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jacesvelaryons · 3 months

Note

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

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captainamericasmotercycle · 2 months

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Cregan Stark x reader where it’s very hot in her homeland and the two are visiting for a wedding and Cregan is having a hard time adjusting to the heat while also getting horny because of readers outfit that’s a bit more revealing to relive her from the hot weather.

You don't even understand how much I love this request <3

warnings: p in v sex, cregan is so horny he starts ignoring her, oral (f receiving), wife reader, appearances are not specified

wc: 1.1k

Since you had married Lord Cregan Stark, you had spent most of your time in the cold and snow, forgetting what it was like in The Reach. You became more accustomed to the Northern climate.

When your sister had sent a raven to the North, declaring her marriage to the sitting lord of House Oakheart, you insisted to Cregan that the two of you were to attend.

Over two months after you left Winterfell, you had arrived in your homeland.

“Returning from the North, Lord and Lady Stark!” The guards called out to everyone at your arrival.

Your sister rushed to you and your husband, pulling you away, she looked you up and down, shaking her head.

“Sister, these gowns will not do! It is far too warm for your furs, we must get you changed!”

She motioned for more maids to tend to your lord husband as she pulled you to her chambers.

Gathering much more appropriate gowns, she helped to dress you. The gown was much more low cut, showing off the cleavage you had, the sleeves were shorter, the material was thinner, and it felt so much lighter on your skin.

“There you go. So much better! Now, lets meet our lord husbands in the Hall.”

She wrapped her arm in yours, walking within the long castle hallways. Most of her guests had already arrived at Highgarden, greeting the two of you as you passed.

Walking in, your husband’s soft gaze turned to a more hardened one. You approached him, brows furrowed, “Everything alright?”

He swallowed sharply, kissing the temple of your head, “Great!”

You weren’t convinced, but you dropped it, it was time to celebrate your sister and her soon-to-be husband.

The morning of the wedding was intimate, waking with your husband at your side, then leaving the chambers early to help your sister prepare.

All throughout the wedding, your husband would barely look at you, provoking insecure thoughts. Had he found another lady in The Reach that he liked better? Had he taken a whore to bed? Did he no longer find you attractive?

Your usually doting and loving husband would barely look at you, and let alone touch you, but today wasn’t about you, and you needed to let it go, but you couldn’t.

During the after-ceremony celebration, you distanced yourself from Cregan, since that’s what he seemly wanted. You hadn’t spoken or talked to him, until he had pulled you outside of the feasting room by the arm.

You pouted at him, “What is it, husband?”

“Husband? You never call me that!”

You’re up against the wall, your arms crossed over your chest, facing him. He looked so different in lighter clothing.

“Well, you never ignore me.”

He sighs, running his hand over his face, “Forgive me. I am having trouble adjusting to the weather…it is making me quite irritable… and you are not making it any easier.”

“I?”

“You and these gowns,” you started to piece together what he was saying to you.

You smirked at him, “Do you not like them? I think they are rather pretty.”

He nearly growls at you, pulling you into him by the waist. His lips go directly to your neck, sucking gently.

“Do I like them? I can’t even fucking look at you without getting hard.”

You reach your hand down to grope at his crotch, easily feeling his length in the thin linen pants he was wearing. He grunts at you, “See what you are doing to me.”

He looks down at your cleavage, rushing to kiss lower down your chest, but you scold him, lightly pushing him away, “Cregan! Not here… the celebration…”

“Then find me somewhere that I can have you.”

You pull him with you to your chambers, shutting and barricading the door. He grabs the fabric on each breast, ripping the fabric straight down the middle.

“Cregan!”

“I’ll get you a new one. But this one… this one is mine.”

He animalistically pulled your dress off, leaving you in your small clothes, looking you up and down, he licked his lips, his eyes darkening.

Grabbing your small clothes and ripping them off, your husband turned you around, bending you over the small couch in your room, your back to his front.

He kicked your legs open, dropping to his knees and immediately attaching his lips to your sweet spot.

