#Ewan Mitchell drabble | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

citysuk · 9 months ago

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so in love | aemond targaryen

pairing: dark!aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader (rhaenyra's daughter)

summary: some headcanons of aemond with his obsessive behavior over you

notes: I'M BACK!!! i just know that when this man is fixated on something, he won't stop until he gets it. he's so crazy! i think i wanna have his babies 🤭🤭🤭

warnings: targcest. violence. hate. kinda yandere aemond, he daydreams A LOT. but he my pookie <3 he's not bad, he just wants to be himself!! no proofread. no use of y/n and no oc neither.

Aemond Targaryen, a prince of great ambition and power, found himself falling hopelessly in love with you, Rhaenyra’s only and oldest daughter. It was a love twisted by fate and circumstance, but one that burned brighter than a thousand suns.

His gaze was always drawn to you. He watched you from across the room like a hawk, his intense eyes taking in every detail. He longed to touch you, to feel your soft skin and bury his face in your hair. But he knew it was a forbidden love, one that could never be. His mother would never allow it.

Aemond found himself dreaming of spending time with you, stealing moments away from the prying eyes of the court. He would imagine taking you on long walks through the gardens, their hands entwined, their bodies pressed closely together. He would dream of you flying alongside him on your dragon, the wind whipping through your hair as you soared through the endless expanse of the vast world below.

During the council meetings, Aemond would find his thoughts drifting to you, his mind unable to focus on the discussions of warfare and politics. He would fantasize about the future, about a world in which they could be together. He would day dream about walking down the aisle on their wedding day, vowing to love and protect each other for the rest of their lives.

In quiet, hidden moments, Aemond would find himself scribbling your name in his journal, as if writing it down would somehow bring you closer to him. He would sketch your face from memory, trying to capture your likeness on the page. He would pour his heart onto the parchment, writing poems and love sonnets, each word dripping with the fullness of his affection.

Aemond found himself drawn to the things that reminded him of you. He would seek out the things that made him think of you: a certain flower, a specific scent, a particular piece of music. He would find himself stealing a glance at jewellery and clothing, picturing you wearing them, imagining the way they would fit your body like a second skin. He would find himself stealing a strand of your hair, tucking it away in a hidden pocket, so that he could feel a piece of you close to his heart.

He would watch you at feasts, his heart aching in his chest, his desire burning like a raging fire. He would watch as suitors danced with you, his hands curling into fists as he had to watch them touch you, to see their hands on your hips, to watch them lean in too close. He wished it was him, his hands on your body, his lips close to your ear, his breath on your skin.

Aemond would find himself searching for any opportunity to be near you. He would attend meetings where he knew you would be present, just for the chance to hear your voice and see your face. He would find excuses to walk by your chambers, hoping to catch a glimpse of you through a cracked door. He would find himself listening for the sound of your footsteps in the halls, his body tensing with anticipation.

Sometimes, when the castle was quiet, Aemond would find himself outside your windows, standing in the shadows and looking up at your rooms. He would imagine you sitting at your desk, studying or sewing. He would imagine himself climbing through the window and sneaking into bed beside you, holding you in his arms and shielding you from all the hardships of the world.

Aemond would watch you, studying your face, the way you moved, the way you spoke. He would memorize every detail, every nuance, every little quirk. He would notice small things about you, like the way you bit your lip when you were nervous or how you twisted your hair when you were deep in thought. He would study you as if you were a work of art, like a sculpture in the godswood, perfectly sculpted in a way that only a higher power could create.

Aemond would also observe subtle things about your character. He would see your empathy towards those in need, your kindness towards your handmaids, and your strength when faced with adversity. He would notice the way you cared for your siblings, your loyalty to your family, and your love for your mother. He would see how you stood your ground against those who sought to undermine you, your determination and tenacity. He would see all of these things and love you more because of them, knowing in his heart that he had never met anyone quite like you.

Aemond would also feel a sense of guilt for his feelings. He knew that it was wrong to desire you, that he was supposed to be loyal to his brother and to his family's alliance. He would argue with himself in his mind, trying to convince himself that he was being foolish, that his feelings were just a passing fancy. But no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, his heart would not listen. It beat wildly in his chest, as if it was trying to break free and fly to you.

Despite the challenges and conflicts that came with his affection for you, Aemond would also find moments of tenderness and vulnerability. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly emotional, he would imagine confessing his feelings to you. He would picture telling you everything he felt, laying his heart bare and hoping for your understanding. He would imagine the look on your face, the shock, the surprise, and maybe even the realization that you felt the same way.

But Aemond would also fear the consequences of his confession. He would dread the rejection, the possibility that you would not feel the same, that his love was unrequited. He would worry about the judgement of his family, the disapproval of his mother. He would fear the consequences of acting on his feelings, the possibility that he could lose everything he had worked so hard for, all for a chance at happiness with you.

Aemond would also find himself struggling with his own insecurities. He would compare himself to the other men who sought your attention, and find himself lacking. He would question if he was good enough for you, if he was worthy of your love. He would doubt his own worth, his own prowess, and his own ability to protect and provide for you. It was a constant internal battle, one that he fought alone, in the darkest corners of his troubled mind.

Despite his insecurities, Aemond would also find moments of confidence. He would see the way you looked at him, the small smiles you would give, the subtle nods of approval, and it would give him a sense of hope. He would feel a burst of courage, imagining that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that you could return his feelings. He would find himself taking small risks, standing a little closer, making a joke, just to see if he could make you smile.

If he was feeling courageous he would steal glances at you across a room, hold your gaze a moment too long, or brush your hand with his, feeling the electricity shoot through his chest. He would find himself standing closer to you than was strictly necessary, taking in your scent, breathing in the air around you, like a man drowning and desperate for air.

Aemond would also find himself trying to impress you. He would find himself showing off during training, using more impressive moves, or taking on more challenging opponents. He would try and draw your attention to him, using his swordsmanship like a weapon in his pursuit of your affections. He would also try and display his intelligence, making clever observations, or offering thoughtful insights during council meetings. He wanted to show you that he was more than just a skilled warrior, that he had a brain to go along with his brawn.

After Viserys' death and the start of the war, Aemond would become more resolute and determined than ever. He would see the conflict as a chance to prove himself, to show the world what he was made of. He would channel his energy and his anger into the war effort, throwing himself into the fray with a newfound fervor.

He would also find himself taking on more responsibility, taking command of troops, making strategic decisions, and leading men into battle. He would become an even more fearsome warrior, fighting with a ferocity that was almost feral.

During the war, Aemond's feelings for you would only become more intense, even though you were on opposing sides. He would find himself thinking of you constantly, worrying about your safety and your well-being. He would hear news of your battles and victories, his heart torn between pride and worry.

His feelings would translate into his actions on the battlefield. He would fight with a reckless abandon, seeking out the most dangerous missions and the most challenging opponents, as if courting death would provide some sort of relief from his torment. He would throw himself into battle, hoping that tiring himself out with fighting would be a distraction from his aching heart.

He would also find himself looking at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and your dragon soaring above, wondering if you thought of him as much as he thought of you.

Despite his intense feelings, Aemond would find himself in a moral dilemma. On one hand, he loved you with all his heart, and the thought of raising his sword against you made his soul ache. But on the other hand, he was fiercely determined to get the throne.

If Aemond were to ascend the Iron Throne and rule the Seven Kingdoms, he would make sure that you were by his side. He would want to keep you close to him, to have you as his queen, his partner, his confidante.

But your loyalty to your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, would be unwavering. Aemond would know that you would never betray your mother.

He would also be worried about the political repercussions of your loyalty. He would know that your family on Dragonstone would never agree to you being his queen, and he would be aware that they would do everything to try and keep you from him.

Aemond would be furious when he learned that you were being betrothed to Cregan Stark. He would feel like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. The thought of you being married to someone else would make him feel like he was drowning in a pool of molten lead.

He would also feel betrayed and angry, as if the world was conspiring against him, toying with his heart, making a mockery of his love.

Aemond would be a man possessed. The thought of losing you to another would drive him mad, and he would be willing to do anything to prevent it. He would start to lose his grip on his sanity, seeing no other way to have you than to burn the world to the ground.

He would fantasize about setting the Red Keep ablaze, watching it burn like a pyre of the damned, feeling the heat of the flames on his skin like the fires of his rage. He would imagine bringing down the entire world, reducing everything to ashes, if it meant he could have you.

He would also want to destroy the man who stood in his way, Cregan Stark, the man who would take you from him. His thoughts would be consumed with revenge, with a desire to end Cregan Stark's life, to make him pay for stepping between him and you. He would relish the idea of watching the light fade from his eyes, and would dream of the moment he could hold you in his arms once more, the body of your betrothed at his feet.

Aemond's love for you would be like a wildfire, consuming him from within. He would be driven by a primal force, and nothing would be able to stop him, not the law, not the gods, not anything in the world. He won't stop until you are his.

autor's note: do you guys want a part 2??? 👀👀 please like and reblog if you liked it, comment your thoughts!!

