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eufezco · 2 years

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SHORT HAIR SUITS YOU – D.T. x FEM!READER

fluff, smut. english isn't my first language 🫶🏻

"Gods be good." You closed the book that was resting on your legs once you saw Daemon entering your chambers. Covered in blood that you prayed to the Seven it wasn't his. You got out of your warm bed, stood on your feet, and approached Daemon. He stepped back when you tried to cup his cheek, that gesture made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Is that blood yours?" You asked while you analyzed his face, looking for any wound or any sign that let you know that he was hurt. His silver hair was soaked in blood, his garment too, but Daemon shook his head, and you let out a sigh of relief. He finally ended the Crabfeader, you were gonna be able to have your husband back. You checked his clothes asking yourself why the hell he didn't wear armor to combat, and why the hell didn't wait for Viserys' men. Your back tensed when you found half of an arrow stuck in his chest, really close to his armpit. Did he fly all the way here with that in there?

"Ser Criston." You walked past your husband, out of your room, and quickly got the knight at your door's attention. "Could you call the maids, please? I need them to run a bath for prince Daemon. Oh, and we will need Grand Maester's assistance as well." The knight nodded, and left.

You got in your chambers again and helped Daemon with his clothes. He was trying to do it by himself but the obvious signs of pain on his face and the hisses escaping his mouth moved you to help your husband. You undid his belt, and Dark Sister fell to your feet from around his waist. Before you helped him to sit down on your bed, you took his trousers off, and you noticed that he had another wound a little below his knee. For the shape of it, you would say that it had been another arrow as well.

"You want to do it yourself?" You asked him. The arrow remaining stuck in his chest needed to be out so could keep undressing him. Daemon shook his head.

"You do it." The prince said, and he bit his lower lip down, closing his eyes. His head rested on your belly as you firmly grabbed the piece of wood. "Take a deep breath." You recommended him and he did as you said. When his lungs were filled with air, you pulled out the arrow. A shiver run down your husband's spine but he didn't complain, not even a groan left his mouth. A little bit of blood came out of his wound, staining your nightgown that was already ruined because of Daemon's hair against the fabric, but you couldn't care less.

As you both waited for the maids to arrive, you stayed in that position as you caressed his long hair. Finally getting some rest after days.

Then you carefully removed every layer of the clothes he was wearing from his body. The maids were already in the room, getting the water ready for the prince. "Oh, Daemon." You swallowed nervously and you could hear a stifled whimper from the maids when you discovered prince Daemon's chest. He had two open wounds, the one the arrow that was stuck in him did, and another one on his lower abdomen. His skin had bruises everywhere, but it was even worse around his wounds. They were covered with dry blood, the colors purple, black and red decorated his white skin, and it didn't look good.

The maids left and it was just you and Daemon in the room. The prince walked naked to the bathtub. The windows of your chambers were getting foggy as the smoke came out of the water. Daemon slid into the bathtub, letting the hot water cover his whole body and feeling all his muscles relax. You grabbed the sponge and you knelt next to the bathtub, dipping the sponge in the water. You felt your hand burning, You could be the wife of a dragon but you were still sensitive to these things. Daemon hissed and you apologized when you started rubbing his chest, careful to not touch his wounds.

"Why didn't you wait for King Viserys' aid?" You rubbed the blood out of his neck and Daemon just looked at you with his eyebrows raised. You pressed your lips together and nodded. No words were needed, but you still thought that it had been a dumb move to not wait, yet you were so proud of your husband for what he just did.

You cleaned his face, his white skin returning to its normal color and then you focused on his hair. It was so long, probably the longest you can remember Daemon having it. You started by undoing his braid and then you asked him to sink his head into the water so you could wash the blood away. He felt in heaven, this was why he did not let himself be killed at the Stepstones. He didn't need titles, he didn't need his brother's aid, he didn't need the Stepstones, he just needed you brushing his hair while humming a song to him. Daemon could die at that moment.

"Your hair is really long. I shall braid it again once your wounds are treated." You kissed one of his temples once you were done with his hair and you stood on your feet. You helped the prince to get out of the bathtub and you moved behind him to cover his body with a towel. His back had big bruises all over it and you could guess it hurt badly when he hissed after the fabric fell on his shoulders You apologized right after and Daemon turned to look at you. His facial expression was soft, his eyes were kind and he looked at you with hope because the night he left for the Stepstones, Daemon thought it would be the last time he would see you. The prince held your chin up between his thumb and index fingers and he attached his lips to yours. His shoulders relaxed and both of his arms traveled down the length of your body to hug it against his while your lips moved together.

"I fucking missed you." Daemon groaned against your lips and you hummed, agreeing with him. Your husband's hands were already working on the back of your dress when the Grand Maester knocked on the door of your chamber. Daemon's kisses moved from your lips to behind your ear. "Don't." He murmured and bit the lobe of your ear, making you whimper. You placed your hand on his abdomen, feeling the blood running down it and meeting your fingers.

"Daemon, you're still bleeding." His kisses on your neck didn't stop because he didn't care about what you were saying. You had to bite your lip down to stop yourself from moaning. "Come in!" You said loud enough for the Grand Maester opened the door right after. Daemon's kisses stopped immediately, his forehead resting on your shoulder, defeated. Your hand went to caress his hair as you giggled at his reaction. Daemon sat on the bed again and took one of your hands between his, playing with your fingers and kissing your knuckles while the old man treated his wounds. If it had been you in Daemon's place, you would have been crying and panicking all the time while the Grand Maester poked at your wounds, trying to find any more pieces of the arrows, cleaning and removing the hard sticky mess that formed on the surface of them. But it was Daemon, and he didn't like to show any weakness or any sign of pain. Sometimes he would squeeze your hands, other times he would hiss, closing his eyes shut and then opening them again, sending deadly glances to the old man. Your kisses on the back of his hand stopped him from picking up Dark Sister from the floor and do only the Gods know what to the maester.