He licked and sucked at you like a man starved. His tongue lapping up and down your womanhood. You writhed in pleasure, finding it hard to stay still.

He added his large fingers to his craft, thrusting and curling them in and out of your cunt. Almost immediatly after adding a third finger inside of you, a wave of pleasure hit, you whole body shaking.

He came up to your lips and kissed you, “Your cunt has never tasted sweeter, my love.”

He picked you up, walking to the bed and throwing you down. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Cregan angrily fumbled with the ties on his pants, getting on your hands and knees and shaking your cunt in his face.

Finally getting his pants down, he snatched you by the waist, shoving his hard cock into you. You screamed out at the contact, but he quickly put a hand over your mouth, “You don’t want the guards to come interupt us now, do you?”

You shook your head and swore to be quieter.

He fucked you hard, thrusting at a pace that he’s never reached before. The pent up anger he had with himself for not taking you sooner came out.

Lewd sounds filled the room. The sound of your and Cregan’s moans, and the sound of him pounding into the back of you only made you wetter.

He grasped your neck, pulling your body up to flush your back to his front. He nipped at your ear as you felt your second orgasm approach. His thrusts got sloppier, you knew he was close too.

A string of profanities came out of his mouth as your cunt tightened and squeezed his cock. He filled you with his seed and pulled out.

Flopping down on the bed, you were breathless; Cregan fell next to you, kissing you softly.

“I shall never restrain myself for so long ever again,” he laughed.

You giggled at his words, “You shall never ignore me for so long ever again.”

He smiled, kissing you one more time before getting up to pick up all of your garbs. You sighed, staring at the ceiling, knowing you had to return to your sister’s celebration.

Though, at your return with a new dress, flushed cheeks, and messy hair, the rest of Westeros will surely see how much the Lord and Lady of the North truly love each other.

#cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #hotd cregan #house of the dragon #cregan x y/n #lord cregan stark

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wateveriwant · 1 year

Text

Barbara Palvin in Vivienne Westwood

The Sprouses’ Wedding

#barbara palvin #vivienne westwood #model #celebrity weddings #celebrity #wedding #wedding gowns #bride

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veritasangel · 1 month

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⋆ ｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ piv (unprotected), creampie, mentions of getting reader pregnant, oral (receiving & giving), fingering, multiple orgasms, wedding night

older knight! simon - one︱two︱three︱four︱five︱six - {wc: 4.2k}

↣ if you don't wanna read it all in one go, there are dividers around every 1k words <3

Celebrations had been in full swing for a while now, the night air filled with laughter and music. Drunken nobles made a fool of themselves, sweet blessings were given to you and your new husband. The kingdom was full of joy and everyone was wishing prosperity to you and Simon.

As fun as the afterparty was though, once yours and Simon’s first dance had ended, you were only thinking about one thing.

You know Simon’s mind drifts to the same place yours had because the gleam in his eye spoke a thousand words alone. Your hands find each other under the table, fingers entwining as you lean into his side.

“Shall we?” Simon whispers, his voice low and intimate, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“We can’t ditch our wedding party.” you laugh softly, “It’s not polite.”

“Says who?” He scoffs, “It’s our wedding after all, and I have been patiently waiting to have my wife all to myself.” he grins, leaning in close to give you a kiss.

His lips barely linger, the touch fleeting yet enough to send a thrill through you. You feel your cheeks flush as Simon’s eyes hold yours, a shared secret sparkling between you. The music and laughter of the party fades into the background, and all that matters is the two of you, lost in this moment.

“Come on, my love,” he murmurs, his hand warm in yours as he helps you to your feet. “Or I mean, we can stay for a few more toasts if you really want to?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I think I’ve had my fill of conversation for one evening. I’d much rather toast to our future in private.”

With a shared glance of understanding, you and Simon make your way through the crowded room.

You glance around, seeing the joyous faces of your guests. Together, you navigate the crowded room, offering polite excuses to well-wishers, weaving through the guests who were too caught up in their drinks and celebrations to notice the bride and groom slipping away.