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alicvnt · 10 months ago

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intimacy. ⑊ 8:16𝐩.𝐦.

content warnings. -> mdni. smut. afab. fem!reader. cunnilingus. slight breeding kink. praise kink. aemond is in love.

+. hii, my loves! i’m officially back & posting new writing content after a few months of my hiatus. this is just something short i wrote to get back into writing smut/fluff again. will prob delete later…idk. love u. ♥︎

the night is still young, full of soft caresses and tangled limbs. deep, eager thrusts and sensual kisses. sweet, feminine moans and deep groans of endless pleasure. you’re embraced by your lover, his arms long and lean and possessive, wrapped snuggly around you, never wanting to let you go.

this is how you spend your most recent nights, being fucked roughly, lovingly, with large, calloused hands and sweet nothings whispered into your ear, possessive words spilled by your lover’s kiss-swollen lips— you’re his perfect girl.

his sweet, most beloved girl.

his, his, his.

“mmh, you taste so fucking sweet,” aemond purrs against you, his lips pursing as he suckles your overstimulated clit into his mouth, flicking his skilled, silver tongue over the fleshy nub, his eye flashing darkly as he watches you, silently observing you, watching the way you cry out for him, your mind falling into oblivion.

pure, blissful pleasure beyond comprehension, that is all you feel, all you can taste, all you can touch, needy and wanting more, more, more.

it is almost exhausting, coming so many times on your lover’s wicked tongue, feeling the rough pads of his fingertips dig into the curve of your plush, womanly hips, humming against your sweet cunt as you mewl like the most beautiful creature he has ever seen.

“perfect…so, so perfect, my love.”

shyly, you lock eyes with him— your beloved aemond, the other half of your soul. “ahh, aemond— please, i- i need….” you trail off breathily, so beautiful and innocent, your sweet voice stammering slightly from how needy you were, desperate for aemond and his devoted touch.

and then, you gasp weakly, your heavy-lidded doe eyes widening, seeing the yearning and dark obsessive sparkle that made your husband’s eye glow, his prominent adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he continues slurping at your tiny, drooling cunt, eagerly drinking down the sweetness of your liquid pleasure, making wet, obscene noises with his mouth as he feasted on your exquisite ambrosia.

“my precious girl, my heart— mine,” aemond rasps, his voice deep and hoarse, his jaw throbbing with the way he continued feasting on your dripping cunny, devoted to making you come over and over again on his tongue until he can’t stand it anymore.

aemond needs you, beyond desperate as he slips his leaking cock inside of your tight, gummy walls, his lips now claiming yours, kissing you messily— he is full of his own endless passion and desires, his tongue curling around yours so perfectly, a most perfect match, making the young prince purr deeply as he tastes your innocence on his own tongue.

oh, he wants, he wants you, more than anything.

you were always so alluring, so lovely— you’re like an endless dream that aemond never wished to wake up from, wanting to be lost inside of you forever, never to be parted, two bodies, two halves of one shared soul, intertwined for eternity.

aemond sighs, breathless, overwhelmed by your ethereal beauty, obsessed with the way your weeping cunt squeezes his cock, making him ache and long to fill your womb with his hot, scorching seed— and oh, you would make the most beautiful mother, aemond thinks, yearning to make you the mother of his children, his heirs.

the night is still young, and so, it continues, with sweet promises and declarations of endless love whispered from aemond’s lips, lost in the warmth and love that is simply you, and you’re his, only his— completely and eternally.

and tonight, like every night previous in your shared martial chambers, you’re all that matters to the one-eyed prince.

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achaoticeternal · 2 years ago

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electric touch

aemond targaryen x niece!reader

summary: while taking a visit to the royal library, you come across aemond who seems to have a small gift for you. word count: 1.1k warnings: afab!reader, targcest, reader is mentioned to have violet eyes but that is the only descriptor. a/n: this was just a little drabble I thought of. i'm trying to get back into the grove of writing after my summer hiatus.

Though King’s Landing was quite an enticing place to visit, the climate at Dragonstone seemed to accommodate her taste better. Where Dragonstone held warm air and cooling sea breezes, King’s Landing lacked such a luxury. Whenever Rhaenyra made visits to the capitol with her daughter, neither princess slept well for their own reasons. Both, however, missed their own beds and comforts of home.

Currently, the younger Targaryen princess was making her way down the aisles of the library. Particularly, she found herself in the special collection that her uncle had curated. Books that varied from philosophy, the history of Old Valyria, and even strategies of ancient wars. However, sprinkled in between were books that contained the sweetest words held in between pages. Yes, both she and Aemond held a secret bond over the lines of fine poetry.

It was a love they learned as children. Whenever Aemond was not training or being tormented by his brother and nephews, he would accompany his niece at the weirwood tree. Helaena would not be too far off either, allowing the creatures in the gardens to climb into her gentle hands.

Such a memory caused a small smile to grace her lips as she reached for a book that had been well-loved.

“Have you come to wreck my shelves?” The voice interrupted her abruptly.

She jumped away from her spot, the breath returning to her lungs when she recognized the man. Her hands went to smooth out her skirts, “Good day to you, uncle…”

The lady went to reach for the book again. Still, it remained just out of reach. The scoff sounding next to her changed her focus once more.

“Have you not considered using your words to ask for help, riñītsos?” He questioned.

Little Girl.

Sighing at his question, she moved back from the shelf. As she faced him, her eyes flicked from the book to his gaze. Though her actions were childish, she did not anticipate being denied her wish, “Kostilus…” Please.

His dismissive hum could be heard as he moved in front of her. With ease, he gripped the spine of the book before bringing it down. Aemond held onto it for a moment, eye scanning over the cover. Epics of Old Valyria.

“I see you’ve been working on your native tongue,” the prince stated nonchalantly, “Though it is still peculiar to me as to why you deem it fit to borrow from my personal collection?”

The corners of her lips dropped at his words, “And do you enjoy withholding the pleasure of knowledge?”

His violet eye slowly trailed up her height. Both of them had grown since they’d last shared each other’s company. This was evident to both parties. Her eye then met her own violet ones as a chuckle played on his lips, “Withholding pleasure is enjoyable for some people.”

Her posture straightened immediately, the innuendo not going unnoticed. She took the book from his grip, preparing to move past him and back to the security of her mother’s chambers.

The princess did not make it more than two paces before his hand shot out to grasp at her forearm. His touch was not harsh, yet there was no warm to it either, “What are you forgetting?”

She breathed out in audible frustration. Her eyes still trained toward the exit of the library, keeping her distracted from his intense gaze, “Are you not supposed to be in attendance of the small council meeting? Or has your seat been taken?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened at the taunt. However, his demeanor remained relatively calm.

Finally, she answered him properly, “Kirimvose.” Thank you.

After a pause of silence, she craned her neck to look up at Aemond. Her gaze was met with a playful smirk, “Issa daorun” You’re welcome.

However, his hold did not retreat from her forearm. Instead, he continued, “I have a little gift for you. Consider it a welcoming present for my favorite niece.”

“Careful, uncle,” Her eyes refocused on his face. The rest of the library remained at a soft focus, “You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Jaehaera’s feelings.”

His upper tip seemed to curl into a snarl at the quick-witted comment. Releasing his hold, his hands went to the pockets of his doublet, eyeing the item within it. Pulling out the piece, a finely forged Valyrian steel chain dangled from his nimble fingers. Resting at the bottom of the chain was a pendant of a singular dragon with a sapphire for an eye. The craftsmanship itself must have cost a fortune, not to mention the installation of such a fine gemstone.

“Kepus,” Her voice lulled, “Gevie…”

Without a word, Aemond moved to stand behind her. His gentle touch caressed her upper back as he moved her hair onto one shoulder. The cool pendant rested atop her bosom, sending tingles throughout her chest. The chain itself snaked around the delicate skin of her neck where he now clasped it together, “Dōna zaldrītsos,” Aemond purred.

As she turned back to face him, her lithe fingers toyed at the pendant. She quickly grew accustomed to the weight of it and the metallic feel against her skin, “Where did you find such a necklace?”

The look on his face was passive as if he could not drop his uncaring disguise, “I had it made for you.”

As her browed raised in motion for him to continue, Aemond added on, “I figured it would be to your liking.”

She took a moment, eyes flickering from the leather he wore to the steel chain at her neck.

“I see,” She nodded, “And what moved you to commission such a fine piece?”

Unbeknownst to the lady, Aemond fought an inner battle. He wished to step closer to her and reach out once more. He hated that he could easily despise his nephews, but never her… Not the girl whom he read poetry with between lunch and tea time. The girl who was now a woman grown before him. His greatest torment and object of his deepest affections.

Aemond faced her once more, bringing up his hand to toy with the pendant at her chest now, “The thought of you wearing it for me…”

---

all feedback is greatly appreciated. my ask box is open for requests.