"I'll be right back." You announced him and Daemond let himself fall backward, completely defeated on your bed as he nodded. You accompanied the maester outside of your chambers and closed the door behind you. The Grand Maester told you how to take care of Daemon's wounds and to not allow him to tear out the stitches. He had done it before, thinking that his wounds would heal on their own, and of course they did not. You understood and quickly got back inside your chambers.

You let out a sigh after seeing what your husband was doing.

"I really liked your long hair."

"I liked it as well."

Daemon was in front of your full-length mirror, completely naked and with the Maester's scissors in hand, giving his beautiful long and silver hair some deadly cuts. "Let me help you. You will completely destroy your hair." Daemon was way taller than you so you had to grab the chair at your desk for the prince to sit down and be within your reach. You didn't ask him why he did it but the short hair made him look different, more mature, as if he was trying to escape the Rogue Prince. Maybe that was the image he wanted to give to his brother now that he had finally taken the Stepstones.

You couldn't save the lenght of his hair because he had already cut some locks of hair really short when you decided to intervene before it got any worse. The new haircut fit him better, the short hair sharpened his features but at the same time made him look softer. Of course, you would never say that to him because he would go crazy. "Handsome." You stated once you were done. You moved between the prince and the mirror and using your thumb and index finger to hold his chin, you made him look up at you. You fixed his hair as the prince's eyes looked at you with pure adoration. Both of his hands caressed your hips over your nightgown. You enjoyed his gentle touch until his fingers started to clutch at the thin fabric covering your body, slowly revealing your legs to him.

"You must rest." You said, knowing his intentions.

"Haven't you missed me? Because I fucking have." With the skirt of your nightgown completely clutched in between his fists, he pulled you closer to him, almost sitting you on his lap. "You were on my mind every single day... and every single night." Daemon looked up at you, dutifully. "You were all I could think about on the battlefield. About being between your legs again and how wet you'd be when I told you that we had taken the Stepstones." Daemon got up from the chair slowly, his hands sliding your dress off your body at the same time and you didn't resist him undressing you. If you left out the fact that he came home covered in his own blood, he would have been right about what would have happened when he told you that they had won. But his words at that moment were doing the same effect.

Your hands dug into his short hair once he connected his lips with yours. The pulls from your fingers on his scalp were softer when he had long hair, but now his hair was short enough to make him groan against your lips every time you pulled from his hair. Daemon walked you to the bed, his hands never leaving your waist as he carefully laid you on the mattress. He held his weight using his hands on both sides of your head, his hard cock pressing against your belly. Your lips were swollen once Daemon finally moved from them to focus on your neck, making you squirm under him. Your hands traveled down all his back, being really careful with the bruised skin under your fingers, feeling his muscles clench under your palms, until you got to his ass. Daemon's tooth brushed against your neck as his lips sucked harder on the soft skin of it after your hands squeezed his butt.

The prince's hand moved to cup one of your breasts, the whimper you let out sending electric waves down his spine. Using one of his legs he parted yours even wider, the firm holds on his cock helping him to rub his cock up and down your slit. As much as you wanted to hook your legs over the swell of his ass and let him fuck you so hard that the morning after you would have people questioning if you were okay, as much as you wanted to feel his hips slamming into you and he his hands digging into your hips from holding you in place, Daemon was hurt, so the fewer efforts he made, the better for his recovery.

"Let me do it."

And Daemon didn't object. He took your place but instead of lying on the mattress, Daemon sat with his back against the wall so he could have a perfect view of you. You used one of your hands to steady yourself on top of him, and with your other hand, you grabbed his cock by the base of it to help you sink it inside you. Daemon opened his mouth in a perfect 'o' form, letting out a moan and sinking his nails into the flesh of your waist. You let your head fall backward and bit your lower lip, being careful to not press onto Daemon's wounds with your hand on his abdomen.

You started by rolling your hips, feeling his dick brush the deepest places inside you. The sex with Daemon had been always amazing, even when you two weren't married, but you could count on the fingers of one hand the times he let you ride him, and when he did, it was basically him bucking his hips upwards, and taking the lead. He just loved to be in charge, taking you from behind while his fingers work on your clit and he mumbles the dirtiest things in your ear, having your legs over his shoulders as he pounds into you, even sitting on your dressing table and having your legs around his body and your nails scratching down his back.

His chest heaved as he gasped for air when instead of rolling your hips, you bounced on his dick. Daemon couldn't help but move his hands to your hips to help you go up and down his cock. Your moans muffled and died onto the skin of his neck as the muscles of your thighs began to burn. He really tried to let you have your way with him, set the pace and guide him, but he had missed you so much and you needed to feel him closer. Every time he leaves your side, you don't know if you'll ever see him again. Daemon leaned to trap your lips with his as he couldn't help but buck his hips upwards, meeting yours. "It's fine. I've got you." Your husband mumbled in your ear and right after he started kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear. You knotted your fingers into his short hair while you rolled your hips adding more pleasure to Daemon's thrust.

He didn't care about the pain as long as it was accompanied by you clenching around him. You moaned his name, feeling your throat go dry as your legs closed and shook, stopping him from thrusting into you anymore. Daemon came inside you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder but still holding you in place so you won't waste a single drop of him.