Simon’s smile's bright, and he squeezes your hand as he leads you down the quiet halls, away from the merriment. The castle walls rose around you, ancient stones whispering of history and tradition.

The flickering lights create dancing shadows, and the silence feels almost sacred after the hectic commotion of the day. Simon’s hand never leaves yours, his thumb gently caressing the back of yours as you make your way to your chambers.

As you approach the door to your chambers, your heart quickens. This is the moment you had been waiting for, all of this build up, to now. Simon turns to you, his expression soft and tender. “After you, my beautiful wife,” he says, pushing the door open.

Inside the room you were met with the soft glow of candlelight, the bed covered in pretty petals. The air is thick with the scent of roses and the promise of what was to come. Simon steps in behind you, closing the door gently.

He draws you into his arms, his touch gentle but sure. “This is our night,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “And I intend to make every moment count.”

“Sweetheart, as lovely as the rose petals are, isn’t it a bit impractical?” you remark with a light laugh.

“Oh, I absolutely agree. I didn’t scatter them out, figured it would be a waste since we’d mess it up. I suppose the maids didn’t get the message,” he replies with a playful grin.

Simon's focus never drifts from you as he guides you over to the bed. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he smiles at you. He leans down, his lips softly meeting yours in a tender kiss.

Simon pulls away momentarily to admire you in your wedding gown, the white a beautiful contrast to the red rose petals surrounding you. It sends a rush of blood straight down to his cock. With a soft growl, he disappears under your wedding gown, kissing up your leg and along your thigh.

Opening his mouth, his teeth gently bite down on the garter, pulling the fabric down with a soft tug. As the fabric slips away from your leg, he lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he tosses the garter to the side. “You wouldn’t let me do it in the main hall, I had to do it at some point.” he grins.

His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips capture yours in another tender kiss, all of the unspoken emotions, just pouring out in the loving gesture. He moves around you as his fingers nimbly work the zip along the back of your wedding gown.

He wants to explore every part of you, and he certainly plans to take his time tonight, savouring each moment. He wants- no- needs, to make you his completely. The love he has for you is all-consuming, and he wants to show it to you in every second he can, with every touch.

As the gown falls to your feet, his gaze is stuck on your body, so delicate, with your pretty lace corset and panties. He can’t help but marvel at how perfect you are. “So, so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.

His hands move to unfasten your corset, revealing more of your body with each passing second. Simon’s eyes drink in the sight, his hands running over your curves, causing you to shiver.

He lifts you up, placing you gently on the bed. He takes a moment to admire the way the petals look beside you, the sight making him delirious. His warm breath moves across your skin as he peppers kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone, gently nipping at the delicate skin every now and then as he works his way down.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder, admiring your body and the way the candlelight dances across your skin. “God, you’re stunning- how did I get so lucky?” he whispers.

Simon climbs onto the bed, his hands cupping your face. “You’re all mine...My precious wife,” he says gently, his lips moving down to kiss the wedding ring adorned on your finger. He smiles, returning his lips up to your mouth as his hands begin to roam, exploring every inch of your body.

Simon's touch is both tender and demanding, his fingers trace every curve along your body, the dip of your waist, the swell of your breasts.

He holds you gently, but the grip is still strong enough to remind you he was once a well equipped fighter. He plants sweet kisses, with occasional soft bites along your skin that you know will bloom in the morning with a faint rose hint.

He likes the idea of marking you, claiming you as his own. He knows you’re his and he’s yours but there’s a sense of pride he gets in flaunting that fact. Letting the people know that the royal princess is truly enamoured with a man like him. He nips at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting.

His kisses trail down to the valley in between your breasts as his hands continue to explore you. He palms your breasts, thumbs flicking over the sensitive peaks, eliciting a soft moan from you. He likes the sound of that, loves knowing he can make you lose control so easily.

Simon's mouth moves to your breast, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking gently. He can feel you arching into his touch, and he can’t help but smirk against your skin. He continues his worship, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he pulls at it with his teeth. “Is that good, hm?” he teases.