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aemndxx · 1 year ago

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ʚ gif credit. ɞ

𝒶.targaryen. ┆ it's a craving, not a crush.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ jus' a lil' smutty n fluffy aemond drabble. !!! 🧸♡ྀི

jus' imagining prince regent!aemond coming into your shared martial chambers, all irritated, furious, and aggressive-- startling your sensitive heart slightly, so unlike the stoic yet kind, brooding yet a complete gentleman whenever he was in your company—his sweet, darling little wife—quiet yet cannot help himself by always whispering sweet nothings into your ear, enjoying the way you're always so shy and get so easily flustered around him still, even after many moons of marriage already.

still, the aemond in your martial chambers right now seemed different, not like his usual self-- or rather, not like when he was with you; a gentleman, but always ravenous for you, well-mannered for a targaryen prince of the royal blood, yet dangerous and cruel to anyone else who wasn't you, his mother or his sweet, beloved older sister, helaena.

overall, the aemond standing before you now, it was a totally different side to him, standing there with his large fists curled tightly, white knuckled and glaring into the void with that one-eye of his-- and it hits you right there and then, you have never seen aemond upset, much less so furious, nor had aemond allowed himself for you to come to know or see him when he's like this, not wanting to frighten you away, especially during your courtship days.

aemond always knew you’d be his lady wife someday, it just took some… persuasive words from the young prince, which was said in his usual soft, velvety drawl, nearly sounding bored as he spoke to your oafish father while you were off dancing with your sisters a few steps in front of aemond, having him order you to stay close by to him that entire evening, and of course, you obeyed so prettily, like the precious princess he knew you were born to be.

yet, the threat in his words were clear and final that night at aegon and helaena’s wedding celebration—your daughter is mine, she always has been mine, wed her to me and mayhaps i won't burn the entirety of your house down to ashes by dawn, hm?

"my love? are you quite alright?" you question sweetly, so innocent and with the purest, gentlest of intentions, and that is why not even a full two minutes later, you find yourself with your knees pressed up against your heaving breasts, stripped completely nude, with your beloved husband on top of you, pounding into your sopping, quivering little cunt, fucking you over and over and over again.

"fuck," aemond grits out, his narrow hips snapping into the backs of your smooth, plush thighs, that were lathered with a sweet vanilla oil that had your husband go nearly feral every time you pass by him, or when you're hanging off of his arm during court in the afternoons and banquets like the beautiful, sweet little doll that you're.

"tightest fuckin' cunt-- by the gods, woman..! you will be the end of me," he says through his panting, chasing his high and yours, needing his release that he's been craving all day, instead of having his mother yapping in his ear about politics and the like, but all he could focus on was you-- and stuffing his face in between the softness of your gorgeous thighs, to taste the sweet nectar that lies between, just begging to be kissed and licked and fucked full of his cock until your tiny cunt is gaping and your womb is full with his seed.

"doing s'good for me, sweetling," aemond coos into your ear hotly, panting harshly and dripping with sweat, his skin fiery to the touch-- and oh, how you loved getting burned by him.

blood of the dragon, indeed.

you whimper meekly, looking up at your husband all weepy and cross-eyed, pleasure consuming you whole, overwhelming emotions clouding your already hazy mind, making you babble mindlessly, deliriously moaning like a silk street whore.

"soon... soon, you'll give me an heir," aemond husks breathlessly, making your cunt clench erratically, which earned you a crazed chuckle from aemond, watching as he threw his head back in pure bliss, high off of your willingness to be his perfect little wife, all obedient and ready to receive her husband's seed.

"yes, i know, my love... i know, you just want to be a sweet, obedient little wife for your husband, don't you?" he taunts, a mocking yet amused smile curling upon his curved lips, which he then bends down again, focusing most of his attention all over your bare bosom, your breasts heaving and little nipples hardened from your arousal-- but aemond doesn't mind, immediately suckling on one of your puffy nipples, making it nice and wet and swollen, creating claiming marks all over your breasts as his hips continue to brutally snap into you, rutting and bucking into your wildly, making you wail girlishly and squirm beneath your husband.

"a-aemond...! please, p-please, i am about to−" aemond clicks his tongue, stopping your speech and tutting with disapproval shining in his amethyst eye, the sparkling sapphire gem that was stuffed into his left eye socket shining maliciously, a warning to tread carefully for what you're about to say.

"does my wife wish to come on her husband's cock?" aemond purrs, now rolling his hips every time he enters you, making tears fall from your pretty, doe-like and lustful eyes, all misty and dreamy with desire and love for your sweet, beloved aemond.

"please, aemond-- i want to come on your cock, please," you beg with a small whine, desperate and needy to reach your own release already, especially with aemond having edged you by eating your sweet little cunny out for nearly an hour before finally fucking you with his cock, after you had begged and pleaded him to.

continuing to listen to your sweet, desperate pleading, aemond smirks, before swallowing your loud, feminine moans into his mouth, devouring you and tasting you, thrusting his hips into you faster, faster, faster-- signaling for you to reach your peak as he fucks you even harder and even more mean than before, giving your overstimulated clit a few harsh slaps with one of his big hands, and perhaps your husband was a bit too cruel, or just obsessed with making you his, but you're too delirious to notice as he finally leans down and quietly gives you his permission for you to come for him.

"come for your husband, now," he whispers deeply, possessively, making you cry out and cling to him like a newborn babe as you finally get to lose yourself in your ecstasy.

aemond targaryen was many things, most of them cruel… a kinslayer, some common folks say a madman, many say a cold-blooded killer, a man with a blackened heart and a hunger for blood and violence-- however, aemond one-eye was never one to deny his wife anything, no matter the consequences.

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aemondwhoresworld · 10 months ago

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I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, DADDY

pairing: dad!ewan mitchell x mom!reader ; husband!ewan mitchell x wife!reader

summary: a day without mommy at home, with lovely moments of ewan and elowen.

part of series: y/n, ewan and elowen mitchell

word count: 2,5k

warning: english is not my first language. fluff, sweet little elowen, ewan being a dad, etc

mae: it’s kind of long, i really want to make it as details as possible. also i’m currently obsessed with ewan being a girl dad, i just don’t know why, tbh i wanted to give him babies :)

fill THIS FORM to be add in my taglist 🌟 | you can discuss with me for this series through my ask ✨

As you finished putting on the final touches of your makeup, you heard the soft padding of tiny feet approaching the bedroom. You turned to see your daughter, Elowen, rubbing her eyes sleepily, her curls tousled from sleep. She looked up at you with a drowsy smile, still clutching her favorite stuffed dragon.

“Good morning, Mommy,” she murmured, her voice soft and endearing.

“Good morning, my love,” you replied, kneeling down to her level and pulling her into a warm hug. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, her sleepy expression brightening as she noticed the hint of lipstick on your lips. “Are you going somewhere today?”

You smiled and gently brushed a stray curl from her face. “Yes, sweetheart. Mommy has to go to work today, but I’ll be back home later, okay?”

Elowen’s face scrunched up slightly, a mix of understanding and reluctance. “Okay, but can I come with you?”

You chuckled softly, kissing her forehead. “Not today, darling. But maybe next time, if it’s somewhere safe. Today, Daddy’s going to be with you all day. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

As if on cue, Ewan appeared at the door, leaning against the frame with a smile. “How’s my little dragon this morning?” he asked, his voice warm and playful.

Elowen’s face lit up at the sight of her father, and she ran over to him, her earlier reluctance forgotten. “Daddy!”

Ewan scooped her up effortlessly, planting a kiss on her cheek. “I was just about to make some pancakes. Want to help me, El?”

She nodded eagerly, all traces of sleepiness gone. “Yes, please!”

Ewan looked over at you, his gaze soft and full of love. “We’ll be fine here. Don’t worry about a thing.”

You smiled at the sight of them, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I know you will. You two are my everything.”

Ewan walked over with Elowen still in his arms, leaning in to give you one more kiss. “And you’re ours. Go knock ’em dead today.”

You nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. With one last look at your husband and daughter, you grabbed your bag and headed out the door, your heart full of love and gratitude.

As you stepped outside and into the car waiting for you, you couldn’t help but reflect on how lucky you were—to have such a loving family, to have a career that you were passionate about, and to be able to share all of it with the people who mattered most. Today was going to be a good day, and you knew you’d carry the warmth of this morning with you wherever you went.

After you left the house, Ewan and Elowen sat down to enjoy the pancakes they had made together. Elowen giggled as she drizzled extra syrup over her pancakes, while Ewan watched with a smile, happy to see his daughter so full of energy and joy.

“Daddy, these are the best pancakes ever!” Elowen exclaimed between bites, her face lighting up with happiness.

Ewan chuckled, ruffling her hair. “I’m glad you like them, El. You’re quite the little chef.”

After they finished breakfast, Ewan helped Elowen down from her chair. They both took their plates to the sink, and Ewan guided her through washing the dishes together. Elowen stood on a small step stool beside her father, her tiny hands barely big enough to hold the sponge as she tried to scrub the dishes clean. Ewan rinsed off the soap suds, making sure everything was spotless before placing the dishes on the drying rack.

