The Challengers X Hotd Agenda Continues

Lay Your Claim

summary | When rumors questioning his wife's fidelity reach the king's ears, Aemond seeks out answers in his own ways.

pairing | king!aemond targaryen x wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI!, oral (f), rumored infidelity, exhibitionism, forced voyeurism, jealous and possessive king aemond 🫦, porn w little plot

wordcount | 2.1k

note | this is in the same realm as The Way to a Man's Heart but can still be read as a standalone :) next part will be a backstory for context.... maybe

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“...and some sprouting qualms over the Reach over farmland disputes, but I have good faith in the Tyrells to see the problem squandered before the need for the crown’s intervention…”

The late afternoon sun beamed warmly in soft rays into the small council chamber. The young king leaned against his spacious chair, rolling the green marble around in its plate as his men droned about the most minute details unworthy of his attention. Being king meant putting out small fires before extinguishing larger ones, done with a simple word or a nod, often by a wave of his hand. 

“Whatever you deem a suitable course of action has my approval, Lord Hand. Just see it done, yes?” Aemond ordered, satisfied when his trusted advisor nodded at his words. The assembly soon adjourned, and the council filtered out of the chamber, leaving the king be. Though he was not alone for long, for his wife soon walked through the same doors, sworn guard in tow. Aemond beckoned you forward with a nod, good eye running down the length of your embroidered gown. He noted his gifts adorning parts of you— the rings on your fingers, the gleaming sapphire around your neck, even the Myrish lace that adorned your overskirt. 

“You called for me, my king?” you asked softly. Always so prim and proper, with your hands clasped on your front and your spine erect like a doll on strings while stood a respectful distance from your husband.

“I did, wife. Some whispers have reached my ears, regarding an occurrence between you and one of your ladies. The Lady Wylde, I heard,” he spoke, observing as you started to fidget, bright eyes trailing away from his sight. “Do these whispers bear any truth?” 

It was silent as Aemond waited for you to speak, as calmly as his meager patience would allow him. “They do, my king. She… The lady said some things that threatened to taint my good name,” you said, head slightly bowed in shame. His face remained stoic, not betraying the sliver of surprise at your easy admittance. Perhaps he would get his answers quicker than he intended.

“I am curious to know what brought this on… if you would indulge me,” he urged, shifting to sit taller while his elbows leaned onto the table’s edge. Aemond noted the slightest flicker of your eyes towards him, before returning to your feet once more. 

“I-I do not wish to trouble my king with trivial nonsense whispered between women.”

“They are serious enough if it moved you to strike her across the cheek,” Aemond pressed before you could wave him off. In the corner of his lone eye, he observed your sworn shield. A knight from your region, sworn into the Kingsguard as part of your lord father’s negotiations for your hand. He didn’t think much of it then, but the growing whispers around court about the kinship between his queen and her knight were starting to unnerve him, like an incessant ticking in his ear. 

He won’t pry for now. Not directly at least, not while your knight stood tall by the chamber’s doors, eyes cast somewhere in the distance and avoiding his sharp stare. Still, the king would get his answers in some shape or form. 

“It is no matter now, but I fear my emotions got out of hand and I acted out of turn by striking her. ‘Twas a shameful act for a queen, I am sorry,” you expressed, slightly pouting. Your honesty seemed to be sincere enough, eyes bright as you raised your head to look directly at him. 

“What do you apologize for? The lady displeased you, did she not?” he questioned, brow raised in perplexed interest. Aemond would admit though the rumors seemed rather farfetched in his imagination, though the probability of its actuality not so much. It was not as though you were in his bed every night, nor him in yours. Despite the barriers that had been toppled in the course of your marriage, Aemond had never been one to adept in proximity. His expertise lay in keeping people within an arm’s reach, even in his marriage. Yet you never complained, and he presumed you were happy enough. Perhaps that happiness had been earned elsewhere, and the thought of it made his chest thump with an ugly heat. 

“W-well, yes, but House Wylde is a trusted ally of the crown. I understand our need for their support and their lord’s wisdom on your council. I fear that I may have tainted that pact with my actions–” 

Your words were cut short by a raise of his hand, flush lips clamping shut. The king could smirk at how obedient his sweet wife was, a dutiful little thing that never wished to displease him. It was a funny thought to imagine you capable of seeking a lover, in all your sheltered upbringing and devout faith, though it was too soon to dismiss such a thought. “No lord on my council comes before their queen. You have no need to fret over this, wife. In truth, I am pleased,” he said, smiling crookedly as confusion painted your handsome features. 

“You are?”

