Feathers & Threads Soaked In Red - Masterlist

Feathers & Threads Soaked in Red - Masterlist

Read from beginning on AO3! (DO NOT INTERACT IF UNDER 18)

Idea that started this fic

Moodboards & Headcanons for Crass Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for Snow Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for Drake Family

Moodboards & Headcanons for District 12 Covey

Moodboard & Headcanons for Capitol People

When I made this post, I did not expect it to confirm my belief that Ewan Mitchell has all of us on a chokehold 😂

HAPPY NEW YEAR

I will list my top 10 favorite pairings I've shipped throughout 2023 for funsies. These aren't in any particular order, I just came up with a list from the top of my head. If anyone wants to join in, please do so!

Snowbaird (this ship has me in a fucking CHOKEHOLD)

Me x Robb Stark (King of the North)

Me x Aemond Targaryen (babygirl war crime)

Me x Druig (one look and he got me)

Me x Ethan Landry (6 ft virgin madman in baby blue)

Me x Ikaris (...my fav hetero to hate but love bc Richard Madden)

Me x Jon Snow ( "i dON't wANt It")

Me x Theon Greyjoy (sea bitch)

Me x Rhaenyra Targaryen (dommy mommy)

Me x Jacaerys Velaryon (prettiest boy with the worst posture)

I won't be judged for self-shipping right?

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @faesspace, @marvelescape, @its-actually-minicika, @lady-ashfade, @aphroditesmoon, @mitsuki91, @3vergr3en

PS: Hopefully I will have posted an Aemond x Reader fic by the end of tomorrow, so wish me luck!

Ok, I want to write up an Aemond x reader fic as a Christmas Gift for a friend, but I’m at a crossroads here since I don’t know which direction to take the story.

On one hand, it’s Christmas and there should be a fluffy theme and happy endings bc of the holiday season. Aemond here falls in love with someone, and there’s inspo from a scene from Love Actually. But Aemond and Reader are in love and happy here, canon is irrelevant.

On the other hand, I’ve have a tendency to favor the stories where Aemond is a rat bastard who suffers bc of his affair with Alys. There might be a scene where he pathetically cries. Not very Christmas themed, but let’s say the setting takes place in the winter.

Both stories WILL involve smut (however cringey it is)

…of course Billy Taupe had a foot fetish

That being said, HOT 🥵

10/10, spectacular, chef’s kiss, need a 3rd part RN

Snow And Embers- Part 2

Note: I was not going to do a part 2 for this story but then my brain was like "Part 2? Lucy Gray's POV? Yes." and it wouldn't leave my head. This is my first full smut I've written in years so I hope it's good. Possible OOC dialogue for Coriolanus? Edited by @loganlostitall. Thank you!

Part 1

CW/TW: SMUT!! 18+ only. Unsafe P in v, creampie, breeding kink, oral sex(male receiving), fingering, use of cum as lube

Please let me know if I forgot anything.

Lucy Gray Baird was many things. Kind, resilient, stubborn, loving. But one thing she wasn't was stupid. 

After her first time with Coriolanus, she thought it was passion, an innate need to claim each other and become one. Coriolanus couldn't keep his hands off of her. Any second they were alone, he was working his hands under her dress and bringing lightning strikes to her nerve endings with every pass of his calloused fingers. To be fair, she couldn't get enough of him either. She had lovers before. But none like this. The boys before, they could hardly be called men, were only focused on themselves. They'd say all the right things but the second they got her under them, it was like she ceased to exist and all they cared for was their own pleasure. He was different. Despite his inexperience, Coryo relished in the pleasure he gave her. Every moan from her lips or arch from her back was just another piece of wood that stoked the flames of his passion for her. 

It was small things that made her realize his intentions were…. More than just being in the moment together. Her experience with men wasn't incredibly extensive but she did know that each man had their own personal desires, things that made them aroused more than others. Her first, Toby Kormin, was extremely aroused by tying Lucy Gray up. And Billy Taupe had an interesting fascination with her feet. Coriolanus…. Well she was fairly certain that Coriolanus liked the idea of getting her pregnant. 