"We will fly tomorrow morning to the Stepstones." Daemon continued kissing your neck while you both came down from your highs. You knotted your fingers into his hair and used that grip to pull him closer to you as you hummed feeling his lips working on your neck.

"We?"

"Yes. They will name you Queen of the Narrow Sea."

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fluff #house of the dragon angst #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen scenario #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen reaction #daemon targaryen x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones smut #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones angst

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ladystoneboobs · 27 days

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House of the Dragon s01e05 We Light the Way // Game of Thrones s02e06 The Old Gods and the New // House of the Dragon s01e05 We Light the Way // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter LVI, Theon V // House of the Dragon s01e07 Driftmark // Game of Thrones s02e03 What Is Dead May Never Die // House of the Dragon s01e07 Driftmark // Game of Thrones s02e07 A Man Without Honor // House of the Dragon s01e07 Driftmark // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter LVI, Theon V // House of the Dragon s01e07 Driftmark // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter XXXVII, Theon III // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter LVI, Theon V // House of the Dragon s01e07 Driftmark // Game of Thrones s02e06 The Old Gods and the New // House of the Dragon s01e09 The Green Council // Game of Thrones s01e04 Cripples, Bastards and Broken Things // House of the Dragon s01e09 The Green Council // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter LXVI, Theon VI // House of the Dragon s01e09 The Green Council // A Clash of Kings by George R. R. Martin, Chapter XLVI, Bran VI // House of the Dragon s01e09 The Green Council // Game of Thrones s02e03 What Is Dead May Never Die //

#gotedit #hotdedit #asoiaf #theon greyjoy #alicent hightower #long post #(c)lsb #in the entitled quote ali's being somewhat irrational and unfair bc nyra did not take an eye she's not trying to keep it away #rhaenyra was only trying to protect her own little boy whose eye alicent felt entitled to #while theon thought asha wanted him dead when she came to wf to save him tho she didnt have to and hes wishing her ill #and then we don't have a direct reaction to 'now they see you as you are' but you can see the words before that getting under ali's skin #making her look even more hurt and bewildered by her former bff than she already was on this night when her son was maimed #compared to theon still hurt by robb's ingratitude months later and caring abt being liked in wf even after his men killed some of the folk #so that's more a vibes based thing but the rest should be self-explanatory #happy theon thursday!#the book citations are so detailed bc i had this fully edited almost a week ago scheduled for next theon thursday #so i kept coming back to the queue to look at my work and make small little edits #tv: house of the dragon #tv: game of thrones

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phoenixduelist · 8 months

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The only S3 opening I accept is Izzy literally clawing out of the grave, yelling: 'None of you absolute TWATS bothered to check for a pulse??'

In a show where every tiny movement has 26280 meanings and possible interpretations, I refuse to believe that this death has absolutely none.

And I also hope after crawling out, his first half conscious journey is into Ed's and Stede's inn, sending both into a cardiac arrest

#ofmd #ofmd spoilers #izzy hands #our flag means death #omfd season 2 #ofmd s2 #The reactions would be slightly better if he had gotten a death he and his arc deserved. Protecting the crew or even Ed after everything #That his funeral was somewhat respectful; the crew finally verbalizing the thanks for his protection during the Kraken era; Ed who knew him #longest also saying a few heartfelt words. and bury him in the sea maybe? instead of keeping him around like a garden accessory.#idk for some reason that also bothers me. that everyone got to live the life they planned; their freedom while he's trapped underground #Everyone got used to god tier writing; so what in the Game of Thrones finale & Avengers Endgame Natasha gets no funeral fuck was this??

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lovelyrotter · 25 days

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can we all remember to just say 'oh no thank you, i dont like that kind of food' but apply that logic and rules to shipping and letting other people ship again

#my t #dirkhal #yes im tagging this because thats what this is about #i see the start of another stupid fucking morality-based ship war in this tag and im not here for it #dirkhal is historically considered stridercest #using stridercest as an umbrella term #it doesnt mean the -cest part has to mean incest if you dont want it to. it can absolutely mean selfcest #davedavesprite is also concidered stridercest but its much more in line with dirkhal in that its selfcest. see the logic?#but like #can yall be fucking nice to your neighbours weve been here for a long time and havent been hurting anyone #if you can come to terms with the thought of dirkhal with hal/AR CANONICALLY being a brain clone of a 13y/o dirk #when we have no actual solid evidence to prove that he ages like dirk does in his physical body #then you can learn to share a fucking tag. because nothing in stridercest mirrors actual irl criminal or harmful activity #because its playing with dolls. we're all playing with our barbies and ponies here #and the problem with all of us trying to play w/ our barbies and ponies is that some very scared people see other ppl enjoying making ponie #kiss and they start screaming and trying to take all of our toys away when they dont actually have a monopoly on any of these toys. we shar #we share. that is what we do in fandom. theres an infinite amount of ways to interpret dirkhal #if you dont apply this logic to fans who enjoy things like game of thrones then dont do it here #take a step back and breath. we're all being normal. youre being a bad guest. please learn to share again. youre not being hurt #having a reaction to art is not actually Being Hurt

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darlingod · 7 months

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With the least amount of respect possible, Locke was so funny sometimes. He was so shameless and it was so entertaining. He will not be missed but his lines (and character) will for sure be laughed at by me

