#house of the dragon

[darejani-artist]

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒹𝓈 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓀𝒾𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓌𝒶𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓈…” ❤️‍🔥

[entitled-fangirl]

Manhood. (P3).

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

Summary: Cregan fulfills his wet dream, doing something the two lovers haven't done before

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), dry humping, heavy makeout, dirty talk

part 1, part 2

Masterlist

...........................................................

Now becoming comfortable with one another, the two lovers spent little time outside of the bed chambers.

It became a fun game of trying a new position every night, eager to find their favorites. 

But it left them utterly exhausted when the adrenaline died down. 

It caused the burly northern man to fall asleep in odd places.

…

She found him in his study, his head resting on the wooden desk as he slumbered peacefully. A light snore came from his lips. 

She chuckled and stepped into the room as quietly as she could.

Her fingers brushed over his shoulder over his clothing, savoring the shudder that came over him and the small whine that echoed in the room.

She smirked and leaned over him, pressing herself against the back of his chair. Her lips brushed up his neck to his ear, "Cregan, my love."

Still fast asleep, a fluttering behind his eyes began to occur. 

And judging by the way his hips began to lightly rut against nothing, she could tell what kind of dream he was having. 

Whines and groans began to string from his lips as she trailed her hands over his shoulders and arms.

She tried to rouse him again, "Cregan, wake up."

He let out a soft breath. 

She gave it one last try, kissing fervently up his neck and jaw. "Cregan." Kiss. "Wake up." Kiss. "C'mon." Kiss. "Awaken, handsome man." Kiss.

She sucked a sensitive spot under his jaw, and Cregan tilted his head to give her more room. The feeling began to wake him up.

He whispered her name lightly, and his eyes fluttered open. 

She rubbed a hand over his hair comfortingly. "Sleep well?" A teasing smile came over her face.

"Hmm?" He was thoroughly confused. He pushed himself up and began to take in his surroundings. "W…" It only then really washed over him the dream he had and the reality around him.

"You alright?" She teased further as her hands continued their movement.

He smiled sheepishly. "I'm better than alright."

"I noticed." She tugged his hair playfully, "Wanna tell me what you were dreaming about?"

"Why?" He grinned. "You wanna know what my mind imagined?"

"Dare I say I want it to be about me and only me?"

He hummed. "Would you?"

She grinned. "Are you still tired?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

The two grinned from ear to ear. Y/n spoke first. "To bed?"

Cregan stood, knocking the chair over but not caring. He grinned and grabbed her roughly by her waist, pulling her against him. He kissed her deeply.

He pulled away. "To bed."

…

The two pulled the other's clothes off in a rush, not caring if they tore.

The kisses were so forced that their teeth clashed together, only caring to feel the other as close as possible.

She pushed him onto the bed, straddling him as her hands wandered over his bare chest.

"T… Tell me what you dreamed of…" she panted into his mouth.

He took a moment to drink her in, enjoying the thoroughly dazed look in her eyes. "You."

She smirked, "What about me?"

He pulled his face away from hers. He kissed her cheek, then down her jaw, teasing her by repeating her motions from earlier.

"I imagined your pretty thighs wrapped around my head," he whispered in her ear. 

Still straddling him, she froze in place. "W…What?"

"I have dreams of devouring you in the most sinful ways," he admitted.

They had done every position they could think of. Any way to being the two pleasure. But never had they done that.

"But… why would you do that?"

Her quiet, confused ask took him out of the moment. "What do you mean?"

"Is that… pleasureful? For both of us?"

He reached up with a hand and caressed her cheek. "Oh, I'll find pleasure it in. Don't you fret."

"Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly.

"More than anything," he grinned.

He slowly laid down, resting his back on the bed. His head wasn't far from the headboard, but it would do. "Come, sit."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Are you only going to ask questions, or are you going to sit on my face, sweet girl?" He chuckled.

"But-"

He sat back up, holding her to him, "Do you not want to do this? I won't be angry."