Once the kitchen was tidied up, Ewan and Elowen brushed their teeth together. Elowen mimicked her father’s actions, standing on her tiptoes to reach the bathroom sink. Ewan made a game out of it, pretending they were brushing away “dragon breath,” which made Elowen giggle uncontrollably.

With their morning routine complete, Ewan decided it was the perfect time for a walk in the park. “How about we go on an adventure to the park, El?” he suggested, kneeling down to help her into her little sneakers.

Elowen’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, Daddy! Can we see the ducks?”

“Of course,” Ewan replied, smiling at her enthusiasm. “Maybe we’ll even see some squirrels too.”

They both put on their jackets and Ewan grabbed Elowen’s favorite stuffed dragon, which she insisted on bringing along. Hand in hand, they stepped out into the crisp morning air. The park wasn’t far from their home, and the walk there was filled with the sounds of birds chirping and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

When they arrived at the park, Elowen immediately spotted a small pond where a few ducks were swimming. She pulled Ewan over to the edge of the pond, watching the ducks paddle around with wide-eyed wonder. “Look, Daddy! There’s a baby duck!”

Ewan crouched down beside her, his arm around her shoulders as they watched the ducks together. “I see it, El. Isn’t it cute?”

Elowen nodded, completely captivated by the little duckling. After a few minutes, she decided it was time to explore more of the park. They walked along the winding paths, stopping occasionally to pick up interesting leaves or watch squirrels dart up trees. Ewan made sure to point out anything he thought might catch Elowen’s interest, making the walk educational and fun.

As they strolled through the park, Ewan felt a deep sense of contentment. This quiet morning with Elowen was exactly what he needed—a chance to slow down, enjoy the simple things, and spend quality time with his daughter. He knew that these moments were precious, and he cherished every second of them.

After a while, they reached a small playground where a few other children were playing. Elowen immediately ran toward the swings, and Ewan followed, pushing her gently as she soared back and forth, her laughter ringing through the air. The joy on her face was contagious, and Ewan found himself laughing along with her, feeling grateful for these simple yet unforgettable moments.

Eventually, after playing for a while longer, Ewan noticed that the sun was getting higher in the sky, signaling that it was nearly time to head back home. “What do you say, El? Ready to go home and tell Mommy about our adventure later?”

Elowen, slightly out of breath from all the excitement, nodded. “Yes, Daddy! I can’t wait to tell her about the ducks and the swings!”

With Elowen happily chatting away about their morning, Ewan took her hand again, and they made their way back home. The morning had been perfect, and Ewan couldn’t wait to share the details with you when you returned, knowing that these little moments were what truly made life special.

After spending a delightful morning in the park, Ewan and Elowen walked back home hand in hand, both feeling refreshed and happy from their time outdoors. Once inside, Ewan suggested they do some creative work together, which Elowen eagerly agreed to.

"How about we draw something special for Mommy?" Ewan proposed as he set up the drawing supplies on the kitchen table.

"Yes! I want to draw a dragon and a castle," Elowen declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Ewan smiled, pulling out some paper and colored pencils. "That sounds like a great idea. I'll draw with you, and then we can color them together."

They spent the next hour immersed in their art, Elowen focusing intently on her drawing while Ewan sketched beside her. The room was filled with the quiet sound of pencils on paper and the occasional burst of laughter as they shared ideas and admired each other's work. Elowen’s dragon had colorful scales and a big smile, while Ewan drew a castle with tall towers, complete with flags waving in the wind.

When they finished their drawings, they both colored them in, adding vibrant hues that brought their creations to life. Elowen was particularly proud of her dragon, which she had named "Sparkles."

"Mommy is going to love these," Ewan said, holding up his finished drawing and showing it to Elowen.

Elowen nodded enthusiastically. "She will! I can't wait to show her."

After their creative session, it was time for lunch. Ewan guided Elowen to the kitchen, where he began preparing a simple but delicious meal. Elowen sat nearby, watching as Ewan chopped vegetables and cooked. She occasionally helped by handing him ingredients, feeling important in her role as his little assistant.

Once lunch was ready, they sat down to eat together. Elowen happily munched on her food, chatting about their morning and what they would do later when Mommy got home.

When lunch was over, Ewan helped Elowen down from her chair, lifting her gently to the floor. As her feet touched the ground, she looked up at him with a serious expression and asked, "Daddy, can I have a hug?"

Ewan’s heart melted at her sweet request, and he immediately knelt down to her level, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Of course, you can, El. Anytime you want."

Elowen wrapped her small arms tightly around his neck, holding him close. After a moment, she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her expression earnest. "Daddy, I’m so proud that you’re my daddy."

Ewan’s breath caught in his throat, touched beyond words by her sincerity. "Oh, Elowen, that means the world to me. I’m so proud to be your daddy, too."

Elowen smiled, her eyes shining with love. "I know Mommy is proud of you too. She always tells me how lucky we are to have you."

Ewan felt a surge of emotion at her words, his eyes misting over slightly. He gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his voice soft and full of love. "Thank you, sweetheart. I’m the lucky one to have you and Mommy. You two are my everything."

Elowen hugged him again, and Ewan held her close, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the family he had. In that moment, he knew that no matter where life took them, the love they shared would always be the most important thing in his life.

After a few more moments of holding her, Ewan stood up, still smiling as he looked down at his daughter. "How about we clean up the kitchen together, and then we can play some more before Mommy gets home?"

Elowen nodded eagerly, ready for whatever adventure the rest of the day would bring. Together, they tidied up the kitchen, the bond between father and daughter growing even stronger with each shared moment.

As you walked through the front door, the familiar warmth of home embraced you. Almost immediately, you heard Elowen’s excited voice from upstairs. “Mommy’s home!” she called out, her tone filled with pure joy.

Looking up, you saw both Ewan and Elowen at the top of the stairs, holding hands as they began to make their way down to greet you. The sight of them filled your heart with happiness, and you couldn’t help but smile as they reached you. Elowen let go of Ewan’s hand and ran the rest of the way to you, wrapping her little arms around your legs in a tight hug.

You leaned down to scoop her up into your arms, planting a kiss on her cheek before turning to Ewan, who was now standing beside you with a warm smile. He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms holding you close, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“How was your day?” Ewan asked, his voice soft and filled with love as he kissed your temple.

“Better now that I’m home,” you replied with a contented sigh, leaning into him.

“Did you have fun with Daddy today?” you asked, smoothing back a strand of Elowen’s hair as she nodded sleepily.

“Yes, Mommy,” she said with a little yawn. “We went to the park and saw ducks, and then we made pancakes. And I drew a dragon for you.”

Your heart swelled with love as you kissed her forehead. “That sounds wonderful, my love. I can’t wait to see your drawing.”

Ewan gently took her from your arms, cradling her against his chest. “Let’s get you ready for your nap, little one,” he said softly, carrying her upstairs to her room.

You watched them go, feeling a deep sense of contentment. While they were upstairs, you headed to the kitchen, preparing yourself a hot cup of black coffee. Once it was ready, you made your way to the living room, sinking into the comfortable sofa with your mug in hand. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the cup, spreading a soothing heat through your hands.

A few minutes later, Ewan came back downstairs. He walked over to the sofa and sat down next to you, leaning back and letting out a soft sigh. His eyes were gentle, yet there was a hint of emotion there, something that made you reach out and place your hand on his.

“Is El giving you a hard time, my love?” you asked softly, your voice filled with affection and concern.

Ewan shook his head slowly, not replying right away. Instead, he took a deep breath, as if collecting his thoughts. “I almost cried today,” he finally said, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “She’s just… she’s so sweet.”

You squeezed his hand gently, waiting for him to continue.

“She said she’s so proud of me,” Ewan murmured, his eyes shining with the intensity of the moment. “She just hugged me so tight and told me she’s proud that I’m her daddy. And she said she knows you’re proud of me too.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you felt your own eyes well up with tears. “Oh, Ewan,” you whispered, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder. “Of course, we’re proud of you. Every single day, El and I are so proud to have you in our lives.”

Ewan wrapped his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I know,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… hearing it from her, in that little voice of hers… it just hit me so hard. I never want to take these moments for granted.”

You nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “We’re so lucky, Ewan. To have each other, to have Elowen… it’s everything.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you close. “It really is,” he agreed softly. “I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.”

The two of you sat there in comfortable silence, the warmth of the coffee and each other’s presence filling the room. It was one of those moments where words weren’t necessary, where the love you shared was enough to communicate everything you felt. And in that quiet, peaceful moment, you both knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together, with love, pride, and the unwavering support of your little family.

taglist: @minami97 ; @hellsingalucard18 ; @champomiel ; @fan-goddess ; @xcharlottemikaelsonx ; @emyswagger ; @k1ttybean ; @callsignwidow

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happilyhertale · 2 years ago

Text

Morning delight – Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Summary: You have been married to Aemond for some time now. But even though it sometimes seemed as if routine was settling into your relationship, Aemond still manages to surprise you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Oral (f receiving); Sex (p in v)

Author’s note: English is my second language, so please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 1.1 k

Other HOTD stories

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Summary: It’s been a year since we were blessed with London premiere Ewan and I’m going through House of the Dragon withdrawals (I miss my dragon bitches) so please enjoy this little drabble of going to the season two London premiere with Ewan.