#the cruel prince #TFoTA #his reaction to Cardan walking in the room poisoned as fuck 😭😭💀#him just sitting on the throne in twk when the undersea is threatening the land #his audacity to think Jude dueled over him and being like hey cutie that was pretty endearing of u 😘#just taking Jude’s wedding gift to Taryn and giving it to her like the nerve he did not gaf😭😭#calling Jude out for liking Cardan being humiliated #he was like girl cmon pls Ik you liked that shit #his nosiness #he was just fucking around the whole time playing life as a video game and honestly.. kinda slay #slayed until he got slayed #like sometimes I wish he didn’t die cause I would’ve loved Jude belittling his ass in QoN #like he was the funny drama #he had no family lol that’s also why it’s harder to hate him #he knew love less than most of the characters

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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years

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The Hotd characters reacting to seeing dream!Y/n then disappearing but coming back after the time skip

(Just fyi I’m going off the first time skip since there’s been so many lol)

Honestly, I can’t decide which way for dream!darling to disappear that would haunt the yanderes the most; having them disappear in the blink of an eye or watching them fade away into nothing and not being able to do anything to stop it. Either way it’s something that will stay with the respective character forever. It would even go as far as to push them deeper in their obsession and to more extreme measures to ensure it never happens again.

Viserys would be absolutely crushed. I imagine them being his bestest and longest friend. He had heard so many stories from his father, mother, and grandparents about dream!darling and when he finally got to meet them for himself he was enthralled. He could finally understand for himself what everyone was talking about when it came to them and he wanted nothing more than to be close to them. So seeing them disappear before his very eyes is heartbreaking especially when there isn’t a damn thing he can do about. Of course he was all to well aware that it was inevitable, that’s what all the stories and talk about them ended with, but to actually witness it is something no one could prepare him for. Not that it was horrifying but the immediate feeling of emptiness that followed was surreal. And it never truly went away. At least not until the darling came back and when they did he’d never smiled so big or laughed so loud like he did that day. Viserys was over the moon to have dream!darling back, even if they did forget him, he couldn’t have been happier to see them again. The only thing about it that made his heart clench was that Aemma wasn’t there to see them again.

Daemon wouldn’t outwardly show how he felt about the whole situation. He’d act like he didn’t care but inside he was a mess of emotions. He was sad, angry, hurt, but most importantly he couldn’t help but feel abandoned. Especially when so much time goes by before they come back again. Similar to Viserys, Daemon also heard plenty of talk regarding dream!darling, there wasn’t a Targaryen alive who didn’t speak about them after all. And just like his brother, Daemon was just as enthralled when he first met them, if not more so. He had always imagined how he would stop or keep the darling from disappearing, it was a well known part of all the stories that revolved around them after all and Daemon had always imagined being the one to do just that. But being in the moment it was entirely different then what he had imagined. As much as he wanted to do something he couldn’t; whether it was because it happened too fast or because his body just wouldn’t allow him to do anything, Daemon wasn’t really sure. He would go the rest of his days acting out and doing his thing as he did before but only worse in hopes of trying to forget the darling and the feeling he was left with when they had gone. But once they do return, Daemon can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. He would still feel as though they had abandoned him but given that they probably don’t remember him he’d figure out another way to get his dues that he’s had to go without since they’ve been gone.

Rhaenyra would feel utterly helpless seeing the darling disappear. Especially if it was after Aemma’s death. It would really hit her hard. I could see Rhaenyra having grown up to idolize the darling especially with how Viserys and Aemma talked about them. She wouldn’t want to let on just how much she truly is affected by the situation. She knows that the darling will come back, they always do and when they do she’ll be waiting for them no matter how long it takes. But the hope she holds onto doesn’t take away from the haunting image of them disappearing like they did. It’s burned into her mind and nothing could erase it. When they do finally come back, Rhaenyra is ecstatic, she feels complete now and has so much to tell them. It wouldn’t matter whether they had no clue who she was or where they even were, Rhaenyra was going to make the best out of it. But gods forbid the darling disappears again and so soon too.

Alicent wouldn’t know what to do. One second the darling was there and the next they weren’t. She’d probably feel like she was going mad or something but from what she’s heard from her father it was a common occurrence, not that that took away from being the one to witness it. Even if she hadn’t known or interacted much with the darling she would feel just as invested in them, especially if they had tried to make an effort to befriend or even just so much as say “Hello” to her in passing. There wouldn’t be a moment that Alicent wouldn’t be plagued with the thought of the darling given how beloved they were/are. The most she’d do while the darling is still gone would be to try and learn everything there was to them. She would want to know everything; whether it was to feel closer to the darling or to just feed her curiosity. When the darling does come back she’s filled with a light and fluttering feeling she can’t quite explain. She doesn’t know why but she’s the happiest she’s ever been just seeing dream!darling again. This time will be different though, Alicent will make all the effort she can to be close to the darling. She excuses this as her just trying to make Viserys happy and trying to mend things with Rhaenyra by befriending the darling but really she’s just as hooked as the rest.

Criston Cole is another one who wouldn’t know what to do but he’d also feel helpless in the moment. He’d feel incredibly guilty not being able to keep it from happening. He knows how much the darling meant to Rhaenyra and being the one to see them disappear he feels incredibly useless having not been able to do something. Criston wouldn’t be able to get them out of his head. He’d ask Rhaenyra about them and listen intently to everything she had to say concerning them. Similar to Alicent, Criston would want to know everything he could about the darling. His thoughts would continue to be plagued by the darling and his helplessness/uselessness at not even trying to do something in the situation. In the beginning it was more so because of Rhaenyra and her immense care for the darling that earned his curiosity about them but then it turned into something else. Something he’d plunged himself further into after his fall out with Rhaenyra. Maybe it had been some kind of redemption thing for him at first but after the fall out he clung to the whole dream!darling thing as a way to get back at Rhaenyra. And he was going to get back at her. Once the darling comes back Criston Cole would be desperate to get to them before Rhaenyra, especially if they don’t remember anything from before. He’s obsession would stem from just wanting to desperately take them away from Rhaenyra and Alicent is more than just along for the ride.

