why would you seek to work in a stable if you hated horses?" You asked in disbelief.

He turned away from you now and looked at the ground, his ears and cheeks flushed in pink. "I came to Summerhall to work for you, well to work near you." He swallowed hard.

"What ever do you mean, boy?" You said more formal now, unsure of where this conversation was going.

You could see him chance a look at you from the corner of his eye.

"The people in my village, they all speak very highly of you, Princess. It's said that your kindness and gentle nature make serving at Summerhall easier than most other castles." He was boring holes into the dirt path with his eyes, unable to look at you. "And your beauty is legend." He added quickly.

"Ah, I see." You smiled at his confession. "That is very kind of you to say, and it pleases me to know others think so highly of me." You laughed despite your best efforts to remain unaffected at his confession.

You resumed you walk down the path to the stable in silence as you thought of Flyn's words.

When you reached the stables he spoke again, "I hope I didn't cause you any offense or embarrassment, Princess." He said shakily.

"None at all, in fact quite the opposite." You smiled brightly at him and pushed the door to the stable open and stepped inside.

Maekar was sitting on a low wooden stool feeding Galfrey an apple. The other stable boy who had been in the garden with Flyn and Ser Doulgass was brushing Galfrey's mane.

"There you are." You said softly.

Maekar glanced up. The contentment on his face vanished instantly.

"Where the fuck have you been?" He barked.

The words struck you like a slap. You were stunned to the spot. Maekar never spoke to you this way. "Excuse me?" You said horrified.

"Not you woman, him!" Maekar lifted his hand and pointed behind you. You turned to see that Flyn had followed you into the stable.

"Forgive me, my Prince. I was only speaking to the Princess."

"Speaking to the Princess eh?" Maekar said eyes narrowing on the boy.

"He was introducing himself, husband. He was being polite." You said defending Flyn.

Maekar did not look at you or acknowledge your words.

"Do you think I am blind?" Maekar asked.

"What? No, My Lord!" Flyn stuttered.

"Do you think I am stupid?" Maekar asked with an annoyed huff.

"Neither, My Lord." Flyn looked seconds away from fainting.

"Maekar." You said his name as a warning, but he paid you no mind.

"What do you require of me?" Flyn asked rushing over to the wall of hay bales and grabbing at them. "I can lay new hay. Should I lay new hay?" Flyn was desperate to divert the attention away from Maekar's accusations.

Maekar ignored the boy's frantic questions. "Stable boys do not speak to my wife! They do not walk with her. They do not trail after her. You are a servant, my servant. She will not entertain your fantasies!" Maekar's voice was low and severe.

Flyn stared wide eyed and crimsoned faced at Maekar unable to speak.

"Do you understand me?!" Maekar's voice was loud now and the sudden change in tone cause Galfrey to spook and pull at his reins.

"Y.. yes...yes." Flyn stammered. "I understand."

Maekar pointed to a shovel in the corner, and without taking his eyes off Flyn he spat "Shovel the shit from the stable, that's what I require of you."

Flyn said nothing and bolted for the shovel. He began frantically cleaning the stable stalls, never looking up at Maekar.

"Maekar Targaryen!" you scolded under your breath. "How dare you take your anger about Galfrey out on poor Flyn!"

"Oh! Flyn... that's the stable rats name then?" He said raising his eyebrows.

You shot him a severe look.

Maekar sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. "Too many incompetent fucking fools working here." He grumbled.

You took a step toward your husband and laid your hands on his chest. His hands automatically came to rest on your waist.

"He was being kind. He was not flirting." You kissed Maekar's cheek and smiled up at him.

Maekar looked over your head at Flyn who was shoveling hay and horse waste into buckets. "Maybe so, but he's new and needs to learn his place." He mumbled under his breath.

"Jealousy is not very becoming for a prince." You teased.

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It had started as a negotiation, as most things with Maekar did.

"Do not touch me," you had said. "That is the only rule. Whatever I do — you will not reach for me."

He had looked at you with those violet eyes doing their assessment and said, with the particular flatness of a man delivering an honest appraisal: "I will not be able to do that."

"You could try."

"I am telling you in advance that I will fail." A pause. "I will reach for you. It is not a question of discipline. It is a question of—" he stopped, the honesty costing him slightly— "you. Specifically. I cannot keep my hands off you when you are doing—" he gestured, briefly, at the general situation— "anything."

You looked at him for a moment.

Then you reached for the box on the table beside the bed.

He watched you remove the silk — two pieces, the deep blue of the ones Baelor had used, and the specific recognition that moved through his expression at the sight of them was extraordinary. Not apprehension. Something considerably warmer than apprehension.

"Not the blindfold," you said. "I want you to see everything."

His throat moved.

"Agreed?" you said.

The word took a moment to arrive. "Agreed."

He held still while you tied his wrists — or held still in the way that Maekar held still, which was with the specific controlled quality of a large man exercising considerable discipline, every line of him radiating the effort of not simply taking over the proceedings. You tied the right wrist first, then the left, the silk making two soft loops around the bedpost that would hold without damaging, and you ran your thumb beneath each knot the way Baelor had shown you and watched Maekar watch your hands with those dark violet eyes.

When you finished you sat back and looked at him.

The sight of it — all that contained authority, the broad scarred chest, the white hair against the pillow, those eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that had not diminished one fraction for being tied to a bedpost — did something immediate to your composure that you declined to show.

"Pull against them," you said.

He did. The silk held. Something moved through his expression.

"Comfortable?"

"No," he said. Truthfully. "But not — no. It is fine."

"Tell me if it starts being too much."

"I will." A beat. "Are you going to do something, or are you going to sit there and—"

You put your hand on him.

The sentence ended.

You had not rushed to get here. You had taken your time with his throat and his chest and the old scars that mapped his history — tracing them with your fingers and your mouth while he breathed carefully above you and kept his hands precisely where they were and occasionally made sounds that suggested the keeping was not without cost. By the time your hand wrapped around his cock he was already hard and had been for some time, the evidence of it insistent against your thigh for the last several minutes.

You took your time with this too.

A slow stroke from base to tip — learning him, or performing learning him, because you knew this as well as you knew anything, but the relearning had its own value and you watched his face while you did it and collected every response. His jaw tightening. The slight lift of his hips that he suppressed immediately with the discipline of a soldier. The breath that left him at the twist of your wrist at the top of the stroke, where you knew — had always known — he was most sensitive.

"Look at me," you said.

He was already looking at you. He had not stopped looking at you.

"Good," you said, and tightened your grip slightly, and began to move in earnest.

The rhythm you set was not merciful. Not fast — that wasn't the point — but consistent, the steady purposeful pace of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and intended to do it for as long as it suited them. Your thumb tracing the underside on the upstroke, the pressure varying just enough to keep him from settling into the rhythm, to keep every stroke slightly surprising. His cock hot and heavy in your hand, the evidence of wanting him slick at the tip, and you used it, spreading it with your thumb in a way that made his head press back against the pillow and a sound leave him that had no composure in it.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"You know what I—"

"Tell me."

His jaw worked. The flush was climbing his throat, his ears, the tips of them vivid. "Faster."

"Not yet."

A sound of frustration that was also, unmistakably, something else. His wrists pulling once against the silk — not to escape, you understood, but because he needed somewhere for it to go and had nothing else. "Then— harder—"

You loosened your grip slightly.

The sound he made was extraordinary.

"You were saying?" you said pleasantly.

"You are doing this deliberately."

"Yes." You restored the grip. Resumed the pace. His hips lifting toward your hand and you let them, let him have the friction of it without increasing anything, and watched his face — the specific agony of a controlled man losing his control by degrees, Maekar who held everything tightly finding that this particular grip was stronger than his. "You are doing beautifully," you said.

He made a sound at that — the praise landing somewhere it always landed with him, beneath the severity and the pride, in the place that didn't know what to do with being told he was doing well and wanted it anyway.

"More of that," he said, roughly. Not the physical. "Say — more of that."

"More of what?" you asked, as though you didn't know.

His eyes closed briefly. Opened. "You know what."

"Tell me."

"Tell me I'm — gods — tell me I'm—"

"You are perfect," you said, and tightened your grip, and felt him shudder. "You're doing exactly what I want. You look — Maekar, you have no idea how you look right now."

The sound he made resonated at the base of your spine.

You felt him approaching it the way you felt everything about him — in the specific tension that moved through his thighs, the slight change in his breathing, the way the sounds he was making had gone from frustrated to something with more urgency in them. Close. He was close. The rhythm of your hand and the heat of him and ten years of knowing exactly how to read him — close.

You stopped.

Not slowed. Stopped. Your hand going still, wrapped around him but motionless, and the sound he made at the cessation was nothing like dignified — a broken exhale that was almost a word and did not make it, his hips pushing forward into the grip of your hand and finding nothing moving.

"No—" The word dragged out. His wrists pulling hard against the silk. Those violet eyes finding yours with an expression of genuine anguish. "Don't—"

"Not yet," you said.

"I was almost—"

"I know."

"You knew and you stopped—"

"Yes." You loosened your grip entirely. Just held him, warm and present and entirely motionless, and watched him breathe through it — the particular suffering of a man pulled back from the edge and left there, the flush of him deepened to something that had reached his chest, his jaw set with the effort of not simply demanding.

"Please." The word arrived with difficulty. "Please, just—"

"Just what."

"Move."

"Say it properly."

The expression on his face — desire and frustration in equal devastating measure, the composure entirely gone, Maekar who held everything tightly reduced to this: tied to a bedpost and looking at you with violet eyes that had lost every pretence of management.

"Please move your hand," he said. Each word extracted. "Please. I need—"

You moved your hand. He made a sound that belonged to no public space, but to that chamber specifically.

You built him back up with the same consistency — the same pace, the same pressure, your thumb tracing the places you knew, watching him climb back toward it with the focused attention of someone conducting an experiment and noting the results. Faster this time, slightly, the rhythm more insistent, and his breathing came faster to match it and the sounds he was making had gone past language entirely, just Maekar, stripped of everything, reduced to wanting and the specific mercy of your hand.

Close again. Closer than before.

You stopped.

The sound he made this time was wrecked in a way the first hadn't been — something in it that was almost past frustration into something rawer, the specific quality of a man who has been brought to the edge twice and denied twice and is finding that the third time will be worse still.

"Please." Immediate. No preamble, no pride left to negotiate around. His wrists against the silk. His eyes on yours. "Please, I cannot — you have to — please—"

"Look at you," you said softly.

He looked at you. The expression — open, unguarded, the severity entirely absent, everything he kept managed and contained simply gone, violet eyes dark and wet at the edges with the sheer physical accumulation of it — made something in your chest ache with fondness so specific it had its own weight.

"You are so beautiful," you said. Meaning it completely. "Right now, like this — do you have any idea—"

"Please." Rougher. The word cracking slightly. "I am asking you. I am — please."

You wrapped your hand around him again.

"Alright," you said quietly. "I have you. Come on."

This time you did not stop.

The pace you set was different — faster, the grip firmer, your thumb at the head of his cock on every upstroke with the specific pressure that you knew and had been deliberately withholding and now gave him without reservation. Your other hand at his chest, feeling his heartbeat, the rapid certain thud of it. His hips moving with your hand now, the discipline entirely gone, just Maekar chasing the thing you were finally allowing him to chase.

"That's it," you said. Low. Watching his face. "Come on. I've got you — that's it — you're perfect, you're so—"

He came apart.

The sound he made was not triumphant. It was not the satisfied certainty of Maekar having won something. It was something with no victory in it at all — just release, just the specific devastating relief of a man who has been held at the edge three times and is finally, finally being allowed over it, his whole body shuddering with the force of it, his cock pulsing in your hand, his back arching off the bed as much as the silk would allow.