"I do, but…" 

He tilted his head, playing with her hair as he waited for her response.

"But… how will you breathe?"

That was the one question he was sure of. "I'll be fine. If that's your only worry, then you might as well not worry at all."

She reached down to pull the rest of her small clothes off, and Cregan laid back down with a beaming smile.

Up on her knees over him, she began pulling her garments down, then hesitated. "You'll tell me if you want to stop?"

He let out a growl, grabbing the back of her thighs and pulling her up his body until her core hovered over his face, "I won't wanna stop. You're gonna tell me when you want to stop."

She held onto the headboard for balance, not expecting his sudden manhandling.

He reached up and tore her garments, revealing her to him. His mouth almost watered at the sight. "Got that?"

She nodded, "Alright."

"Now sit."

Still holding to the headboard, she slowly lowered her body.

Cregan leaned up a bit, bumping his nose against her clit.

She whimpered immediately. 

"C'mon. You can do better than that," he spoke against her slit. His breath sent a shiver up her spine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered under her breath.

Her body still hovered over him, and he was getting annoyed. He reached up to her waist and gently pushed her down, connecting his lips to her core and licking a long stripe up her folds. 

She let out a small shriek of surprise. Her hips instinctively moved back up to escape the pressure. 

Cregan mouth followed, breaking apart for only a moment before his hands wrapped around her thighs and pulled her down onto his face completely. 

As he began to suck and lick like a starved man, she held to the headboard as her only lifeline. His beard scratched at her just right. Her hips tried to jerk away, but Cregan's iron grip on her thighs kept her from doing so. 

Deep guttural moans came from her, encouraging Cregan to continue. "D… Don't stop… I c… oh, gods…"

She could feel his teeth against her, an obvious grin on the man's face as he ate her out.

One of his hands wandered up, the other keeping a firm grip on her leg. He caressed up her stomach and cupped her breast.

She placed her hand over his, encouraging him further as he began to tweak her nipple. 

He knew her body more than she did. He knew she wouldn't last much longer. 

His hand moved to her backside, and he flipped them, now pinning her down onto the mattress and beginning again from this new position. 

Her hands reached out to the sheets, grabbing at anything she could to help the pressure subside. 

Cregan pulled away for just a moment to see what he'd done. His lips and beard were smeared with her juices, and a hungry look remained in his eyes. "You want me to keep going?" He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Her chest moved up and down with shaky breaths, "Please, Cregan…" He leaned down, pausing just centimeters from her again, "This is exactly how the dream went."

Learning from before, he gripped her hip bones tightly to hold her still, his shoulders keeping her legs open. He then continued.

She reached down, grabbing his hair and tugging, as if it would pull him away. They both knew neither of them wanted him to do so, but the pleasure that was building up in her made her instinctively try to escape it.

But the harsh tugging caused a guttural groan to leave his lips. The vibrations caused a jolt up her spine.

Cregan began to lightly hump the mattress, trying to relieve the hard on he had gained since his dream in his study.

"So good," he muttered against her as his hips moved in a steady pattern.

"I need to… I…"

"I know, I know," his muffled coo sounded out.

Her entire body tensed, the feeling of her orgasm washing over her. She tried to pull at his hair again to get him away from tasting her, but Cregan was quicker. He held her down and drank up everything she gave him.

Finally giving in to her, he pulled away. 

She was utterly spent, a light sheen of sweat over her features, but her eyes shone brightly as she looked down at him. "Was this truly your dream?" She panted.

He pushed himself up and crawled over her to kiss her. The slick covering the lower half of his face came in contact with her face, but neither cared. 

His tongue pushed past her lips, exploring her mouth just as he had with her most intimate parts- both with the intent to please her.

"Just like it," he answered when he pulled away. "Only, your sounds are much sweeter when I know for certain that they're real."

 "Oh, they're very real," she grinned. "How did you know how to do all of that?"