#anxious answers #yandere viserys targaryen I #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere alicent hightower #yandere criston cole #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept #yandere reactions #yandere imagine

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frimoussette88 · 10 months

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Kit & Emilia at Superhero Comic Con (x) - Favorite moments Part 2/?

#emilia clarke #kit harington #jonerys #superhero comic con 2023 #game of thrones #got cast #fanart #gifset #my edit #this is simply adorkable #kit's reaction to the simple mention of it is priceless #i bet boatsex WAS a sexy day #lol #i'm just not 100% sure about what Emilia is saying in the last gif #don't hesitate to correct me if i heard wrong

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na-shoba · 1 year

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shitty reaction memes but make it ✨ brienne ✨

thank you, @booitsrue, for your help. kiss kiss.

Masterlist

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #got #game of thrones brienne #reaction meme #memes #meme #mine #shitpost #lady brienne #ser brienne

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joanna-lannister · 11 months

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Dead men, dragons, and Dragon Queens, whatever stands in our way, we will defeat it. For ourselves, for our house.

#jaime x cersei #gotcerseilannister #gotjaimelannister #gotedit #asoiafsnet #gameofthronesdaily #gotgifs #cersei lannister #jaime lannister #game of thrones #got s7 #got gifs #mine*#minegot #minejc #otp : a dynasty for us #anon last night made me want to gif this #jaime's reaction is just everything

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tinfairies · 1 year

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reaction/ head cannon/ whatever’s easiest for cockwarming w jon, podrick and sandor? tho i feel like none of them would last long IVSOVEOBEOB

Jon doesn't hate cockwarming per say, he'd just rather fuck his lover. He won't deny that he enjoys how close it makes him feel to them. It's usually early morning when his beloved climbs on top of him, rutting against him and riling him up. Then sinking down on his cock and just laying there. Jon hates it so much, his cock aches and he needs them to move, but he doesn't want to disturb their peace. He thanks the gods when they finally decide they need to cum as well. Jon grabs their hips and fucks up into them, holding them to his chest and abusing their poor hole. It's definitely a love hate relationship with cockwarming

Podrick will do anything his lover asks. That includes letting them sit in his lap while they work.. Well letting them sit on his cock while they work is more accurate. They had rubbed him up through his pants, then asked in the most innocent voice if they could keep his cock warm for him while they finished working. Of course he said yes, he's a people pleaser after all, especially towards his lover. He didn't realize how hard it would be to keep still, every little movement sent shockwaves through his cock. Podrick had his head buried in his lovers back, eyes clenched shut as he tried to be patient.

Sandor thinks cockwarming is stupid. What's the point? Fuck or get fucked and get it over with. That is until he and his lover had fallen asleep midway through sex. He had woken up, his cock still deep inside them. The closeness and warmth had him getting hard again, he pulled them closer but refused to move his hips. Partially wanting to see how long he could test himself, as well as waiting for his beloved to wake up and realize. As soon as they do, he's drilling them into the mattress. No mercy, he wants to fill them to the brim.

#Game of thrones x reader #Game of thrones #game of thrones headcanon #game of thrones imagine #got imagine #got headcanons #got x reader #Got #jon snow #jon snow x reader #podrick payne #podrick payne x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #Smut #Reactions #Tin writes

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sunspearesque · 3 months

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officially done with my re-read and here’s my reaction to each book

yes i cried hysterically like the first time reading it during the red wedding and tyrion’s second trial by combat.. what about it?

#george pls i need twow yesterday #tell me your reaction to each book #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #game of thrones

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softsan · 2 years

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Eyes On Fire. (Pt. 4)

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen & Fem!Reader

CHAPTERS: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

WORD COUNT: 3389

GENRE: Alternatively Universes/Canon Divergence, Alternative Ending, The Greens Win, Loosely based on the books/show, Made up House,

DESCRIPTION: After the Greens win the Dance of The Dragons, you a left alone navigating the dangers and woes of Kings Landing. You were one of the last survivors of House Vermillion with the expectation to restore your House to its former glory. Pressured to find yourself a husband, you unintentionally catch the eye of the dangerously, one-eye kingslayer—how will you ever survive amidst those who kill, those who take, and those who wish to eat you alive? Can also be read on AO3 here.

WARNINGS: Bodily Injury, Death, Graphic violence, Torture, Suspicion, Attempted murder, Murder, Poisoning, Possessive themes, Aemond in general

OPTIONAL PLAYLIST: Don’t Fear the Reaper by Denmark + Winter, When You Break by Bear’s Den, Hold On by Brooke Annibale,

Darkness clung to the four walls that kept you contained. The repugnant smell of rot was profuse, while the stone ground was covered in a thick layer of grime.

You had been held prisoner since the day after the tourney, ambushed the morning after whilst walking the Street of Flour, a famous street for its many twists and bends as well as its countless bakeries and dessert stalls. Two cloaked thugs had roughly manhandled you before throwing you into their carriage and speeding away.

You had verily considered, fending them off, breaking an arm or two, and continuing your day as if nothing had transpired but ultimately you decided not to.

It sort to reason that someone had their grievances with you, most likely due to Aemond's recent antic of crowning you the Queen of Love and Beauty. Therefore, you chose to play along. To unearth the question of who? You wouldn’t reveal your hand nor let on that you knew how to fight. You wouldn't risk such notions being spread by the wordlessly prying eyes of the city folk. For months you had tirelessly built an image of fragility and innocence. An image you intended to keep utilizing until you could successfully fulfill your duty to your House.