“Yes. I have hoped for you to find your voice— as sovereign, as my queen, and it seems you are growing the courage.”

Hearing his words made your face brighten in surprise, before warming to a timid flush at his praise. He raised his hand to reach for you, beckoning you closer. Taking short steps forward, your ringed hand fit smaller in his broader palm when you placed it in his hold. His grip was firm, though not overbearing, as was his other hand that gripped your waist to pull you closer.

“You would tell me if there are any secrets you hold that could harm the crown and its reputation, yes?” he asked, soft tone bearing a sharp edge that noted his warning. The implications of his words were evident in the way you obediently nodded, visibly gulping in his tight hold. He knew his wife was smart enough to not consider him a fool.

“Of course, husband. There is naught I wish to do that would be an insult to my king, I promise you this,” you uttered, sealing your vow with a kiss on his ring. Aemond leaned back with a pleased sigh, sneaking a glance toward the door where your knight still stood. He bit back the mischievous smirk that threatened to lift his slim cheeks, fingers thrumming on his thigh. 

“Good. Sit.” Your husband nodded towards the table’s edge. Your mouth opened to voice your confusion his intent, but the stern look in his eye left no room for question. You slid through the space between his legs and the wood, tucking your skirts beneath your bottom as you perched on the grand oak. Aemond hummed in satisfaction at your pliancy. Very obedient indeed. 

“What are you…” you started, interrupted by the king finding the hem of your skirt and lifting it to your hips. Panicked, you clamped a hand down to save yourself some decency. A moot attempt, for his grip was stronger than yours, and he had already exposed your smallclothes to his eye. “Aemond!”

“I wish to please my queen as she has pleased me. Think of it as a present of sorts,” he said, smiling casually as though his calloused palms weren’t caressing the exposed flesh above your stockings. His amusement only heightened at the flush starting to color his queen’s cheeks as you stammered.

“You are most gracious, my king, b-but here?” you questioned, head quickly turning to look at the two knights standing by the doors. Both your sworn shields were adept in playing invisible, expert in finding something else to cast their eyes upon unless they were needed. They would not react to whatever the king did with his wife in their privacy, even if he took her right before them. 

“I do not see a problem why not,” Aemond shrugged. You started to voice another attempt of reason, but he had already made quick work of loosening the ribbons holding your smallclothes together. The king was efficient in all things, wasting no time to dive head first into your lovely cunt.

With every sigh he coaxed from your lips, the more your resolve started to crumble, and the more it spurred him on. Mewling, your dainty hand grabbed his silver tresses, pulling on his roots to urge him away. Your husband lifted his head to look at you, with your breasts pushed flush against your neckline as you heaved, and eyes starting to grow glazed with desire. “What is it? Do you want me to stop?” he asked, tilting his head in teasing.

Your teeth caught your plump lower lip as you bit them in thought. Your hold was tight on his mane, a grounding pressure that kept him from devouring you the way he wanted. Wordlessly, you pushed him back between your thighs, giving him full reign to do with you as he wished. 

Saccharine essence started to coat his tastebuds, your flower nice and warm against his tongue. The extent of your experiences in the ways of the flesh as man and wife was limited, he’ll admit, seldom venturing past the goal of planting his seed in your womb by the end of it. The king’s wife was virtuous and proper, unfamiliar with seeking her own pleasure when she was so deserving of it. Aemond had started to give you a taste for it, on the nights when his blood ran hotter for you and he let himself indulge in all that you would give him. Those evenings would end with them slick in sweat and rightfully flushed, and you would always turn so timid as he cleaned you up, right before he returned to his chambers for the night. You would never say it out loud, but he saw it in your eyes— an insatiable fire starting to be stoked.

Your voice started to grow in volume the deeper his tongue prodded into your slit, a sweet song floating through his ears and rushing straight to his cock. His thumb soon found your pearl, rubbing tight circles on your nubbin. This only served to heighten your arousal, moans now properly echoing through the vast chamber. The sound of it made him smirk triumphantly against your folds, feeding the fire that had him eating you like a man starved. Your fingers never left his hair, using it as leverage as you started to ground your hips against his face. His eye flickered to catch a peek, and he found you with your head thrown back and mouth fallen agape. 

It didn’t take long for you to start gushing out your release, nearing the point of screaming as you did so. Your voice all but shook the stone walls, reverberating through the vast chambers while you trembled underneath his hold. It was the loudest Aemond had ever heard you, even more than the night he had let you ride him in the bath. A sick pride swelled in his chest while he lapped up your sweet honey, hardened length jumping in his breeches as it demanded reprieve. 