Warnings in this one shot: Briefly mentions a past abusive relationship/abusive ex boyfriend.

Side note: This coordinates with another Ewan drabble I made. :) [Man of the Year one shot 💚]

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You leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed, your eyes closed while you felt your husband rub oils into your cleanly shaven legs. You were currently in London promoting your latest project- the second season of House of the Dragon. You placed a hand on your rounded stomach, opening your eyes.

”I don’t know what I did to deserve such a caring husband to help me with my legs when I’m pregnant.”

Ewan chuckled at that. “Well, I want to prove I’m a worthy husband,” he replied teasingly, smiling up at you.

You returned his smile, running his fingers through his freshly bleached hair. “I think you have proven that time and time again, Mr. Mitchell.”

You met your husband, Ewan Mitchell, on the set of Netflix’s The Last Kingdom, playing his opposite, Fianna*, up to season four and he swayed you to audition as Aemond’s opposite, Adryana*, in HBO’s House of the Dragon, eventually leading you to gain the role.

You couldn’t be more thankful to have him in your life as your best friend and your soulmate. He was by your side when you were battling an abusive relationship, ending up in the hospital on more than one occasion because of Carson. The relationship ended abruptly when you told him you were pregnant, but Ewan stayed by your side every step of the way. He even moved in with you near the end of your pregnancy and became a fatherly figure to Evelyn.

You quietly dated while the first season of House of the Dragon aired and had a small, intimate wedding soon after the second season wrapped up. Fans were surprised to learn you were pregnant, but you haven’t revealed the face of the father, wanting to respect Ewan’s privacy. You were careful to not let the news of your marriage slip, going as far as removing your wedding rings before doing press.

”I still can’t believe you and Davey kept this hidden from me,” you said, doing one more sweep of Ewan’s hair before he helped you stand up.

”I wanted to keep it a surprise,” he told you with a small smirk, pulling you as close as he could and placing a hand on your bump while he leaned his head against yours. “What? You don’t like it?”

You hummed, smiling at Ewan. “Let’s just say if I weren’t pregnant, I certainly would be with the way you look,” you purred and laughed as his cheeks heated up. “It’s true!”

Ewan let go of you, his cheeks still flushed. “Y/N,” he mumbled before glancing over hearing the knock at the door.

”I hope you two are decent in there!” You heard Davey through the door.

You giggled, watching Ewan get the door where your stylist was holding your deep blue gown with a sequined bodice, the skirts and sleeves sparkly. It was in homage to Adryana’s season one dress; the Targaryen princess wearing blue sapphire dresses to show the love she had for her husband.

”The true superheroes are here!” You exclaimed with a sigh.

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You smiled watching Ewan carrying a sleeping Evie into your hotel room, your daughter lightly drooling on his velvet jacket. She was wearing a pinstripe jacket and a light blue dress; she wanted to match her favorite person, Tom Glynn-Carney.

”As much as I love meeting fans and talking about the new season,” you began, slowly sitting on yours and Ewan’s bed, “but I can’t wait to go home.”

”I agree,” Ewan agreed with a chuckle, carefully laying Evie in her bed so he wouldn’t wake her. He grabbed her stuffed dragon that was in the likeness of Vhagar, a prop from the show that was given to her after the season was over because she portrayed their on screen toddler daughter.

You smiled, tilting your head and took Ewan’s hand when he turned to you, pulling him down. “You did so good, my love,” you whispered against his lips.

“So did you, darling,” Ewan replied, returning your kiss gently. He cupped your cheeks, deepening the kiss.

You released the kiss after a moment, leaning your head against his. “Do you think you can take my shoes off and rub my feet? They’re a little sore,” you asked with a small giggle.

Ewan hung his head but got on his knees with a wide grin on his features. “Whatever you would like, Cinderella,” he said with a wink.

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*Fianna and Adryana are my OCs for The Last Kingdom and House of the Dragon respectively*

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almondmilktargaryen · 3 months ago

Text

Dear Birdie

Summary: Tom Bennett visits his girl, Birdie, after returning home from his first leave. He stops by her house, despite never sending her any letters.

Couple: Tom Bennett/Original Female Character

Category: Fluff (with the slightest angst)

Content warnings: One slap, smut

Word count: 5.5k

Also on my Ao3

A/N: This is kinda where season 2 kicks off. Except Tom's dad is not dead and everything's fine there because goddammit we deserve some happiness.

Birdie always made sure she and her brothers took advantage of their father’s out-of-country meetings. Even a world war couldn’t stop a businessman. Still, for Birdie, it meant a break from entertaining his friends with whiskey refreshers while dodging questions about marriage. It meant no sons of those same friends lurking around her at dinner parties, critiquing the meal in between their stories at the country club, unaware it was she who had strained over her mother’s cookbook all morning.

For her brothers, it meant no golf on Saturday and no church on Sunday. They slept late, ate plenty, and played outside while Birdie enjoyed her noon cigarette. She kept their itchy jumpers in the back of their closets while their button-ups and socks stayed a pristine bleach white for another week. And all of it equaled far less laundry for her to deal with before Monday.

That didn’t mean there was absolutely no laundry on the weekends. She already had a load to hang outside and more than enough August sunshine to take advantage of. As she clipped up one damp garment after another on the clothesline, next week’s load tumbled next to her as the boys wrestled in the grass. Charles was all elbows and knees at twelve, but it didn’t stop him from lunging at Robert. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes, giving Robert the time to dodge his tackle. His laughter rang high and clear when Charles landed in the dirt.

They both scooped up more to shove down the other’s polo when a face was out of reach, grunts and giggles blending together even after Birdie tossed her slipper at them. “I’m not doing any more laundry today.”

“Alright,” Robert said, finally getting dirt down Charles’ collar.

Birdie picked up her slipper. “That includes ironing.”

“We know.” Charles pulled Robert down by the ankle as he said it, his face clean until Robert took his shot.

“That includes your school uniforms.”

Then they paused, looking at each other, then up at their sister.

“If you can make it to the door before me, I’ll reconsider that last part.”

Charles hopped up first, this time helping little Robert up before charging to the back door. Birdie followed behind, the distance growing as she walked with a laundry basket at her hip.

Tom was the one who taught her that. “When in doubt, make it a race. Boys will take any easy win.” Sometimes he’d even sweeten the deal by offering actual sweets. Anything chocolate or caramel was an simple win over. And Tom was good at that, winning people over. Because, unlike the boys who only pulled polite laughter from Birdie all night, Tom Bennett was actually charming. And unlike their father coming home from France or Poland, the boys loved seeing him.

Unfortunately, Tom Bennett was also a proper bastard.

She couldn’t say that in front of the boys. It would break their hearts. He was proper when he told them about joining the army (while in jail,) then signing up for the navy (before almost going back to jail.) Everything had been radio silence since he told them about being sent to Spain first. The radio itself was more respondent than Thomas Bloody Bennett, making him the bastard he was.

They constantly heard about the Kriegsmarine. The Admiral Graf Spee had a record of sinking one ship after another across the Atlantic and Indian. Charles counted nine over several months in a little notebook he kept under his pillow. Robert would always ask if Tom was still in Spain or what ship he told Birdie he’d be on. All perfectly reasonable questions she had no answer to.

Eventually came the worst question left to loom in the air: Was Tom dead? The question lingered, unvoiced, in their minds. She wished she knew, even if it meant he was.

But she also wished the boys could forget. Erasing Tom Bennett completely instead of letting the continuous unknown haunt them seemed like a logical, lesser pain. It wasn’t a problem when their mother died. They were one and two when Birdie was ten. Their love for her was not as great as their love for Tom. They never stepped into a room with her in mind and a blanket of memories to follow. No everyday objects held the weight of those memories, like hair brushes and gold jewelry. Their father taught the boys how to play solitaire, but they couldn’t look at a deck without seeing Tom, the one who taught them about poker and how to cheat in the same night.

Even the report of Graf Spee’s sinkage last December felt bittersweet. The boys were cross-legged at the coffee table with the fire warming their backs. Birdie knitted while their father read in his chair. The fuzzily read conclusion of HMS Exeter’s victory sent that heavy blanket over the three of them. It was suffocating until Robert perked his head up, thick brown curls just above his eyes as he said, “Maybe Tom is on the Exeter.”

Birdie glanced over at their father.

“Tom’s dead,” Charles snapped back, his voice cracking with the force of it as his fists clenched in his lap.

“You don’t know that.”

“Boys,” Birdie called. But their father already stood, taking the radio and hiding it again.

Charles pushed Robert. “Good job.”