In truth, the first time he came in her, had been a mistake. She was usually very careful in that regard. She made sure her partners knew, in no uncertain terms, they always had to pull out. Lucy Gray had the know-how to deal with any accidents if they did occur. The day she started her monthly, at the tender age of 13, her Momma sat her down and showed her all the herbs to make a preventative tea. But it wasn't fool proof. And having kids was not something she wanted anytime soon. If at all. But that first time with Coriolanus, Lucy Gray lost all common thought when it came to safe sex. All she saw were those deep blue eyes of his staring down at her with a primal need that she had never experienced before. Before she could stop herself, she was wrapping her legs tight around his hips, practically locking him in as he came deep inside her. And that happened twice more that night. 

Lucy Gray came to her senses the next morning. She drank her tea and told Coriolanus that that couldn't happen again. He needed to pull out or they would have to stick to oral or hand play. Along with a bright blush that peppered his pale skin, there was almost a look of disappointment in his eyes. He briefly glanced down at her stomach before he nodded in agreement. 

The next two times they were together, he obliged without problems. He pulled out and came on her stomach like she asked. But it almost felt…. Wrong. 

So the next time, just as Coriolanus was about to pull out, she dug her nails into his tight cheeks and pushed him back inside her. There weren't any words said, but it seemed like they both came to an understanding that night. 

Lucy Gray made sure she carried a bag of her morning-after tea, anytime she saw him. She told him that they should try to be safe if they could, but she knew how they both could get lost in the moment. It was a delusional platitude for herself though. Deep down she knew that he wasn't going to cum anywhere else but inside of her from then on. 

He didn't pull out after that, even if he promised to try. In fact, his need for her became even more evident.  

It started with innocent touches. Often, she found Coriolanus's hands hovering over her stomach. He'd rub the area slowly sometimes, almost reverently. A fight had broken out in the Hob one night, and he had placed himself in front of her. His body a barrier between her and the brawling men, that Sejanus and another peacekeeper were trying to separate. But the only thing she could think of was how his hand was slightly behind his back, pressing into her abdomen. Almost like he was protecting more than just her from the violence in front of them.  

Some nights she woke to him whispering to the area. He claimed it was to help him sleep, reciting old stories to tire his mind. But she always knew when Coriolanus was lying. The intensity of his gaze would magnify and he would press himself closer to her. 

More than once, after their coupling, she woke up to a pillow under her hips. Coriolanus's eyes would be dark as he watched her wake. The plush object had her cunt angled so not a drop of their mixed fluids could escape her. Before she could even ask why he had done it, he would be on her again, using his fingers or his cock to claim her thoroughly. 

It wasn't long before he openly admitted to his desire.

Lucy Gray could feel the orgasm building in him. Her hands pressed to his stomach and she felt the muscles clenching and his hips jerked periodically against her lips. The tightening muscles of his thighs had him bucking into her mouth. His fingers were tight in her dark curls, and she felt his nails prick her skin as he clenched them thoughtlessly.  Coriolanus was a man who loved control. She loved sucking that control straight from his cock and turning him into mud in her hands. 

“Don't you dare swallow, Lucy Gray. Keep my cum in your pretty mouth.”, he growled. His voice was radiating dominance but she knew she had him in the palm of her hands.  The vibrations of his deep voice flowed through her and she clenched her thighs together. Her nipples were peaked and bare and she wished desperately that he was touching them. She could feel the sound in her clit, throbbing in time with her pulse. Nodding slightly around his cock, she took him as deep in her mouth as possible, swallowing around the tip to create a myriad of warmth and suction.  

“I’m about to cum.”, he grunted, his hips stuttering from the familiar feeling. Coriolanus gripped her hair tightly and bucked one last time into her mouth, the tip of himself hitting the back of her throat and making her gag a small bit. Salty seed flooded her mouth and Lucy Gray had to fight not to swallow it on instinct. 