Aemond opened his mouth as he pulled away to voice a teasing remark when you grabbed the leather of his doublet and pulled him up, smashing your lips against his in a hungered frenzy. You palmed at his bulge, rubbing him through his breeches. A knock on the council doors echoed through the room before you could start unlacing him, your sworn shield swiftly moving to open the entrance before the king could bark out in anger.

Fucker. 

Your handmaiden moved to enter, but quickly bowed her head upon seeing the compromising position she found you in. “M-my deepest apologies, Y-your Graces,” she stuttered. Aemond had opened his mouth to scold, but your hand on his chest stopped him before he could spit out his wrath for the disturbance.

“It’s alright, Ada. Was something the matter?” you said softly. Ada remained with her head bowed, shoulders slightly quivering in fear under the king’s deathly stare. 

“Her Grace wished to be notified when princess Jaehaera’s lessons finish for the day. Afternoon tea has been prepared in the gardens, as her grace requested,” she squeaked. The reminder seemed to make you remember yourself, returning to your feet and letting your skirts fall back to the floor. 

“Right. Thank you,” you sighed. The young handmaiden curtsied in haste, before scurrying off when you dismissed her. Your gaze turned back to your husband, who still had his eye narrowed somewhere by the chamber’s entrance. His attention returned as you softly caressed his clothed chest, smiling up at him sweetly. “Come join us?”

It was then that Aemond made his decision. He would let the rumors be. He had no wish to prod nor question his dear wife, but let it be known that he was never one to share, in spite of his reservedness and outwardly cold nature. His answer would come on the nights you begin to seek him out, singing your sweet song of pleasure beneath him as he spurred release after release from your sweet cunt. For now, he was pleased, smirking devilishly at the sight of your knight’s clenched jaw as he left the small council chamber with his queen’s hand nestled in his elbow.

Dumb things John Price has done:

1. While going on a jog with you he started to jog backwards to look at you with a charming grin. You thought he was going to tell you something but he was just checking out the way your tits bounced and he was gearing up to hit on you. John then tripped over a rock he didn’t see and fell like a tree trunk to the ground. You had to help him, as a human crutch, limp home because he twisted his ankle.

2. Accidentally purchased two pairs of identical diamond earrings. It was a final sale so he couldn’t return the extra pair and was kicking himself for it. They are shamefully hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer waiting for you to lose the first pair.

3. While passing the football in the yard with his eight year old son John accidentally kicked it with more power than intended straight into his child’s face. There was so much blood and tears John felt like the worst parent to ever walk this earth. Your reaction to your son’s bloody nose and tear streaked face didn’t help his case.

Questioned Morals (II)

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Summary: Ned is in love

Word count: 1.2k

Questioned Morals (I)

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The next day in the morning, Ned wakes up drenched in sweat, his breathing heavy and skin sticky he throws the furs off his body and gets out of the bed and walks towards the window in haste, he opens to let the air cool his flushed skin, he had dream but not just any dream, it was a dream about you a lewd and obscene dream, he shakes his head trying not to think about it, he closes his eyes trying to clear his mind, but the image of you under him skin soft and sweaty flashes in front of him in an attempt to get rid of such thoughts he walks to the table in his room and pours himself a generous serving of wine. The wine was chill and tart soothing his throat as he drank, taking big gulps as if it would wash the dream away, setting down the goblet he concludes that this is all just silly infatuation and that he must be lonely.

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As the day goes on Ned as routine is busy, walking down the hallway lost in his head he does not notice footsteps coming towards him, walking at an unnecessarily fast pace he pauses when he feels someone bump into his shoulder, looking down he notices the fiery red hair that looked so much like Catelyns.

“Sansa”?

“oh? I was just coming to meet you father, I wanted to thank you”-

Ned is half hearing whatever it is that Sansa is saying until your name is uttered, his attention is back on her-

“they are such a sweet person they would make a splendid lady-in-waiting”

You and her lady-in-waiting? When did he approve of that? He revisits the conversation he had with your father and realises when he was spacing out he had agreed to making you a lady-in-waiting for Sansa, his stomach drops and he realises what a grave mistake he has made- what would he do now? you would be around winterfell all the time now.

“Sansa dear, I have to leave now.” It came out more rushed than Ned had wished but he hadn't in him.

He was pacing through the to go to his room once entering, he pours himself a glass of wine and drinks it down in one gulp, exhaling a heavy sigh he thinks back to yesterday he hadn’t heard your voice yet or he did? he can't really remember either way it must be just as sweet as you look, remembering the issue at hand, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“How could you be so foolish?” He asked himself, this shouldn’t bother him though, you are nearly half his age, he groans out and decides that he should end the day here.