“Shut up.” Robert traced the table’s edge, sweeping his curls from his face. “And you still don’t know if Tom is dead.”

“Neither do you.”

“Birdie. Tell him he’s not.”

“Enough,” she ordered.

When their father came back, Charles hid his face as he wiped his cheeks. Birdie soon sent them both to bed.

He never wrote to her. She’d have to accept what that meant, whichever way fate fell. She knew Tom taking a liking to marriage was as hopeful as never seeing war again, but even leaving her like this would be the ultimate coward’s way out. Plenty would see it as a reason not to worry about him and take advantage of her youth while she had it. She never even met his family. They wouldn’t know to look for her if they knew his whereabouts. Time was her only solution. She could only hope that enough of it would pass, and she’d find the strength to laugh at a boy’s jokes from across the table. He’d feel so proud and funny throughout their courting; he’d even crack a joke before proposing to her. Then Birdie would surrender herself, hoping they’d all learn to love him. Just differently.

For now, Birdie opened the back door as the boys waited and soon clamored through the kitchen. “Shoes off!” She ordered as each thunk of non-bare feet trailed up the stairs, then back down, following the reminder. Birdie put the basket on the kitchen floor, debating briefly if she should smoke another cigarette.

They both shouted from the foyer. “Birdie!”

She didn’t move. There wasn’t distress in their voices, and Robert quickly came back into the kitchen to find her where she was standing. Running and shoving dirt into each other’s faces didn’t make them nearly as breathless as they were now. Then she saw the reason, standing in the doorway.

“Tom is here!”

He was here, leaning on his shoulder in a navy uniform with his sandy hair grown out past his ears. Charles hung to one arm as he carried a birdcage with the other. He topped it off with his arrogant grin and wink combination.

“Told you he wasn’t dead,” Robert said. His curls bounced as he vibrated with joy.

“Course I’m not dead.”

Charles continued holding onto his arm, his freckled face split into a wide, toothy grin Birdie hadn’t seen in months. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Hitler sunk me ship. Decided to stop by here.” He placed the cage on the breakfast table. The little canary inside chirped as it swung back and forth on the bar. “Wanted to bring a birdie for my Birdie.” He leaned against the table.

She crossed her arms. Charles finally separated from Tom to look into the cage. He stuck a finger between the golden bars. “Where’d you get it?”

“She was on the ship with me and the lads.” He mimicked her pose, not straying from her eyes. The boys continued with questions.

“Did you kill any Nazis?”

“Loads.”

“Get your uniforms,” she said.

“Are you back for good?” Robert asked, his dark eyes wide with hope.

“Boys. Now.”

“She’s right,” Tom said. “Be good and listen to your sister.” He ruffled their hair before pushing them on the back of their heads. “We’ll talk later.”

Robert disappeared first. Charles second, but he poked his head through the doorway one more time. “We’re glad you’re back, Tom.” And he showed off his toothy smile again before leaving. Their footsteps thump, thump, thumped up the stairs.

“Shoes off! I’m not telling you again.”

“Yeah, shoes off, boys,” he repeated with the same grin and a laugh to boot. He pushed himself off the table with his hip. “Seems like you’ve loosened the reins since last ti—”

The crack across his face bounces off the tiled walls. She thought about doing it plenty of nights when in bed alone, thinking of every way he could’ve left her, but it happened before she realized what she had done. The mark burned pink on his skin. Tom rubbed the spot, but a grin still stained his face just as prominently. Birdie’s face only tightened. “You think this is amusing?”

“A little bit, yeah. Keep that up and we’ll have to take this to your room. As long as your old man’s not here.”

“You think you can just show up whenever it suits you? We thought you were dead.”

“Your faith in me was strong, I see.”

“Because you hadn’t sent a single letter. And you think bringing some bird gets you out of this?”

“Hey, first off, her name’s Vera.”

“Vera!” Robert held his uniform in his arms, gray and wrinkled to hell. Charles opened the laundry room door and placed his matching one on the counter. “She’s a girl?”

“Sure is. Seen her lay an egg and everything. She was on board with me and the lads before Graf Spee took shots at us.”

“Wow!” Robert looked at Vera, Charles at Tom.

Birdie raised a brow. “You were on the HMS Exeter?”

Tom nodded, looking over at the bird.

“I knew you were on the Exeter! I told them you were!” It was Robert’s turn to take Tom’s arm, looping it with his own. “You killed them all, right? They said someone shot the captain.”

“Sounds about right.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat before tightening his arm with Robert’s. He patted his little hand.

“If Hitler sunk that ship, then did the others make it home?”

“Yeah, yeah. One way or another.” He glanced back at Birdie, and his grin simmered down. There was something more she couldn’t piece together. She opened her mouth, but Tom spoke up first. “You two do us a favor, yeah?” He unlooped Robert’s arm as Charles came around the table. Both are standing tall with eager ears. “So, I haven’t had a milkshake in about a year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s awful, innit? With it being as sweltering as it is, I think we all could go for some.”

They nodded enthusiastically. Birdie bit her lips closed.

“Good. But I’m sure your sister would appreciate you two cleaning up before we head out. Bath and all, alright?”

“But you need a milkshake now.”

“We all need milkshakes now.”

“Which is why you should hurry,” Birdie interjected. “The sooner you’re clean, the sooner we’ll get them.”

“But don’t rush washing up. Don’t want people to think she doesn’t know how to take care of you.”

“Are you going to kiss while we’re gone?” Charles’ nose scrunched as he said it.

“Probably,” Tom said. “You wanna watch?”

And just like that, for the third time, they were off. (Their shoes weren’t, but she couldn’t care to remind them.)

Tom shifted slowly, turning back to face her. “That’ll keep them away for a while.”

“You think I want to kiss you?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re just too angry to admit it.”

“You brought home a bird and no apologies.”

“Not just Vera.” He delved into one pocket. “I’ve got some seeds she likes. Here’s some rope she climbs on.” He placed them down on the table before fishing around the other pocket.

“Are you so up your own arse that you think I’m going to look past this? You think you’re so bloody perfect because—”

“Because I have these.” In front of them both were papers. Envelopes upon envelopes, stamped and ready to send with torn journal pages sandwiched in between. All of them covered in his fine cursive. Tom held them up and placed them with Vera’s things. “Well, at least you’re finally speechless.”

Birdie touched the top envelope with her full name written out, feeling the indentions of his handwriting.

“Sending letters at sea is harder than you think when Germans are around.”

“You wrote to me.”

“As often as I could. More than me dad or Lois. So if that doesn’t get me out of trouble.”

She couldn’t help the way her vision blurred with tears. Many months of anger and resentment dissolved inside her, melting into salty pools. Then she looked up, remembering the mark on his face. Birdie reached out and brushed his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Tom blew air through his nose. “It doesn’t hurt. Shows you still love me.”

“That’s not–”

“You wouldn’t have touched me at all if you’d given up.” Tom leaned into her hand, then took her fingers in his to observe. “No ring. So I’m not too late then? You didn’t move on from this poor bloke?”

“Not through lack of trying. They sent all the good ones away, too.”

They both laughed. It fizzled out slowly, leaving Vera to fill the silence with her chirps. Tom’s eyes were a crisp blue, making him extra dashing in his uniform. His damn smirk didn’t help with her decency, but Tom did the honors by pulling her in, guiding one hand to his back like she was the one who was used to being led. He kissed her gently, and his hands drew up into her hair, making her earrings dangle as a tingle bloomed from her scalp to her spine. She slipped her tongue in before bringing Tom closer in response–waist against waist. She felt what she wanted.

Tom hummed at the friction, pulling back first. “Eager to give me a hero’s welcome, I see.”

She nodded, already out of breath.

“Doesn’t help that you taste like cigarettes. Reminding me of old habits.”

“We can go to the laundry room.” She bent her back to press further into his bulge and kissed him again. The deep exhale through his nose was cool, brushing her cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs first.”

“But I want you now.”

“You’ll have me. Come on.” The warmth of his hands left her face as he reached out for Vera’s things. He hooked two fingers to pick up her cage.

Birdie watched him leave. A quick fuck was never something he declined before. It was what he preferred over anything that took a long time. Birdie preferred getting to the point, and Tom barely had the experience to take things slow like her. She sighed and grabbed her letters before following him upstairs.

The peachy walls and green curtains matching her floral bedding were reminders of how little things had changed. Even Tom pointed it out as he looked around. “That’s good.” He walked over to her desk, next to the big window. “Vera would like it here. She’ll get good light, and you can open up the window for some fresh air.”

“Sure.” She put her letters on her nightstand before shutting the door.

“I’ll put a hook in the ceiling and find a chain to hang the cage from. Make it all pretty for ya.” He scaled the height of the wall from top to bottom, hands on his hips and nodding to himself. “Yeah, I can get the boys to help me.”

“Tom.” Birdie stepped closer.

“Well, maybe not with this. Rather make sure she’s secure.”

“Tom.”

He turned with raised brows. Birdie rubbed his arms first, then cupped the part of his face she slapped. “Are you alright?”

