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ginnypotter23 · 14 days ago

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in sickness and in health

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader | Arranged marriage

summary: After Aemond gets sick, you, his wife, take it upon yourself to take care of him. And he doesn't want you to. Or does he?

warnings: some swearing, insecurities (him), PiV, fingering, sloppy make-outs, Aemond is a little mean, creampie (this is fiction, use protection), not really enemies to lovers but he doesnt really like you......at first

5.6K

Note: hello i am back. also i giggled writing this ngl

MDNI

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Aemond didn't love you. At least, not really. He knew his marriage had been nothing more than a political match, and he always did what was expected of him.

But he didn't love you.

It had been hard for you, at first. Especially the first few weeks. When you were younger, you had dreamt of a loving marriage with a handsome husband. And while your husband was handsome, your marriage was not loving.

It was late, and you were sitting on a chaise in your shared chambers. Outside it was pouring, every now and then a lightning flash drawing your attention. Aemond had left right after dinner, wanting to fly with Vhagar to ‘clear his mind’,

You believed it was just an excuse for him not to spend time with you.

And now, hours later, he was still gone. You were worried for him, worried that he might get struck by lightning, or perhaps even deadly sick from the cold wind and the heavy rain.

You sighed again, standing up and looking out of the window. It was pitch dark outside. You knew your husband was smart, deadly so, but still…

You turned quickly when you heard the door creak open, revealing him. Utterly soaked to the bone.

His long white hair was curly from the rain, and the cloak he was wearing was dripping rain onto the stone floor.

“Aemond…” you said softly, stepping a bit closer to him. But he didn't reply. He didn't even look into your direction.

He walked towards the dining table, removing his cloak and hanging it over a wooden chair.

His boots were caked in mud, his tunic and breeches clearly wet as well. He walked over to the fireplace, sitting down on the divan. You fidgeted with your hands, moving to grab a soft cloth from your nightstand.

“You’re soaked,” you said, slowly moving over to him and holding out the fabric to him, “you’ll get sick if you don't remove your wet clothes, or… or at least take a warm bath.”

He didn't accept the cloth, however, deciding the fireplace was far more interesting to look at than you.

“I am not some weakling to fall ill from the rain,” he replied, standing back up again. He turned his back to you, his hands unclasping his sword belt and hanging it off the side of another chair. “I have ridden Vhagar countless of times in worse weather than this,” he said gruffly, and you weren't sure if he was bragging or simply stating a fact. “I will not fall ill from this.”

His tone was cold and dismissive, his eye scanning his dagger for any imperfections. “Do not worry about me, wife,” he said, and the way he said the word wife so coldly made your stomach drop. “I have no need for your… attentions.”

He walked over to the cupboard, pouring a glass of wine only for himself. And he still didn't look at you.

You nodded stiffly, turning to sit back down onto the chaise.

Oh… how he hurt you. You always believed you could handle an indifferent husband. A husband who barely spoke to you, barely showed you any affection. But this? The way he spoke to you, as if you were the most annoying person he’d ever met… it hurt.

You turned your head again, seeing the way his breeches and tunic were still wet, his hair too. He would definitely get sick in the morning. And a small part of you really hoped he did.

“You could have said thank you, at least,” you said suddenly, surprising even yourself.

Aemond paused, his grip on his cup tightening ever so slightly. The only sound that filled the chamber for the longest moment was the sound of rain pattering against the window, the sound of wind howling outside.

Finally, he turned, his cold eye meeting yours.

“Thank you?” he said coldly, something close to a scowl on his face. “For what? Your unwelcome concern? Your constant meddling?”

He stepped closer, his tall frame blocking the candlelight. “I have no reason to be thankful,” he said, “you are my wife, in name only. Do not forget your place.”

His warning was clear; leave him be, or face his anger. He scoffed, turning away and walking over to the window again.

You stared at his back, barely even breathing. Then, your embarrassment turned to annoyance.

You stared at your husband, seeing his wet clothing.

Oh, he would definitely be sick come morning. And you would have fun saying ‘told you so’ as he lay in bed, unable to do anything.

You stood up, walking over to your husband. You placed a warm hand on his arm, and you could feel him tense for a moment.

“I’m going to bed,” you said softly, sweetly. “Goodnight.”

You paused for a moment, just long enough to hear him quietly mutter a ‘goodnight’ back.