You nod as he moves to the other breast, treating it just as lovingly. He nips and sucks, teasing you with his mouth, and you can feel your arousal building. His hands keep exploring, one moving lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

His touch is light, trailing his fingers along the dampness there, almost torturing you with the promise of what was going to come. His lips soon follow down, kissing a path down your stomach, his tongue darting out every so often as he maps out your smooth skin.

He continues further down, his kisses growing more urgent as he reaches the edge of your panties. He hooks them to the side as he reveals your pussy. He takes in the sight of you, your arousal glistening, your folds parted just enough to reveal the pink flesh within. “My pretty girl’s already so wet for me.” he coos.

Simon's breath catches at the sight, and he can't help but emit a low growl of desire. Leaning in, his tongue flicks out to taste you, savouring how you taste. He laps at your folds, teasing the entrance to your core as his fingers stroke your thighs.

He continues his worship, his tongue delving deeper, coming back up to suck on your clit. He could feel you trembling beneath him, your moans growing louder as he brought you closer to the edge. “So sweet- you taste so fucking divine.”

Simon's fingers join his tongue, slipping inside you, curling to find your most sensitive spots. He moves them in a rhythm, his thumb flicking at your clit, his mouth never leaving your core.

He continues his assault, his mouth and fingers working in perfect harmony as his eyes lock onto yours. You let out a breathy moan as he slides his ring finger into you. The sight of it disappearing inside you making his own arousal grow. He watches as he fingers you, his thumb circling your clit as he works his finger inside you.

He dives back in, his face between your thighs, his tongue swirling around your clit as his fingers continue their ministrations. The overall blend of these sensations almost seems too much to bear, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to that sweet release.

He eats you out like a ravenous man, like you are the most divine thing that ever rested on his tongue, and in a sense, that's true. "You're all mine" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. He flattens his tongue against your folds as the bridge of his nose brushes against your clit.

He pulls his hand away momentarily as he lifts his ring finger slightly, pressing the ring against your clit, smirking when your body shivers at the cool metal and you mumble something incoherent.

His pace increases, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers thrusting as deep as they can, hitting that sweet spot inside you. He can sense your orgasm, feel it in the tremor of your thighs, the clench of your walls.

Simon's lips press against your clit, sucking it gently as he keeps his fingers exactly where you want them. The combination of his mouth and fingers is all too much, and you cry out his name as you come undone, your body trembling beneath him.

He continues, even as your orgasm subsides, drawing it out for as long as he can. When he’s sure you’re spent, he pulls away, his eyes meeting yours once more.

"Mine," he repeats, a satisfied smirk curving his lips.

With a gentle tug, Simon fully removes your panties, discarding them. He moves up your body, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as he positions himself at your entrance.

“You ready?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes- I want you.” you whisper back and that’s all he needs as he slowly pushes inside you. The moment he does, you both let out a soft gasp. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

He starts to push into you, his strokes very slow, so he can feel every inch. As he does, his hands roam across your body, caressing your skin, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. He pays attention to every noise that escapes you, each slight twitch, taking it all in.

The room is filled the room with the sound of moans, slapping skin on skin, and both of your quickened breaths.

His thrusts quicken as you lock your legs over his waist, heels against his ass. He feels you drawing closer and closer; he wants to be the one to push you over. He bends down at the waist, takes your lips in a rough, hungry kiss, and just keeps up the pace of his intense thrusts. His hands move to your hips, as he pulls you against him, thrusting as deep as he can in ecstasy.

Simon's free hand moves to your breast, squeezing it firmly as he tugs at your nipple with feverish intensity. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, growing closer and closer.

“Is that good, baby?”

“Yesyesyes, so-so good.” you babble as you cling to him.

By the time Simon's cock has reached that pivotal spot, you can’t help but whine with this feeling of him being so deep inside you. Your eyes meet, and there, at that moment, you just felt a connection which is beyond the physical. It's something raw, real between them; a bond getting stronger with each second.

He quickens his pace, a few simple thrusts increasing the urgency of the moment. He continues to drive into you, his thrusts more fierce now, his body trembling as he nears his climax. The two of you move as one, your bodies locked together in a dance of passion and love.