"Beautiful," you said, and meant it, watching him. "Look at you. You're beautiful — Maekar, look at me—"

He looked at you.

The tear was so quiet you almost missed it. A single line of it from the outer corner of his eye, tracking down his temple and into his hair — the accumulated frustration of three edges and however many days of being Maekar, of holding everything tightly, of being severe and controlled and the man who did not need things, finally finding its single outlet.

You leaned forward.

You pressed your lips to the subtle teary stream and licked it away — the salt of it, the specific tenderness of the gesture, your mouth gentle at his skin while he shuddered through the last of it beneath you.

He was very still when you drew back.

His breathing was uneven. The flush everywhere. Those violet eyes finding yours from close range with an expression that was the most naked thing you had ever seen on his face — exposed in a way that the crawling and the begging had not quite managed, because those had been theatrical, had had the structure of a scene, and this had been simply real. Simply him.

You reached up and worked the knots at his wrists. The silk fell away. You drew his arms down slowly and held his hands in yours and felt the slight tremor in them.

He looked at his own hands for a moment.

"That," he said. His voice had not recovered. "Was."

"Mm," you mumbled. A long silence.

"You licked—" he tried.

"Yes."

"I wasn't—" He stopped. His jaw worked. "I don't—"

"Don't worry, I know," you said.

Another silence. His hands turning in yours, his thumbs tracing across your knuckles in the slow absent way that meant he was processing something he didn't have immediate language for.

"The silk," he said finally.

"Mm?"

"Keep it," he said.

You looked at him with a funny, curious glare.

"Keep it," he said again, with the flat certainty of a man delivering a logistical instruction, and you understood that this was the closest he was going to get tonight to I would like to do that again, and you received it accordingly.

"I'll keep it," you said.

His hand tightened briefly on yours. The smallest thing. The whole of him in one gesture.

Outside, the castle moved through its evening. Inside, Maekar lay in the quiet with the silk warm on the pillow beside him and you holding his hands and the single track of salt already dried at his temple, and he said nothing further, and he did not need to.

You already knew.

P.S.: yeah, it is the same pieces of silk that Baelor used with you ˙ᵕ˙

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"I have read the same page three times miss." Aegon sighed. "I have read it four." Rhae added and you couldn't help but smile at the children. You walked over to each of their desks and took note of what page they were on before nodding to yourself.

"Rhae, Daella you may close your books. Aegon finish one more page please to catch up with your sisters and then we will end the studying."

Aegon picked his book up again and began reading. You knew he was not taking in the words on the page as his eyes scanned rapidly across each sentence, it did not matter though, you would get him to re-read the page on the next day.

"May we play a game miss?" Rhae asked as you placed Aegons book atop the others and put them on a shelf next to your desk. "I thought you were tired of me for the day?"

"Not tired of you, only tired of reading. We have been at it since we woke this morning." Aegon spoke.

"You have not, it has only been an hour little Prince, do not be dramatic." The girls laughed as you corrected their brother making him frown slightly before his eyes lit up. "May we play the hiding game again miss? I had a lot of fun when you showed it us last week."

You were surprised that the children had never played hide and seek before, though you suppose with the little interactions they had with other children it wasn't really too shocking. You had introduced them to many new games, a lot of them you had played with your siblings as you grew up and others you had learnt through nannying for other families.

"Fine, you three may go and hide and I shall count. Do not leave the castle, I don't want people to think I have lost a Prince's children because you have strayed too far. I could not stand the embarrassment of trying to explain that to your father."

"He likes you, he would not be mad."

"He does not like me Aegon, he only tolerates me because I keep you three out of the way." You explained though when you turned around each child had a wide grin on their faces. "What are you smiling for? You should be hiding or you will ruin the game." You turned back again and began counting. The girls grabbed each other's hands and quickly took off after Aegon down the corridor.

As you stood by the window and counted your eyes drifted down to Prince Maekar who was standing in the training yard watching Aerion fighting with a Knight. You had barely spoken to Maekar, the senior servant who hired you had said you should not speak to him unless spoken to and he'd rarely interrupted the time you spent with his children. Normally he avoided the rooms you were in completely and asked his children for updates on their learnings and activities of the day instead of coming to you.

You didn't mind though. His presence was intimidating and the hushed whispers between servants of his foul temper and strength in a battle was enough of a deterrent for you. Instead you admired him from afar, he was tall, broad and despite looking constantly miserable he was very handsome. His voice was deep and commanding and even though he'd never raised it to you you'd heard it carry down the halls as he shouted at a Knight who'd pissed him off and it instantly sent a wave of heat across your face and down between your thighs.

No matter how much you wanted to speak to the man you knew it was best to keep your words to yourself for you feared that if you spoke to him you would instantly melt under the gaze of his violet eyes and stern expression.

"Do you often stare out of the window for this long?" A voice dragged you from your thoughts and you quickly shot around to see Prince Baelor standing in the doorway. He stepped towards you as you offered a quick curtsy and tried to block the view before he could see out of the window but it was futile. Baelor stood taller than you and from his height he could see his brother commanding Aerion in the yard and smirked once he realised what you had been looking at so attentively.

"Forgive me my Prince, but I am playing a game with the children, I must go find them."

"Ah yes, hide and seek, I am familiar with it. Would you like some advice?"

"I do not want to know where they have hidden, that would defeat the purpose of the game." You replied and he chuckled softly. "No it is not that, when it is your turn to hide go to the furthest room at the end of the hall. They won't find you in there and you will surely win the game."

"Thank you for the advice my Prince, I must be off before they get restless." You replied and quickly bowed your head before sprinting out of the room. Baelor turned back to the window and looked down at his brother, a wide smirk gracing his face.

You'd found Aegon first, he was not hiding far from the room you had been teaching them in. "You only found me because you were taking far too long with counting that I had to talk to myself to prevent boredom."

"No you are just not very good at hiding, I said you should not leave the castle, not hide down the corridor from me. Come let us find your sisters and then I will show you all how to properly hide."

It did not take long to find both Rhae and Daella, they were curled into the wardrobe of their room together and failing to stifle their laughter as you and Aegon entered the room and quickly swung open the doors to their hiding place.

"Now that I have found you all it is my turn to hide. Make sure to count to fifty so that I have enough time to hide from the three of you. I will stick to our rules and will not leave the castle but please take your time going down the corridors, I don't want you falling over a loose stone again." You said but made a point to look at Aegon as you had spent an hour washing his knee after your last game of hide-and-seek after he'd fallen over.

They all turned their backs to you and began counting. You were enjoying playing this game with the children and despite wanting to let them win as it would be the right thing to do you decided to take prince Baelors advice and head down the darkened hallway to the room at the far end.

You had never stepped down this hall before, the senior servant said to stay away, but surely if Prince Baelor said for you to hide down here that it must have been ok for you to do so. The corridor carried on to a curve but when you peered down you could not see anymore doors aside from the one that you stood in front of so you quickly opened the door and stepped inside making sure to close it quietly behind you so that the sound would not echo back to the chambers of the children.

It only took you a few steps into the room before you realised it was the chambers of Prince Maekar. His heavy armour was settled over a rack beside a desk that was littered with papers. You should not be in here, surely you had made a mistake because Prince Baelor would not have sent you to the chambers of his brother.

Moving back to the door you quickly grabbed the handle but stopped turning it when you heard the sound of three pairs of footfalls running past the door. "No Aegon." Rhae whined. "She would not be in father's chambers I'm almost sure of it."

"We should still check to be sure." The boy protested and reached for the handle, you felt it move slightly under your palm. "Father will be mad if you knock his armour over again. Let us check down the hall and then we can come back around again." Rhae argued and a moment passed before you felt Aegon release the handle.

Once the sound of the children running away had gone you believed that it was safe to leave the room. Unfortunately for you, there came the heavy footsteps of someone else approaching the room. You panicked and believed that these had to be the steps of the Prince himself, if you left his room he would catch you but if you stood behind his door when he opened it that may just lead to a worse outcome. You quickly scurried around the room and looked for somewhere that would hide you sufficiently.

Unfortunately, the only place that was both nearby and would be quiet was his desk so you quickly threw yourself underneath it and hoped that maybe the Prince would be in and out of his chambers. "Fucking hide and seek." Maekar muttered when he entered the room slamming the door behind him. "All the things to do and she wants to play fucking hide and seek."

He sat down in his chair and pulled himself closer to the desk forcing you to back up even more so his long legs wouldn't hit you. You could hear him writing, occasionally letting out a few curse words here and there as the quill dragged along the paper above you with such a ferocity that you were sure the tip would break off.

You hoped he would finish his letter and leave but when it seemed like he was nearly done you heard a knock on the door. "What?" Maekar shouted and the door to his chambers opened.

"The children want to know if you have seen the nanny." A familiar voice called out, that of Prince Baelor. You wanted to step out, to ask the Prince if this was in-fact the right room he had suggested for you to hide in but that would obviously be an incredibly stupid thing for you to do.

"What makes you think I have seen the nanny?" Maekar groaned rubbing his hands through his hair and Baelor laughed. "You always have eyes on the nanny."

"I do not."

"You do."

Great. You thought. Now they are bickering like little children. You had to stop yourself from letting out an audible groan and drawing their attention to your position. "I suppose I should leave you now brother, do let the children know if you happen upon their nanny." Baelor spoke and Maekar only scoffed in response.

Unbeknownst to you, when Baelor turned to leave he had seen a small piece of your dress poking out from underneath his brother's desk and that was when he had put two and two together. You had listened to his advice and gone to the room he spoke of. Of course you did not know it was that of his brother's but he did and now there you were, tucked underneath the desk of his youngest brother who appeared to be completely oblivious to your presence.

"Oh." He added as he walked back to the door, a smirk still plastered on his face when he rested his hand on the smooth metal handle. "Try not to get too carried away when you think of the nanny, I do not want to explain to another servant that you are not whining out in pain."

"Shut up." Maekar scoffed and shook his head at his older brother when he left his chambers. The silence that fell upon the room when Baelor left was horrendous. You had to cover your mouth with your hands in fear of Maekar hearing your breaths as he remained seated at the desk. He hadn't picked up his quill, or shuffled through papers, he just sat there in silence and sighed to himself.

You'd thought that perhaps he had fallen asleep, his breaths had deepened and he was no longer letting out little curse words here and there. That was until he sank down in his chair and hurriedly undid the belt of his trousers. Your eyes widened when you realised what he was doing, a deep heat settled on your face when Maekar freed his cock in front of you.

You stifled a gasp when you saw it. His cock was long and thick, his large hand fit perfectly around it and you couldn't help but look down at your own as you watched him. It was already hard-hard when he pulled it out but now as he sat there, slowly stroking, it began to harden.

Closing your eyes you listened to the sound of skin on skin as he began to stroke himself faster. Your eyes shot open when you heard him spitting followed by the wet sound of his other hand, now wet with spit, taking over the movements. "Ah fuck." He moaned, his voice deliciously deep as his chest heaved with every rough jerk of his cock.

You'd kept quiet this whole time, so quiet. But then he moaned your name. Not the title given to you of nanny, but your actual name that you thought he never learned. A moan escaped your lips and you quickly threw your hands over your mouth and squeezed your eyes shut hoping he didn't hear you.

But he did. Of course he did.

You heard the soft thwacks of skin on skin stop followed by yet another painful silence. Maekar pushed his chair back, the sound of the wood scraping on the floor causing your ears to ring and soon a hand wrapped around your arm and you were dragged from under the desk, your knees scraping across the floor as he pulled you to his knee.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" He spoke through gritted teeth, his grip on your arm would no doubt leave a bruise. "Speak woman."