His brow creased. “Yeah, course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting differently.”

“You haven’t seen me in a year. A lot happens in a year, Birdie. That’s no one’s fault.” He kissed her knuckles, all gentlemanly. His arms wrapped around her waist as he returned to his signature smirk.

“You can keep Vera at yours. The boys will understand.”

“Nah. We don’t have the room. She’s better off here on your side of the country.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, and I’ll visit her when I want. No matter what your old man says. I’ll just sneak through the window. Like old times.” He smiled at that. “Now, where were we?” He kissed her.

She wanted to say more, but Tom was good at distracting. The tingling sped down to her legs and morphed into numbness as Tom nibbled at her neck. They tangled with his own as he tried taking the lead again. Luckily, they fell onto the bed with little injury, only a bump to the teeth as Tom kissed her deeply into the mattress. His tongue slid through to find hers, and she worked her hands through his hair. Tom pulled down one shoulder of her dress, kissing and nipping his way down like he was reacquainting himself with every inch of her. Her bra went with it. Tom stopped at her waist to give her chest the attention it craved. He massaged one tit while taking the other in his mouth. He suckled gently on her nipple, occasionally taking it between his teeth to make Birdie gasp.

Birdie’s knees hiked up against Tom’s hips. She kept him in place while pulling his hair. Her calves felt the leather of his belt, telling her hands where to go. With their bodies so close, she struggled to find his buckle. Still, she navigated with her goal in mind.

Until Tom took both her wrists and held them over her head. He looked up with a pinkish face. ”Someone’s eager.” His voice was low as he said it, breath cool over her nipple.

“I need to be fucked.”

“I can see that.”

She bucked her hips against his. “Quick.”

“It’s been a year, love. I have to be quick.” And soon, he stepped up, then back. He took fistfuls of her dress and her underwear. Birdie lifted her lower back, and she was naked with one yank. She knew she was glorious. Her appearance clearly pleased Tom. So she reached out for his belt again, but Tom slapped it away. “Not yet.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. When she looked back up, though, he was already removing his shirt. The sight helped the sting. Before, he had a lightly sculpted physique, with some prominent muscles. But now, his skin was tighter against them, with veins that wrapped around his bare arms. Just like the men on all the sign up posters. A war hero.

Tom nestled back on top of her, keeping her warm as he pushed her hair back. “Is it so bad that I want to enjoy you?”

She shook her head. “You just don’t waste time when it comes to treats.”

“Who said I’m wasting my time?”

Birdie said nothing. For many reasons.

Tom liked his secrets, and he liked to think he was good at hiding them. But he was also right when he mentioned it being a year. Any logical discussion regarding his changed behavior had to be put aside. So for now, she stroked his chest, fingers gliding over his pronounced muscles. His abs jumped at the touch. Tom’s hand then followed down. Further down, actually. And before she could ask what he was doing, electricity sparked up her insides and throughout as Tom explored her wetness.

“Is this wasting time?”

No would be the obvious answer if she hadn’t lost all the air in her lungs. Each harsh intake forced a moan back out. Her chest felt caved in as she jolted under his heavy touch.

“Didn’t think so.”

She would also tell him to shut up if she had the wits, but he never did this. He was never bad at it (decent at most.) He never liked trying new things, fearing he’d embarrass himself. Learning and improvement were beyond his confidence. Being on the sea must have unlocked a more adventurous spirit with no room for improvement because she was so sensitive from enduring no touch at all. (A bloody year!) The only thing he could do was go faster, but his pace was agonizingly slow. With time, her back still arched as she gripped the arm that kept him hovering deliciously above her. “Tom.” She looked him in the eyes as she said it.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he picked up the pace, while she grew louder. Eventually, he brought himself down to kiss her, drinking in her moans as she continued to shake. He hummed as her nails dug into his arm and the other hand strangled her bedding. It kept her grounded as she cried out, spasming amidst her little death by Tom Bennett’s hand. He still explored, moving his fingers around and never venturing inside. He kissed her one more time before whispering, “There she is,” as she came back down.

Her legs quivered around Tom, lingered remains of her peak briefly pressing into his hips. And because Tom was feeling proper, he took it as an opportune moment to finally (finally!) remove his pants. Birdie tried watching what she could, but their bodies were too close together to see anything before he completely slipped inside. She stretched against him, but her reaction was to put a palm on his shoulder. She needed a minute, and Tom didn’t move. Birdie released the sharp grip on his arm to cup his face. His eyes were droopy, dazed with the same want she already received. He still kissed her slowly, tenderness still in his heart after everything he might’ve seen, and waited for her say-so.

Soon, Birdie nodded, nearly being lost in the moment again as she enjoyed her own show. Tom was deliberate with every inch, watching her face for any change. Her smile only grew, tightening her arms around his shoulders once he was completely inside her. Her breath hitched as she fully felt it, watching Tom’s eyes flutter shut from the same feeling. Normally, he would anchor her down with hands around her hips, but he stayed close as he thrusted slowly. Knowing he would be quick, he wasn’t animalistic about it. He didn’t pull all the way out to shove himself back in. He just kissed her neck as he kept his pace.

Her nails found his back, scratching down his skin and the small moles on his spine. “Tom,” she said as her mouth started falling open.

“Oh, Birdie.” He kissed her again, like it was a command. Their noses bumped as their hot breaths mingled in the limited space between them. “Oh, my God.”

She could feel the tension building inside. His thrusts became more pointed and faster, making it difficult to keep quiet again. She felt the raised lines she left in his skin as she moaned, “Don’t stop.”

He buried his face in her neck again as he only grew more erratic. And her second release, like Tom’s, was quick (as predicted.) It rushed up and down her legs and no further, topping off her first orgasm as Tom finished hot on her belly. Her toes curled at the lingering feeling as Tom breathed heavily, pulling the bath towel off her floor to clean up his mess. Then he took her hand in his as he fell into her pillows, stark naked and a beautiful sight amongst frilly pink lining. Birdie crawled while still trembling to lie on his chest. His heartbeat was rapid against his ears, and it eventually settled into a healthy rhythm.

Tom’s arms kept her close, keeping their hands together. She looked up at his face, already close to nodding off. One blue eye peeked open, and his lips curled into his signature smirk once more.

“Welcome home.”

“A fantastic welcome, love. Wake me up when you want to welcome me again.”

“You know you can’t fall asleep yet.”

He nodded. “It is tempting, though.”

“The boys should be ready soon.”

Air puffed through Tom’s nose. “A milkshake will have to do, then.”

She knew she should get up, but Tom’s hold around her waist was tighter, as if he had read her mind. It was tempting to sleep. It was more tempting than ever for another cigarette. But Tom’s breath had finally slowed, nearly to a rate that felt like he passed out, anyway. The only thing that assured her he was still awake was his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The simple back-and-forth motion that eventually numbed the skin soothed her mind, despite her questions still being there.

They piled in her head, one after the other, like the letters on her nightstand, addressed to her, for her to read. Even Tom knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.

But footsteps scampered down the hall.

Milkshakes would have to do.

They went to one of the inner city diners. The boys kept to one side of the booth (much to their shared dismay) as Tom stayed next to Birdie. They wanted to be glued to him, to prove to themselves that he was alive and in front of them. Charles even kicked him under the table with a grin plastered on his face. Only once, though, giving Tom rights to kick him back.

Birdie didn’t need the proof. Because something that hadn’t changed about Tom was showing her off in public. He held her hand during the entire walk and kept an arm cascaded over her shoulder in the booth at all times. Word would get back to her father when he returned home. (Someone was always ready to gossip.) And it would make no difference now that Tom was a war hero. No one acknowledged him as such even in the restaurant, despite his uniform.

Even Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He was more concerned with touching the skin on her arm. When their milkshakes arrived, he could barely pull himself away to drink any of it. Birdie crossed her legs , feeling the heat prickle through her as Tom eventually found her knee under the table while giving the boys his full attention the entire time. The way she allowed such public displays of affection would be embarrassing if she didn’t need him so badly again already.

It didn’t help that Tom ended up showing the boys how to hang Vera’s cage, exchanging his uniform for an undershirt and jeans. He installed the hook and showed them how to test its sturdiness, same with the chain holding her up, triple-checking the stability, making sure she’s safe.

They both tested the stability of her bed later in the night. With her hands on the bars of her headboard, Birdie found her familiar motion as she rode Tom into the mattress. His hands gripped into her hips as he moved with her, pushing all he could inside her while staying synchronized. They panted in the dark together. Tom occasionally reached up for her tits, but they made no attempt at meeting in the middle. There was a mutual end they were both desperate to meet.

And eventually, they did. Birdie curled in on herself as she caught her breath, and bent in to Tom’s touch. He guided her to the space between him and the wall. He cleaned them up once more with the same towel and wrapped her in his arms. As her arm snaked around his neck and her thigh drew near, he showered her with tenderness, nuzzling below his chin and rubbing her smooth skin. Vera chirped softly, the golden bars of her cage gleaming in the pale moonlight just above her desk.