His confidence turned to sheepishness, "I didn't. I was faking my confidence mostly. I just did what made you feel best."

She nodded, surprised by his honest confession. Her hand wandered down his chest to his small clothes, "Perhaps it is y-"

She paused, looking down at her hand.

Cregan's small clothes were wet. 

She paused, "Did you-"

"You tasted so good," he admitted with a cocky grin. "Couldn't help it."

It filled her with pride to know that her husband found his own pleasure from merely eating her out.

"Next time," she promised. "I'll focus on you, my love."

"Your attention is all I crave in this life," he smiled, kissing her again.

.......................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[irlplasticlamb]

cunt is as cunt does (some of my favourite succession memes but for house of the dragon modern au thehehe)

prints + merch + commission info pinned to profile :)

[fayesia]

Could you do more house of the dragon p links??😭🙏

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 18+ TWITTER LINKS (PT2)

*make sure to be logged in for the links to work*

── ⋆⋅☁️⋅⋆ ──

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩Daemon

modern!daemon banging the babysitter

His perfect niece

Serving him at Harrenhal

Using his niece's other hole to not "taint" her purity

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩Cregan

Eating his wife out before fucking her

Returning after spending many nights away from you

Men of the North have absolute monsters confirmed

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩Aegon

Playing with his betrothed

secret nights at the brothel with his niece

Catching a spy among his servants

Learning to share with his brother

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩Aemond

Using you as his stress reliever

Learning to share with his brother

His angry return from the dragons stone awakes you

Remembering to give and not just take

Visiting you at the brothel

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩Jacaerys

Bonding time with his sister

Ensuring his sister can't be sent to marry any lord

A sensual wedding night to try everything

[nyraluv]

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.

[dipperscavern]

cregan lifting reader on his shoulders like a sack of potatoes to avoid the bedding ceremony because he does not want those ‘old, ugly fucks’ his words not mine to touch her

GOODBYE (ik this wa supposed to be funny but anytime i remember how strong he is i start levitating)

all the lords look at you both, expectant, and cregan stands up — so you do too. except he bends, tosses you over his shoulder, and walks out without a single word.

and i also raise to you socially awkward reader in the mix. dangling and swaying back n forth with his steps. “That was… dramatic.” and he then proceeds to pretend to drop you, making you yelp.

[ceoofglytchell]

Spare Time

Summary: As King, Aegon Targaryen does not have much spare time anymore and those he has he mostly spends drinking with his friends in a tavern until… you come along. The most desired maiden in the realm they call you, Lord Tyland Lannister’s daughter, but your playfulness is just as grand as your beauty. Your father may not have time for amusements, but you most certainly do.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Word count: 5135 words

Warnings: mdni, Reader is Lord Tyland Lannister’s daughter, Reader is described of having Lannister like features, canon divergence (blood & cheese has not happened yet), yearning, aegon being a bit of an ass, kinda enemies to lovers, heavy drinking, drunken making out, smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, no mention of Y/N

Notes: This one has some more… spice in it, because I feel like aeg deserves it. As always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

"The Magnanimous... what does that even mean?"

Aegon flopped down on his throne, his legs draped over the armrest, a glass of red wine from the Arbor in his hand that was only half full. He slurred his words and his breath revealed that the king was quite drunk. His three friends, Eddard, Martyn and Leon, had made themselves comfortable at the foot of his throne and were also drinking. They usually did this in taverns or a brothel, but that evening the young king had decided to entertain them in the throne room of the Red Keep.

"You could always be 'Aegon the Strong'?" Martyn suggested with a laugh, slapping his thighs as if he had just made one of the funniest jests mankind had ever heard. But that was not the case.

"No, my nephew has already taken that one."

His friends laughed and he giggled with them, taking another long sip of his wine.

"By the gods, magnanimous means the same as generous. Please, read more."