The moment is intense, the two of you reaching for that peak, both of your body's aching for release. As he continued his movements, he let out a low groan, his voice thick with desire. "Fuuck- keep squeezing me like that- shit- and- I might have to put a baby in you."

His words send a thrill through you, the thought of starting a family with him making your heart flutter. The thought of having his children, sharing this connection with him in such an intimate way, made your love for him grow even stronger. Simon's thrusts grow more desperate, his body trembling as he nears his climax.

"You can-" you whine, "you're my husband now."

Simon's eyes darken at your words, and he lets out a low growl. "Yeah? Call me that again."

“My husband.” you say through breaths as you look up at him adoringly.

He leans down, bringing you in for a loving kiss as he continues to thrust into you. He can feel your body responding to him, his every movement, and it spurs him on.

Simon continues to drive into you, his body trembling as he nears his climax. His movements become desperate, his thrusts faltering slightly, becoming sloppier.

“Please- so close-” you whine

“Yeah? Well, I suppose I can’t deny my future queen.” he groans against your skin, head buried in the crevice of your neck.

Simon's thrusts grow more frantic, as you both reach the peak. His body shakes as he fills you up to the brim with a thick load. You cling to him, your body shaking as your own orgasm crashes over you in waves, leaving you both breathless and spent.

Simon collapses onto you fully, forgetting how heavy he is compared to you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. After a few moments, he lifts himself up slightly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

The two of you catch your breath, relaxing in each other's arms, the afterglow washing over you both. For a moment, the outside world ceases to exist, it’s only you two and you wish you could stay in this bubble of intimacy forever.

As Simon pulls out, you can’t help but let out a soft whine, the emptiness inside you leaving you missing the feeling. His release runs down your thighs as you begin to trail kisses along his body. Your lips brushing against his skin, feeling the ridges of his scars.

Each kiss you place on his body is filled with love and adoration, your tongue traces the lines of his scars, feeling the weight of his past. You want to heal the wounds that time couldn't, and in your own way, you are.

Simon feels vulnerable, you can tell in the way he looks at you. He’d just filled you with his cum, but the sight of you focusing on his scars was what made him feel shy.

Your lips linger on his chest, your eyes meeting his, your love for him shining through. "I love you," you whisper, the words echoing in the room, a promise of the life you two would build together.

His eyes soften, and he pulls you in closer, leaning in to kiss you softly, his hands tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, afraid you’ll escape if he lets you go.

Pulling back from the kiss, you continue your journey down his body, taking your time to map every inch, every ridge, watching as his body shivers slightly when your breath meets certain areas. “You’re mesmerising and I’m so thankful you’re my husband.”

“I’m the thankful one. I’m merely a retired knight, compared to you-”

You shush him as you finally reach his cock, now slick with your juices and his. You wrap your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling around the head, cleaning it gently.

“Shit-” he hisses, still so sensitive from before, just barely over his first orgasm Simon can’t help but let out a soft moan, his fingers threading in your hair to guide you as you pleasure him.

Your lips move up and down his shaft, kissing along his cock which is now already hardening again. Simon's eyes close, his body relaxing as you take care of him, leaving him feeling loved and cared for.

He lets out a slight moan, muffled as he bites his knuckle. His hips gently thrust up to meet your mouth. Simon’s praise comes out as a soft whisper, "Fuck, you're good at that, angel." His fingers play with your hair, his touch gentle as he enjoys the way you take care of him. You can feel his appreciation, his words making your cheeks flush with pride. You let out a low hum at every praise, the noise vibrating along his cock, causing his eyes to close.

Simon's hips continue, his cock sliding against your lips and tongue as he loses himself in the bliss. "Christ, you're working me up again."

You smile around his cock, the sound of your laughter muffled by his cock in your mouth. One of your hands moves to his balls, gently fondling them, only adding to his satisfaction.

Simon's breath hitches, his fingers tightening in your hair as he nears his climax. You can feel it building, and you quicken your pace, your tongue working faster as you want to bring him to the edge once more.