You turned, walking over to your large four-poster bed where you disrobed and put on your nightgown. Aemond didn't turn to watch, simply staring outside of the window. When he had finished his wine, he decided to join you in bed. He undressed, pulling his soaked clothing off and slipping nude into bed. He lay still on his back, staring at the canopy above. And though he was quite cold, he didn't move closer to you.

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You felt awfully giddy waking up the next morning. Your husband hadn’t left for training yet, something he usually did at the crack of dawn.

He was sick, you were sure of it. He had been coughing and shivering all night.

You got up silently, rushing to your closet and putting on your most extravagant nightgown and robe you had. You’d even done your hair and squeezed your cheeks for a lovely flush.

Aemond coughed weakly, looking a lot more pale than usual. You slowly walked over to his side of the bed, holding the same cloth you had offered him the night before. You deftly wiped his brow, tutting softly.

“Oh, dear…” you said softly, “that doesn’t sound good…” Aemond just opened his one eye halfway, his temperature only a bit higher, but his entire body sore.

“I am fine,” his rough voice said, clearly not even having the energy to sound as angry with you as he wanted. He looked over at you, seeing the nightgown you were wearing. He had never seen you wear the damn thing before, not even on your wedding night.

“Do not play nursemaid, wife-” he said in a warning tone, before coughing again. “I have no need for it.”

You just hummed, your head tilting to the side a bit. “I see… shall I fetch maid Alta, then?” You watched as he clenched his jaw at the mention of the maid, the woman anything but gentle with her rough handling of things. He stayed silent.

“I didn't think so,” you hummed simply, “you’ll have to do with me.”

You stood up, grabbing another thick blanket to put on top of him. Aemond stayed silent, mad that his wife beat him. The last thing he wanted was that damned maid taking care of him with that loud voice of hers. He much preferred your gentle touch, though he’d never admit it out loud.

You moved over to the open window, closing the heavy curtains and plunging your chamber into darkness again. “My maid shall fetch the maester,” you said softly, the darkness helping his headache lessen. “In the meantime, rest.”

The heavy wool blanket felt nice around him, the warmth it gave helping the shivering lessen. He watched you move around, the extravagant nightgown billowing behind you. It looked nice, the blush on your cheeks looking lovely as you placed a cup of water on his bedside table.

He would pick you over Alta any day.

“Make sure your maid hurries,” he said with a rough voice, “so I do not need to suffer your attentions any longer.”

He tried to sound cruel, but he ended up just sounding exhausted and uncomfortable. His body hurt, his head pounded and his throat felt like sandpaper. His one eye closed, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He tried hard to fall asleep, wanting just a small moment where he didn’t have to feel his painful body. And when he did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with odd visions, shifting between his dragon ride on Vhagar’s back, to visions of your lovely face, smiling down at him and taking care of him with soft hands.

Yet every single time, he would jolt back awake, being sent straight into a coughing fit that hurt his sore body further.

The maester established that he indeed had a cold, and the man moved to make a brew for him that would hopefully lessen his sore throat and rebuild his strength. He ordered the prince a lot of hydration, rest and warmth.

“Thank you, maester,” your soft voice said, and you moved closer to your husband. You wiped his brow again, seeing his tired eye look at you. You leaned closer, carding a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“Told you so…” you whispered sweetly, before exiting the chamber along with the maester, ready to take the brew with you that he’d make.

Aemond watched you leave, feeling a flicker of irritation at your words. You had told him so, but still… he couldn’t help but smile weakly at your teasing, feeling a flutter of warmth in his chest.

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After a moment, you reentered the chamber, holding a warm mug filled with the brew. It smelled quite bitter, but the maester had said it would be good for the prince.

You sat down next to him on his bed, helping him sit a bit straighter.

“Drink this,” you said softly, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, “the maester said it will help a great deal.”

He held the mug, your hand supporting it as well, and he started drinking the bitter liquid. It was awful, and he felt his head spin the slightest bit.

But you stayed close to him, making sure he was alright and that he finished the brew.

“Just a bit more,” you whispered, “then I’ll let you sleep.”

“Stop coddling me like a child,” he said with a strained voice, his words lacking his earlier bite, "I can finish the brew by my damn self.” Even as he said this, he allowed you to help him finish the mug, the warm bitter liquid soothing his throat. He handed you the empty mug, and you placed it back on his nightstand. Then. you helped him back under the warm blankets, making sure he was comfortable.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, barely audible. You almost missed it, wanting to call him a child for the way he was acting, but his words made you hold your tongue.

“Rest,” you said instead, blowing out the two candles and plunging the bedchamber into darkness. You stood up, closing the wooden door behind you. Even though the day was young, you decided to stay inside. Just in case he needed you. And to your surprise, you didn't mind that. -------------------

You decided to go back into the bedchamber in the evening, carrying a warm, watery broth. You set it down on his nightstand, lighting a few candles. Then, you softly touched his arm, looking down at his face.

“Darling… wake up,” you said softly, seeing his one eye slowly open, "I brought you something light to eat.”

You watched him wake up slowly, groaning softly as he tried to sit up on his own. Then, you shifted to look at his eyepatch, a frown forming on your face.

“That must be giving you such a headache…” you mumbled as your hand moved towards the leather. Aemond tensed immediately, his hand coming up to grab your wrist. “Leave it,” he said, his voice still rough from his cold. “I am used to it.”

Even though you listened to his tired words, you still persisted, gently removing the leather eyepatch. Aemond clenched his fists, staring down at his lap as he was suddenly exposed. And he hated the feeling. He hated feeling so vulnerable, so exposed, in front of his wife, no less. But still, as you were sitting next to him, not saying anything, he couldn’t push you away. Your presence felt soothing, almost nice. And he didn't wish to part from it.

You grabbed the warm broth, bringing the spoon to his lips. To your surprise, he didn't complain this time that you were treating him like a child. He simply parted his lips, allowing you to feed him. The broth tasted nice, made exactly right so it wasn’t too heavy for his stomach.

You quietly looked at your husband, seeing his sapphire eye and the scarred tissue for the first time since marrying him two moons ago. You had only heard stories about it, of how frightening he looked. But now, seeing him so sick and exposed, you only wanted to take care of him, to make sure he was alright.

“The maester told me you are barely using the balm he made for your eye,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence between you two. “He said it helps with redness and… and soreness.”

Aemond’s one eye flicked over to yours, annoyance overcoming him again. How dare you speak to the maester about him? About how he takes care of his own body? It was no one's business but his.

He opened his mouth, wanting to shout at you for your disobedience as a wife, but no sound came out when you gently brought another spoonful to his lips. He sighed, deciding to just eat the broth in silence instead.

It was just… difficult. No one had cared for him in such a gentle way before, had scolded him for the way he treated his own body. And certainly no one had seen him so vulnerable.

Suddenly, the thought of you, his wife, seeing all of his scarred ugliness, filled him with a deep, unadulterated dread. He wanted to look the other way, hide his disfigurement from you, but you gently raised another spoonful of broth.

He swallowed before speaking again. “I have been taking care of myself since I was but a young boy,” he stated, "I do not need anyone’s help.”

You sighed quietly, shaking your head. This man--your own husband--had denied you a lot. The loving marriage you had always dreamt of, any sort of affection, attention, even conversations. He hadn’t even touched you after the consummation.

So you would deny him this.

You helped him finish the broth, standing up to put the bowl away on the far end table. When you returned to his side, you were holding the balm.

Aemond tensed when he saw the ointment, his single eye narrowing. “I am not a child,” he hissed lowly, a clear warning in his voice. Even though she had seen it correctly, his scar tissue a lot more red than usual and the skin feeling tight and itchy, he did not wish to be coddled. He didn't need anyone. He didn't need his wife. But even as he thought that, the thought of your gentle touch caring for him even when his visage was so incredibly flawed, was a welcome one.

He clenched his jaw, searching your face for any revulsion, but he only saw a determined look on your face.

“Keep complaining like that and I'll treat you like a damn child," you replied, catching Aemond off guard.

His wife? Swearing? That was… unexpected.

He stayed still as you swiped some of the balm on your finger, then gently applying the soothing cream to his scars. And he couldn't help but let out a shuddering, relieved sigh. It felt heavenly on his skin, soothing the angry tissue. And your touch was so soft, so gentle, it made his chest ache with something he didn't dare name.

He studied your face, seeing the concentrated look on your face. Your brows furrowed slightly, the candlelight dancing on your complexion. He allowed his gaze to trail over the bridge of your nose, following the gentle curve of your lips. You looked… lovely. He had never allowed himself to properly look at you, not wanting to either be distracted or perhaps even disappointed. But looking at you now, seeing the way you were so focused on gently caring for him, he felt an emotion bubbling up inside of him. Something he didn't dare name, even if he did not know what it was.

You pulled back, closing the lid of the balm. “There we are…” you said softly, clearly content with your own work. “Go back to sleep. I’ll bring this with me, so you don’t put it on again.”

He watched as you grabbed his eyepatch, blowing the candles out again. And Aemond felt… a lot better. The warm broth had warmed him up from the inside, having stilled his aches a bit. The balm on his eye had felt heavenly, too, relaxing the angry tissue.

He felt his lone eye slowly close, exhaustion overcoming him. But this time he felt a lot lighter, a lot better. And this time, he slept well. And he dreamt of you.

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Two more days passed just like that. You took care of your husband, feeding him and applying his balm. You wiped his brow, helped him drink and even brought his chamber pot so he didn't need to strain himself too much by having to walk to the other room. It was nice, having your presence constantly with him. Even doing the dirty work for him, you did so without complaining.

Every single time he woke up from his slumber, you were by his side, flashing him that sweet, worried smile. He had hated your constant presence at first, but now, if he woke up and didn't see you immediately, he could feel a frown forming on his face.

By the third day, he already felt a lot better. His body didn't feel as sore, his throat also feeling a lot better. His headache had disappeared completely. By the end of the day, he was strong enough to drink his water on his own. He sat upright, spotting you on a chair next to the bed, asleep with a book in your hand. Aemond stared at you for a moment, the setting sun making your skin glow in the loveliest of ways.

He reached his hand out, grabbing your arm and softly squeezing it. You slowly woke up, eyes heavy and a bit puffy from sleep. For a moment, you both just looked at each other. He watched as you sat straighter, stretching your back and straightening out your dress.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, "I didn't mean to fall asleep.” You set the book down, turning to face him more. “How are you feeling?”

Aemond watched as you stretched and straightened your dress, noticing you yourself also looked quite tired. He realised how selfless you had been these past days, clearly neglecting yourself in order to take care of him. He swallowed heavily, clearing his throat.

“Better,” he said, his voice no longer rough from his fever, but only a bit rough from disuse. “I believe the worst of it has passed.”

And he meant it. The fog in his mind had lifted, his body not as sore and feeling a lot stronger. He sat a bit straighter, wincing a bit as he used his muscles. He then looked at you again, his gaze drifting down as he saw how your chest rose and fell as you breathed, the soft swell of your breasts underneath your gown. His gaze moved further down your arm, until it rested for a moment on your ring finger, where he saw your wedding ring.

It felt strange, having been so cared for these past days.

“Thank you,” he said finally, looking back into your eyes, “for taking care of me.”

You just hummed, standing up from the chair. You looked at him, a surprisingly playful glint in your eyes. “It was in my vows,” you said, your lips curving up the slightest bit.

“I shall call for my maid. She will prepare a bath for you,” you looked around for a moment, noticing the bedsheets also needed to be changed.

“I will have a bath after you.”

Aemond was a bit caught off guard by your teasing words. It had been in your vows, he remembered the spoken words ‘in sickness and in health’ as if it were yesterday. But after the way he had treated you, he hadn't expected you to tease him.

A small smile formed on his lips, and he nodded his head. “A bath sounds wonderful,” he said, “thank you.”

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After the bath, he had put on simple linen nightclothes, lying back in bed. The bath had felt wonderful, and the clean sheets were nice as well. But he still felt exhausted.

He watched as your maid entered the chamber, moving ahead to refresh the bath for you. You entered later, wearing only a robe, clearly ready for your own bath. You looked at your husband, seeing some of the colour having returned to his face. “Was it nice?” you asked him, walking closer to him.

Aemond had already shifted underneath the warm blankets, nodding drowsily. “The warmth was most pleasant,” he replied, studying your face. Then, he softly patted the spot beside him, an almost pleading look in his eyes. “Join me,” he said quietly, “just for a moment.”

You hesitated for just a second, before making your way over to the other side of the bed.

“Alright,” you whispered, “until my bath is ready.”

Aemond watched as you hesitated for a moment, but moved to settle next to him in bed regardless. And truly, he couldn't blame your hesitation. These past moons of married life, he had never once been kind to you, never tried to initiate any closeness. He had been distant, cold, sometimes even mocking.

He looked at you as you crawled onto the bed, sitting down next to him. You weren’t quite touching him, but still sat quite close. He moved his arm behind you, not quite embracing you, but still an attempt at intimacy. And for Aemond, it was a huge step.

He looked at you for a moment, noticing the way you grew less tense, the way you allowed yourself to relax in his presence, and he felt that unfamiliar warmth bloom even more intensely in his chest.

He cleared his throat, making you look at him. “These past days…” he started slowly, trying to gather his thoughts, “you have been a true wife to me. And I am… truly grateful.”

The words felt a bit forced, a bit clumsy, but they meant a lot. You felt that same flutter in your chest as he did, a warmth blooming on your cheeks.

“You do not need to thank me,” you whispered softly. You looked at him, feeling more drawn to him than you had ever felt before. But before you could act upon those feelings, your maid entered the chamber again.

“I must bathe,” you breathed out, quickly moving away and standing up. But before you slipped away into the other chamber, you shot him a playful smile over your shoulder. And to Aemond, that meant everything.

By the time you returned from your bath, Aemond had already fallen into a deep sleep. You smiled softly, watching him for a moment.

“Goodnight,” you whispered after a moment, exiting the chamber.

You took care of your husband the following days, until all he had left was a soft cough and a little sniffle. Aemond’s mind was a lot more clear now, and while he should feel happy because of that, he actually felt quite annoyed. Because all he could think of was you.

You, his sweet wife that had cared for him so diligently. His wife that hadn't even flinched when you saw his full scar, but instead taken care of it.

And you, his beautiful wife, that he had only taken once because of his own bitterness.

He remembered the wedding night. It had been short, awkward, probably not even having felt that good for you. You had let out a few moans, most of them muffled by your own hand. But they had sounded… cute.

Aemond cleared his throat, deciding to get up and get dressed instead of remembering his consummation. He was a prince, and he definitely was not in love.

He had already put on his breeches, reaching for his tunic when you suddenly entered the chamber again.

You gasped softly when you saw him half undressed, quickly covering your flushed face with your hands. “I’m sorry!” you squeaked out, “I-I didn't know you were not dressed yet!”

Aemond didn't feel annoyed however. He felt quite pleased with your flustered reaction. He calmly slid the linen tunic over his shoulders, leaving the top open.

“Do not worry, wife,” he said simply. “In fact, I am quite… flattered by your reaction.

You slowly lowered your hands, looking at your husband. He looked good. Great, actually. He was no longer sick, and he looked fit and normal again.

You watched as he walked closer to you, his eye locked onto yours. “In fact, I am intrigued by it. By you.”

You flushed a deeper red, Aemond caging you in against the wall and him. “By me?” you asked in a whisper, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Aye… by you, my lady. By your sweetness… your innocence…” he trailed off, a hand moving up to softly touch your jaw.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “My innocence?”

He just nodded again. He leaned even closer, his lips awfully close to yours. You could feel his warm breath, smell the scent of the salts of the bath he had taken earlier.

“I wanted to thank you,” he rumbled quietly, “for taking such great care of me this past week. I wish to… return the favor. To take care of you.”

You swallowed heavily, shaking your head. “You don't need to thank me-” you managed to whisper, your heart pounding fast in your chest.

Aemond just let out a low chuckle, moving closer.

“I want to,” he replied in a whisper, finally attaching his lips to yours.

He kissed you deeply, allowing all of the pent up longing and denied intimacy to finally pour out. He held your waist tightly, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours. He softly nipped your bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside when you gasped softly.

It was needy and sloppy, and Aemond relished in it. His hands started moving up your body, groping your soft breasts through your gown. You whined into the kiss, your back arching. Aemond groaned in reply, moving his wet kisses down your throat.

You felt his hips press into yours, a hardness pressing against your stomach.

Oh, but he felt so good.

His hands moved towards the back of your dress, undoing the clasps until the fabric fell away and pooled around your feet. Aemond growled softly when he felt your hands hold onto his tunic, and he easily picked you up, carrying you towards the grand bed.

You felt so hot, and your heart was beating so fast, yet you felt so excited. You couldn't believe your husband was undressing you, making you feel all sorts of things in the morning. It felt naughty, it felt… right.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed out, staring down at your figure splayed out underneath him. He leaned down again, kissing you deeply. You parted your lips immediately, needing him more than air. His hands slid underneath your shift, before pulling it up and off of you completely.

His hand groped your breast, pinching the nipple until it was hard and straining. He parted from the kiss, taking it into his mouth.

You moaned out, arching your back at the feeling. “O-oh, yes-!” you gasped, egging him on. He groaned at your eagerness, his cock twitching in his breeches. You were so responsive, so soft. He had never been so turned on in his life.

“You're mine,” he rumbled lowly, his hips grinding against your naked core. You moaned even louder, the drag of his thick, clothed cock against your aching clit making your head spin with pleasure.

“Do you feel that?” he panted as he looked back at your face, “do you feel how hard I am for you? How hard you make your husband’s cock?” he smirked, making you gasp out at his words. “Feel it,” he whispered the order, his dark eye meeting yours, “it's yours, after all.”

He guided your hand with his own, moving it down until it was pressed against the hard ridge of his cock in his breeches. It throbbed at your touch, and you moaned again.

“Gods,” you moaned out, his lips attaching to your collarbone, “I need you so badly.”

Aemond smirked against your skin, licking a stripe up your throat. “Tell me what you need,” he said, groaning when he felt your hand move over his cock.

“I need you,” you whined out, "I want you to make me feel good.” You swallowed heavily.

“Please.”

Aemond groaned again, leaning down to press his lips hard against yours. “Then have me.”

He undressed quickly, nearly stumbling, before crawling back on top of you.

His thick cock pressed against your stomach, spreading pre-cum over your soft skin. He groaned almost as if he was in pain, and he was sure he was going to be in pain if he didn't feel your warm, wet walls clenching around his cock soon.

His hand nearly trembled as he slid his hand down to your cunt, swiping up some of your wetness. And, fuck, you were drenched.

He groaned out, pressing his head in the crook of your neck as he slid a finger inside of your wet heat.

“By the Gods,” he panted, sliding his digit in and out of you, “you feel so good, so warm-”

You moaned out, hips writhing under his ministrations. Your nails were digging into his shoulders, moans of his name escaping your lips.

He slid a second finger inside, stretching you out in the most delicious way. And when his thumb pressed against your clit, you weren't able to form words anymore.

He thrust his fingers in and out of you, making you more and more wet. He wanted to make you come on his fingers, he really did, but he just couldn't wait any longer.

He slid his fingers out, the wet noise your cunt made making you whimper.

He reached down, grabbing his hard cock and lining it up with your sopping wet core. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, my dear wife,” he groaned softly. He teased you just for a moment with the tip, just enough for him to hear those cute, needy whines again. And then, he slid inside of you, his thick member stretching you out.

“Aemond-!” you moaned out, your head dropping back against the pillows. This was different, so different from your consummation. This was hot, and needy and it felt amazing.

“My wife,” he panted into the crook of your neck. He stayed still inside of you for a moment, allowing you to adjust. He lifted his head, pressing a needy kiss to your lips.

“You take me so well,” he panted, sliding out until his tip remained inside of you, before filling you again. You moaned out, and his strong hands guided you to wrap your thighs around his waist. And when you finally did, he started fucking into you. His rhythm was steady, deep, aimed to pleasure you as much as himself. He groaned out, kissing you as his hips slammed against yours, the bed creaking underneath you.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he rambled, probably more to himself than to you. “Gonna fill this pussy up-”

You held onto him, Aemond feeling your body tighten and coil underneath his. He moved his free hand down, rubbing harshly at your clit, wanting to make you come undone so badly.

“Come for me,” he panted against your lips, his lone eye meeting yours. “Let me fucking feel it-”

You gasped out, whining and mewling as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter and--

He stared deeply into your eyes, kissing you hard when you finally came--hard.

Your back arched off of the bed, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, nearly forcing him out. But he pressed himself harder against you, moaning your name as you came.

“Fuck, fuck-” he panted, slamming himself deep into you one last time, staying deep inside as he came hard, painting your insides white with his thick cum.

“Gods-” he panted, his voice nearly a whine as he was overcome with pleasure. Your nails digging into his shoulders only made his pleasure last longer, and after what felt like ages, the final waves of both of your climaxes finally ebbed.

He collapsed onto the bed beside you, holding your trembling form close. For the longest moment, neither of you talked. You just curled up against your husband, breathing in his scent.

“My princess,” he panted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That was… amazing. You are amazing. I cannot believe how… how blind I have been.”

A soft smile formed on your lips, his words making you feel lighter than you had felt in ages. You looked up at him, seeing that same smile looking back at you. He kissed you softly, covering you with warm blankets.

“I’m just glad you see me now,” you whispered in reply.

He held you even closer.

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