The dank and dingy vault below the castle was void of sunlight. The only light source available came from the dull lantern, its transparent case protecting the faint flame from blowing out. Beside it stood a short wooden frame that they’d dubbed ‘the bed of tortures’. You were bent over the frame, ropes restraining your wrists behind your back. The twisted strips of hide gnawed at your skin, leaving cuts and burns behind. Exasperated, you blew the mattered strands of hair away from your face, your eyes trained on Lord Unwin Peake who sat on the opposite side of the cell observing how the interrogation progressed.

“Let me ask again,” The foul-breathed servant of Lord Peake tormented, “What kind of relationship do you have with Aemond Targaryen?”

You near rolled your eyes, spent by the same handful of questions the servant had repeatedly asked. You grappled with yourself whether you ought to just tear off the restraints you had managed to loosen over time and stab the servant with the knife you had hidden in the pockets of your undergarments.

Your limbs ached, your stomach famished and most pressingly your mind was bored. You had despised being held hostage during the war and the sentiment hadn’t since changed.

“I guess one can’t go ahead with killing Lord Peake’s servant without inferring further consequences for one’s self,” Your mumble was inaudible, neither Peake nor his servant catching what you had said.

The servant sneered, “What was that? Speak louder girl!” He chastised.

You said nothing, your lip curling in defiance.

It appeared you had made a powerful enemy out of Lord Unwin Peake, the hand to the king. Aemond’s declaration and favor towards you during the joust had foiled Lord Peake’s plans to propel his daughter, Myrielle Peake into Aemond’s arms (and eventually bind the two with marriage). You huffed. Your intentions were never to be thrust between such political affairs, your initial plans were but to attract a wealthy Lord to marry and to save your House. However, after being held captive for days, you were feeling particularly spiteful... Perhaps you would change those plans, perhaps you'd begin to embark on the dangerous political game you'd thus far avoided. A new plan, with a new goal—one which involved the Targaryen Prince after all.

“The relationship between Prince Aemond and I?” You toyed, prolonging your eye contact, “Would you care to hear that we’re close? Or would it make you feel safer if I said we weren’t?”

Lord Unwin Peake’s face soured, comprehending the underlying threat of your words. The conveyance was that if Aemond indeed considered you more than a plaything, more than a pastime then Lord Peake would be faced with the Prince’s unrelenting wrath.

A thick silence lingered as Lord Peake thought through his options.

“From this moment on you shall stay away from the Prince,” He calmly rose from his chair, dusting his trousers, “If you care for that life of yours, I’d advise you not meddle where you ought not to.” He then nudged his head toward one of the instruments that hung to the wall, “Finish off her punishment.” He ordered.

“It’d be my pleasure, my Lord,” The servant eagerly bowed.

You heard the crack of a whip, the distinctive sound of leather.

Lord Peake stopped before the cell’s exit, turning aback, “Her face is to remain untouched,” He soon left, the cold metal bars slamming loudly behind him.

The whip came lashing at your calves. You squeezed your eyes tight, balling your fists until your fingernails dug into your palms. A flurry of curses were stuck to your tongue as you tried to drown out the pain by thinking of happier thoughts, such as taking your sweet revenge and plunging your knife into the servant’s chest.

You felt the warmth of your blood streak down your legs and feet, a puddle of scarlet pooling on the ground below.

A manic laughter echoed throughout the dungeons, “Scream for me,” He sadistically urged.

You gritted your teeth. You wouldn’t oblige. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. You held in any sound, swearing to yourself you’d inflict a pain tenfold worse onto both Lord Peake and his servant.

The fire burned, its flames licking the wood of the balsam fireplace in Helena’s study. Aemond was lent against the fireplace, absently watching Maelor play with his toys. The young boy roared aloud as he pretended his dragon carved from birch burned down the stick figures of men.

Helena had neglected her book, her violet eyes fixated on her brother. She was curious about what had brought on Aemond’s recent behavior. Aemond was not known to listen to just anyone… Even their dear mother struggled to put him in his place. Yet, during the joust he’d immediately caved to your demand, stopping just as you’d asked.

Helena knew this displeased her mother greatly. Aemond was handful enough for her to restrain but to have him now obey another? It threatened all she’d thus worked for, all she’d done to ensure Aemond wouldn’t rise up against Aegon and seize his brother’s crown.

Gaomagon ao hae zirȳla? Do you like her? Helena’s dreamlike voice inquired.

Qilōni? Who? Aemond grumbled, well aware of whom his sister was referring to.

Se riña lēda mele laesi. The lady with crimson eyes.

Before Aemond could answer, his mother Alicent came sauntering into the study, Ser Criston Cole following shortly behind.

Alicent's neck was flushed, her expression clearly vexed, “What do you think you’re doing?” She bellowed, the volume of her voice startling young Maelor.

Helena quickly attended to the boy, picking up Maelor as he began to wail.

“What does it matter?” Aemond countered, his arms firmly crossed against his chest.

“What does it matter?!" Alicent exclaimed, “It matter so, you’ve crowned a maiden from a lower House. A House insignificant in comparison to the great Houses we are hosting during the tourney.” She flailed her arms, “Great Houses we intend to forge allyship with.”

“House Vermillion wasn’t always insignificant,” Helena softly corrected, “Despite, their small fleets they were unmatched in naval warfare. Their vessels were painted red as their sigil, their cargo carried a myriad of hibiscus’ which they threw into the sea to bribe the gods for their victories—”

"House Vermillion was a House which supported Rhaenyra’s false claim to the Iron Throne," The Dowager Queen Alicent cut off her daughter, her eyes narrowing, “A House which should have been wiped out completely.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched at his mother’s last sentiment, “A House, like many others Aegon pardoned,” He sternly rebutted, “An idea you proposed would unite the Seven Kingdoms.”