"I was playing with the children my Prince. I did not realise these were your chambers until I heard you coming down the hall. I had to hide. I did not see anything I swear." You lied. His thick cock was all you could think about. It didn't help that it was still standing to attention, bulbous head leaking pre-cum that had smeared across his doublet leaving a thin white streak.

The hand that had not been stroking his cock gripped your chin and he tilted your head up forcing you to look at him. "You." He spoke, voice lower now and brows furrowed when he realised it was you he had caught. Your chest heaved against his knee as you swallowed hard.

You tried to pull away from him but he grabbed your face harder, his fingers digging into your cheeks as he kept you pressed against him. You did not know where to look. If you looked up you'd meet his eyes peering down at you, if you looked ahead you would be staring at his cock and with his grip on your face you could not look down. You tried to close your eyes but he squeezed his digits against your face making you open them again, your gaze instantly meeting his cock once more and lingering for a moment too long.

"Stop gawking woman. Have you never seen a cock before?"

"I do not mean to stare, you are just so close. I do not, I cannot look anywhere else." You stammered out an excuse to him, tripping over your words as you tried to form the right sentence to explain the looks you had given him. You were nearly drooling at the mouth as you flicked your gaze from his face down to his cock and back up again.

It felt like hours had passed from when he first looked down at you.

"You may leave if you wish."

You pondered his words for a moment and finally decided to speak your mind. "What if I do not want to leave?" Your breath caught in your throat as you spoke to him softly. You carefully moved onto your knees and rested your hands on his spread thighs. "What if I wish to taste you my Prince? Will you allow me?" You looked up to him with a pleading expression on your face keenly awaiting his answer.

Maeker stared down at you and you watched as he began to stroke his cock again, this time keeping his eyes fixed on yours as he tightened his grip around his shaft. You took that as your cue to lower your mouth to the head of his cock and suckle it causing a deep moan to fall from his lips.

He continued stroking his cock as you lapped at the swollen tip, his fist occasionally tapping you on your chin. You batted his hand away when it struck you for a fourth time and quickly replaced it with your own stroking at the same rhythm Maekar had used on himself.

"Gods woman, your mouth is divine." He spoke and you released a seductive laugh around his cock. You took more of him into your mouth now and fought the need to gag when his tip grazed the back of your throat.

"Need more spit." You spoke after letting his cock fall from your mouth earning an irritated groan to fall from his lips before Maekar looked at you with a puzzled expression. You did not give him a verbal explanation, instead you opened your mouth wide and stuck out your tongue. "Dirty bitch." He said before allowing himself to indulge, he leant forwards, gathered up his saliva from his mouth and spat it directly onto your tongue.

You returned your mouth to the head of his cock and let the mixture of spit run down the length lubricating it so you could continue to take it with ease. Lifting one large hand, he laced it through your fair as you sucked him and surprisingly he didn't force your head down. You felt his fingers flex with anticipation against your scalp when his breaths became faster and soon he was releasing his thick seed into your mouth and down your throat.

Swallowing first you allowed his cock to fall out of your mouth once more and flicked your tongue over your lips to collect the remaining cum that had gathered. You looked up to the Prince, his eyes were closed and his chest heaved with each breath he took as he tried to come down from his high.

He was so distracted in fact that he did not feel you moving away from him and standing on shaking legs, cunt dripping with want. "If you'll forgive me my Prince, I have a game that I need to finish. Do let me know if you require any further assistance." You spoke and before he'd even opened his eyes and mouth to reply you were gone, and there he sat trying to catch his breath, his cock soft against his belly as he stared at the door which you had closed.

since those early morning hours, as the night falls over the red keep, the information discussed during the day had merely came and went, but still lingering was the light in your eyes when they’d locked with his.

the final meeting of the day had ended, and baelor had set to return to his quarters, with the intent of sleeping off the desire, wishing to remain ever the honorable gentleman, though his thoughts raced of dishonoring you prior to the wedding.

his feet got the better of him, and before he knew it, he’d reach where your personal chambers resided. if he were anyone other than heir to the iron throne, he’s sure the guards would’ve hesitated before allowing him entrance. but surely, the prince wouldn’t do anything dishonorable, as this is his second marriage, after all.

they announced his visit, and you graciously accepted. as he entered, he saw you sitting back in a chair at the window, messing with some stray strings at the end of the embroidery you’d been working on. he knew much about you, and knew of your indifference of the craft, noting that you only did it, ‘because it is what is expected of me’.

you looked over your shoulder and greeted him, that sweet smile that held care and warmth. he’d returned the smile, walking over to your chair to place a hand on your shoulder.

“good evening, my prince. what’s brought you here so late?,” genuine curiosity laced your words, as baelor rarely ever came to see you late at night.

“is it so wrong of me to wish to see my wife?,” he questioned, though you both knew neither of you truly meant much more than a tease.

you laid the embroidery piece in your lap and raised a hand to lay over his, giving it a small squeeze and then immediately running the pad of your finger over the cool ring placed upon his own.

“you know it is never wrong, my betrothed. had it not been that the wedding is still weeks to come, i would want you here all the time. though, of course we’d share the same chambers, so you’d.. be there regardless.” the more you spoke, the more nervous you became as you lingered on that one word— wife. he said it so casually, like you’d already held the ceremony and been married for some time.

baelor noticed, a soft chuckle filling the otherwise silence of the room.

“do not be nervous, my love. everything will go accordingly, and before you know it we will be wed and the duties of each day will return to normal as they were before,” he said as he gave a small squeeze to your shoulder, then removing his hand out from under yours.

a small, almost inaudible grown of displeasure left you at the loss of touch. you felt the hear rise to your face, then stood up despite barely giving it thought.

“i am not nervous, my prince,” you started with a smile, then fading as you began speaking without care now. “well, perhaps a reasonable amount, but my thoughts have been racing as of recent. i cannot seem to keep them consistent or..”, you trailed off, quickly stopping yourself from telling him something you’d think he ought not know now. not until you are bound to one another.

“what is it? you know if you have any hardships you can always come to me, this much we have discussed before.” baelor was correct; you’d had concerns for what was to come for you as a future lady-wife of house targaryen, and how the world as you knew it would change for you. but he also knew you were not truthful in that being the only reason for your shaky voice.

and you knew too, but neither of you were allowed to act upon that until the next fortnight was over.

you looked away from the floor, then up to his eyes, which were already locked on you. subtlety, you bit your lip, and sighed slightly, turning to ask your ladies to leave as you ‘wished to discuss something with the prince.’

as the door closed, you walked over to baelor, the muscle memory to grab his hand returns and you twisted the cold ring round and round before speaking once again.

“i cannot take this anymore, my prince. it is too much, and too long from now.”

baelor felt his heart flutter with worry, as those words were not what he expected. you cannot take this anymore? the betrothal? perhaps he’d read you wrong, or you’d simply let your nerves get the best of you.

he looked at you with worry in his eyes, watching as you furrowed your eyebrows together in thought. he did not know what to say, thinking of how to comfort you, but you began to speak again.

“not like that, my love. i have had thoughts.. of you. and they have ran through my mind like rapids in a riverbed but i cannot take it anymore,” then you sighed, opening your mouth slightly then closing it, before huffing is annoyance at your own tone, “i need you, my prince. i yearn for your touch.”

your eyes slowly trailed up to his, which were dark with lust as they stared into your own. he yearned just the same for far too long now, and the moral decision now lay on him— to be an honorable man and wait for just a few weeks longer, or to take you on this night, and release the pent up desire that now is mutually announced.

“i.. i cannot take you on this night, my lady. you have honor about you, and i of myself, but when the night comes and i bed you, trust that i will love you right and take you properly.”

the fingers you had playing with his ring now gripped his hand. you pulled to place it upon your waist, letting your own hand stay above it.

“you’ve thought of it too, then. i.. i do not ask you to take my innocence on this night, my prince. but i do wish for your touch. nights have came and went that i could not sleep as i wished for your hands to caress me.”

and there it was, now in the open. you’d longed for his fingers, the touch of the gentle but battle-strengthened hand to please you. days you’d watched as he spared with matarys and valarr, watching as his hands fit perfectly on the weapons, then running his fingers alongside the blade as he taught his sons. days were you ran your fingertips along his hand, holding one of his fingers with several of your own. admiring in secret how long and beautiful they were.

he gave you a small smile and a slight nod, then with both his hands, he turned you around so your back was against his chest.

“tell me, my lady, you’ve not pleasured yourself during those lonesome nights, have you?” the tone of his voice now laced with sensualness, breath hot against your ear.

“n- no, my prince. i wished to wait for you but the days have grown to feel too far away.”

he hummed into your hair, vibrations faint against your ear.

his left hand gripped the fabric of your gown to pull it up, the cool air exposing your bare skin, as the right laid flat just above where you needed him most.

“a shame, that is— for you, of course. no one’s touched you here, not even yourself. your skin is so soft, more-so than i’d imagined, now that i’m finally feeling you.”

you closed your eyes, leaning your head back against him as you’re already growing drunk on the sultry rasp of his voice.

“baelor, please touch me,“ you cried, more pathetic then you’d intended but no care was given.

“hmm, touch you where, my dear? my hand is already placed upon you, i cannot touch you more than i am now.”

damn him, you thought, don’t make me say it.

“i tease you, sweet one. i know where you’d like me most. i saw it in those beautiful eyes of yours this morrow, and i feel it in every breath you take against me now.”

his hand slid down slowly, painfully slow, leaving a trail of cold tracks down as the pads of his fingers pushed gently between your folds, feeling the severity of how wet you were.

“all of this is for me? i was unaware that you would excite this quick.”

‘yes, all for you,’ you thought, though your throat betrayed you as the words tried to push through.

his middle finger teased the entrance of your cunt, rubbing just close enough to get you shaking. you hummed in content ridden with impatience.

finally he pushed his finger in, going deeper than you’d thought possible. you weren’t totally innocent, hearing of how men pleasured their wives through your ladies in waiting and from those gossiping in the garden, but to have it done to yourself was different than you’d always imagined. but truthfully in the best way you’d ever thought possible.

his palm now rested flat against your folds, now soaked with your wet slicked and that damn cold ring rested right against the entrance of your core as he settled there, sending cold chills all across your body.

baelor was a smart man, he caught on quick— the rings. that’s what began to drive you insane.

“my lady, pray tell, are the coldness of my rings enticing you? something so normal is so arousing to you?”

you could only muster up a nod and moan, core pulsing around as he rocked it gently in and out just barely.

pulling his middle finger out entirely, he rubbed your clit with the pads of it and his ring finger, then back into your entrance.

his speed was quicker now, each time he pushed them in they gained easier access inside your tight core. your breathing changing into airy moans, quiet and shy but embarrassingly sultry for simply having your future husband’s fingers inside you.

the pad of his thumb rubbed at your clit, aiding you none in holding back your pleasured sounds.

“that feels good, hmm? i believe this is about as exciting for you as it is myself, i must say. seeing you unravel so easily at the feeling of my fingers inside your beautiful body.”

the slick of your arousal and his quick fingers combined made a wet clicking sound, which grew closer together as he sped his actions up.