He lets out a desperate groan, his hips bucking as you bring him closer to his climax. But just as he’s about to go over, he abruptly pulls away, his eyes meeting yours.

"God, no- Need to be inside you again." he growls, his voice thick with desire.

His tongue dances with yours, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you back up towards the headboard, where he’s leaning against it. "Want you on top."

You nod, your lips still locked with his, and move as directed, straddling him. His tip is leaky, his pre-cum dripping profusely. His eyes close in bliss and his breath is shaky as you gradually sink down on his length.

Simon's hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he watches you ride him, his eyes never leaving yours. You set a steady pace, your hips moving in a rhythm, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

Simon's breathing grows heavier, his eyes darkening with a mixture of lust and love as he watches you ride him, his cock filling you up perfectly. It feels as though you’re made for him- as if he’s made for you and God he hopes he is. He swears marrying you is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, before he thought the knights were his home. But now he knows it’s you, you’re his home and he wants to start a family with you.

His desire grows, his need for release overwhelming. His body trembles as he feels himself quickly getting close again, and he can’t help but bring one of your hands to his lips, kissing the ring on your finger.

“I’m all yours, forever.” you whisper tenderly as your hips slow momentarily.

“And I’m yours, always. Every fibre of me, I swear it.” he says, with so much love and devotion in his tone that you could almost tear up.

He wants to be at your mercy, to let you take control and show him the pleasure he craves. He’s lost in the moment, his body writhing beneath yours.

"Thank you- fuck- thank you-" Simon whimpers, his voice thick with desire. In this moment, it’s easy to forget the man he used to be, the feared knight who commanded respect and terror. Here, he was just another man, lost in the passion and love that exists between the two of you.

His hips lift to meet your movements halfway. The two of you move together, your bodies locked in a dance of desire, your love growing stronger with each passing second. Simon's fingers tighten on your hips, his grip a testament to the pleasure you brought him.

As you continue to ride him, Simon leans back, his head resting against the headboard as he lets your hips do the work. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels the way you use your hips against him. He’s no match for them and it’s one battle he’ll happily lose. The hushed whispers, the tender touches and the dim light from the candles, set the perfect romantic scene.

The room is filled with the sounds of your moans, the slap of skin against skin, and the soft grunts from Simon as he feels you taking control, guiding him to the edge.

You can feel his body growing closer to the peak, his fingers digging into your hips. The two of you move together, whispering sweet nothings to each other as he runs his hands across every inch of your body that he can reach, desperate to be as close to you as he can.

It’s not long before a guttural groan escapes Simon’s throat, his body tenses as he erupts inside you. Thick ropes of cum shoot inside you, the sensation overwhelming as he hits that peak. You cry out his name, a bundle of nerves coursing through your veins as your orgasm hits you, body trembling as you gush around his cock. Simon's eyes close as he feels the aftershocks of his climax and yours.

Simon remains inside you, keeping his release plugged inside you as one of his hands rests on your belly, his fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. He looks up at your sweat-sheened skin, a satisfied smile on his lips as he gazes at the woman he loves. "Gonna look so good carrying my babies," he whispers, his voice thick with desire and love.

His hand moves from your belly to your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple, teasing it gently. "You're perfect, baby. You're perfect for me."

As you lean down onto him, your forehead resting against his, Simon wraps his arms around you. He holds you close as the two of you bask in the intimate feeling. Simon presses a soft kiss to your forehead as he holds you close.

"I love you," he says lovingly, his voice heavy with emotion.

"I love you too." you whisper back, your voice filled with just as much love and adoration for him as the two of you lay there, entwined in each other's embrace.

You rest your head on his chest, catching your breath as the world outside is still. The moonlight paints the room in delicate silvery hues. Every beat of his heartbeat reminds you of this new chapter in your life, one you now share with Simon and you find yourself looking forward to this new future alongside him.

In the gentle cocoon of love, you both found a peace that transcended words, wrapped in the eternal embrace of a love that would only grow stronger with each passing day.

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