Tom’s nails tickled her skin as they traveled up her hip and side before finding her chin, lifting it up to his. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but felt the air leaving his nose with every exhale. She drew circles on his bare chest, high up where his muscles didn’t get in the way. Her eyes were wide open, not even a little tired since this morning. She then wondered if Tom had slept at all since coming home, or if this was his first stop. Would he rest easy, like normal?

“What’re you thinking?”

“What?”

“You’re always quick to sleep. Unless you’re worried about something. So what is it?”

Birdie situated herself to rest on her stomach. She combed her fingers through his hair, reaching his scalp before pulling herself forward to kiss his cheek (she missed) then his lips. “Were you really in the South Atlantic? On The Exeter?”

“I was.” He said it without hesitation. It surprised even her.

“A lot happened.”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“We were hit. I was cutting up with some lads, pissing off some others.” He cleared his throat. “And they were gone.”

“Gone?”

“The lads. Norman, Vic, others. Only me and Henry survived that one explosion.”

“Oh, Tom.” She reached for his face.

“I wrote about Vic in some of the letters. Hopefully, I did him some justice.”

The silence was thick. No witty jokes to pad the seriousness. He only petted her hair over and over. His touch was rigid and his pulse picked up in his chest. She looked over at the letters on her nightstand, the abstract pile that they were. She reached out, and Tom caught her hand as her finger poked an envelope’s corner.

“Don’t,” he told her. He cradled her hand, bringing it up to his face again, but not letting go.

“What else is there?”

It took so long for him to answer she worried he was pretending to be asleep, making that the end of it until she inevitably brought it up again. His inhale was deep. “I don’t know if I have it yet.” He used her hand to point to his temple. “The Shellshock. You think I’d know with my dad and all. I don’t feel much different. But if… if I get sent out again… I’m…”

“Scared?”

“I might keep changing, Birdie. And I might finally snap like my dad and end up in one of those insane hospitals. With no one.”

“I’d be there.”

“You don’t know that.” He sounded like Robert.

“And neither do you.” She inched closer to kiss his lips again, longer this time, like it was a seal of guarantee. Even with the tensity, Tom softened to it. “What if you don’t go back?”

He huffed. “And be branded a deserter?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Your dad already hates me enough, don’t you think?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you want to go back.”

Tom sighed.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, then.”

“It just seems like the easy solution, right? Just don’t go back. I’d be a traitor, but I’d be alive with my dad, Lois, the boys, and you. But like I said, good lads died on that ship. Plenty more are dying elsewhere for the same bloody war. It’s not fair to sit out here when more good lads are getting sent out every day.”

Birdie picked herself up, unwinding herself from his body to look down at the vague silhouette halfway under blankets. “You’re a good lad, too. You know?”

His tongue clicked, brushing it off.

“Bad men don’t think the way you do. That’s why I waited for you. I’ll do it again. I’ll be in the waiting room of any hospital in England if you end up needing to get your head checked.”

“Not beside me?”

“They wouldn’t consider me family.”

“But I would.”

“Well, you’d have to marry me to prove it to them.”

It was a one-off joke. She even topped it off with a chuckle. Still, silence persisted; even Vera couldn’t be heard. Despite his fears, he was still the same Tom Bennett who couldn’t handle the idea of being tied down.

But just when she was about to give up and settle in with nothing spoken further, she felt Tom’s hand move across the side of her face, finding the comfortable, familiar spot just under her ear before pulling her back down. He didn’t make her settle in. He found her lips, kissing her slowly with an open mouth, taking a breath when he could in between.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t until he stopped that she rested her head on his chest again and his arms found where they wished to settle on her body for the night. He picked up her ring finger and it alone.

“I’ll think about it, alright?”

Birdie buried herself into his chest.

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ewanmitchs · 1 year ago

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can you imagine coming to your chambers after a long day. you find aemond reading by the fire and you just need to release some of the stress to focus on something other than the world outside so you just move in front of him drop to your knees and start undoing his pants. the only distraction you want right now is his cock in your mouth.

⎯⎯ PRETTY, PRETTY ┆ navigation. masterlist.

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: after a long, tedious day at court, you long for the comfort of your husband − and something else…

༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ warnings: minors dni. smut, canon!aemond 𝓍 wife!reader, afab reader, profanity, slightly mean!aemond (but he’s obsessed with his wife, trust me), [male] oral sex, degrading & pet names.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒔 ༘ ࣪𓂃 ෆ sry this took so long to write out… i didn’t know which direction to go in − i hope u love it nonetheless. ♡!

AEMOND ALWAYS ENJOYED WATCHING YOU − his one-eye focused solely on your pretty face, devouring you once again, silently admiring your sleepy, doe-like eyes blinking up at him innocently, the slope of your cute nose, your soft, flushed cheeks from the burning fireplace behind you, the light glaze of dew on your gorgeous skin from the heat of your martial chambers − gods, you were just so pretty, his pretty, pretty little wife.

fucking perfect, he thinks.

aemond also loves watching the way the tip of your soft, little pink tongue pokes out and gently kitten-licks the flushed tip of his hardening cock, teasing him into growing harder − and oh, fuck, the way your plush, pouty lips wrap around him now, suckling just the head of his cock has him let out a low, murmured curse, unable to stop himself from bucking up his hips, allowing his now fully hard cock to slip further into your mouth, nearly gagging you − however, you don’t seem to mind.

little minx, he calls you inside of his head.

in fact, you seem to enjoy his aggression, owlishly blinking up at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours, as if giving him permission to fuck your throat, making something dark and twisted inside of him release a soft, satisfied purr.

without any warning, you begin taking him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his leaking cock hitting your uvula, making you softly gag as your eyes begin to sting, but you continue on − you continue moving your mouth down, down, down until the tip of your nose nuzzles the neatly trimmed thatch of soft, platinum curls at the base of your husband’s well-endowed cock.

you hum, whimpering as you harshly hallow your cheeks, sucking and slurping at his cock messily, like you were born and bred just to do it − to sit prettily on your knees before your husband and allow him to fuck your mouth, to use your mouth whichever way he desires.

after a few minutes of this constant suckling motion, you do need a moment to breathe properly, pulling back only just slightly and wrapping one of your soft little hands around his glistening shaft, shining with the mixed essences of your saliva and his precum.

you quickly begin pumping him, hearing your husband grunt and curse, one of his big, masculine hands—calloused from his constant use with his blade—roughly bury his long fingers into your luscious locks, his one-eye heavy lidded and focused solely on you, his lips parted just slightly, panting for breath as his taut stomach tightens with the need for release.

without stopping, you continue suckling his leaking tip, swirling your tongue around it quickly, tasting him and humming, hearing him hiss from the vibration of your mouth, “fuck! fuck, have mercy on me, woman!” he growls, yanking on your hair in warning, but you don’t stop.

only, you increase your pace as you fiercely suckle just the tip of his cock, hallowing your cheeks and releasing his shaft from your hand, beginning to quickly bob your head up and down, up and down, up and down, repeatedly and fluidly, listening to your husband’s groans − as though he is in pain, but he is far from it.

as you continue to bob your head on his cock a few more times, taking him deeper each time, you reach up with the same hand you were pumping his shaft with earlier and begin fondling his heavy balls, hearing aemond let out a sharp breath, his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp, making you purr.

“fuck, you little fucking harlot,” he hisses, fisting a handful of your hair and begins to guide your bobbing head even faster than before. “just like that − mmh, fuck, your mouth…! made to suck my fucking cock,” aemond gasps, squeezing his one-eye shut tightly, feeling his balls tightening up almost to the point of pain.

then suddenly, you feel it − long, salty ropes of your husband’s seed, shooting down the back of your abused throat, making you moan breathily around the mouthful of his cock, doe eyes pooling with unshed tears and your soaked thighs pressing together beneath the fluffy skirts of your evening dress.

“that’s it,” aemond coos, keeping his cock lodged down the back of your throat, your nose pressed snuggly against the wet curls surrounding the base of his cock, your throat pulsing around him, making him groan loudly as he continues holding you down on his cock for a moment longer, until he is positive that every drop of his seed is dripping down your throat.

“take it all, that’s a good girl,” he sighs, feeling utterly spent, “we shan’t let a drop go to waste − after all, ‘tis royal seed you’re swallowing, sweet girl,” he continues mockingly, before finally releasing his harsh hold on your hair, which you take great advantage of and pull back, going into a small coughing fit, your tears finally spilling down your flushed cheeks, a small whine escaping you.

the corner of aemond’s mouth twitches, a small, amused smirk curling up on his lips, “awh, did i fuck your little throat too harshly, sweetling?” aemond asks, giving you a mocking pout.

you can only whimper and give a tiny nod of your head, pouting as you reach up and wipe away your tears, making aemond release a low, breathless chuckle, before tutting and gesturing over towards your martial bed.

“get on the bed and allow your beloved husband to return the favor.”

fin

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