“baelor.. my love.. i feel something.. i’m not-“

“i know, sweet girl, i know. just let it go, release that pleasure for me. show me how good i’ve made you feel.”

a tear formed in your eye as the intensity heightened rapidly. now, with your knees shaking, you feared you’d collapse, but the hand holding your gown, with the fabrics still in the grip, slid across until his forearm rested on your stomach. with a tight hold, he pulled you somehow even closer to keep you upright as your release ran through your body.

your whimpered moans sounded faintly like praise of his name, somewhere between baelor and my love; it all ran together. you weren’t even sure of what you were saying, only that the sensation was something unmatched to anything you’d ever felt before in your life.

he held you as you calmed down, humming through the remaining waves of excitement. rubbing you a few more times, he removed his hand from your middle and brought it up to see the mess you made on his hand.

you opened your eyes and immediately felt your face turn hot from embarrassment, looking at how went his entire hand had became.

baelor laughed, letting go of your gown and walking towards the bucket of water and rags that were kept in the corner of your room.

“do not be ashamed, my dear. i find it endearing that you enjoy my hands so much. when we are wed, you will feel it every night, if you so desire.”

your sweet dragon.

you shake your head, smiling at him through small, sweet sighs. "never, love," you assure him, and the way his scaly wings twitch and then move to cocoon you more under him tells you all you need to know. he's pleased. so pleased to know that even now, even like this, more beast than man—looking every inch a predator looming over you and rutting so deep you can feel him in your womb—he's protecting you. he's making you feel warm and good and loved.

his eyes make you melt, slitted and wide with heat and affection as they trail down towards where you're connected, blinking slowly, as if in a trance, wordlessly showing you what you already know. that he loves you. that he loves having you like this and knowing he's the only one who can and will ever be in this position.

a groan rumbles from deep within his chest, so akin to a marvelous beast of ancient times, making you shiver and clench around his cock, urging him to parrot the sound, this time lower; more animal. "think this time it'll take?" his hand touches your stomach reverently, talon-tipped fingers scraping down feather light across the skin, just enough to prickle. maekar's eyes blow wider the more he watches, feeling the way his cock moves beneath his palm. "think you'll carry my clutch soon, wife? keep them warm right here until you're full and round."

the words make you whine, hands moving to grasp at his shoulders, thumbs brushing along the rough scales that litter the broad expanse of skin, eliciting a soft sound from your husband. "yes, my sweet dragon," you moan, eager and tender. the way his wings flare wider, almost obscuring your vision of anything but him, the light in the room suddenly dimmed, making more heat curl low in your belly, close enough to burst. "i want a brood of your hatchlings."

a growl, long and so, so deep it seeps into the very marrow of your bones slips past maekar's lips. you can feel his talons scrape at your skin just enough to make you gasp, before he catches himself and eases his grip back to gently cradling your stomach. "you'll have them," he groans, hips snapping against the fat of your ass, rutting faster, deeper. his wings have not stilled once, curling and twitching incessantly as the pleasure mounts, his tail unfurling from your ankle to slither upwards, brushing against your thighs, your hips; greedy and frantic for more contact. the tip of it seeks the swollen clit at the top of your wet pussy, flicking against the nub in time with his thrusts. "i'll fuck you so full of my seed, they'll hatch by winter."

the promise, paired with the stimulation to your clit makes you whine, high and pitiful, clutching at his scaly shoulders, nails scraping over the rough surface, pulling a punched out moan from maekar's chest. "yes, yes, please, husband, please—"

"shh, shh, settle," he croons, leaning down to nose along your neck, forked tongue dipping to taste. "you'll have them, my heart," the words are pressed into your skin, rumbling deep and soothing as he nuzzles and licks at the sweat along your throat. "we'll have them," he corrects. "pretty, soft hatchlings, just like you, wife."

Missionary Position:

Valarr has you beneath him on the king size bed, your legs parted and wrapped around his hips, the city’s distant glow tracing silver along the hard contours of his shoulders.

He worships.

Missionary is his sacred rite. He needs your eyes on his when he sinks into you, slow and thick and devastatingly complete, filling you until every breath you take is shared with him. One strong hand braces beside your head; the other slides beneath your nape first—his usual claim, fingers threading into the hair at the back of your neck, cradling, anchoring, as if he could hold your very soul steady while he moves inside you.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Valarr whispers, voice low and rough, like smoke curling through candlelight. His hips roll forward in one long, deliberate stroke, burying himself to the hilt so you feel the heavy, perfect press of him against the deepest part of you.

Violet eyes—dark as storm-lit amethyst—hold yours without flinching, drinking you in like you are the only light left in his world. “Let me see everything. Every flicker. Every sigh. I need to watch how you open for me… how perfectly you were made for this.”

You moan, soft and helpless, and something raw and reverent crosses his face—devotion so fierce it borders on obssession. He lowers his forehead to yours. Every thrust is measured, deep, dragging the thick length of him along that sweet, aching spot inside you until your back arches and your nails press into the scarred muscle of his back like you’re trying to anchor yourself to something real.

His hand at your nape tightens just enough to tilt your head exactly where he wants it—never forcing, only guiding—so your gaze stays locked with his. Then, slowly, almost tenderly, his fingers slide forward. The broad palm curves around the front of your throat in the gentlest of collars, thumb resting over the wild flutter of your pulse. Not squeezing. Just holding. Pure ownership wrapped in worship.

“You feel that?” he breathes against your mouth, never breaking eye contact, pupils wide with awe and quiet hunger. The subtle pressure of his hand at your throat makes every heartbeat echo between you.

“That’s me inside you. That’s me reminding the universe that you are mine to cherish… mine to love like this.” His voice softens, almost trembling with the weight of it, even as his grip stays warm and steady against your neck.

“Gods, you’re exquisite. So warm, so tight, so perfectly wet for me. You take every inch like you were sculpted by the old gods themselves just to fit around my cock. Like your body already knew it belonged wrapped around mine.”

Valarr grinds slow and deep on the next stroke, letting you feel the full, heavy drag of him, the way your walls flutter and cling as if they never want to let him go. His free hand slides down, palm spreading reverently over your lower belly so he can feel the subtle bulge of himself moving inside you—worshipping the sight, the feel, the truth of your union—while the hand at your throat remains, a silent vow of possession.

“You save me every time you let me in like this,” he confesses in a hushed, eyes still locked, unblinking, as though looking away would unravel him. The pad of his thumb strokes once, feather-light, over the hollow of your throat.

“This rotten world tries to take everything from me, but you… you give me back my soul. You’re my goddess, my peace, my only sanctuary. I would lay the world at your feet just to keep earning the right to hold you like this—around my cock, under my hand, under me.” His hips find that devastating rhythm again—deeper, slower, more soul-shaking.

“Tell me while I’m buried so deep I can feel your heartbeat against my palm. Tell me you’re mine the way I’m yours. Say it so I can worship you properly while you come undone for me.”

Valyrian endearments slip from his lips like sacred vows between each unhurried thrust—zaldrīzes, gevī, ābra, my light, my forever, my only—each word laced with the kind of possessive reverence that makes your chest ache. His gaze never wavers, drinking in every tear of overwhelming pleasure that slips down your cheek, kissing them away without ever looking away, as if losing even a second of your expression would be a sin he refuses to commit. The hand at your throat stays gentle, warm, a constant reminder of exactly who you belong to.

When your climax begins to crest—shaking, gasping, clenching around him like your body is trying to pull him deeper into your soul—he doesn’t chase it faster. He simply holds you there in that endless, worshipping eye contact, fingers still curved around your throat, whispering against your lips like a man at the altar of his only true religion.

“Come for me, my love. Let me feel you fall apart so I can follow you and fill you up. Let me worship you while you ruin me completely… because you are the only thing in this world that truly owns me.”

And he does—slow, deep, endless—until the city lights blur into nothing and the only reality left is the man above you, inside you, loving you with every breath and thrust and whispered devotion, his hand at your throat the quiet, perfect seal of his worship.

Probe Bone Postion:

Valarr has you exactly where he wants you—face-down on his enormous bed, silk sheets cool and slick beneath your overheated skin. He’s draped over you completely in prone bone, every hard line of his body molded to yours, chest pressed to your back, hips flush against your ass, his thick cock buried so deep inside you that you feel him in every breath.

His forearm slides gently under your throat—not a choke, never that tonight—just a firm, possessive cradle that holds you close, keeping your cheek turned into the pillow so he can watch every flicker of pleasure across your face. His lips brush the shell of your ear, voice low and rough with lust.

“Easy, sweetheart… breathe for me,” he murmurs, the words warm and tender even as his hips roll forward in one slow, devastating thrust that drags the head of his cock right over that sweet spot inside you. “Fuck, you feel so good like this. So wet and tight around me… my perfect girl.”

You whimper, fingers curling into the sheets, body instinctively trying to squirm forward when the pleasure crests too sharp, too much. Valarr chuckles softly, the sound dark and delighted, laced with that hungry edge he can never quite hide. His free hand snakes down between your body and the mattress, fingertips finding your swollen clit with unerring precision. He doesn’t rush—he teases. Slow, lazy circles at first, feather-light, just enough pressure to make your hips jerk and your breath hitch.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he whispers, lips grazing your shoulder as he feels you try to pull away again. “Where do you think you’re going?” His arm tightens just a fraction in that cradling headlock, and he yanks you back onto his cock with one smooth, powerful pull, seating himself to the hilt again. The wet, filthy sound of it makes him groan low in his throat. “That’s it… take every inch. You’re not escaping me tonight.”

His fingers never stop their teasing—circling your clit, rubbing firm little strokes, then flicking lightly over the sensitive bud until your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches hard around him. He’s so deep, so full, every lazy grind of his hips pushing you closer to the edge while his touch keeps you dangling right there.

“Look at you,” he breathes, voice thick with lust, almost reverent. “Clawing at my sheets like that… so fucking pretty when you’re desperate. Does it feel too good, sweetheart? My cock stretching you open while I play with this needy little clit?” He rubs faster now, tighter circles, matching the slow, filthy rhythm of his thrusts—deep and deliberate, like he wants to feel every flutter of your walls around him. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetheart. So sensitive for me… I love how you squeeze when I touch you right here.”

Every time you whimper and try to crawl up the bed, overwhelmed by the relentless pleasure, he pulls you right back with that gentle-but-unyielding grip, hips snapping forward to bury himself again, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder. He’s trembling with the effort of holding back, breath ragged and hot against your skin, but his voice stays soft, filthy-sweet.

“Shhh, I’ve got you… let me take care of you. Let me feel you fall apart just like this.” His fingers pinch your clit lightly, then soothe it with slow, slick strokes, and his cock drags perfectly inside you on the next thrust. “That’s my good girl. Keep making those pretty sounds for me… I’m nowhere near done teasing this sweet pussy tonight.”

He’s lost in it—the way you feel under him, the way you fight and then melt, the desperate little gasps you make every time he circles your clit just right. Valarr’s forehead drops to the back of your neck, a low, needy groan vibrating through his chest as he keeps you pinned and pleasured and perfectly his.

“You’re mine, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice wrecked with lust and something softer, almost worshipful. “And I’m going to keep you right here… full of me… until you’re shaking and begging and still trying to crawl away just so I can pull you back where you belong.”

Simon fucks you harder, the sound of your sweet voice begging for him enough to bring him to the brink of his orgasm, but not until you unravel on him for the umpteenth time tonight. His hand smacks down against your ass, your skin burning raw immediately, and he yanks your hair so hard that stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Please what? Be a good girl and use your fuckin’ words,” he says through gritted teeth, biting back an obscene moan that wishes to fall from his swollen lips.

His fingers press into the delicate skin of your neck, your pulse fluttering around his thumb, and the adrenaline of knowing that you’re at his mercy makes your walls clamp down tight around him, earning you a hiss from the man behind you. When you don’t respond in what he deems as a timely manner, his hand strikes your ass again, harder this time, but somewhere in this moment he still feels guilty for it when his thumb brushes over the scorching skin to soothe you.