The next morning as Ned was walking past the training grounds, he saw you and Robb talking, smiling like two silly kids, he smiled at the prospect of you and Robb getting married, you had a sweet character and would make an excellent Queen Of the North.

‘What if you were his Queen Of the North?’ he chastises himself for thinking so, you would never even look at him.

As the week progressed you had noticed Ned had been avoiding you, whenever you were in front of him he would turn the other way and rush away and whenever he was in the same room as you, you would always feel his eyes on you but when you looked towards him he would quickly look away, This rather odd.

So you decided to come in his way more, you would look out for him, seek him out in the crowd of furs in the great hall, you deliberately walk past him a little closer than acceptable so he could smell the perfumed oils you put in your bath ‘sandalwood and amber’ noted Ned, you smelled like what he imagined the sun would smell like. Through the entire week Ned had been going through dilemma, the harder he tried to avoid the closer you came, it was as if some unseeable force was pulling you closer to each other, whenever you got too close to Ned he would pray to the gods to give him strength to put his hands around and pull you in, so one night he decided to visit the godswood and plead the gods to put him out of his misery.

One night, sleep was difficult to come so, you decided to take a walk towards the Godswood, wearing one of your heavier furs you leave for the Godswood.

Entering the forest, you saw someone standing, bringing your fur closer to yourself, clearing your throat to get the unknown person’s attention, the person whipping their head to look back at the noise, their hand on the hilt of their sword ready to attack. As your eyes meet you realise it was no one other than The Eddard Stark himself, all of his tall and broad shouldered frame standing right in front you. Recovering from the shock, you ask.

“Is sleep hard to come by, my lord?”

Ned looked like he had seen a ghost-

“I- yes my lady”

There is a pregnant pause between you two, looking at him trying to think of what to say-

“Are you avoiding me?”

You bite your tongue, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I apologise, my lord ‘tis not my-

“You needn’t apologise, you are correct, I have been avoiding”

Ned interrupts you, opening your mouth to say something but you stop yourself.

“I haven’t been avoiding you out of disdain but rather”- Ned pauses not knowing what to say.

“It’s just that” “I” “Uhm” were the only sounds coming out of his mouth for a few seconds, was Ned Stark stuttering.

“I am in love with you.”

That statement takes you aback, ‘in love with you?’ You had always Ned rather attractive, with all his honour and striking northerner features, your father had made you Sansa’s lady-in-waiting with the hopes of a future marriage with one of the Stark boys, preferably Robb, but you never looked at that Robb like that, he was younger than you and rather cocky. Ned on the other hand, was older and had an air about him, something very attractive that just increased tenfold when mixed with the smell of pine and leather.

“You are all I think about, day and night you have occupied my mind”-

Stepping closer to him you put your hand on his shoulder. “You are in love with me?”

Ned sighs out “Yes my lady, I am irrevocably in love with you, and when I tried avoiding you there was some unseeable force pulling us together and I do not think I can do this anymore”-

To pause him from, you cup his face “You do not need an explanation of why you're in love.

“But” you place your lips on his, they were cold and slightly rough and you could taste the wine he had earlier for supper, Ned pauses not knowing what to do, frozen in shock, a few seconds after the shock wears down, he puts his hands on your waist and pulls you closer, kissing you back. After a few seconds you both pull back to catch you breath, you put your hands on his shoulders and he moves his hands to cup you face, as he looks into your eyes, he decides he will start courting you properly and that morals be damned as he pulls you in for another kiss.

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Fin.

maybe i was born to read fanfic and obsess over fictional men idk

how do i like my men? miserable and aching, your honor

Y/n: Fuck you

Jason: No, fuck you. You're the bottom in this relationship.

Y/n :

Y/n, confused: But we haven't even slept together?

Daily practices 20240212-0218

thinking about satosugu who secretly met up after geto left jujutsu high in some skeevy hotel no one would ever check

geto has him bent stomach down over the bed while he sits back on his heels on the floor and eats his ass out, all gojo can do is groan and cry his name while he shoves geto’s head against his ass as hard as he can, trying to get his tongue deeper inside him, his cock is so wet while he thrusts his hips against the sheets, wetting the sheets while pushing his ass back into geto’s face and fucking himself on his tongue

geto would be on the verge of cumming from being manhandled, his cock twitching and jumping between his thighs hands free while his sticky tip leaks pre cum and makes a mess on the floor—does he last through eating gojo out before he cums or will he blow his load on the floor??? the world may never know…