Coriolanus pulled out of her mouth, a string of their fluids leading from the tip of his cock to her pretty pink lips. Her cheeks were puffed out, holding in as much of his cum as possible, just like he told her. 

One large hand gripped under chin, his fingers cupping either side of her cheeks. He used a light pressure on the underside of her chin to wordlessly command her up onto her shaking legs. 

Blue eyes bore into her own, that dark swirl of shadow filling his irises, and he lowered his voice to a deep growl. 

“Spit.”, Coriolanus ordered, holding his other hand up to her lips, cupped to catch all the seed that dripped out. Shock and lust radiated through her body, wondering what he planned to do. The order sending heat to her pussy, and making it clench around thin air. In public, Coriolanus was sweet and needy, a typical boy in love. But behind closed doors, he became more dominate. Lucy Gray wasn't scared though. There was darkness in his eyes, but the brightness of hers tempered it out. 

Taking her lack of response for disobedience, Coriolanus tightened his fingers on both of her cheeks, pinching the skin and forcing her lips open slightly. A small amount of his white fluid slid from the pink flesh and he groaned. He'd love to show the whole Hob how she looked right now. Eyes glazed over, thighs rubbing together seeking any kind of friction, begging him to take her and he hadn't even gotten his hands on her pussy yet. 

“Spit now, Lucy Gray. Or I'll leave you here, dripping wet, and you won't get to cum. ”, they were practically nose to nose at that point. Whimpering at the thought of being left without his touch, Lucy Gray opened her lips and let his cum flow into his offered hand. The seed was warm and mixed with her own spit, a contrast of their two bodies. 

Keeping the cooling liquid in his hand, Coryo pressed a small kiss to her lips, moaning lightly at the salty taste of his cum and her smoky flavor mixed together. 

“On the bed, Songbird.”, the order rumbled from his chest. “Spread your legs. Show me how much you liked the taste of me.”

Another sound of desperation left Lucy Gray's lips and she did exactly as he asked. She quickly stripped her skirt off and tossed her panties to the side with it, landing right next to her torn shirt. The air was chilly against her heated lower lips and the mix of sensations made her thighs shake with wanton need. Part of Lucy Gray was ashamed of how she was acting. She always considered herself to be an independent woman, one who despised the idea of taking orders from a man. But Coryo was different. He was her beautiful Capitol man. The one who saved her life and made her feel things she had never felt before. 

She crawled onto the bed and rolled onto her back, rising her upper half up onto her elbows so she could see her lover's reaction. The predatory gaze from Coryo's ice blue eyes only made her wetter and she slowly parted her legs, exposing her soaking core to the cold air.  

“Fuck.”, the expletive slipped from his red lips, swollen from their heated kisses. Lucy Gray smiled sweetly at him. She loved when she was able to entice such reactions from the normally proper man. 

“Please, Coryo”, she whispered, voice barely audible. 

Coriolanus’ long legs covered the distance between them in two easy steps. His cock was already hardening again against his thigh and Lucy Gray could feel the ache inside her, begging for him. 

“You're so beautiful, Lucy Gray”, his Capitol accent was thick with desire and the sound made her hips instinctively arch up to try to get closer to him. 

With his seed still in his hand, he maneuvered himself between her legs with his knees and leaned over her, his other hand holding him up. The bed gave a loud squeak from their combined weight, but neither of them were in the head space to hear it. 

“Hold your legs apart, love. As wide as you can”, Coryo said using his eyes to look from her hands to her parted legs. 

Submissively, Lucy Gray did as he asked, spreading her legs wider for him, hands grasping her thighs tightly. 

“You're so wet you're sparkling like a diamond, Lucy Gray. Is that all for me? Just from tasting me?”, his deep voice rolled through her body like an early morning breeze, making goosebumps appear on her tanned skin. 

Another whine escaped her lips and she nodded at him. “Only you, Coryo.”