“More, p-please Si,” you continue to beg, completely consumed by the feeling of his cock inside you, bullying your insides with no pity.

His hand moves from your throat to the pillow in front of you as he steadies himself. Leaning over your back, his cock pressed against your cervix with the utmost amount of pressure, he positions himself to watch your face while he fucks into you like a rabid animal as if he has no compassion or love for the woman under him what-so-ever.

You know he would apologize after. Apologize for being rough, apologize for saying mean things, apologize for acting as if he has no respect for you, but it makes your pussy so fucking wet all you can do is beg for him to be meaner.

“Yeah? Beg for it. Look at me and beg me to make you cum, beg me to make you feel good slut.”

Your gaze lifts to his, and the way his pupils dilate from the sight of you so undone solely because of him has a groan rumbling out from the depths of his chest. Drool drips from your chin while your mouth hangs open ever so slightly. Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed with tears staining your cheeks, your lips swollen and pigmented, and he watches how every single time his cock thrusts until there’s no more space inside you the air from your lungs comes in short, ragged gasps that sound like music to his ears.

“Make me c-cum Si- f-fuck- make me f-feel good, p-please,” you stutter, tripping over every other word, trying your hardest to form sentences coherent enough to beg for it like he asked.

He growls, deep and low, animalist almost, and he shoves your face into the pillow while spreading your cheeks with his other hand to watch your pussy swallow him whole. He fucks you, deep and hard and fast, it is almost too much. Your juices leak out around his cock, coating his length of your arousal, and he watches how tight you get the closer your orgasm gets.

“Do it,” he says, the words coming out strained, “cum on my fucking dick then since you beg so pretty.”

Every movement of his hips is hitting a spot inside of you that bursts into pleasure. Your cervix, your sweet spot, your nipples drag against the sheets until they’re hard and sore, your clit grinding against the pillow beneath you until it all pushes you over the edge. Your body becomes rigid, your muscles draw taut, and your screaming sobs fill the room, and no other sounds can be heard.

“I’m c-cumming-“

“Who makes you feel this good? Who do you belong to,” he asks, fucking you harder, fucking you through your orgasm, fucking you into overstimulation, waiting for the words to fall from your pretty, swollen lips before he allows himself the same release.

“You! F-fuck it’s always you Si,” you whimper, your body twitching from your walls being rubbed raw, from your clit grinding against every last nerve, from your nipples peaking beyond belief.

With a few more thrusts and a guttural groan ripping from his throat, Simon buries himself to the hilt, spilling his seed into the deepest parts of you. Long, thick ropes of warm cum flood your pussy, spurting out against your cervix with every twitch of his cock, coating your walls in all he has to give as the man behind you stills while he fills you to the brim. When nothing else will fit it leaks out around him, your cum mixing with his, making a mess between your thighs and spreading against the sheets.

“Fuck,” he groans, collapsing on top of you, trying his hardest to catch his breath.

His face is buried between your shoulder blades, his warm breath hitting your skin and sending shivers down your spine, his hands moving from their previous positions to caress up your sides as if asking for forgiveness through touch before asking verbally. He kisses against your spine, all the way down to your ass where he licks the raw handprint burning against your skin, and when he reaches your pussy, he licks up the mess before flipping you over with ease.

He hovers above you, wiping a stray tear before placing a feather light kiss to your lips. Admiring you, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way you give him the softest yet brightest smile he has ever seen, and he can’t help but cover your face in the same kisses.

“You’re not a slut, and you never have to beg for me…,” he mumbles in between kisses, and before he can keep rambling on you pull him down until your forehead is pressed against his.

“If you say sorry… I swear Simon.”

He laughs softly, “I know, I know. I’m sorry- shit- sorry. Fuck. I’ll just stop talking now, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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Tags: @fysalia, @scarhein, @bl-nk-bla-k, @joelmillrenthusiast, @jo-ys-things, @wcaress, @tessakate, @sexychickenmagnet, @bitchysidepiece, @angellwingsss, @imjustaprettyprincess, @seargentsnowflake, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."

the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?

"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."

you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."

he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.

"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"

you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."

he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"

your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."

"mm. no other reason?"

you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."

"exciting... how?"

you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."

"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."

you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."

he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"

you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."

he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.

"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.

you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."

he smiles. "you really don't."

-

the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.

your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.

he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.

"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.

you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.

"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"

you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.

he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.

he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."

"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.

you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"

he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.

your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.

"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."

you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.

your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.

"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."

you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.

he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.

"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.

he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.

"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."

you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."

he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."

-

it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.

there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.

he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"

he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.

next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.

"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.

he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.

"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.

you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.

his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.

you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.

"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.

-

you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.

he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."

you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.

he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"

you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.

you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.

you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "

"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."

your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.

he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.

"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.

you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."

you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.

"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.

"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."

"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"

"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.

" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.

his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.

within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.

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“You are brooding. You look like your damn dragon,” your brother muttered from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“He has been your good-brother this long and you still cannot say his name,” you countered, raising a brow. 

Lyonel laughed with a shake of his head, “It does not change the fact that he is a miserable bastard.” 

You could still remember Lyonel’s bitter reaction when you had declared you were going to wed Prince Maekar. You were hardly a woman grown in love for the first and had declared to your father that if he denied the match when it was proposed you would burn down Storm’s End 

You lifted your knife that you had previously used to cut your meat now flashed before his face, causing him to scoot back slightly, “Watch yourself,” you warned.

“I see where, Aerion, gets it from,” he then muttered, looking away from you toward your second whose face mirrored your own as he picked away at his supper. 

“Mama,” a small voice called out. 

You turned looking toward Rhae who sat across from you, “Yes?” you asked, your face transforming to one of a softer expression within a moment. 

“When are we leaving to go see kepa?” 

As if you could hear her thoughts your head snapped down to the end of the table glaring at your mother. She had been even less pleased than your brother when marrying a Targaryen and it now showed more than ever especially watching her interact with your children. 

Lyonel, at least, loved his nieces and nephews. Your mother was a different story. You made a mental reminder to make Lyonel visit you at Summerhall next time he was missing you. 

Aerion’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother holding her gaze as if he himself was warning her not to start with his mother. “On the morrow,” you told her.  “Why don’t you three go get ready for bed. We will have an early start. I will be right in,” you told them with a smile. 

The three eventually went off to bed, the eldest of them the most reluctant, but went nonetheless. You turned looking to your brother, “Next time you are coming to Summerhall so I do have to deal with the looks or the comments about my silver haired brood,” you declared loudly pushing yourself to your feet. 

You ignored your mother’s voice, but it was easy to ignore as it mixed with your brother’s loud laughter. Your father simply sat at the table with a sigh, “You are the reason she hardly comes around,” he muttered to his wife. 

Your eyes moved from your good-brother to your husband, “You lost our sons? You were in charge of two children and you lost them both?” You stood in front of the long table where they sat Lord Ashford having excused himself at your arrival being half terrified to hear how you took the news of your missing sons. 

Maekar rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath which only caused you to raise a brow, “Is that not what you did? We have six children. One is at the Citadel, three were with me, and two with you. Where are you two, Maekar?”

Baelor let out a small chuckle pressing his hand to his mouth as if trying to hide his betrayal, but his younger brother had already heard him long and clear. “Tell her why Daeron ran off.”

Your eyes snapped to the elder then slowly turned to your husband, “Why did they run off, Maekar?”

The man opened his mouth and closed it again. You let out a sigh, your hand moved, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come,” you beckoned, turning out of the hall. 

You did not have to turn to know he was following you, even if you could not hear his boots against the ground you knew he would have followed after you. 

At the last minute he moved ahead of you, opening the door and allowing you to enter inside the provider chamber. Your eyes scanned the room, it was nowhere near as grand as the one at Summerhall, but it was rather large. 

You moved toward the table at the far side pouring the wine in the flagon into two respective chalices. “Why did Daeron run off?” you asked once more. 

He moved to sit in one of the chairs as you settled in the other. “He was going to enter the lists.”

“Oh, Maekar," you groaned in frustration. 

“He is a man grown, it is expected of him!” he argued. 

You rolled your eyes, “He is not Aerion nor is he you. The sooner you come to that realization the happier our lives can be.”

He sighed, but argued no further. “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he whispered quietly as if it would bring shame to admit it. 

“Cannot hear you,” you teased, raising a brow. 

His jaw clenched, “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he said louder this time. 

You hummed, downing the rest of your wine as you stood to your feet making your way over to him. His legs parted for you like they had done thousands of times before as you looked down at him. 

Your hands moved cupping either side of his face forcing him to look up. The hair of his beard rubbed against your palms. His violet eyes flickered over your face, as his hardened features visibly softened now that you were alone. 

“I have missed you too,” you confessed, leaning down to press your lips to his. 

It was chaste and it caused him to chase after you as you pulled away staring down at him. He groaned in displeasure before his hand trailed up gripping your ass and forcing you down onto his lap. 

This time when his lips met yours it was anything, but chate. A hunger clash of teeth as you both tried to convert your overwhelming need for the other into it. It had been long. Too long without the other, and it always made the reunion just that much sweeter. 

You pulled away once your lungs begged for more air than you were currently providing them with, “You are getting soft on me, husband,” you teased, your hands interlaced through his silver locks giving it a harsh tug. 

“Shut your mouth,” he grunted, his own mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your throat. 

“Make me.”

He grinned pulling the strings before you were being forced onto your feet, “Take your dress off,” he instructed. 

You did as you were told, allowing the black fabric to pool at your feet. Maekar had finally freed his cock, by the time you were bare before him moving forward as you straddled him once more. The chair groaned under your combined weight, but neither of you truly cared. 

Your mouth reconnected with his as his large hands moved. You rose up onto your 

He drew his hand back giving your cunt a harsh slap, causing you to shoot forward your head to rest on his shoulder, “Not running your mouth now,” he muttered. 

You leaned back, your hand raising to connect with his face the same way he had just done to your womanhood. His head snapped to the side before slowly turning back to you, a wide grin on his lips. 

“She is soaked,” he whispered, his mouth moving to nip at your neck as he entered a digit into your drooling hole with ease. You hummed your head tilting back as you let out a loud moaning as his thumb rubbed a circle on your clit. 

“She might already be ready to take me,” he said, slipping another finger into you. 

You nodded, “I told you..I’ve missed you,” you told him, grinding yourself down against his hand. 

He nodded in agreement withdrawing his finger, giving his cock a lazy few strokes as you hovered over him. He notched himself at your hole holding your eye contact as you slowly sunk down on him, taking him inch by inch. 

He sat back waiting for you to begin to fuck yourself onto him, but you did not budge. You sat there staring at him, “Move,” he grunted. 

“No. You lost our sons,” you told him. He groaned your name as if it was painful, but you still did not move. “Why should I move? Plead your case.” 

“You are my wife and I have missed you so I order you to move.”

“Missed me or my cunt?”

“Both,” he confessed, trying to get you to move but you fought against him staying still. 

“You lost our sons,” you pointed out. 

“I will find them,” he promised. 

That was good enough for you, allowing you to finally give him moving your hips against his. His mouth moved forward latching around your hardened peak of your breast, “Maekar,” you moaned, your nails digging into the pale skin of his shoulder. 

“Missed you,” he muttered, as he dragged his tongue across the valley of your breast turning to get the other side the same attention as the first. You grinded your hips down into him quickly, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at his base causing you to already feel the coil in your belly quickly building. 

“She’s taking me so well.”

You only groaned in response, your nails digging further into him. His hands dug into your hip bones no doubt going to leave bruises in his wake, painting your skin with the reminder of him. 