And then of course there was you, the daughter of Tyland Lannister, the most sought-after maiden in the realm and a complete nuisance. You were annoying, rebellious, playful and you never seemed to be able to keep your mouth shut. A spoiled brat, that is what you were. It was all he could think of as he saw you leaning against one of the pillars in the throne room, your golden hair falling down your shoulders and a red dress adorning your feminine curves. You might be annoying, but you were just as beautiful.

"Fine, but I still don't want that title. I want a title that sows fear but also trust in the people,” he replied with a sigh and stood up from his throne again to walk back and forth on the steps, thinking about which name would meet those criteria while being careful not to cut himself on the sharp ends of the melted swords.

“Aegon the Dragonheart!” Leon said, whereupon you rolled your eyes and held your own bronze wine glass to your forehead, as the cold worked wonders for you at that moment, as you were sure that these men were giving you a headache.

“That’s better.”

Suddenly Martyn started to giggle and he pointed at his king with a wide grin on his face: “Aegon the Dragoncock!”

“Yes! The untamable beast!” Aegon laughed, spreading his arms triumphantly, as if that was indeed the best title he had heard that evening, when ‘magnanimous’ was far better, especially because the lords and ladies understood it. The common folk would not know what it meant directly, but it sounded good enough for history if he did not want to be remembered as ‘the usurper’. But certainly not as Dragoncock!

“Fine, that is enough for me. Good night, my lords, Aegon.”

You turned to leave the throne room and retreat to the comfort of your chambers instead, as you really missed your bed right now and a hot bath might do your aching head some good. However, you immediately heard cries of protest from the drunken men, who wanted you to stay and drink a little more with them. You did not think Martyn, Leon or Eddard wanted to sleep with you, but were just happy to have found another drinking companion, but you were not so sure about Aegon's intentions. Sometimes you thought you could see his eyes resting on your cleavage or your hips, but you could be imagining that. But it matched his reputation.

"It’s still 'my king' or 'your grace' for you, love."

That made you turn back around and fold your arms across your chest, looking at the silver-haired man with raised eyebrows. He, however, had a grin on his lips and seemed amused. Oh, sometimes he made you angry.

"Fine, Your Grace," you curtsied deeply, letting your hair fall over your shoulders but allowing Aegon to peek under the high neckline of your dress, which made a lump form in his throat. "I wish you a pleasant night."

Before the men could call you back, you hurried out of the throne room with a giggle, gathering your skirts in your hands while the heels of your shoes echoed across the cold stone floor of the Red Keep. You liked drinking with them and chatting about trivial topics, but the king... the king was a whole other topic entirely.

After you left, everything in the throne room was quiet for a moment and only the flickering of the torches that were attached to the walls or the breathing of the guards could be heard. No one moved, no one said a word.

"Do you think I have a chance if I try harder?" Martyn asked the group with a clearing of his throat, whereupon Leon hit him on the arm, knowing how their friend must feel about you.

"No chance, my friend. She's too pretty for you!"

The three drunken lords started laughing again, but Aegon just sat back down on his throne, a feeling of jealousy filling him for a reason he couldn't quite explain.

You were annoying and he certainly did not like you much, but he could not deny that he wanted you. And Aegon Targaryen usually got what he wanted, and if he didn't, he took it regardless.

"See that, Jaehaera? That is a lion. They are like cats, but much bigger and much stronger.” You pointed with your finger at the drawing in the book, which you held so that the little girl on your lap could look into it with you. She, however, seemed more interested in the butterflies fluttering over the rose bushes than the picture of the animal that adorned the banner of your house.

Not far from you and the little girl on the lawn of the garden, Helaena sat in the shade of a tree and embroidered, while in front of her Jaehaerys played with wooden horses and seemed to be having a lot of fun, which was quite a sweet sight.

As one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting, the twins had quickly grown on you, but the queen herself was still a mystery to you, as you could never interpret her knowing looks and confusing words. At one point she told you that lionesses should not dance with dragons. To this day, you still wondered what that meant, but lately she had been talking about rats more often anyway, and you certainly couldn't help her because you were disgusted by those.