Alicent's bottom lip trembled, taken aback by Aemond's retort.

“If that’s all mother, I’ll excuse myself.” Aemond’s heavy boots stomped, the door slamming behind him as he left Helena’s study.

“I cannot believe it,” Alicent bespoke to Ser Criston Cole, “Of all the noble ladies in King's Landing why her?” She shook her head in objection.

“Perhaps, it is but a fleeting affection that will die when the controversy and excitement begins to wane.” Ser Criston offered.

Alicent peered upward, still riddled with doubt, “Do you truly think so?”

Ser Criston Cole opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Helena.

“Hair of silver. Eyes of crimson. Footsteps in a set of three,” Helena’s eyes glossed over, as she faded into a trance.

Alicent and Ser Criston exchanged looks, Alicent quickly bending down beside her daughter. She gently took Maelor off his mother’s lap, offering him to Ser Criston to hold while Alicent tried to regain Helena’s attention.

“What do you see?” Alicent had long learned to heed her daughter’s words, to pay mind to Helena’s prophecies, as frequent to none, they near always came to tuition.

“A mother’s beauty. A father’s temperament. All is sound, all is as it ought to be.” Helena finished her train of thought.

The Dowager Queen Alicent’s face hardened. What possibly did the gods have in store for her son Aemond?

“Keep an eye on Lady Y/N Vermillion,” She instructed Ser Criston Cole, “And report back to me. I want to know whom she interacts with, her goals, and her every intention.”

The midmorning offered your deprived and cold self a yearned warmth and solace. The sun's golden rays filtered themselves through the stained-glass windows, reflecting a merriment of colors on the ground beneath your bloody feet. Without assistance, you had managed to crawl up the stairs of the dungeons, trekking a trail of blood behind you.

Your torture had been drawn out the length of the night, Lord Unwin Peake's servant only leaving after the seventh hour. You couldn't discern how long you had stayed laying motionless on the bed of tortures, staring at the unlocked door to your cell. After what felt like an eternity, you dragged your rigid body off, your calves protesting as you forced yourself to stand.

The pain, however, grew too great, causing your vision to blur, and your head to spin. You stumbled, your knees buckling from underneath. You placed a hand on the wall beside you, stopping yourself from faceplanting into the tiles. Days without food and water had finally taken their toll and you hadn’t the energy to continue.

“Lady Y/N Vermillion!” A surprised voice called aloud.

You felt their hands immediately rope around your hips, in an attempt to keep your torso upright. You blinked a couple of times, trying to determine who had found you.

“Ser Criston Cole?” You croaked, your cracked lips turning downward. Surely, you were mistaken.

“Yes, it is I,” He said softly, brushing back your wayward hair that draped over your face.

He observed the terrible state you were in, deducing it to be in result of what had transpired with Aemond during the joust. Others besides the Dowager Queen Alicent would consider you a threat to their political agendas and wouldn’t think twice about taking their frustrations out on you.

Ser Criston Cole’s eyes momentarily flickered toward the sound of footsteps in the distance, “Let me help you back to your room,” He whispered, sounding almost as if he pitied you.

Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly lifted you off the ground and cradled you against his steel-plated chest. You were too frail to argue, allowing him to carry you throughout the rest of the castle.

Ser Criston took an alternative route to your chambers, sensing the footsteps he’d heard, belonged to the prince. Over the past day or two, he'd had been discreetly watching Aemond from afar, noting the numerous times he’d tried knocking on your chambers only to be turned away by Lady Alyssa Royce. Ser Criston Cole was weary of the scene Aemond would surely cause if he saw you in such a state.

As Ser Criston reached your door, his knuckles thumped on the wood.

It was Lady Alyssa Royce who answered, “I’m afraid my Prince, Lady Y/N, still hasn’t returned—" She abruptly paused, sighting you limply lying in Ser Criston Cole's arms.

“Y/N?” Horror replaced her usual unemotive persona, “What happened to her?”

“Let us lay her down first,” Ser Criston bypassed Alyssa without a further explanation.

He quickly lifted the furs and delicately placed you down on the bedspread, “We have to roll her over.” He directed.

Lady Royce obliged without complaint, aiding Ser Criston to roll you onto your stomach. You muffled a cry, the sudden movement aggravating your open lesions. Blood continued to hemorrhage, spilling onto your white linen sheets.

Lady Royce's brows furrowed as she hastily lifted your skirt and removed your torn petticoat. She gasped, once the true extent of your wounds was revealed. The soles of your feet had been mercilessly slashed, whilst the irate lacerations to your calves had cut deep into the muscle.

“There are some gauzes and string in the cupboard,” Lady Royce demanded forgetting her station, “I’ll find us some alcohol to disinfect her wounds.”

“Shouldn’t we call for a maester?” Ser Criston Cole questioned.

You grabbed Lady Royce’s hand with haste, squeezing it with all the strength you could muster, “No,” Alyssa Royce said firmly, apprehending what you were trying to communicate, “Otherwise, Lady Clarice Osgrey will be summoned. Let us keep this between ourselves.”

Sir Criston reluctantly nodded, undecided if he’d pass on what had occurred to the Dowager Queen.

Aemond stalked the corridors, his irritability only increasing by the hour. Over a week had since passed, and you had missed the chaos that was brought by the melee, an event where forty or so riders armed with blunt weaponry, fought to be prized as the next knight. Aemond disinterested how the contest unfolded, drowned himself in drink instead.