“You’re close already,” he observed, feeling the way you kept fluttering around him, the loud cry of his name being the only thing you could truly say. 

You nodded eagerly, fucking yourself into him harder trying to achieve the ecstasy of relief, “Be a good girl and finish on your husband’s cock,” he instructed, continung to lap and suck at your hardened nub. 

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned when the coil in your belly finally snapped. 

You went boneless in his embrace moving forward. Maekar continued to fuck you through your high as he chased his own release, “Gonna fill you,” he told you, as he thrusted up into you quickly. 

“Give me another, babe, husband," you muttered, and that was his undoing as buried himself to the hilt, the long ropes of cum shooting out filling you with him for the first time in what felt like forever.

Your ragged breaths filled the room as your flesh pressed against the other, his heat radiating off him as if he was your own personal fire. You were still slumped against his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his sweat slickened skin, “Oh, my dragon I have missed you,” you coed. 

He grunted in response, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “Don’t leave that long again.”

“I can’t. You lose our children in your absence.” 

The Baratheon tent was chaotic as always as your second son and yourself sat at the high table glancing around. You let out a sigh debating making your way back to the castle to await your husband’s return when you finally noticed a small boy next to an overly large man. Though his head was shaved you would have recognized that face anywhere. 

“Aerion?” you asked, tilting your head toward the young man. He hummed in response turning toward you, “Is that your brother or are the fumes of stench finally getting to me.”

His head turned following your extended hand, and you watched his eyes instantly widen. “That’s what I thought,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet. 

You made your way through the tent, men alike moving out of the way averting their eyes as if they were scared to make eye contact with you, but you did not care your gaze was set on your missing son. 

The boy immediately looked toward the large knight hoping to his feet as he urged his companion to do the same and was almost successfully able to make a break for it before, “Aegon!” was called out loudly. 

Your brother who had heard the commotion slowly approached eyes flickering between his sister and his new companion, “What is going on?” he asked, but you ignored him, eyes trained on the bald boy. 

Egg paused for a moment and you could tell he was debating ignoring you like he did when he was caught doing something he should not have been. “If you run you will stay with your uncle for two moons,” causing him to turn toward you slowly. 

The large man turned from you to the boy at his side, “M’Lady?” he questioned, as if you had gone crazy. 

Your son looked at you with a sheepish smile that caused your head to spin. You quickly turned to your brother, “How many times has been in this tent?” you asked. Lyonel scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Your missing nephew was in your tent and you did not notice him!” you hissed, driving your finger into his chest. 

The hedge knight’s eyes widened, glancing from the Baratheon siblings to the boy at his side, “Nephew…That means,” he slowly started to put the pieces together. 

“That you have had Prince Maekar and my darling sister’s missing son, my dear friend,” Lyonel laughed moving toward the hedge knight as he kept his eyes on you as if he were afraid you were going to strike him. 

“I am so sorry, M”lady I had no idea!”

The Baratheon man smirked, “Well now that is all sorted out you can take dear Aegon back to the castle and I will fill in Ser Duncan.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nope. The hedge knight is mine now, brother,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Come along. Ser…?”

“Duncan,” Egg supplied. 

“Ser Duncan. Mayhaps one of you can inform me where the hell my eldest son has taken off too,” you muttered, shaking your head. 

You went to move toward the exit when you felt a small hand wrap around yours causing you to look down, “I am sorry I ran off, but I lied to Ser Duncan, and he does not deserve to get in trouble.”

“Oh, good, because Ser Duncan is not going to get in trouble for keeping you alive. You are going to get in trouble for lying to the poor knight and running off.”

Aegon in the moment wasn’t sure which was going to be worse his father’s fiery temper or his mother’s fury.

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Little Rhae, scarcely half a year old, sat in your lap as you dined. Your husband, Maekar, and remaining five children sat scattered around the large outdoor dining table as you for once sat in a tranquil calm amongst the soon to be setting sun. A contented smile lingered on your face as you observed your family, the one that you had built with nothing but raw determination and a jealous husband.

You yourself were in your mid thirties. Scarcely. It was a fact that Maekar was subtly insecure about, he was older than you, that was no secret. Yet you had chosen him as your husband out of love not duty, you had chosen that old man and you loved him regardless of others opinions. Your eldest son that the pair of you shared, Daeron, was now seventeen, his nameday now here and a quiet celebration much to the King’s annoyance. He had wanted a grand affair to show his eldest grandson off to the women of the court, hoping to stake an alliance through marriage. Daeron however, had begged and pleaded practically on his knees for his seventeenth nameday to be a quiet affair. We should not even travel to Kings Landing, there is no need. He had said, his sad eyes boring into your own, tears welled in them. And you had caved, in turn pleading to Maekar not to force your son to suffer the event. Not that Maekar took much convincing, travelling to Kings Landing with a small army of children was no easy feat, and one he’d rather not do by dragging the boy of the hour against his will for something he did not care for. So you had remained in Summerhall, sharing a night in the gardens eating cake and watching your children tumble around in the grass.

“Were you content with your gifts, dearest?” You questioned, eyes falling onto your eldest son as he ate the rare meat from his plate. “Yes, thank you Mother.” He smiled. He looked tired, but then again he always did. He had the look of lacking sleep almost always present in his eyes and it pained you to know that was something you could not ease him of. Yet you smiled warmly in return, squeezing his hand gently. You loved all your children dearly, but Daeron would always hold a special place to you regardless of how he turned out because he was your first child. The boy who had been the start to your family, back then you were just three. Now, you were eight.

“Seeing as you are old now, brother.” Aerion begun, you watched as almost all of your children and your husband showed at least some sign of distain at the tone of Aerion’s voice, yet you offered him kind eyes as you cut in, “Your brother is not old, Aerion. Be kind.” Aerion huffed lightly, the boy was fourteen, the size of a twelve year old with the pent up energy of a dog that had spent its entire life in a kennel. The attitude that came out of his mouth more often than not was obscene and he seemed to lack the understanding of watching his words, more-so adopting the mentality of speak now, consequences later. And seemingly for the pale haired boy his tongue always found him consequences later. “Should you not be betrothed already? Mother married Father a year earlier than your age.” Daeron sighed. It was no secret the boy lacked betrothal options, in part due to his lack of presence in court and the fact he chose to hide himself away entirely when in Kings Landing. He had done it to himself, he knew, yet he did not wish for some poor girl to have to put up with the secret state that he was. “Darling, your brother will choose his own path in his own time, as will you. You have expressed not wishing for a wife yourself, instead being a great dragon riding to battle and we have not judged your decision.” Your kindness came with ease towards Aerion, the boy was internally hot like a furnace and the anger that bestowed upon him for seemingly no given reason meant he did not often see kindness from anyone but you. Yes he was a little shit, as Maekar liked to put it, but he was not evil. He was your boy, and like Daeron you would love him regardless. Aerion scoffed, flinging a potato in Aemon’s direction, earning him a swat on the arm from his Father who was sat to his left. “Aemon said I can’t breathe fire so I wouldn’t make a very good dragon, I would call that judgemental.” Aemon was eleven, and far too intelligent for his age, he corrected politely more often than not yet with Aerion everything was a personal offence if it could be taken as criticism. “Actually what I said was you wouldn’t make a very successful dragon, seeing as the fire breathing aspect is what makes them so deadly.” Aemon chided, a childish grin plastered on his face as he taunted his elder brother, “Unless you meant it as a metaphor.”

“What the fuck is a metaphor?”

“Aerion!”

“Mind your tongue!”

Both yourself and Maekar called almost in sync, your voices merging as your son ‘accidentally’ slipped another expletive. “If you cannot watch your words and be polite to your brother on his nameday, you will be removed from the table up to your bedchamber. Am I clear? Aerion?” Maekar scolded, raising an eyebrow in his second son’s direction as Aerion continued to eat his bloodied steak. “It was an honest question.” He raised his hands now in mock defence as blood slipped down his fork from the cut of steak stabbed messily onto it. “Aerion you are flinging blood everywhere, please put your hands down nobody here intends on shooting you.”

“I’d beg to differ.” Daella scoffed. You had to purse your lips to suppress a smirk at the girls attitude. Her appearance was entirely, ethereally, you. But that was the attitude of Maekar Targaryen at its finest. She was seven, and a force to be reckoned with. She was quiet and calculating, a beauty in the eye of all with the foul mouth of her Father stuck onto her like an afterthought. She was perfect, to you, to her Father and to almost all but her siblings who more often than not ended up on the receiving end of her cheeky ploys and attitude. It was also widely known that she had her Father completely and utterly wrapped around her finger, at her mercy, point being actively proven as Maekar cut up her steak for her, removing the fatty bits she refused to touch because they made her teeth feel funny. You couldn’t even be mad at him for coddling her, you knew one thing and that was your girl knew how to stand up for herself and put a man in his place, she could protect herself just fine and that made you feel all the more better about raising girls in this wretched world. However, with three older brother’s and a Father who would go to war for her if she asked, she had no need to defend herself currently, and she definitely used it to her advantage. Because she was your smart girl. You adored her always. “And what is that supposed to mean my darling?” Maekar questioned, pushing her plate back in front of her as a three year old Aegon slingshotted several peas in Aerion’s direction, clearly coached by Daella as there was absolutely no way your three year old had successfully loaded his slingshot with such an abundance of peas. You tried your best with Aerion, there was no doubt in that, to the courts you defended him endlessly but he was disciplined fairly at home for his wrongdoings, he got away with very little except for the foul mouth. But due to this, Daella and Aemon had seemingly formed an alliance against their elder brother, now recruiting young Egg who was still learning his way in the world. It would be adorable if it didn’t cause such problems.

“Oi! Mother you cannot let him get away with that! Control the thing!” Aerion shouted, pushing his chair back and standing as little Aegon giggled in delight at the smushed peas on Aerion’s tunic. “That thing is your brother, and you did worse Aerion, you flung a knife at your Father when you were three. He’s still got the scar to prove it.” You shook your head gently, standing and passing little Rhae over to Maekar who took her with a glad smile as she pulled at his beard and shook with excitement at the familiar face of her Father. You stood in front of your son, brushing the pea residue from his tunic and pushing him back down into his chair, before rounding the table and picking up Aegon and taking him back to your seat, Daeron passing the young boy’s plate across so that is sat in front of you. You fed him quietly as the chatter resumed. He was more than capable, yes, but he made too much mess almost on purpose as if he knew you or his Father would just do it for him. And one of you almost always gave in. So yes, you were both technically being bested by a three year old. “Why did you leave knives lying around then?” He smirked sarcastically, as if he had won. As if you didn’t know the nature of your own boy. “We didn’t, Aerion.” Maekar started, eyes casting over to the boy, “You broke into Uncle Baelor’s solar, into his desk drawer and tried to fend me off from taking you for a bath. I’d show you the scar but I am sure you would not like to see me shirtless at the table.” Aerion grimaced at the thought and shook his head, “Absolutely not.” Maekar nodded his head, “Alright then. Shut up and eat your dinner.”

It was when you were all lounging at the table eating cake when Aerion seemingly could not hold his tongue. The order of the children had chaotically all switched around, Daella had decided to perch herself in your lap, playing with your hair and plaiting it, telling you how good you would look if you just let her do it now. “Maybe later, my angel, we do not want to get hair in our cake- or cake in our hair rather, do we?” You smiled, she giggled in response, “You’re silly mummy.” You nuzzled your nose into her shoulder, tickling her inadvertently causing more giggles to erupt from the girl as she picked at her cake.

“Father.”

“Aerion.”