She knew how much he loved hearing how she belonged to him. The narrowing of his eyes and deep intake of breath was a byproduct of that. She felt his length jump against her leg and she resisted the urge to drop her thigh and touch him. But she knew Coryo didn't like it when she didn't listen to him. He would keep his promise and not let her cum if she disobeyed.  

“I don't think we should waste this. Should we, Lucy Gray?”, he pressed his nose against hers, rubbing them together softly. He lifted his hand to indicate the white cum still cupped in his hand. She shook her head vehemently. Although she didn't have an idea as to what he had planned, her body desperately wanted to know. 

Eyes locked together, Coriolanus brought his cupped hand to his mouth and dipped his tongue into his seed, letting the white liquid coat his tongue. Moaning at the visual, Lucy Gray lifted her head and sought his lips out with her own. The salty cum had cooled and was a stark contrast to his burning mouth. And she loved it. The taste was nearly indescribable. Her tongue tangled with his and she searched for every last bit of the flavor. She was so lost in their frantic kiss that she didn't even see him moving his hand between her legs. The jolting sensation of the cold liquid meeting her overheated flesh had her gasping into his mouth. Arching her hips up to meet his hand, she tangled her fingers into his cropped hair, needing him to be closer. But his hair was too short and he easily pulled himself back, smirking at the look of frustration on her face. 

“Watch me, Lucy Gray.”, he guided her eyes down with his own to look between her legs. 

Lucy Gray panted as she watched him angle his hand up and use his fingers to guide his cum into her cunt. There was enough to cover her fluttering pussy and flow back up onto her clit. Her hips jolted at the feeling of her heated flesh being coated with him. 

“This is the only place my cum belongs. Do you hear me, Songbird?”, Coriolanus asked her, his intense blue eyes searing into her soul. He pressed the tips of his index and middle fingers inside of her tight entrance, funneling seed into it's rightful place. Her heated walls clamped down on his fingers and milked the spend off the long digits. He began a slow rhythm, pushing them in and out of her, trying to force his cum as deep as he could. He had pinned her thighs wide open with his hips and she used the reprieve to grasp onto him, needing something to anchor her floating mind. Lucy Gray's nails dug into Coriolanus’ muscled shoulders and he basked in the pain. His Lucy Gray was gentle, and the fact that he pushed her to the point of inflicting damage to him appealed to his pride. She was so lost in the feeling of taking him that she didn't care that her blunt nails were drawing blood, staining the air with a copper scent. 

“Yes, Coryo.”, she breathed out shakily. 

Lucy Gray writhed underneath him. Each press of his fingers deep inside her sent shivers down her spine. He watched her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her hips up against his hands. 

He slowed the movements of his fingers and she whimpered in protest. “Look at me, Lucy Gray. You don't get to cum unless you're looking at me.”

His order made her clit throb even more, and she quickly opened her eyes, not wanting to lose the feeling he was invoking inside her. 

“Good girl. Always so good for me.”, Coriolanus whispered against her ear, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of her ear. He increased the thrusts of his fingers, making sure to curl the tips so it brushed that small spongy spot inside of her. That was all it took for the pressure in her stomach to expand, shockwaves of pleasure rolled through her body as she called out his name.

Coryo didn't even wait for her inner muscles to stop clenching before he was retracting his fingers from her and replacing them with the tip of his cock. He slammed in, her wetness and grasping muscles sucking him in like he was already part of her body.  All pretense of softness was gone and his primal desire for her overtook all senses. The seed he had pushed into her with his fingers, bubbled around his cock and formed a white ring around the base of him. It glistened with every thrust and Lucy Gray watched reverently as he pushed in and out of her. 

“Feels so good, Coryo.”, she tightened her grips on his shoulders and used them for leverage to press her hips up into his. She met every thrust with a clench of her inner muscles and the reaction from him was nearly feral. 

The sound that left his mouth was almost a snarl, the hands grasping her hips dug in deep enough to bruise. 