You were avoiding him, or so he thought…

As the afternoons passed, he began to grow dubious. Suspicious, why all the other ladies beside you and Lady Royce were in attendance at the Targaryen festivities? He'd also taken note that Lady Myrielle Peake was now serving his niece Princess Jaehaera in your stead.

He reached the large oval door of your chambers, reaching of its handle. However, Lady Alyssa Royce opened the door first, her body blocking Aemond’s view of the inside.

“Where is Y/N?” He sternly imposed, “She has not been in attendance to melee nor has she served my niece.” He drew a maddened breath, “Princess Jaehaera has naught been impressed by her replacement.”

“I’m afraid Lady Y/N is still unwell your highness,” Lady Alyssa Royce politely bowed, her voice ever so slightly trembling.

You listened from inside, overhearing another of Lady Royce’s fumbling excuses. You and Alyssa had always been civil but far from close. Nonetheless, she had aided you, stitched up your wounds, and kept your injuries secret. You owed the girl a great debt, one you’d hope to someday repay.

You were running a fever, your insides hot, your outsides cold. You were sat against the headboard of your bed, leaning on some flat pillows while your legs were covered in furs. A small smile crossed your lips as you continue to listen. In truth, you were gladdened by Aemond’s concern. Thankful, for the countless times he’d implored for you. It wasn’t something you were accustomed to, the worriment, the exertion. Nobody had ever put so much effort in for you.

Aemond’s exasperation was obvert, he was growing tired of the evasiveness of Lady Royce, “Step aside,” He, at last, demanded, the intensity in his tone, making Lady Royce cower.

Your smile faltered, conceding Aemond was going to barge in. You hurriedly unraveled your legs from underneath your furs and forced yourself to stand upright.

You silently yowled, it was as if lightning had struck your legs. It took a few seconds for you to regain your breath, the agony that pulsated from your calves immense. You used the bedside table for support, wincing as you slid on your cloth slippers.

You had made the short distance to your vanity when Aemond furiously pushed back the doors to your chambers, his violet orb narrowing as searched around your room.

“Prince Aemond,” Short of breath, you did your best to bow.

Aemond’s annoyance dissolved instantaneously. Yet, the creases on his forehead remained. He swiftly approached his silvery hair bouncing behind him as he moved. You took a short moment to admire how his hair glistened underneath the yellowish candlelight, how it only enhanced his fearsome beauty.

Aemond abruptly stopped before you, his large hands unexpectedly cupping both of your cheeks, drawing your face closer to his. You involuntarily shivered, as his thumb brushed across your cold lips.

"What is it you are ailed with?" He searched your face, his brows knitted.

Aemond studied your sickly pale hue and the shade of blue that replaced the color of your lips. He felt a protectiveness over you. A feeling which was foreign to him.

“I’ll send for a maester immediately,”

“No,” You shook your head, his hands still firmly resting on your cheeks, “I have no desire to cause a fuss. All I need is some rest.”

Aemond didn’t feel assured, in fact, it only strengthened his worry.

“You’ve had a week’s worth of rest” He pressed “You should be seen by a maester. What if your sickness gets all the worse?” His hands slowly slid from your face and down your arms until he grasped your two hands within his own. Aemond held you so gingerly as if he was afraid you’d break.

Your stomach fluttered, recalling the change of your plans. Lord Unwin Peake desired you to stay away from the Prince… And you’d do nothing of the sort.

“I won’t get worse”

“You couldn’t possibly be sure.” His face close, his breath hot.

You stifled a smile. Boldly you closed the distance, using your nose to gently nudge his, “I am,” You insisted, pulling away.

Aemond’s eye widened, the violet of his iris deepening. He was overwhelmed by the impulse to pull you back but to capture your lips this time.

“Just a few more days of rest and I’ll be back to my true self,” You wriggled your hands free, “But first you must go,” You incited, softly pushing his chest to leave, “You’ve caused me enough trouble. If someone catches you in my chambers, I’d never hear the last of it.”

“What trouble? I only crowed the one deserving of the title of the Queen of Love and Beauty,” Aemond smiled smugly “And showed King's Landing of my intentions,” He playfully tilted his head, his hair falling off his shoulder, “And what a mistake it would be if others were to approach what is mine,” He whispered the last part.

“I repeat,” You light-heartedly shook your head, “Trouble.”

Aemond laughed, relenting and taking a step back, “I’ll go but if you feel worse, promise me you’ll summon a maester?”

“I promise,” You nodded, “My Prince you may take your leave,”

“Not until you are tucked soundly under the covers,” He directed, lifting an arm towards your bed.

“You won’t leave otherwise?” You swallowed, dreading the walk from your vanity back to your bed.

“Yes,” He maintained, “Do you need some help?”

“No need,” You vigorously shook your head, exchanging a daunted look with Lady Royce who had been loitering by the door.

You tried your darndest to ignore the heat that radiated upward with each excruciating step. You just needed to make it to the bed without falling, you told yourself.

Aemond followed you with his gaze, his body stiffening as he caught the stain of red on the hem of your nightgown.

“Y/N,” He said, his tone spine-chillingly cold.

You hadn’t the chance to turn completely round when he wrapped a steel arm around your waist and carefully lifted the cotton of your nightgown to expose your calves.

You sucked in a breath.

Aemond’s face darkened, while an enraged snarl left his mouth. His playful disposition vanished, a seething fury coming to take its place.

“Y/N,” He growled, his arms shaking uncontrollably, “Who dared to harm you?”

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