“You were old when you got married.” The sigh that escaped Maekar was not a quiet one, he anchored his head to eye Aerion, to gage where yet again this conversation could possibly be going. Somehow he had Aemon with a chair pulled directly next to his, the boy nestled into his side under his arm, Rhae now resided in Daeron’s embrace as he doted on her quietly, and Aegon perched atop both of Maekar’s knees, eating from both his and his Father’s plates. “I was older, yes.” He strained. He hated the topic of conversation, he loved you, and how he met you, yet he knew he was considered older than most men when he decided to wed you. You were young and full of life- you still very much were, but he had overheard many women of the court offering you their sympathies when they initially heard of the betrothal. Oh how far from the truth they had been.

“But you’re older than Mother.” Aerion prodded, causing Maekar’s eyes to clench shut, he already knew where this conversation was headed. “Surely Mother could have had any man she wished, she’s beautiful. And she chose an old man. A fourth son at that, claim to nothing. A bit of wasted beauty no? It’s rumoured even the Prince of Dorne vied for her hand and she turned him down, for what? A life in the Storm Lands? Couldn’t say I would do the same- what?Why are you all looking at me like that, it’s an honest question. I am sure I’m not the first to ask.”

Your gaze found Aerion’s with a singular stern look, no words left your mouth. Gently you shifted off of the seat, propping Daella onto it. Grasping Aerion by the shoulder, taking full advantage of his small stature for his age, you pulled him “Get up.” You grunted, he stumbled to his feet as you hauled him up the patio steps into the house, up to his bedchambers. You passed many maids and guards along the way, all looking rather surprised, more often than not it was Maekar dealing with Aerion’s behaviour, not you.

As the door slammed shut behind you, you released your grip on your son, brows furrowed “What, you will punish me for speaking what is in my mind!” Your seething was silent, eerily silent. Never did you see the day you would have to be defending your marriage, your own husband, to the son that you both shared. “Do you truly have no idea the love I have for your Father? Truly do you see none of it?” You questioned, voice painfully quiet as your words flowed freely, willing your son for one more supposed truth tonight. “I mean you have six children so maybe there’s something.” Aerion shrugged. You laughed, physically laughed, fingers pressing into your temples, “Maybe there’s something.” You repeated, another laugh escaping you as it settled into a simmering rage. “If you think, Aerion, what your Father and I share is just something, the world is going to chew you up and spit you out. I was advised against everyone who loved me not to marry your Father, because seemingly he was cold, unlovable, lacks the adoration to be a doting husband was actually a direct quote from one of my previous maids. She was removed from my service for that comment. Regardless, I married your Father because I learned him, and I learned that he was not actually so unlovable because I was actively doing it. And he protested. He said I was too young, too full of life, I needed a Lord my age. But I insisted I wanted him. Being a fourth son? What does it matter, I did not lose him to the courts, you have a more present Father because his status gives him respect and he is entitled to things such as this yet he is not required where he does not will. You should be grateful. The the day he relented and pledged himself to me was the best day of my life. Look at where I am Aerion, I am a proud Mother to six wonderful children, whom I chose to have, I was not forced nor coerced. I chose to have six of you. And because your Father loved me so deeply we had another, and another. I choose his clothing, I speak to the tailors and deal with all that because the faffing irritates him, the same as it does you, I do that for him because I love him as I love you. This house do you think its colours were always purple and gold? No. They were once red and black, yet when I married your Father he had the entire house repainted and decorated so that I would feel more welcome so far from my own family as we begun our own. So don’t you dare ever, ever, suggest that there is no amount of love between your Father and I. Your Father is a great man, great men make mistakes and I know you feel he has done you some injustice by punishing you for your bad behaviour but when you learn one day what some children have to endure at their Father’s hand you will be grateful yours loved you enough not to. You dare speak of him in such a way again Aerion, you dare.” You shook your head, eyes boring into his own violet ones as he stared up at you, ears pink as be chewed at the inside of his lip. You hated feeling anger towards any of your children, but eventually Aerion was going to need to hear it sooner or later.

“You will not leave this bedchamber tonight. You will have some water, have a bath and go to bed. Tomorrow morning at breakfast you will be the first one there and you will apologise to your Father alone and sincerely. Do you understand?” You raised an eyebrow, pulling his hands apart so that he would not pick his nails. “Yes mother.” You nodded, “Good. Do not pick your nails it causes more damage than you’d think. Goodnight Aerion.” You pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the top of his head before departing, closing the door behind you and politely asking a maid to draw Aerion a bath.

You had not realised quite how long you had spent in that bedchamber, for Maekar had managed to put the rest of the young children to bed. You found him in Daeron’s bedchamber, sat in the armchair by the fire as Daeron lounged on the end of the bed. You took a seat next to him silently, “Did you hit him?” Daeron questioned, you couldn’t quite work out which answer he was looking for. You knew he thought Aerion deserved a good smack from time to time, but you also knew he felt guilty for thinking as such because at the end of the day Aerion was his brother, and the Septons say we must love our brothers. “Have I ever hit any of you?” You teased, squeezing his arm. “No, but none of us are Aerion.” Daeron answered, a cheeky grin on his tired face. “I apologise for ruing your nameday dinner, Dae.” You stroked some of his tousled sandy hair back from his face gently as he shrugged. “M’not bothered. Really. This has been a thousand times better than it would have in Kings Landing. So thank you.” You pursed your lips into a weak smile as he leant down so you could hug him tightly, “Happy nameday sweet boy.” You kissed his forehead softly before rising, Maekar too standing and pressing a gentle kiss to Daeron’s forehead, his palm cupping Daeron’s cheek. He admired momentarily. He was now adorning more features of a man than child, no longer was he the chubby cheeked babe that had come into the world singing a gale. “Happy name day, son.” Daeron smiled gently in reciprocation, “Thank you, Dad.” With a nod, Maekar followed to where you had been waiting in the doorway, a lazy smile on your face as your lip quivered lightly. You found every nameday of each child slightly emotional, but Daeron most-so as he was the first of your children to reach any milestone, any age, and any maturity.

The door clicked shut behind Maekar, as he gazed down to find your eyes. Gently he reached for your face, pulling you into a silent yet entirely devoted kiss. He was entirely yours, and he would make it known your defence of him had meant more than anything, just as it had all those years ago.

“Eugh!”

Both your heads snapped to the direction of the sound, finding Daella stood in her purple nightgown in the centre of the corridor, completely and utterly disgusted at the sight of affection between her own Mother and Father. A hearty laugh escaped the pare of you, your hand coming to rest on Maekar’s clothed chest as Daella’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “Don’t you have a bedchamber! Why must my eyes be subjected to this torture! Eugh! Miss Melinda where is the soap I need to wash my eyes!” Daella’s night nurse Melinda hurried out of her bedchamber, feigning dramatics “Oh my darling Princess what is it that has caused you such strife.” You had to burrow your head, stifling giggles, into Maekar’s chest so you did not seemingly offend your daughter further. “Unfortunately, Melinda, my dearest daughter was subjected to seeing me show some affection toward my wife.” The grin of amusement on his face was unmistakable, as was the twinkle within his eye as Melinda played along with a wink. “Oh you poor thing! No little girl should have to see such things!” Daella’s giggles could be heard all throughout the corridor as she allowed Melinda to carry her back to her bedchamber, “Goodnight mummy! Goodnight daddy!”

“Goodnight Daella.” Maekar called as you made sure to blow her a kiss as she disappeared into her own room. You were giddy like children. “I’ll race you to the bedchamber.” You spoke, unclasping Maekar’s cloak from his shoulders and chucking it onto one of the standing tables of the corridor. “But I’ve already chased Aegon- Wife!” You were already gone, sprinting down the corridors of Summerhall as your Husband chased, paces behind following your giggles that entirely mirrored Daella’s own. Servants and staff alike only watched with amused grins from afar, it was rare they saw the Prince so happy again. They knew he was contented, but with so many children he was tired more often than not, it brought a smile to all to see the great Prince Maekar, The Anvil, chasing his Wife through the corridors of his estate, a childish grin plastered on the pair of your faces.

Slamming your hand into the door you called, “I win!” He stopped, now towering over you. “You only won, woman, because you are a cheat.” You feigned offence, “What a vile accusation! A Lady never cheats, she simply outsmarts the beast that is man!” He pinched your side causing another giggle to escape you as you tried to manoeuvre away from him, “Beast?” He grinned, “Beast? Who are you calling a beast, wife?” A shriek escaped you as he cornered you into the bedchamber, door swinging shut as his fingers didn’t leave your side “Maekar! Don’t tickle me- I’ve had six children I can’t take being tickled!” He stopped with a laugh, a soft smack to your arse as he turned you over on the bed to being undoing the laces of your dress.

When you were bare before him you turned over, his hands ran over your soft stomach gently, settling above your hips to keep ahold of you. “Perhaps a bath?” You asked, cupping his jaw and pulling him lower into a hungry kiss. “You defended me.” He spoke softly, his voice only being capable of going so low made it rasp against your skin. You frowned “Why would I not?” You helped him undress himself, when he too was bare he lifted you further up the bed to settle against the pillows. “Maekar.” You spoke softly, fingers caressing his cheek. “He is not wrong.” He admitted painfully, pressing his cheek against your breasts, his beard prickly against your supple skin, his hands grounding themselves at the sides of your ribs as he allowed for once, his entire weight to rest upon you as the lower half of him was lying between your legs. You wrapped your arms around him gently, tilting your head forward to bring your lips against the top of his head. “He is so unbelievably wrong. He is our spoiled little boy who we’ve practically coddled near every day of his life, he does not seem to understand that what we have is love because he has nought to compare it to. Baelor and Jena are more than content, your parents are the image of love. When compared to them yes we are less flashy, but anyone who understands us understands what we are. And Aerion will, in time.” You felt your chest dampen, you adjusted your head so that you could see his face, his eyes cast downward as silent tears fell down his face, onto your breasts.

“I have spent my entire life in Baelor’s shadow. The fourth son, claim to nothing. Not desired in court, never supposed to have a woman like yourself as my bride. I’ve never not heard the whispers. My home is my home and I became content with that. The staff care for us, not the rumours. I select who works in my service. And yet it was not a stranger, but rather my own son.” You bit your lip to still its quivering, your heart hurt for him. You had heard the admission before but it had been from strangers, for your own son to haphazardly admit he thought his own father unworthy of you was a stab to the gut for Maekar. The court could think it all they liked but for his own son felt like a cruel jest by the God’s. That he was doomed to be forever reminded by the boy he had helped create that even he could see he was not worthy of your love. “Do not let our son. Our son. The boy we created out of love, who has turned out angry at the word since the day he came. Make you feel any less than what you are. You are everything to me, Maekar. Without you I would not be so loved, so cherished. I would be childless, because God’s be damned if I’d put myself through one pregnancy let alone six, for any man but you. You are a loving husband, a devoted Father, a good man. Do you know how many women pray to the God’s for a man like you? Yet I had to beg for you because you thought I was too good for you? That is what makes you so whole Maekar. You are good, you love me, you love our children, you are kind. I just wish sometimes you could love yourself the way that I love you.” You held him tighter, if that could even be possible, legs coming to wind around his waist and cross at the based of his spine. “You love me.” It wasn’t a question, it was an affirmation, as if he was trying to engrave into his very being the truth your words carried what they meant to him.

“I do. And nothing anyone says can change that.”

He pressed his face against your chest, you felt his tongue glide up the valley between your breasts, “You love me.” He panted, his mouth descended upon one of your breasts, his tongue circling the peak of your nipple before sucking against it, beard scratching the skin around your breast. “I love you.” You panted back, becoming breathless as each kiss he lay tickled against your skin, lower and lower until he reached the top of your mound. He layered a kiss to the skin there before delving lower, another grunt escaping him, “I love you.” He parted your folds hungrily with his tongue before lapping up your growing wetness, a languid mewl escaped you at the feeling as you rested the backs of your knees against his shoulders. “That’s it.” He hummed, the vibrations sending shivers through you causing your back to involuntarily arch. “Give your weight to me, wife. Give your everything to me.” A moan escaped you again, longer and louder this time as he delved deeper, his nose bumping with your swollen clit in rhythm with his tongue lapping at your weeping hole. “M-Maekar, I should be making you f-feel better, my love.” You opened your mouth yet no sound came out, your head flinging back into the pillows as your eyes rolled back. He had increased his pace feverishly, gripping you as close to his face as he could possibly get, he pulled back only briefly “This is for me, sweet wife.” He pressed as sloppy kiss to your inner thigh, sucking until it bruised before digging his teeth in bluntly. “Having you, having all of you at my mercy. This is what I desire more than anything. No other man of my Father’s court has ever seen such a sight, nor will he ever know one as beautiful as mine.” He burrowed himself back in, his fingers joining the ever growing sequence as your legs begun to shake. He wanted this, so you held on as desperately as you could, until you were cumming without realisation. The combination of his rough padded fingers inside of you as his soft tongue lapped and sucked at your clit had forced your orgasm to overtake near every nerve that consumed you, a defeated whimper left your lips as you released you grip on his hair and panted for breath quietly. Your eyes took a moment to adjust back to the light from the darkness and speckles of colour from how truly tight you had clenched them shut. “You still with me sweetheart?” Maekar lifted his head, he knew he had pushed you, but now you were near passed out from overstimulation and pliant to his will. He kissed up from your mound to your navel, before following the path up to your jaw.

You smiled lazily, “Hi.” Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Are you alright?” He questioned, running his hands over you as you nuzzled into his neck “More than okay, my love.” You pressed your lips against his forehead. “Are you going to fuck me now?” He laughed against your skin, lapping and sucking at the crevice of your collarbone, “Still not satisfied? Some might call that gluttony.” You whined lightly, palms pressing against his chest “I’m asking you to fuck me husband, do you need more direction?” Finally giving in, not that it took much convincing, he lined his cock up to your already dripping hole. He thrust in harshly, knocking the air from your lungs in one swift movement. Nothing came out of you save for an incoherent mumble as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. Maekar Targaryen did nothing half bothered, everything was done perfect and proper. Which was why pleasuring his wife was one of the utmost serious matters to him.

He flipped the pair of you, his back now rested against the plush pillows, your thighs caging his waist as he kept his knees spread and bent, giving you all the more access and freedom of movement. “Show me how much you love me.” He commanded, kneading the fat of your arse before smacking it, coaxing a moan from you as you begun to ride his cock. He could not escape the noises tearing from his lips, his head thrown back in bliss as you rode him. He could not release his grip from you, he was utterly enchanted by how entirely you were giving yourself to him, like you didn’t already share six children and had been married over a decade. You clenched your walls around him, coaxing an unrestrained groan from his lips as you joined them to your own, slipping letting your tongues dance with one another as you drew closer to your peak. He pulled his hand free reluctantly to press his finger against your clit, rubbing slow circles as you jolted up and down on his thick cock. “S’too much.” You whined, head falling back as your hair cascaded down your spine entirely free. “Cum for me, wife. Come on my cock, I’ll give you another child if you tell me what I need to know.” He rasped, picking up his thrusts to continue your faltering rhythm. “I love you.” Your voice was breathless, skin sticky, your nails clawing at his skin as you fought against him for your own pleasure. “I know you do. Let go f’me.” Unable to fight back any longer you came with an unruly moan, he grunted, pulling your chest until it pressed against his own, head collapsing under his jaw as he released his seed deep inside of you.

You both remained entirely unmoving, entirely obsessed with one another as you silently willed to never part. “Another girl.” He mumbled against your hair, “Hm?” You lifted your head lightly, your nose pressing to his jaw. “When this one takes. Another girl.“ You just nodded, no room for argument as you surrendered entirely to him, pliant against the hard planes that adorned his body, muscles contracting under you lightly with every breath.

“I love you.”

✴︎

The following morning was a quiet one. You remained curled into Maekar, covered by the thin bedsheets resting in the breezed from the window as you nuzzled against his chest. The knock at the door was so quiet you might not have even heard it had you been truly resting. Adjusting the quilts so that you were both appropriately covered, Maekar called “Enter.” Inside came Aerion, a small envelope in hand. He placed it on Maekar’s bedside table before turning, “I am sorry, Father.” Maekar gave a small nod, “Thank you Aerion.” Aerion wasted no time in exiting the room, slamming the door behind him with a thud.

Tearing the envelope softly, Maekar pulled out a surprisingly neat piece of folded parchment, Aerion’s recognisable scrawl adorning the yellowed page. A small smile rested upon your pouted lips, Maekar letting out a small chuckle of amusement at the heading of the paper.

Reasons that I am grateful for my Father

A/N: this might be my favourite piece i’ve written, the anon request was perfect, it took me a while to start but it just started flowing and i am so so happy, i write my best when im writing about maekar and the maekarlings i swear so if anyone has any other requests for them pls pls pleaseeee send them i adore the entire dynamic

anyway, as always: requests are open, likes, comments, reblogs and any interactions at all are always always appreciated - take care everyone!!

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@noone1233nobody @antobooh @mikariell95 @kravitzwhore @vanillafan6 @ae-gax @galactict3a @aleemendoza2425-blog @feral-postings @n3rdybirdee @mossthedevouring @loveslide

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@mimistimesblog @thorins-queen-of-erebor @erinceles @danaaa21 @nanamin-chan @maximuminfluencerstarlight @pearldaisy @bog-devil @nymphthreshold @luvweezer @icebearcucumber @la2luna-blog @somethingvicked

he’s not gentle.

it had started gentle, as it usually did, but after pulling you apart on the flat of his tongue, followed by the stretch of two thick fingers, he knew exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get it. good thing you liked it like that.

maekar curls you over the edge of the bed, your body completely bare as you bend and lay amongst the silks and furs. a strong, calloused hand holds the back of your neck, anchoring you to the feathered mattress as he stretches your pussy open around the thick of his cock.

he groans, feeling your pussy pull tight around him as he ruts in. silk walls draw inwards, heavy against the ridges along his shaft and the vein, pumping hot with blood, that runs along the underside. his other hand is a vice on your hip, dimpling the flesh as he forces you back onto him, the slapping sounds of skin-on-skin loud in the evening silence of your chambers.

you mewl into the sheets beneath you, a string of saliva already catching out the side of your mouth as your husband thrusts into you, the movements deep and far-reaching. heavy balls nudge against the swollen pearl of your clit, and you mewl again, startled, when the head of his cock punches up towards the plug of your cervix.

“don’t fuss,” maekar grumbles, rutting into you, eyes trailing down the line of your spine and over the curve of your arse as he holds you down by the nape. your pussy drools around him, his flushed shaft slick as he pulls out, then shoves back in. he groans, “fuck, you always take me so well, don’t you?”

he doesn’t really want a response when he questions you like this, cock splitting you open as he pins you to your shared bed. you gape, breathy moans falling free of your throat as your fingers tangle in the silken sheets and sweat builds tacky down your back and thighs. he listens to you gasp and mewl, a crooked smile on his face as he kneads the fat at your hip.

“how many times…” maekar begins, sentence breaking momentarily as the wet squelch of your cunt becomes audible in the flame-soaked silence, the open hearth flickering nearby. you whimper, and your husband groans. “will i have to spill in this tight cunt before you’re full, huh? how many times will she have to take me before you’re round with my child?”

you let out a pathetic sound, some mix of a gasp and a moan, the syllables showing some semblance of his name, but it’s lost in the heat of your pleasure. a third orgasm sparks at the ends of your nerves, flames flickering across the walls of your womb, deep in your pelvis.

maekar grunts, strands of white hair falling loose over his forehead, cheeks hued with pink beneath the candlelight. he palms the flesh of your arse now as the hand on your neck pushes you deeper against the bed.

“is that what you want, little dove?” he asks as his hips rock, the leaking head of his cock pushing right up against that perfect spot inside you. your back arches and you cry out his name, pussy fluttering as heat fills the base of your tummy. he grunts, continuing as you squirm. “you want me to fill you? spill deep inside this tight cunt ‘til she makes a right mess of herself, yeah?”

“maekar,” you manage out, and it’s low and tense and strung across a high-pitched moan. you fist the silks and furs for support as he rocks against you, bed creaking.

“i’m right here,” he whispers, barely audible over his hips slamming against your arse. the fingers on your neck give you a gentle squeeze, and you suck in a shallow breath. then, he groans, the thick of his cock sucked in tight as your pussy flutters around him. “oh, she wants it, little dove. wants me to fill her—wants me to make you a mother.”

you cry out at his words, your release strung taut across your sparking nerves. it’s right there, your entire body growing rigid beneath him as he spears you apart on his cock. you grow hot, and hotter still, tension deep through the lines of your pelvis as you angle your hips to meet his thrusts, heartbeat heavy in your clit.

maekar huffs and grunts behind you, his voice breaking across a poorly hidden whine. “fuck, fu-uh-ck, oh, little dove, here we go, here we go…”

he coaxes you through your orgasm as it ignites and overwhelms you. your body shakes, trembles like a picked flower, as heat bursts through your pelvis and the depths of your womb, your pussy squeezing tight around him. you moan, his name and his title up in the air around you, as stars burst behind your lowering lids and your legs threaten to give out.

but he’s not far behind you—as you come, he groans his praises, guiding you through the fissuring of pleasure with “that’s it, there we go” and “good girl, just like that” as he ruts his cock towards the base of your womb. with each thrust into you, slick dribbles out around his shaft, and he feels it along the seam of his balls as they draw up, visions of you fat with his child at the forefront of his mind.

maekar groans loudly. “gods, you’ll look perfect round with my child—fuck, i’ll be good to you, little dove, an’ i’ll keep you full all—the—fucking—time—” thrust, thrust, thrust, with each word, before he’s letting out a hoarse moan of your name and shoving himself to the hilt inside you.

he rolls his hips, sliding against you in lazy movements as he spills right against your cervix. still fizzling down from your own orgasm, you let out a shaky moan as he fills you, seed too warm in the base of your pelvis. his cock twitches, jerks inside you as your walls flutter, then pull him in even tighter as his seed fills you, fills you still, then settles.

he doesn’t pull out, but he collapses half way on top of you—the hand on your neck moving to bracket your head. you shift a little, panting as he plants a wet kiss to the corner of your mouth. you whine, turning your head to slide your lips to his. he grunts into your mouth as your tongues meet, and you taste yourself on him as your heart begins to slow beneath your ribs. he pulls away, resting his dewy forehead against your temple.

“it’ll take,” he says like he’s sure of it. like he knows it will.

“and if it doesn’t?” you counter through a mumble, limbs lax as you melt into the silks and furs, his body a firm press atop yours.

maekar chuckles. it’s a deep, low sound that vibrates through his chest, and it makes a little whine slip past your lips.

“then we keep trying,” he mutters, rolling his hips and nudging his cock deeper. you whimper, a shudder racking through you in response. he kisses your warm cheek. “i’ll fill you again and again, every fucking night, until you’re too full to even move… understood?”

you nod, words evading you as he noses your cheekbone, kissing you softly there too as his cock twitches where it sits deep, plugging you full of him.

———

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