“Fuck you're so beautiful. You're mine, Lucy Gray. Do you understand?”, each word was punctuated with a hard thrust and she swore she could feel him all the way in the back of her throat. Coriolanus was well endowed and the angle he was holding her hips had him slamming as deep inside her as possible. Each movement had his cock squelching in the mess of his previous release and her wetness. 

Her mind was so occluded with pleasure that all she could manage was a nod and a gasp. 

That wasn't enough for him though. Coriolanus growled and moved one of his hands from her hip to her throat. His long fingers, still sticky with their combined fluids, applied pressure to both sides of her neck, slowing the blood flow to her brain. The fogginess of her thoughts only increased her pleasure and she clamped down on his cock, tighter than before. 

“Your pussy is mine, Lucy Gray. Every part of you is mine,” he punctuated with a deep thrust, the tip of himself hitting the entrance to her uterus. He released a little bit of pressure on her neck, Allowing for a rush of blood to fill her head. She gasped but tried to push her throat into his fingers again. If he wasn't so lost in the pleasure of fucking her, he might have smirked.  

Coriolanus released her throat, despite her noises of protest, and brought the fingers down to where they were joined. He could feel the orgasm building inside of him. His balls were tight to his body and he knew he didn't have long. But he refused to come without her. He circled her clit, the mix of their fluids providing enough lube that he was practically slipping off the bundle of nerves with each roll of his fingers. 

“Gonna cum soon, Songbird. Fuck. I'm gonna put a baby in you. Don't care how long it takes. Want everyone to know you're mine. Stomach all full of me.”, His hips began to stutter, his thrusts frantic. His normal, proper speech pattern was husky and shortened. His only thoughts on the pleasure her pussy was causing him, and the need to breed her. 

His words sent a spike of heat right to her clit. It was something she had suspected for awhile. But to hear him say the words in the heat of the moment, it brushed a primal part of her brain that she didn't know existed. The sounds he was making in her ear, vocalizations of his ecstasy, were what sent her over the edge. Knowing that she was the one causing his pleasure–that he was using her body to get off–made her feel powerful and in control despite being pinned under him. Lucy Gray felt her pussy clamp down on him, her muscles contracting and inviting him to cum deep inside her. 

Coriolanus came with a guttural moan–the noise muffled by his face pressing into her neck. His final thrust pushed him deep inside, ropes of his seed coating her inner walls and pooling against her cervix. 

They stayed like that for awhile. Chests expanding in sync, and their breathing labored. Coriolanus still buried deep inside her, pressing soft kisses to the curve of her neck. She ran her fingers over the soft fuzz of his hair rhythmically and nuzzled her nose against his ear every minute or so. 

When he finally softened, Coriolanus pulled out of her. The wet sucking noise made her already flushed face turn a deeper shade of red. Looking down, Lucy Gray noticed that his length was coated in the remnants of his seed and her own cum. 

He pressed a deep kiss to her lips and reached over the side of the bed to grab one of the pillows he had brought. Lips still attached to hers, he lifted her hips gently, mindful of the bruises that were already beginning to form on her tanned skin, and pushed the plush cushion under her hips. He pulled back and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

“Keep your hips up, Lucy Gray. I don't want to see a drop of my seed leaving that pretty pussy of yours,” his voice was deep and laden with animal instinct. “You're mine.”

From then on, Coriolanus wasn't quiet about his intentions during their coupling, and even outside of it. His hand was constantly on her stomach, and he was consistently whispering words of his desires in her ear. Sejanus found it particularly funny watching Lucy Gray blush and fan herself during those moments. 

Despite his words and actions of his intentions to get her pregnant, Coriolanus didn't interfere with Lucy Gray drinking her morning after tea. Although the looks of disdain he shot the mug each time made a primal warmth pool in her belly. And the tea worked. 

Until it didn't. 

Holy fuck, this some dark af shit

…

I need more 👀 👀 👀

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay