justinalovee

[justinalovee]

This is you

100% yes, it is!

[justinalovee]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬

Pairing: Criston Cole x reader

Warnings: Smut, violence, swearing

1.08

You stare at the hot wax dripping onto the surface of the scroll in Alicent’s hands; the colour of the wax nearly matches the green shade of her gown. As always, the queen’s hair and clothing were immaculate; however, the smugness on her face was tainting her natural beauty.

You had gone to speak with Gwayne at his quarters due to his request to speak in private, but moments after you arrived, three members of his house appeared, and now you had to fake interest in anything they had to say. You found it awfully odd they came instead of meeting him elsewhere.

Alicent’s lips curve into a smile, but her brown eyes remain still as she says, “I do hope we haven’t interrupted anything.”

“Of course not.”

“Actually," Gwayne stands behind you and places his hand on your shoulder. “I was hoping to have some alone time with my wife before the celebrations for Prince Daeron’s name day start this afternoon.”

Lady Lynesse giggles, “we shall leave you to it; after all, one cannot perform their duty with an audience.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

Still forcing a smile on her face; Alicent remains seated while her two aunties stand to leave. “When are you going to Winterfell princess?"

“Tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” her eyes move from you to her brother. “I thought you may have been joining the princess on her travels. You haven’t been introduced to the lord and lady of Winterfell yet.”

“I’m sure Lord and Lady Stark’s attention will solely be on Princess Meera,” Gawyne pats at your shoulder lightly. “And from what I’ve heard, they dote on her.”

The look on the queen's face is hard to read. Smoothing out the skirts of her dress after she finally stands, she addresses her aunt Lynesse, “Lord and lady Stark are still reeling from the death of their eldest son, Lord Edric.”

You swallow down the bitterness burning at the back of your throat at the mere mention of Edric. Clearing your throat, you get to your feet. “Speaking of my daughter, I should be going. She should be finishing her lesson right about now and is yet to pick a dress for tonight.”

Gwayne gives you an apologetic look.

You kiss him on the cheek, “I will see you tonight for Daeron’s name-day celebration.”

—

Grinning, you continue to grind your clit against Criston’s cock. You let the knight slide the tip of it between your folds, coating him in your slick but not allowing him to go inside you fully.

It would be a few hours until Raya arrived to help you get dressed for the festivities, and since Rhaenyra had taken your daughter to her son's nursery to play, you were taking full advantage of having Criston all to yourself.

“…Princess… please…”

Kissing the side of his neck, you fake innocence and ask, “please what?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he whines. “I need to be inside you.”

Deciding that you had teased him enough, you lower yourself onto him, panting in high Valyrian as his thickness stretches you out. He moans into your skin. Your fingers curl into his thick dark hair while he holds onto your hips, keeping your body close to his while thrusting up into you.

“Oh,” you gasp. “I’m almost—there.”

“I know; I can feel it.”

A slurry of incoherent words falls from your mouth when Criston lets go of your hip and brings his hand between your legs to rub at your sensitive clit.

“Gods—fuck!”

Pressing your lips to his, you can feel him smirking into the kiss, probably because of the way your thighs were shaking. Only moments after you come apart, Criston reaches his peak, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he comes inside you.

Tenderly, you stroke the back of his head, your fingers threading lightly through his hair. You stay like this until the position starts to cause an aching pain in your legs, making you finally move off him.

Soon as your back comes into contact with the soft mattress, Criston rolls to hover over you. He lightly pecks at your lips, “I’ll need to leave soon.”

“I know.”

“I wish I could stay here, with you.”

“I know.”

A look you couldn’t pinpoint as anger or disappointment crosses his features. The knight gets swiftly to his feet and starts to redress in silence. Sensing his change in mood, you do the same, which seems pointless since you’d be changing shortly, but to keep up appearances, you would put the gown you had on previously back on.

When you’re finally about to tie the fabric at the back of the dress, Criston loops the small pieces of fabric round his fingers and starts to lace it together. His nose brushes against the back of your neck as he asks, “What if there was a way for us to be together more freely?”

“I wish there was, but as we’ve discussed before, there isn’t.”

—

The fake smile that has been plastered across your face for hours finally causes your cheeks to start hurting. Each time you attempted to find your sister, a member of house Hightower would stop and, in different variations, ask why you’ve not had another child yet. As they rambled on, the only thing you cared about was Meera; the hour was late, and she would need to be settled for bed soon.

Letting out a deep breath through your nose, you struggle to hide your irritation as Hobert Hightower and his wife are the latest to quiz you; it’s not until you spot your sworn shield that you finally break away.

You approach the sidelines of the hall with a genuine smile spreading across your face as you watch Rhaenyra dancing with your daughter.

“Ser Criston.”

“Princess.”

There’s a coldness in his voice that makes him sound almost unrecognisable, but it was him. Criston keeps his focus straight ahead, not glancing even a look in your direction.

“Have you—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Gwayne comes over and offers you his hand. “May I have this dance, wife?”

“Of course.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the middle of the dance floor. It takes Gwayne a few moments before he speaks again, “you handled my sister and aunts well today; I know that it must be challenging. But I— is something wrong?”

“No, no,” you smile politely at Gwayne, keeping your eyes firmly on him instead of trying to find Ser Criston among the crowd of moving people. The chill in the air wasn't due to the sun disappearing behind the clouds; it was a sign of something amiss. A change in the atmosphere. “My apologies, I got distracted.”

“It’s alright,” he smiles softly. “The suggestion I made previously about you and…”

“Gods, now is not the time.”

As he keeps in time with the music, Gwayne spins you around and then pulls you back towards him, showing a bit more affection than necessary, which causes you to press against his chest. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ve already got a daughter, and I would be content with that. I don’t feel the same desperation for an heir that my father does. I… at least for a little longer… Perhaps the stress from others breathing so heavily down our necks is what’s causing a delay. When you and Meera return from Winterfell, I want you to join me in old town.”

A piercing scream rips through the hall before you can answer him.

The music stops.

The dancing stops.

The happiness stops.

Gwayne holds you close to him protectively, preventing you from getting knocked over by the mass of people barging by to get to the far side of the room where the commotion is coming from.

“Can you see Rhaenyra? Meera is with her. I need to find them.” Stepping out of his grip, you frantically look around for any signs of them. “Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra!”

“Over there!” Gwayne points to a nearby table that your sister was standing on, holding Meera in her arms.

Guilt smacks you in the gut full force; you should never have allowed your daughter to attend. Several people bash into you as you shove your way through the crowd, and it doesn’t take you long to be separated from Gwayne, who was following behind you. You’re momentarily stunned when an elbow collides with your nose, but Meera’s screams distract you from the pain of it.

Rhaenyra grabs your hand and helps pull you up onto the table, and you take Meera from her arm and into yours. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” You kiss the crown of her head, then look up at Rhaenyra, “I’ve lost sight of Gwayne.”

“He got out of the crowd with Otto. I don’t know where Laenor is. He wasn’t with me when the incident started. Father is safe, though.”

Looking in the direction she is pointing, you see your father, Alicent, your brothers, and Helaena being guarded by the Kingsguard.

As the large crowd dwindles, the blood splattered across the floor becomes more obvious. Rhaenyra grips your wrist tightly, her face displaying a horrified expression as she asks, “Who is that?”

You feel your heart sink; you finally realise why there was such chaos. Criston was brutally beating Ser Joffrey Lonmouth, his eyes wide with a rage you could never have imagined in him.

—

There was a dampness in the air. The wetness from the grass soaks the soles of your thin shoes that are only meant to be worn inside as you walk across the grass to reach the weirwood tree.

Criston was kneeling in front of the tree; even in the dark, you could see the tears in his eyes as he glanced up at you. He swallows thickly, “princess.”

“I’ve spoken with my father. You’re still a member of the kingsguard and will remain my sworn shield, but you aren’t permitted to leave the red keep, for now at least.”

Chewing on your lip, you look away. If you spoke, your voice would break, and you feared the stream of tears threatening to spill wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry.”

“What happened?”

Criston gets to his feet and takes a step towards you cautiously. “He knew and was taunting me for it. I hit him once, then he withdrew a blade—”

“Stop,” you sob. “I don’t wish to hear anymore.”

When you turn to face him, Criston’s brows pull together as he takes in the swelling on your face and the dried blood underneath your nose. “What happened to your face?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You wipe at the tears on your cheek with the sleeve of your nightgown. You weren’t crying because he killed a man; it was scaring you that, despite Criston killing a man, you still yearned for him.

—

When the carriage goes through the gates of the courtyard, you feel a sense of dread, a sickness you couldn’t get over. It’s not until you are finally sitting across from your father in his private quarters that you feel a sense of calm.

“You were in Winterfell much longer than intended. Does this have anything to do with what happened on your brother's name day? Do you wish to change your sworn protector?”

“It’s nothing to do with that night,” you answer truthfully. “So much is changing that I’d really appreciate having the same sworn shield as before. There is nobody I trust more than Ser Criston to keep my daughter safe and…” you pause and place your hand across your stomach. “And he will be a fine protector to mine and Gwayne’s child as well.”

Instead of looking delighted, the king stares at you concerned. “have you been ill because of the pregnancy?

“The day before we intended to come home, I had a dizzy spell in the presence of Lady Stark, who summoned the maester, who came to the conclusion I was unfit to travel, and for the first moon I was vomiting violently, but it has since settled.”

“You’ve been there for nearly four moons.”

You tug at a strand of your dress, feeling a sense of shame. “Finding out I’m pregnant in Edric’s home felt wrong. I owed it to the Starks and to Meera to stay longer.”

“Oh,” he places his atop yours. “I’m happy as long as my daughter is happy. Every child is a blessing.”

“I am happy, as I imagine Gwayne shall be.”

“Does Rhaenyra know yet?”

Your mouth goes dry before the lie even comes out, “no, nobody else knows yet.”

The first thing you did when the maester suggested you may be pregnant was write to your elder sister. You responded back and forth a few times, but as always, everything was kept a secret between the two of you.

As you rise to leave, you kiss your father on the cheek. “If you excuse me, I’m going to find Gwayne and inform him before Meera blurts it out. She’s very excited to have a sibling to boss around.”

“I suppose you’ll be needing to tell your shield as well,” your father says. “So that he knows how vulnerable you’ll be soon.”

You smile and nod as you leave, hoping your father is as blind to you as he is to Rhaenyra.

—

Like a moth to a flame, you were drawn to Criston, and it didn’t take you long to find him. You were informed he was in the white sword tower after doing a night shift; he would probably be sleeping, but you wanted to tell Criston in person before he found out from anyone else.

You knock on the door lightly, and a few moments later, it swings open, and a heavy-eyed Criston stands in front of you.

“Princess?”

“Ser Criston.”

He looks stunned for a moment and then scans the area for anyone else that could be watching. Stepping aside, he lets you by before closing the door behind him. “Forgive me; if I had known you were returning today, I wouldn’t have volunteered for the late shift last night.”

“I’ve missed.” It was no lie; you thought about the night every day.

“I must admit I didn’t expect your absence at court to leave me feeling so hollow.” Gently, he cups the side of your face and says, “Do me the favour of not venturing so far and for so long next time without me; I could not find peace wondering if you and Princess Meera were safe and well.”

Smiling, you take his hand and rest it on your stomach.

“Are you…”

“I’m expecting.”

You don't need to exchange any more words at that moment; the look you share is enough to know that you've found each other again.

[justinalovee]

Different days

Pairing| Leon S Kennedy x Claire Redfield

MINORS DNI. 18+ only!

“Fuck,” Leon hissed.

He had somehow managed to break into the police station to rescue Claire without being caught, and she was gone.

“Where’s Claire?” The young girl asked, confused.

“She’s not here, Sherry, fuck!” He yelled . They needed to get out of town pronto, but he wasn’t leaving without Claire.

The young girl was upset. She had grown really fond of Claire and was disappointed she wasn’t there. As she looked at the vent through which she had escaped the day before, she squinted her eyes. Something was different.

“Leon, what’s that?” She pointed at bits of wall plaster lying on the ground.

Signing Leon leaned down and shone his torch on it. He was surprised to see something carved into the wall above the vent; Claire had left them a one-word clue.

“What does it say?” Sherry asked, crouching down next to him.

“Irons, it says Irons,” he gulped down.

“Just put your thumb here and push down,” Leon says, unsure.

He was trying to teach Sherry how to use a lighter, which seemed like a beneficial idea when he suggested it. But now watching the young girl holding the lighter, he wasn’t entirely confident she wouldn’t burn her fingers.

He had come up with a plan, a very basic plan that could easily blow up in his face, but it was all he had.

“Are you sure about this, Sherry? If you don’t want to or change your mind, it’s fine; we will find another way,” he said sincerely. The last thing he wanted to do was put a child at risk for no reason, but the young girl was hell-bent on helping him find their red-headed friend.

“Claire would do the same for us,” she said, smiling weakly. Sherry felt scared but was trying her best not to show it.

“Okay, then, we should try and get some rest before nightfall,” he said before putting the small orange lighter on the table.

—

“Please let me know once you’re ready,” Leon said, while Sherry checked she had everything she needed.

The young girl took a deep breath before nodding, “Ready.”

Leon hoisted her up to the vent that she escaped from previously. He had scouted the area out to make sure nobody else was about, and waiting until it was nightfall helped him. He was surprised the police station didn’t have many security cameras on the outside of it—lucky for them.

“Okay, I’m going forward,” the young girl called back to him.

Sherry had crawled to the changing room; once realizing it was empty, she came back to let Leon know.

There would be some cops in the building on the night shift, but hopefully a lot fewer since the rookie set the abandoned car he had ‘borrowed’ on fire a few blocks away and called the station from a payphone to report a robbery happening on the other side of town. They waited until they saw officers leaving before sneaking down towards the back alley.

In the changing room, Sherry pushed one of the small panels of the wall and waited for a moment to see if anybody would come. When nobody appeared, Sherry fumbled for the lighter; she was nervous. She was scared of dropping it or burning herself. Regardless of her fears, she took another deep breath and stuck her arm out. Her thumb lit up a small flame as she held the lighter underneath the fire alarm.

Once the water began to pour from the sprinklers, she quickly made her way to the front reception and would remain in the vent until she got the signal to get down.

Hearing the firing alarm go off, Leon went in through the front door. The advantage of a police station in a deserted town was its minimal occupancy. Not seeing anyone in the reception area, he told Sherry it was clear.

After safely helping Sherry down from the vent, the young girl led him in the direction that Claire should be the best she could. In the cell, they could hear a lot, including constant footsteps; Claire quickly realized it was underneath the main building.

After finding a locked door to a stairwell, Leon kicked it in. He hoped nobody was nearby to hear all the noise he had just made. With only a gun, a pocket knife, and a few flash grenades left, Leon was reluctant to use any of them, especially since he was hesitant to use the gun against the living.

“Claire, can you hear us?” Leon said loudly.

They walked into darkness; all the lights in the room had been turned off. Leon turned on his torch and scanned the room for the familiar face he was looking for; it was pointless. She wasn’t there.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed, pissed.

He had somehow managed to break into the police station to rescue Claire without being caught, and she was gone.

“Where’s Claire?” The young girl asked, confused.

“She’s not here, Sherry, fuck!” He yelled frustratingly. They needed to get out of town pronto, but he wasn’t leaving without Claire.

The young girl was upset. She had grown really fond of Claire and was disappointed she wasn’t there. As she looked at the vent through which she had escaped the day before, she squinted her eyes. Something was different.

“Leon, what’s that?” She pointed at bits of wall plaster lying on the ground.

Signing Leon leaned down and shined his torch on it. He was surprised to see something carved into the wall above the vent. Claire had left them a one-word clue.

“What does it say?” Sherry asked, crouching down next to him.

“Irons, it says Irons,” he gulped down.

Chief Irons was the bastard who burst Claire’s lip, sent her on a wild goose chase, and took Sherry. But he was dead, wasn’t he?

Leon purses his lips together; his death wasn’t part of the plan.

[justinalovee]

🏳️‍🌈𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡🏳️‍🌈

“Whilst Princess Rhaenyra misliked her stepmother, Queen Alicent, she became fond and more than fond of her good-sister Lady Laena. With Driftmark and Dragonstone so close, Daemon and Laena oft visited with the princess, and her with them. Many a time they flew together on their dragons, and the princess’s she-dragon Syrax produced several clutches of eggs.”

[justinalovee]

“What sort of brother steals his sister's birthright?”

[justinalovee]

.

[justinalovee]

𝑺𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader x Helaena Targaryen

Word count: 501

Warnings: Scissoring, breast sucking, swearing, p in v, fingering

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI

The hour was late, and you should be resting; it’s what the maester has suggested for the remainder of your pregnancy, but this felt so much better.

Lying in the middle of the bed, you moan as Helaena teases your pussy, her fingers going back and forth across your sensitive clit and prodding at your soaked entrance. Your fingers tangle into Helaena’s and Aegon’s hair, arching your back so they can each take more of your breasts into their mouths.

“Hmmm,” you whine pathetically. “Please put them fully in.”

“Not yet”, Helaena withdraws her fingers, spreads your legs wide, and repositions herself so that your most sensitive areas are pressed together, the slick wetness dripping from your cunts making it easy for them to rub together.

While still sucking on your breast, Aegon pulls the front of her nightgown down so that her breasts are free. He reaches up and pinches Helaena’s nipple while she continues to grind against you, causing her nipples to sway.

“It feels so good,” you whimper, lost in a haze of pure bliss. “I love it when they are touching like this!”

Helaena continues to take the pleasure she wants, using your body in the way that you love. Fuck. You always enjoy sex, but the hormones from your pregnancy made you more sensitive; right now, you’d happily let Aegon and Helaena take turns fucking, filling your tight hole with their tongues, fingers, toys, and cock.

Helaena suddenly jerks her hips forward roughly, squeezing her breasts at the same time. She was so wet that you could feel her soaking your thighs.

When she removes herself from between your legs, you roll onto your side to face Helaena. She mimics your movements and ladown.own you wrap your lips around her hard nipple and start to suck. bringing your fingers to her dripping hole, you push a finger into her easily.

“So wet and tight.”

While trying your best to make Helaena see stars, Aegon kisses the back of your neck, moving his hips forward so they come in contact with your ass. Groaning, he slowly slides his cock into you from behind .

“Such a filthy girl,” he says, picking up the speed of his thrusts. “So desperate for us to fuck you all day and night, but who am I to deny such a beauty? Does it feel good?”

You nod.

It doesn’t take long for Helaena’s thighs to clamp shut around your hand as she comes again. Soon after, the walls of your cunt start squeezing Aegon’s cock, causing his movements to slow; from the way he’s grunting, you know he’s struggling not to spill his seed so soon.

Helaena brings your fingers that are soaked in her juices to her mouth; watching her lick them clean causes both you and Aegon to come. After you’ve come down from your high, Aegon kisses the back of your neck again and says, “I hope that keeps you satisfied.”

“I will… until the morrow anyway,” you chuckle.

[justinalovee]

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon × reader, Criston Cole × reader

Warnings: Smut, swearing

1.03

Seconds after the glass jug slips from your hand and smashes on the floor, the door to your bedchamber swings open, and Ser Criston, who was posted outside, comes into the room, sword in hand. His shoulders relax when he sees there’s nobody else in the room.

“No need for a sword, Ser Criston. It’s only me being clumsy.”

Sighing, he walks towards the broken glass and motions for you to step back, “mind your feet, princess.”

“Tis only a jug,” you whisper more to yourself than him.

Shaking his head when you don’t move away, Criston lightly pushes you to step back until your bum hits the edge of the bed so he can start picking up the pieces of stained glass. Under his breath he huffs, “It won’t only be the jug that's broken if any harm comes to you on my watch.”

“I doubt Aemond would lose sleep over it.

“This prince does care for you.”

You try hard not to laugh; Aemond’s actions of late suggested anything but a loving husband.

Closing your eyes, you shuffle back onto the bed; it’s only your legs dangling over the edge. Swallowing thickly, you lick at your dry lips and then open your eyes again just as the knight picks up the last shard. “May I ask you something?”

“If you must,” he says, sounding exasperated before even hearing the question.

“If an intruder was in here, would you truly have tried to save me?”

Surprised by the question, he thinks about it before answering. “I’m sworn to protect the king and all his family."

“I’m seen as a traitor, a follower of the one they call a pretender.”

While standing up again, Criston’s eyes lock with yours, and you feel a shift in the energy. “I don’t think anyone sees a princess looking for a queen to follow when they look at you; I think they see a girl pining for her mother.”

“I miss her dearly... Weren’t you once my mother’s sworn shield?” You already knew the answer, but pretend otherwise to get the knight talking.

“I was assigned as princess Rhaenyra’s protector when I first joined King Viserys’s kingsguard.”

The scent of crushed amber fills your nostrils, a smell similar to the one in the Queen dowager’s bedchamber. The pine-like scent was something you loathed in your previous pregnancies; it was a suitable excuse to tell Aemond why you were avoiding his mother. The lingering scent was a reminder that the knight's cloak wasn’t so white and pristine.

As you pull your knees to your chest, you smile and say, “That must have been around the time they started calling my mother the realm's delight. I’ve always wished to look like her, but I do believe I have my father’s nose.”

“I do not recall Ser Laenor well.”

Still holding the broken glass loosely in his hands, Ser Criston starts to walk towards the door, but you’re not quite ready for the conversation to end. “I’ve heard the rumours,” you say quietly, making the knight stop in his tracks. “They are rather unpleasant.”

He turns back around to face you, a nervousness you’ve not seen before on his face. “What rumours are you speaking of?”

“My mother and Ser Harwin. I know that everyone mocks my brothers and calls them bastards, but even if there was truth to the stories, it should not matter because they are good and kind.”

As was your sweet son.

Your fingers close over the necklace hanging around your neck, the symbol of the faith of the seven. Jace, Joffrey, Aegon, Viserys… you missed them. The thought of never seeing them again causes tears to swell.

Ser Criston’s gaze softens. “I think you look like your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys.”

—

While breaking fast in the morning, Lord Larys came to your chambers to inform you that a scroll addressed to you was delivered during the hour of the bat, but it was given to the dowager Queen. You were glad of this information but even more thankful that you weren’t alone, with two handmaidens and Ser Willis on the opposite side of the wall; the Lord didn’t stay long.

After making sure the children were settled, you go looking for Alicent, which didn’t please Ser Willis since you insisted he needed to stay with Prince Aemond’s children instead of being on your heels.

You find Alicent standing on the steps in the courtyard speaking with a redheaded man. The green on his clothes was a giveaway that he’s a Hightower. Unaware that you’re behind her, Alicent continues to slander your family. “The plan was most likely set in motion by her eldest son, the plain-featured bas—”

“Tis debatable, you say plain-featured, yet I’ve heard many young ladies say differently; handsome is the word most commonly used.”

“Princess”, her face falls when she notices you’ve done little to attempt to hide the cut on your cheek. “This is my brother, Ser Gwayne. I’m presuming you’ve come to gloat.”

“Gloat?”

The look on her face suggests she doesn’t believe the confused look on your face. “That houses Beesbury, Costayne, and Mullendore have declared for Rhaenyra.”

Many of the Lord’s and ladies walking by slow their pass to watch the interaction between the two of you, since it was now spread through the court by Larys how the former queen viciously ‘attacked’ Rhaenyra’s daughter, who was by all means being kept as a hostage. A slight fabrication, but you care little for how it made Alicent look in the eyes of others.

“And who would have told me?” Your brows pull together. “The letter that was addressed to me, what did it say? Was it from my mother?”

“It was from Rhaenyra eldest.”

“Jace…” a flicker of hope lingers inside you. “What did he say? I’ve heard nothing from my family on Dragonstone since I asked them not to come to King's landing to avoid more bloodshed.”

She looks hesitant to tell you, but when Alicent looks at her own brother, he gives her a nod. “It was in High Valyrian; the maester says it was something along the lines of ‘he’s waiting.”

“Nyke umbagon syt ao,” you mumble to yourself.

I wait for you.

Tears sting your eyes with the words Jacaerys penned, meaning nothing to others but everything to you. The last thing he said before leaving to return to Dragonstone was that he’d wait for you until the day came and you could finally be together.

Feeling a pain in your chest, you abruptly turn and walk away.

—

“I should really put him in his cot.”

Aerys was sleeping peacefully in the middle of your bed, but the pillows placed around him did little to keep your fears of him waking up and rolling off the bed at bay. He would be much safer in his cot where he couldn’t fall.

“He’s fine.” Aemond stands behind you and threads his fingers through your hair, brushing it to the side to expose your neck. “Both of them are in deep sleep; you need not stress so much.”

Your skin crawls. Although you once appreciated how desired Aemond could make you feel, the thought of him touching you makes your skin cold and stomach churn. Feeling his lips lightly press against your collarbone, you quickly push him away; the look of hurt and rejection is clear on his face.

Frowning, you fix your hair so that it’s covering both sides of your neck; again, you step away from him. Aemond had no right to be upset, but he was staring at you with a heartbroken look.

“You cannot bring yourself to forgive me.”

“Lucerys—”

“It was an accident!”

The sudden anger in his voice causes you to step back. Lip trembling, you force down the anger inside you that’s threatening to overspill. It would do little for your cause to have an outburst.

He goes to storm out of the room, but you step in front of him.

“He was my brother, Aemond. He was thirteen, and because of you, he’s dead.” With the back of your hand, you tenderly caress his cheek. “I am your wife, yet you made me choose between being with my mother or staying with my children. How can you expect me to forgive you when you act so cruelly?”

He grabs hold of your hand and squeezes it tightly. “Do you have any idea what Aegon or my grandsire would have done if you had left and returned for the children?”

“Aemond, you’re hurting me.”

“They would have strung you up for all to see!” He sneers, “sister of bastards, daughter of the whore of Dragonstone! Your body left to rot for all to see. They wanted to make an example of you, but I stopped them.”

You struggle to pull your hand out of his grip.

“I’ve spared you—”

“Father?” Cassana rubs at her heavy eyes; when she takes in the scene in front of her, they fill with tears. “Mummy?”

It broke your heart to hear the fear in her voice. Aemond lets go of you, and you rush over to your daughter and brush the hair out of her face. “You should be sleeping, my sweet.”

Scared, she cuddles you and starts to sob, “I heard loud voices and thought the bad men had come back.”

“No, no, they are gone for you, good.” You pick her up and then look over at Aemond, whose eye has now teared up.

“I'm—”

“Just go.”

—

Standing in front of the vanity, you carefully undo the twists and braids, allowing your hair to flow freely. A sense of dread creeping up on you.

Taking a few deep breaths, you mentally prepare yourself and then slip off your silky robe and now stand in nothing but a white nightgown. During the hour of the eel, the castle was ghostly empty aside from the king's guard and the servants who work during the later hours, so it was the perfect time to put your plan into action.

Coldness bites at your ankles as the thin layers of clothing do little to keep you warm as you approach your door, knowing exactly what knight is standing on the other side.

You feel sick.

Now or never.

After taking a deep breath, you open the door, and the knight turns to meet your gaze with a confused look on his face. His voice is low, “princess?”

“Might I have a word, Ser Criston?”

—

“F-fuck.”

Feeling Criston pressing the tip of his cock into you, a loud gasp leaves your mouth, but he muffles it with a kiss. Gripping onto your thighs tightly, he thrusts into you fully while pinning you against the wall.

This was the third time in the last week Ser Criston has entered your bedchamber during the late hour of the night to bed you. It didn’t take much to seduce the knight; you could sense he was stressed and needed a release, an outlet for his frustration. You were unclear if Criston was still having private visits to the dowager queen's room, but any night Aemond left from patrol, he made sure to be on guard for you those nights.

Occasionally you feel guilty; being deceitful wasn’t in your nature, but then you remember everything the greens have done to your family.

And why are you doing this.

When Criston’s thrusts start to become sloppy, you wrap your legs around his waist. Grunting, he breaks the kiss, but his lips are soon latched onto the side of your neck and down to your collarbone. While Criston’s orgasm grows closer, you try to distract yourself from how good he feels inside you by trying to think of what dress would be the best to hide the bruises possibly left behind from his mouth.

Suddenly he slams his hips forward, spilling his seed inside you. His warm breath fans across your face, and Criston presses a soft kiss to your lips and then your forehead.

“Gods, princess…” he whispers.

He pulls out of you and then lowers you to your feet.

“Goodnight, Ser Criston.”

After the knight leaves, you crumble to the floor. You felt sick with guilt. You had sex with Aemond out of duty and Jacaerys because you love him, but it was a means to an end with the knight. You needed to lure Criston into your bed for your plan to work. Needed him to believe the babe growing inside you was fathered by him. It would be the only way he’d help you escape kings landing with your children.

[justinalovee]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Chapter: 5.05

Using a damp cloth, Michonne helps to wipe the blood that’s starting to dry off your skin. Breaking out in a sweat, your heart hammers in your chest; Daryl and Carol haven’t come back from collecting water, and the small search party out looking for Bob hasn’t returned.

Whimpering pulls you from your thoughts; you look over at Carl, who was holding your fussing son.

Father Gabriel speaks up from his place near the door, breaking the near silence in the room. “They are our future; humanity’s not dead—we still have hope.”

“Maybe there are survivors, but humanity is gone.”

Just as you go to stand with the intention of taking Jace from Carl, you hear a loud noise coming from outside that startles everyone. Just as you reach for your knife, a gunshot rings out, and Abraham, Rosita, Michonne, and you all aim your weapons at the main door, expecting to see an intruder, but the doors burst open and Rick stumbles inside. “We need help moving him!”

“Him?”

As you rush outside on the heels of Glenn, you hear Rick say, “Maggie, Tara, we need to make space.”

Before you know it, you’re standing on the dirt path staring down at Bob’s bloody body. Your chest tightens when you notice why Sasha is so frantic; now that your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, you can see clearly that Bob’s left leg from the knee down was amputated.

—

Once inside, you help place Bob on a blanket on the floor of the church. Maggie brings a first aid kit out from the back room, but Bob shakes his head; he didn’t want any more help.

Sweat drips from his forehead as he starts to wheeze. “I was in the graveyard, and somebody knocked me out, a woman, I think. I just remember seeing a lot of blonde hair, then everything went dark. I woke up outside this place; it looked like a school. They were eating my leg in front of me, like it was nothing. All proud, like they had it all figured out.”

Rick asks the question you’ve been too afraid to voice. “Did they have Daryl and Carol?”

“Gareth said they drove off.”

Sasha struggles to hold back tears and, forcing a smile, says, “you need to take some painkillers.”

“No… I don’t want it wasted on me.” Bob pulls the collar of his top down, letting you all see a chunk of flesh that’s been bitten from his shoulder. “It happened at the food bank.”

The wound wasn’t a human bite; it was from a walker.

—

Noticing the look of devastation on Rick’s face, you try and comfort him, squeezing at his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Bob… he’s… I didn’t know…”

Bob was resting on the sofa in the church's office.

“I know, but it was his choice to keep it to himself,” you say quietly. “I know this is a bad time, but we’ve still got two people missing; those freaks are probably outside waiting to see what we do next, and there is a school ten minutes away full of walkers. We need a plan.”

The room briefly falls silent until Abraham gets to his feet. “Alright, people, it’s time for a reality check; we all need to leave for DC right now.”

“We aren’t going anywhere without Daryl and Carol, and we can’t travel with Bob…”

“Look, I respect not wanting to split up your family, but there’s a clear threat to Eugene. I need to extract his ass before things get any uglier. So if y’all won’t come, good luck to you. We’ll go our separate ways.”

Both Eugene and Rosita follow the redhead hesitantly. After all the time you’ve spent together, this wasn’t how you imagined you’d all go your separate ways. Scoffing, Rick says, “you leaving on foot?”

“We fixed that damn bus ourselves.”

Rick’s tone goes dangerously low, “there are a lot more of us.”

“You want to keep it that way? You should come.”

Rick and Abraham go back and forth in circles. Eventually Glenn intervenes and tries to calm the situation down. “Do you really think that you’re going to be any safer leaving right now in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah,” Abraham nods. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

“It’s pitch black out there, and for all we know, they have slashed the tires on the bus or are waiting inside it. You should wait until morning.”

Tara suddenly stands. “If you stay one more day, I’ll go with you to DC.”

Abraham waits a beat before replying, “Glenn and Maggie, too.”

“Absolutely not.”

When Rick and Abraham start to charge at each other, still heated from their argument, you jump between them and shake your head at the redhead. “You’re the one who told me we’d kill every one of those sons of bitches when they took Jace. But we didn’t, and now they are going to keep coming back and pick us off one by one.”

“That’s exactly why I, Rosita, and Eugene are getting the hell out of here.”

He goes to pick up his backpack to leave, but you call out to him, “help me, help me stop them.”

Knowing that Abraham still wasn’t fully convinced, Glenn steps forward: “if you stay and help us, me and Maggie will go with you to Washington.”

Your heart sinks; you didn’t want your group to split up, but you respected Glenn a lot for what he was willing to do.

—

The atmosphere is tense; everyone is too afraid to speak in case it causes another argument within the group. The loud voices from before had drawn in a few stray walkers, but thankfully the unexpected caused them to be drawn to another noise in the distance.

Gently rocking your arms while staying out of view from the window, you suddenly get an idea. “The lasker trap,” you mumble before addressing the rest of the room. “The governor was much smarter than them, and he fell for I bet they would as well.”

Rosita raises her brows questioningly, “fell for…”

Maggie tells everyone who wasn’t present at the prison a short version of what happened with the governor. It was risky, but you were running out of options; those people could attack at the church at any moment, or they could be waiting for Carol and Daryl to return and grab them then. Going head-to-head with the people from terminus was the only way to end it.

“We don’t have the same supplies as we did then,” Glenn says. “Plus, we don’t have Beth and Hershel to watch over Judith and Jace.”

Rosita gets to her feet. “I’ll do it; I’ll keep them safe.”

Abraham gives her a pointed look. “Eugene stays here. He’s not a fighter.”

You nod in agreement.

Rick licks at his lips, “okay then, let’s come up with a plan.”

—

While the others quickly reloaded their weapons, you took Carl into the back room and showed him the secret escape in the floorboard. You hand him a bag with food rations, water, and ammo along with the keys to the bus. “If things go south, you take Jace and Judith and run. You don’t stop to look for us; you just keep going.”

“No, I’m not leaving you or my dad.”

“Carl—“

“This will work,” he says confidently. “It had to; I’m not losing anyone else.”

Pulling him into a tight hug, you let out a deep sigh. “I hope it works, kid, but if it doesn’t look good, promise me you’ll go. I can’t go out there without knowing you, Jace, and Judith are safe.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees. “Aunt Lil?”

“Yeah.”

“Daryl will be okay.”

—

Your group splits into two, with Tyreese and Rosita staying behind in the church to protect the kids along with father Gabriel and Eugene, although you suspect Carl would be much better at keeping them safe than the latter.

“We’ve got this,” Sasha whispers as you start to walk away from the church. “Just don’t look back; if they know we know, it’s all over.”

“I’m sorry about Bob.”

“It’s not your fault.”

When the church almost disappears behind the thick trees, you all crouch down and wish. Rick counts until three minutes and then raises his hand for the group to return.

You and Maggie scout the outside of the church while the others go directly inside. With all the candles out and torches turned off, half of the church hall was cast into darkness by a shadow. You tap your foot twice on the steps as previously discussed and make your way into the main hall with the brunette by your side. Just as you enter, Rick shoots two men in the head who are about to unlock the office door; their blood splatters across the church walls.

“Put your guns on the floor.”

Panicked Gareth stares in the shadow, trying to figure out your brother’s location. “Rick, we’ll fire right into that office. So you lower your gun…”

Rick shoots him in the hand, causing him to cry out in pain. Slowly, he steps out into the moonlight and says, “Put your guns on the floor and kneel.”

All of them get to their knees aside from one man, whining. Gareth gazes up at him, his teeth clenched. “Martin, there’s no choice here.”

“Yeah, there is.”

From what Tyreese and Carol told you, Martin is the man who had his hands wrapped around Judith’s neck. Abraham emerges beside him, pointing his gun at Martin. “Want a bet?

Gasping in pain Gareth looks up at your brother and says, “There’s no point in begging, right?”

“No.”

“Still, you could have killed us when you came in. There had to be a reason for that.”

The deadly look in your brother's gaze turns your blood cold. He cocks his head to the side and says, “We didn’t want to waste the bullets.”

Slowly you backed up and stood by the open door under the pretense of keeping watch, but in reality you just didn’t want to watch what was about to happen. No doubt there was a twisted irony when you were the one who came up with this plan but didn’t want to actually kill anyone. Not again.

“I already made you a promise.” Rick raises his machete and hacks Gareth in the neck.

Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, and Rick let out all their pent-up anger as they brutally beat the survivors from terminus to death.

They needed to die.

But it was still horrid to see.

When the door from the office creaks open, you practically leap over the backed-up bodies on the ground and shove Carl back inside, shielding him. The inside of the church was covered in red blood splatters that painted the floors and walls, which was something Carl didn’t need to see.

—

The last twenty-four hours have been agonizing. Not only did the incident at the church happen, but Bob was dead. The dirt from digging his grave is still fresh underneath your nails, and Daryl and Carol have yet to return.

“It feels weird without them.”

Smiling, you crouch down to help your nephew scrub at the blood-stained floor. Chances are the blood would never fully wash away, but it felt good to help remove as much as you could. “Yeah, but we will see them again. Glenn and Maggie are survivors.”

After Maggie, Glenn, and Tara left to go to DC with Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene, everyone remaining was emotionally exhausted. It didn’t take long for people to start falling asleep in the two back rooms, aside from whoever was on watch, which right now was Michonne.

“So I'm awake because I was checking on the babies. Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I keep having the same dream or nightmare.”

Concerned, you stop scrubbing and ask, “What’s your dream about?”

Carl goes to answer you, but he’s cut off when the main door creaks open and two sets of footsteps enter. You don’t even need to look down the aisle to know whose the heavier footfall belongs to.

“Daryl.”

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Carl whispers.

Daryl starts to walk towards you and waves for a kid who looks to be around sixteen or seventeen to follow him inside. “Michonne told me what happened—”

“Where were you?”

[justinalovee]

𝑻𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x reader

Word count: 877

Warnings: Spanking, nipple pinching, oral sex, fingering, age gap, swearing

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI

“It’s far too inappropriate for a lady in your position to be wearing.”

You glance down at the dark blue navy dress that covers your body, confused; it wasn’t any shorter than the other ladies at court. The dress had a curved neckline that teased the peak of your breasts but didn’t show too much to be scandalous.

Or so you thought.

“I didn’t think it was that low-cut, my grace; I can—”

“The material is too thin,” she cuts you off. Pinching your nipples through the fabric, Alicent shakes her head, “it hasn’t taken much for these to become visible. Was that your intention?”

“No! I just thought it was a lovely dress. Do you want me to change it, your grace?”

Alicent’s let go of your nipple, which was now hard and looking through the material of your dress. Moving her hands to rest firmly on your lower back, she guides you to turn and face down onto the bed. She stands beside you, running her fingers through your hair; she waits a beat and then, without warning, delivers a sharp slap to your behind.

You chew on your lower lip to stop any sounds from slipping from your mouth.

The dowager queen's hand smacks across your backside again, the sharp sound echoing in the bedchamber. She repeats this a couple more times before raising the back of your dress up and dipping her hand between your thighs, her fingers teasing your folds before pushing inside.

“It’s disgraceful how wet you are from being punished,” she tuts.

How could you not be turned when a beautiful woman such as the Queen dowager is touching your breasts? You’ve done this dance with her before, and knowing what could possibly happen next only added to the excitement and growing wet mess between your legs.

“Do you think you deserve this?”

You nod frantically in agreement when her thumb traces over your clit, “yes, your grace!”

“Shh, lower your tone, or I’ll stop.”

Unsure how serious Alicent is, you remain tight-lipped while she fucks you with her finger, then adds a second. She teases a third finger but doesn’t put it all the way inside, insisting you aren’t slick’ enough. Regardless, it doesn’t take long for you to come apart.

—

While leaving the gardens to re-enter the main castle, a red-headed lady from house Lannister whom you’ve become friendly with over the last few months smiles at you wildly, then links her arm with yours.

“Good afternoon, my lady; is everything okay? I heard from my brother you missed your usual walk in the gardens this morning.”

Despite the fact you are to be married to a prince or king, Jason Lannister still insisted on throwing his name into the ring of possible suitors. Your father was one of the wealthiest men in the seven kingdoms, so it came as no real surprise.

You smile politely, “her grace visited me, and I got sidetracked.”

“Ahh, I see,” she chuckles. “But do tell, is there any further update on who you will marry? It’s sinful to be spending so much time with your future mother-in-law without even knowing the husband’s name.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

As you continue to discuss different things, you briefly make eye contact with Alicent as she walks in the direction of her granddaughter’s nursery. Her eyes narrow and cheeks flush red when she sees how close you are with the other woman.

Her lips pull into a thin line as she gives you both a courtesy nod.

You’ve seen that look on her face many times before, usually when your younger sisters pined over a possible suitor who was giving attention to another.

Alicent was jealous.

—

“You aren’t permitted to talk until I say so,” Alicent says sternly. she grips you by your hair and guides your face between her legs.

Sitting comfortably on her plush chair, with you kneeling on the floor in front of her, Alicent rests her legs on your shoulders, not giving much thought to how uncomfortable it may be for you with your knees pressing into the hard floor. The position was painful, but you wouldn’t complain and lose the chance to please her this way.

Knowing how Alicent likes it, you go slow at first, taking your time to taste her, flicking your tongue across her clit.

Although she was older, Alicent was one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen. Even more beautiful than the first girl you ever kissed, who had long, raven-dark hair and dark brown eyes, but it was only a fleeting peck on the lips. You were fine with that, but with Alicent, you wanted to savour every inch of her body, which would take time. You’d only go as far as the former queen wanted to; you didn’t mind her having all the control since she didn’t in other parts of her life.

When moans fall from her mouth, you experimentally push your tongue inside her cunt and use your thumb to rub at her clit. It doesn’t take her long to come undone after that.

Seated back on your heels, you gaze up at her, your face drenched in her slick, eagerly awaiting her next move.

[justinalovee]

Both my moots @starogeorgina and @topazy are in their ghost face smut era and I’m living for it!

[justinalovee]

𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭

Pairing: Ethan Landry x female! reader

Warnings: Violence, smut, swearing, character death, blood

[justinalovee]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × reader, Rick Grimes × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood

Chapter: 5.04

Sweat drips from Father Gabriel's forehead as he leads you to his church; the outside of it was off-white with thick, dark brown wooden doors. It’s probably what discouraged most people with little weapons or strength from trying to break in.

When you reach the front steps of the church, Father Gabriel goes to unlock the door, but Rick puts his hand out in front of him. “Actually, I’d rather we check the place out first.”

Hesitantly he hands the keys over to your brother, with a defeated look on his face.

Rick and Michonne take the lead by going into the church first with their weapons raised. Maggie, Carol, Abraham, and Rosita go and check the outside of the building.

Daryl nudges you in the arm lightly, gaining your attention. “Are you coming?”

“I’m going to keep an eye out here.”

He nods, then goes inside with the others. You turn and stare at the wooded area you’ve just come from. When you felt eyes burning on you, Daryl checked for any signs someone else was nearby but found nothing. He was the best tracker you knew, but you still weren’t convinced.

“I don’t know the last time I saw a baby,” Father Gabriel says quietly. “It truly is a blessing to know that the world isn’t ending with us. Life goes on.”

You automatically look at Carol, who’s standing far enough away that she can’t hear the conversation. “Yeah, my brother and I are really lucky we’ve still got them.”

“Your brother is…?”

“Rick, the one that just took your keys.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, “well it’s nice to know that some families are still together.”

Smiling softly, you point towards Carl, who’s holding his sister. “That’s his kids, Carl and Judith, and this is Jace, my son.”

When father Gabriel waves and smiles at Jace, you start to feel bad; he has no idea of the shitstorm that could possibly be coming his way. Or maybe that’s just the feeling of paranoia after being through something so traumatic.

Changing the subject, you look over at the sign with the church's name on it. “Who’s St. Sarah?”

“Saint Sarah is the patron saint of the Romani people in Folk Catholicism. She’s viewed as a figure of comfort and hope."

The memory of the last church you attended resurfaces vividly. Rick's whistle abruptly brings you back to reality. “Place is empty; nobody is inside.”

Rick hands the keys back to father Gabriel and goes to take Judith from Carl, but before he gets the chance, Abraham is beside him, with a hell-bent look in his eyes. “We found a short bus out back. It doesn’t run, but I bet we could fix that in less than a day or two. Father here says he doesn’t want it. Looks like we found ourselves some transport. You understand what’s at stake here, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

Michonne raises her eyebrows slightly. “Now that we can take a breath…”

“We take a breath, we slow down, and shit inevitably goes down.”

“We need supplies no matter what we do next,” you chime in. “Food, water, ammunition, and we need to find supplies for the kids as well.”

“Short bus ain’t going anywhere,” Daryl says before picking up the squirrels he hunted earlier and taking them into church.

As everyone starts to go into the small building, Glenn stops in front of Abraham, “one way or another, we are gonna do what Rick does; we aren’t splitting up again.”

Sasha, Bob, and Tara all tell him the same thing as they go inside. You sigh at his frustrated look when it's just the two of you on the steps. “The last couple of days have been a lot for all of us, and up until we got out, Rick thought his daughter was dead. Just give him time to process things.”

“What do you think he’ll do?”

You shrug, “whatever he thinks the safest option is, but if you want my honest advice, don’t badger him. Rick’s never responded well to it; he needs to see things for himself before making a decision.”

—

Daryl’s fingers dig into the wooden drawer, taking most of the weight of it when picking it up from opposite sides. There was a removable panel on the floor in one of the back rooms, which was partially covered by the drawer.

“Do you think he knows this is here?”

“No,” Daryl lets out a grunt when you put the heavy object against the wall. He pulls open the bottom drawer. “clean it out and put a few blankets in it; it should be safe for Jace and Judith to sleep in.”

“Good eye.”

You move the rug on the floor to cover the panel; it was better to have the hidden escape a secret for now. Daryl only found it because he went into the crawl space from the outside.

“We could probably fit five people in this room. It might be safer for you and the kids to sleep in here, at least if there’s a way out.”

Gently you tuck strands of hair behind his ear before stroking his cheek. Even though none of you will ever feel safe again, gazing into his blue eyes makes you feel more at ease knowing he's alive. You swallowed deeply, grateful for the presence of so many people you care about, yet the fear of losing them was nearly overwhelming.

Sighing, you remove your hand. “we should get ready.”

The majority of your group was going to the nearby town to search for supplies. Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene were going to work on fixing the bus while Carol and Daryl went to collect water.

“Wait, wait just a minute.”

Daryl holds you by the wrist, his thumb drawing small circles over your skin. His touch leaves you feeling hot and itchy, but when he doesn’t say anything, you grow worried. “Daryl, what is it?”

“I just wanted to look at you for a minute longer.”

Your eyes sweep over his face, and it takes everything in you to not burst into tears. His bruised and swollen face looks so painful, and although he hadn’t outright said it, you knew Daryl would be blaming himself for Beth being taken. All you wanted to do was take his pain away.

“I can see the wheels turning behind your eyes; what is it?”

It takes you a moment to figure out how to answer him. “I’m scared. Those people are still out there; we shouldn’t be splitting up; it’s not safe.”

“The supply run will be fine with Rick leading it, and as soon as red has the bus working, we’ll get the hell out of here.” When a single tear rolls down your cheek, he steps forward and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m scared of myself,” you say quietly. “When they pointed a gun at my head and ripped Jace from my arms, I knew I’d do anything to get him back, even if it meant killing every one of them.”

He kisses the crown of your head, then pulls you into him; his stubble rubs against your face. “That’s because you’re a good mom.”

“Promise me you’ll be safe out there. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back to you.”

—

Sitting on the steps of the church, you smile when Carl comes and sits down, his dad’s sheriff's hat scuffing the side of your face. The sun was splitting through the tree line, so you’d left Jace inside while you kept watch, not wanting his face to burn.

You shuffle over slightly, then look at him. “You doing okay, munchkin?”

He looks hesitant at first but eventually speaks, “…do you remember the last time we were at a church?”

“It was the day you got shot.”

Your head had been racing since finding this place; it brought back everything leading up to the church as well. Dale was trying to tell you there was something wrong with Jace’s hearing. T-dog slicing his arm while he tried to get you away from the oncoming herd of walkers, finding out the smell of the dead keeps walkers away, Sophia running away. It was easy to forget everyone has different trauma from that day.

“Shane killed Otis to save me.”

Taken aback, you've made every effort to conceal everything from Carl, but it wasn't enough. In a low voice you say, “nothing he ever did was on us. Shane, god, he… Shane loved us; he loved your dad, his son, but he became unwell. Unraveled. The man he died as wasn’t the same person who was there while you grew up; his own fears and paranoia got the better of him.”

“My dad always says I’m to look for the silver linings, even in bad situations.”

“Cool scar?”

Carl chuckles, and the first real smile you’ve seen in a long time appears on his face. “If I was never shot, then we never would have met Maggie, Hershel, or Beth. My dad doesn’t trust Father Gabriel.”

“Do you?”

“I think he’s just scared. But looking out for others is the right thing; it’s what my mom would want me to do.”

The look in his eyes reminds you, Lori, she was compassionate and would have done anything to help those in need. The person Lori was before and after the apocalypse was different, but who hadn’t changed? The sister-in-law you knew from years ago would be agreeing with her son.

You place your hand over his, “she would be so proud of you, Carl.”

He starts to say something, but Rick comes into view and calls you both over to help bring in the supplies they’ve found.

—

“Sure you don’t want anything?”

“I’m fine for now, but thanks.”

Folding her arms over, Rosita shakes her head, “you’ve been on watch most of the day. And in case you’ve forgotten, you need to keep your strength up.”

Since the group came back from the supply run, the others had taken turns to join you in keeping watch. Aside from checking on Jace, who was being watched over by Maggie, you stayed outside. The gut feeling you had was preventing you from settling; something wasn’t right.

“I’m sure they will be back soon?”

“Who?”

Rosita rolls her eyes playfully. “I don’t know Daryl well, but from what you told me, he’s a survivor.“

Daryl and Carol had been gone for hours. They left fairly early, and it was now nighttime. Maybe if they were back, you wouldn’t feel so uneasy. Knowing Rosita was right, you sigh, “once you’ve all finished eating, I’ll swap.”

Happy that she got you to agree, she smiles and goes back inside. “Abraham and I will take over from you guys soon.”

—

Forehead creasing together, you go slightly further out of the perimeter you would keep watch over than discussed. After circling around three times in search of Bob, a sinking feeling began to develop in the depths of your stomach.

With the darkness making it harder to see, you hold onto a small tree to help keep you steady while glancing down a steep hill in front of you. It’s not until your finger runs over a smooth patch on the tree that you finally look at it; squinting, you take in the smooth mark on it.

It was a marking done by a knife.

Not having a chance to put the pieces together, the crunch of branches coming from behind causes you to spin fast on your heels and come face to face with a blonde-headed woman that you recognize from terminus.

Twirling an axe in her hand, she goes to raise her hand, but you stab her under the chin with a pocket knife. She drops her weapon while scrambling to pull the knife from her face; you take the opportunity and kick her in the stomach, causing her to fall down the hill.

“Fuck.”

Slowly backing away from her body, it takes you a few seconds to process what just happened; you grab her axe and rush back towards the church.

Completely out of breath by the time you reach the doors, you shove them open forcefully and then stumble to your knees. The adrenaline you were running was starting to crash, causing you to feel shaky and weak. You feel stunned for a moment while staring at the axe; now in the light, you can see how much blood is on it. It looks like equipment fitting for a slaughterhouse.

Just as you toss it to the side, just as Rick kneels in front of you, “is the blood yours?”

You shake your head.

“What the hell happened out there? Are you hurt?”

Sasha looks outside the doorway. “Where's Bob?”

“They’ve found. The people from Terminus know we are here, and I think they have Bob."

[justinalovee]

𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦

Parings: Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader x Daemon Targaryen

Warnings: Smut, incest, swearing

“Tales of your wife’s beauty have not been exaggerated, my Prince.”

Your stomach was in knots with nerves. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you struggle to keep a cool composure, not wanting Prince Daemon to see how hot and bothered you had become. The Prince standing in front of you had come to visit your private quarters with the most sinful proposal in mind. You were convinced you’d misheard him; his proposal was that you keep his wife’s bed warm while he took part in a hunting trip with the Northern lords.

Maybe it's all in my head.

The princess was with child once again, and your father, Lord Stark, was quick to agree when you insisted on staying at Winterfell to keep her company.

“When you say you’d like me to keep the princess’s bed warm… what exactly do you mean?”

Daemon comes to stand in between your dangling legs as you sit on the edge of your table. “I’ve seen the way you look at Rhaenyra; usually I am jealous, however…” He traces his finger over the neckline of your nightgown before starting to slowly unlace it. “I know the princess has taken a liking to you, as you have with her.”

But I bet we'd have really good bed chem.

With their hair white as snowfall blowing in the wind, you could see why the Targaryens are considered closer to gods than men the moment you saw them riding on dragonback. Both Prince and Princess were beautiful, and since meeting them, you’ve felt an invisible force pulling you towards them.

One that makes you wet while thinking about them.

Daemon teases your nipple with his thumb while lowering the fabric so that your chest is bare. “Hmm, my wife will definitely be pleased.”

Cocking your head to the side, you smile, noticing the bulge starting to appear through the material of his trousers. “And you, my prince, are you pleased?”

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round.

His lips brush against your ear, his warm breath fanning against your skin. “If it wasn’t for my wife wishing to touch you first, I’d have you bent over this table, screaming my name.”

—

“Gods, I can't wait anymore,” Rhaenyra pushes you desperately so you are flat on your back and then positions herself in a way that allows her dripping cunt to rub against yours.

“Fuck!”

Your body was in overdrive and extremely sensitive to the princess's touch. You’ve spent the last four days by her side, keeping her company during meals, accompanying her walks in the gardens and burying your face between her legs. Not wanting to accidentally nudge her growing bump, you’ve been letting Rhaenyra take complete control and do whatever she wishes.

You watch as Rhaenyra’s large breasts sway with each movement. She stripped herself bare the moment you were alone, and all you had on was a thin silver shift. You feel drunk on the high of your clits rubbing together as your clits brush together. From the look on Rhaenyra’s face, you could tell she was about to reach her peak.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise.”

With a smug look on his face, Prince Daemon starts to remove his own clothing, starting with the thick layers of fur, eyes widening as he watches his wife come.

Oh, it just makes sense.

Rhaenyra moves off you and then makes quick work of taking off your shift; she tosses it on the floor and then leans over your body to kiss you. Your fingers tangle into her long silver hair as she deepens the kiss. She suddenly moans into your mouth.

Glancing behind her, you see that Daemon is crouched down with his face between her thighs, worshipping her with his tongue.

Letting out a breathy moan, she says something in what you presume is High Valyrian. Stroking your cheek, Rhaenyra looks down at you and says, “I want him to feel how wet you are.”

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things.

Holding onto your ankles, Daemon pulls you towards him, and when your ass reaches the bottom of the bed, you flip over so that you bend over. He doesn’t waste any time and thrusts the full length of his cock into you.

Clutching the bedsheet with one hand, you link your free hand with Rhaenyra while she spreads her legs in front of you. With delicate flicks of your tongue you dip in and out of her swollen cunny, savouring every bit of her.

She giggles when the vibrations of your muffled moans add to her pleasure. Rhaenyra bucks her hips slightly to meet your mouth. “That’s it! Right there!”

Daemon slaps your ass lightly while speeding up his thrust, “Tis a shame we leave on the morrow without me having a chance to fuck that pretty mouth.”

“Lady Stark has agreed to be our guest on Dragonstone and will be joining us in the bedchamber.”

That's bed chem.

[justinalovee]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, incest

1.06

“𝘐𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦.”

𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺.

𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘈𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦’𝘴 𝘦𝘨𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘚𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘴, “𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵?”

“𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘶𝘵𝘺, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥.”

“𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺.”

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬. “𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘶𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦.”

“𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥.”

—

“I’m beginning to regret showing you this place, princess.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you see Criston Cole marching down the small grassy hill that surrounds the lake with an unimpressed look on his face.

“I like it here; it’s peaceful.” You turn back to face the still water and skim another stone. With your back to him, it’s hard to know how close the knight is until you hear the light sound of his armoured legs touching; you let out a sigh, “I came here straight after dragon riding.”

“Without telling anyone.” He lets out a loud exhale, “I know you have been unhappy as of late, princess, but you cannot be so reckless; anything could have happened to you.”

“Like what?”

Irked by your playful tone, Criston's voice is more authoritative than normal. “Don’t jest, or do it again. You must always tell me where you are going so I can keep you safe.” He waits a beat before talking again. “Does your fleeing have anything to do with the prince’s going dragon riding at the same time?”

“Yes, Aeg… He no longer wants to be my friend. He only spends time with me when we need to—“ you cut yourself off before finishing the sentence. “I saw him in the dragon pit this morning, and he ignored me.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, the knight gives you a sympathetic smile, “Aegon is a fool, as is every male his age.”

There was no malice in Criston’s words; he had practically raised your brother and knew him better than most, but the knight was wrong about this. This wasn’t an age phase that would pass; Aegon no longer liked you.

A wave of dizziness hits you out of nowhere, causing you to stumble slightly. Criston grabs hold of your arm. “that’s it; we are going back to the castle.”

“I’m fine, Ser Criston; it’s my own fault for dragon riding on an empty stomach.”

He starts to usher you towards where your horse is grazing, “I’ll have food sent to your room as soon as we return, princess—”

—

Avoiding eye contact with the maester, you lock your gaze on the ugly tapestry that was gifted to you by someone in Hightower's house as a wedding present. A castle made out of various shades of green, it looks like a building plagued by overgrown weeds, but not wanting to offend anyone, you allowed it to be hung in your bedchamber.

“Have you been ill otherwise, princess?” Maester Mellos asks.

“Well, I had stomach cramps for a few days and vomited, and I felt rather warm.”

Alicent shakes her head, “why didn’t you tell anyone? Your fainting episode while out horse riding with Ser Criston could have been avoided if you had.”

“Your shield says you’ve had a loss of appetite,” Mellos says, his words sounding a lot less harsh than the queen's. “Do you have any aching limbs? Or suffered from a headache recently?”

“A minor headache, but after sleeping, it went away on its own. I felt fine when I left the castle this morning.”

“Hm,” the maester looks at the queen. “I suspect it’s been a fleeting illness, your grace, and that the princess will recover from today perfectly fine.”

“Thank you, maester Mellos.” Standing from the chair, you smooth out your skirts. “If there is nothing else, I’m going to pray.”

“Perhaps you better change your gown first,” Alicent says.

The hemline of your ivory dress was damp with mud, and there were the odd dots of dirt scattered across you. Clearing your throat, you nod, “Yes, your grace.”

—

The castle’s cellar has quickly become a sanctuary; it was quiet, and the flickering candles underneath Balerion's skull were oddly peaceful to stare at. It was unusual, but you often went there to pray rather than at the sept, which is how Aegon found you. Kneeling in front of the pedestal with your hands clasped together.

“Praying to the seven in front of a dragon?”

“How do you know it’s the seven? I could have been honouring our Valyrian roots.” You stand up and wipe the loose dirt from the light blue fabric of your dress. Trying not to sound too hopeful, you ask, “is it a coincidence we are both here, or did you come to see me?”

You wait for a response, but he remains silent.

Just as you turn to leave, Aegon grips your hand. “Were you planning on telling me?”

Snatching your hand back, you glare at him. Aegon’s grip wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but one of his many rings grazed the surface of your skin. “Tell you what?”

“That baby! I arrived at the queen's quarters to see her and my grandsire celebrating the unborn child I’ve fathered. I know you are displeased by our marriage, but you could have had the decency to tell me!”

“I’m not…” your mouth goes dry. “I suggest you sober up before more lies spill from your mouth.”

His dry lips part slightly, “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are!”

“I’m—”

You shove him in the chest, “stop lying!”

Aegon looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. His jaw was clenched, and the breaths he took through his nose were loud, as if he was trying to suppress his own anger. You flinch slightly when he suddenly raises his clenched fists, but relax into his touch when Aegon gently cups your cheek, caressing the back of your neck. “What would I gain from lying about such a thing?”

“So I’m… going to be a mother?”

He nods.

A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill. “but the maester said I have a stomach illness and that I would be fine.”

“I do believe now that you didn’t know.”

“I don’t understand; how would the queen know this before I do?”

Aegon's cheeks redden slightly; he clears his throat before answering your question while looking uncomfortable. “My mother said your moon blood cycle hasn't been normal; you’ve been getting nosebleeds and have been complaining of a metallic taste.“

“It’s impossible for her to know such things; besides, maester Mellos said

“Mellos? When Aemond told me what happened, I came to your room and saw maester Orwyle feeling your pulse.”

Brows pulling together, you try and put the hazy pieces of what happened together; you could vaguely recall Ser Criston carrying you into the courtyard and calling for help, but that is it until Mellos held vile-smelling herbs underneath your nose. “That still doesn’t explain how your mothers know the other things when I haven’t told anyone aside from Flora, but she’s my friend. She would never betray my trust.”

“She’s a servant.”

“I will speak with Flora on the morrow, but tonight I will speak with the maester. I need to hear for myself if I am really expecting our child.”

A coldness replaces the gentleness in his eyes. “It will never be ours. They will just be another pawn that belongs to my mother and grandsire.”

You feel sick; you didn’t want to believe it, but at court nobody could be trusted. Stepping away from his touch, place your hand across your stomach, “I need to go.”

—

The walk back to your quarters was in silence; you only spoke again when you knew it was safe to do so away from any prying ears.

You sit on the chair closest to the fireplace and finally address the obvious issue, “did you hear my conversation with Aegon?”

The older man cocks his head, “I think it would have been hard for anyone nearby not to. Your voices carry.”

“Nothing has been confirmed to me; perhaps the maester is wrong.”

Criston crouches down so he is eye level with you. “I, for one, am glad to know you are not sick with a serious illness. It’s not often I am frightened, but I was today.”

“I’m frightened now, of pregnancy… and childbirth.”

“What happened to Queen Aemma and those before her is horrible, but not every woman dies in childbirth. Her grace has had four children. I pray that your journey will be as healthy as hers.”

“Do you think Aegon is right? That his family will try and take my child from me?” Your eyes gloss over. “What I’m treated as Rhaenyra was? What if they want my babe parted from me moments after it’s born?” Although you are still upset with Rhaenyra for what happened with Harwin and for not even acknowledging your marriage to Aegon, the memories of how cruelly she was treated after Luke and Joffrey were born are still fresh in your mind.

“I promise, princess, as your protector, I will never let anyone take any child you have away from you.”

—

You swallow the water in your mouth nervously as Aegon suddenly comes through one of the secret doors of your apartment and falls to the floor. He stares at the main door leading in, and when he doesn’t open it, he giggles to himself while standing up. The smell of alcohol on him was strong, and his steps were staggered as he made his way towards your bed.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

“Why are you whispering?” He asks in a mocking low tone. “We are married, and when your stomach is swollen, it will be a giveaway that we have fucked.”

“Don’t be crude.”

He chuckles, throwing himself down beside you and resting his head on your lap. “I heard the maester confirmed it. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Shouldn’t you? We must be in the hours of the eel.” Instinctively you start playing with his hair; you expect Aegon to tell you to stop, but he doesn’t. “Although you stink, I’m glad you are here; I’ve missed spending time with you.”

He makes a pfft sound. “You looked miserable at our wedding. That’s why I’ve done my best not to bother you since.”

You remove your hand from Aegon’s messy hair and tilt his chin back so he’s looking up. “Is that what you think? I had a mixture of feelings on that day, none of which were because of you.”

He looks away, “you flatter me.”

“I doubt you will understand, and I may sound stupid, but I was upset because I got ready alone. Rhaenyra and Flora helped me get dressed and did my hair on the day I married Ser Harwin, but before our ceremony I only had handmaidens whose names I didn’t even know. It just wasn’t a nice feeling knowing I should be celebrating but didn’t have anyone to do it with.”

“You don’t sound stupid,” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry if I made you think I was unhappy about our union.”

A few moments of comfortable silence pass; you continue stroking his hair until you feel a damp spot on your nightgown. It takes a moment for you to realise that it is because Aegon is crying. Panic starts to rise inside you, “I didn’t mean to upset—”

“He’s going to take you from me.”

“What? Who?”

Sitting up, his face is only inches away from yours; he slurs, “the babe. You’ll love him more than anyone else, and you’ll forget about me.”

“That’s not how love works. I love ghost because we are bonded; Helaena, as my sister, I will love this babe as a parent, and you because you’re my husband.”

“Do you love me?”

You place a soft and gentle kiss on his lips that still has the taste of wine lingering on them. Somewhat content, Aegon rests his head on your chest, his ear pressed near your heart so he can listen to the rhythm of it beating. He hesitates at first and then places the flat of his hand against your stomach.

“Makes you presume it will be a son? You’ve no way of knowing the sex of the baby.”

“Trust me, I know it’s a boy.”

[justinalovee]

I love your page update! It’s so pretty

Thank you ☺️

[justinalovee]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏’𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x reader

Word count: 389

Warnings: Fingering, breast sucking, swearing, slight praise kink

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI

A warmth spreads through you as Rhaenyra's feather-light touch sets a fire alight inside you. After leaving the Red Keep to continue serving her as a lady-in-waiting at Dragonstone, you have remained nothing but loyal to her. And even in times of hardship you do whatever it takes to comfort her.

“That’s it,” Rhaenyra purrs, pressing her breast further into your mouth, “you’re so good at this.”

You switch to the other breast, giving it the same attention as the first, your hand now sliding down to caress her stomach. The positioning was perfect, as the queen was sitting on the chair facing her vanity and you beside her on the footstool. Rhaenyra gasps as your hand ventures lower, your fingers rubbing over the damp fabric covering her core. “It must be hard without Prince Daemon near for him to tend to your needs. Allow me, my queen, to help with the ache between your legs.”

“Yes, do it.”

You brush the damp fabric to the side and push your middle finger into her cunt. You smirk when the wet sounds of your finger plunging in and out of her soaking core mix with her wanton moans. “Your cunt is weeping for attention, but you’re so tight, my queen, I’m not sure anything more will fit. Should we try?”

“Fuck, yes!”

Rhaenyra grips your shoulder, bucking her hips slightly when you slip a second finger inside her. “You’re taking me so well,” you say while adding a third finger. “That’s it, you’re such a good girl. I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

She throws her head back, “I feel so full.”

You savour the way she clenches around your fingers and the little noises she makes with each movement. Tilting your head down, you take her breast into your mouth again while rubbing tight circles on her clit with your thumb.

It doesn’t take Rhaenyra long to come apart moaning your name.

Letting go of her breast, you gently withdraw your fingers and bring them to your mouth, tasting her sweetness. Once they are licked clean, you stand up and kiss her cheek. “Next time I do hope to taste it directly, your grace.”

Still trying to regain her composure, she looks at you confused. Where are you going?”

“To prepare you a bath, my queen.”