"I want to play with daddy," the little princess murmured, to which you could only sigh because you were trying to entertain the little one, but you were not a nanny. You were just trying to make Helaena's day more pleasant by taking some of the work off her hands because you quickly noticed that she preferred peace and quiet and being alone above all else. You just wanted to help.

"Do you see the balcony up there?" you asked, pointing to a large balcony at the top of the Red Keep that would definitely give you a wonderful view of the city with all its beauty and flaws. "There is the council chamber. Your daddy is there right now, discussing important things.”

“Are you going to visit Morghul with me?”

You blinked in confusion and shook your head slightly, because visiting Morghul meant going down into the dragon pit and you certainly did not wish to do that. These large winged creatures had always been frightening, even when you lived on Casterly Rock and curiously leafed through illustrated history books yourself.

“No, I… I cannot. Lionesses like me should not dance with dragons,” you repeated the same words the queen once told you, whereupon Helaena looked up from her embroidery and looked at you for a moment with her eyebrows furrowed, as if she could not understand why you had said that.

“You sound like my mummy!” laughed Jaehaera before suddenly jumping off your lap and running to her brother to play with him.

With a sigh, you looked back at the book, which had actually been written for children, but it was the only thing you had at the moment and the sun was shining so beautifully on your skin and warming your body that you did not want to get up and look for something else to do. After a while of reading in silence, you noticed that the queen and her children had apparently gone back to the castle and you were now sitting alone in the shade of the branches of the weirwood tree and you could hear the gentle rustling of the leaves, which calmed you down.

For a moment everything seemed so peaceful, until he suddenly appeared in your field of vision and the calm was suddenly over.

"What a beautiful day, don't you think? Almost as beautiful as you."

With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you leaned against the bark of the tree and closed the book, laying it next to you, while you now shifted your attention to him, since he could not be ignored.

"I did not know you were a poet, Aegon."

Aegon laughed and sat cross-legged on the ground in front of you, resting his chin on his hands, while the rays of sunlight falling through the thick red canopy of leaves cast soft shadows on his face. He wore black trousers, a loose blue shirt and a dark green embroidered coat, which he had left open, and of course the thick golden chain that always hung around his neck. Sometimes you wondered if he slept in it because you never saw him without it.

"Darling, I am anything but a poet. For you, however, I think I could make an exception." He replied with a witty twinkle in his amethyst eyes, which had always captivated you since you first met.

"Oh yes? I thought you were more of a drunkard and a male whore."

You may have expressed yourself a little too harshly, because the shine in his eyes suddenly disappeared and the king suddenly looked at you as if you had just murdered a puppy in front of him, when you were actually just trying to make a jest. The man sitting across from you was extremely sensitive, which you were not really aware of, since you had only come to King's Landing a few months ago and had been assigned to the queen as a lady-in-waiting. If you had been here earlier, you might have noticed the scratch marks and bruises on his cheeks whenever his mother or grandfather hit him.

But that gleam in his purple eyes disappeared as quickly as it had come, and a small smile pulled the corners of his mouth upwards again, hiding his pain under humor and lightness. "You wound me, darling."

"I do? Just a moment ago you seemed very proud of your attempt to lure me into your bed." A jest, that was all it was, but you did not expect that this jest would set something in motion that would probably change your life forever - in your eyes at least.

"Did I now?" Aegon, suddenly in a good mood and motivated again, played with a small flower that grew in abundance on the grass you were both sitting on, while he looked at you with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. "Would you like to be in my bed? I can assure you, it is comfortable and warm."

You scoffed and rolled your eyes exaggeratedly to make sure he saw that you had no interest in it, even if a small part of you was interested in seeing how much of his reputation was actually the truth and how much was just hearsay.

"Definitely not. I am not climbing into bed with someone who calls himself 'Dragoncock'."

He sighed, but quickly moved closer to you so you would not just get up and leave, which you usually did. Often times, it was only his friends and himself who were left, but you always left early, which he found extremely unfortunate. He had never seen you completely drunk or in a state of pleasure that he was only too happy to put you in.

"I was only kidding. I was drunk! I accept being called magnanimous too.”

“And you don’t even know what that means.”

Aegon let out a frustrated groan and fell backwards onto the grass, ruffling his silver hair even more and adding wrinkles and dirt to his clothes. Not that he cared. He was the king, he could run around as he pleased, but you had just brought him to the point of frustration again. Gods, you were difficult.

“What have I done to you to make you treat me like this?” he grumbled, looking up at the blue sky, which was devoid of any clouds, just a few birds flying wildly, frolicking in their natural habitat. Oh, to be as free as a bird.

"You are annoying me." Maybe it was not the wisest decision to talk to a king like that, but he had asked you and you had given him an honest answer, even if it was only a half-truth, because it was not him that was annoying you. What annoyed you was the way he made you feel. Whenever he was there, you felt strange because you were always hot and you always felt like you needed something that only he could give you.

"I'm annoying you?" The king propped himself up on his elbow and looked at you leaning against the hard, rough bark of the tree and staring at him. He could not believe it. The feeling was actually mutual.

"Sometimes I just want to spend my spare time in peace and quiet, and then you suddenly appear."

Strange. Aegon had never thought about it like that before. When you were not with his sisters and children, he would see you sitting alone in some place most of the time, doing the gods knows what, and in his eyes you looked lonely. He did not want you to be alone or feel bad, which is why he usually brought you along to his drinking companions so you could all drink together and be happy. He never thought that that was what was annoying you.

Besides, a beauty like you should not be sitting around alone somewhere, where anyone could come and snatch you away. You were a member of his court and therefore you were under his protection and he did not want a single hair on your pretty head to be hurt.

"My apologies. I... have not thought of it that way before."

You blinked in surprise and just looked at him for a moment without saying a word. Had you heard correctly? Had Aegon Targaryen actually just apologized to you when he did not need to, since you actually secretly enjoyed his company most of the time. So he was capable of being something other than a fool after all. Maybe your father was right when he told you that somewhere beneath the facade a decent man was hidden. Perhaps you could get through to him if you tried.

"Then I will just ask you, instead of always surprising you. We wanted to go out into the city tonight, after I am done with my duties, to have some fun. Would you do us the honor of accompanying us, dear Lady Lannister?"

Aegon grinned at you, and you should know that that grin did not mean anything good, but the way he asked the question, as if he wanted to take you to a feast instead of a regular tavern, made you nod. Hopefully you would not regret that decision at the end of the evening.

"Good. I will come with you. But you have to promise me that you will bring me back to the Red Keep safely afterwards."

"I promise."

The sun had just disappeared behind Visenya's hill and bathed the sky in a graceful golden glow, and you stood in front of Aegon's chambers, waiting for him to open the door for you so that you could sneak out of the castle together. Your gentle features and the golden curls that marked you as a member of House Lannister were hidden under a black cloak and you wore the simplest dress you owned, which was still more ornate and beautiful than anything the women of the small folk owned. After all, your father only wanted the best for you, his only daughter.

You heard no loud voices telling you that his friends were nearby, nor did you hear anything else from inside his chambers. Perhaps he was still trapped in a council meeting? Or maybe they had simply left without you? Yes, that had to be the answer. They probably did not want a woman with them when they went to the Street of Silk or-

Suddenly the wooden doors to his chambers opened and tore you out of your thoughts. The king stood before you, his hair disheveled and wearing only a loose shirt and trousers. He did not look like he wanted to leave the Keep this evening anymore. He did not even look like he wanted to go and drown himself in wine and other desires, which was extremely uncharacteristic of him.

He quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you into his rooms and closed the door behind you. His chambers were dark and only lit by a few candles and the soft light that still fell through the balcony, and a fire flickered in his fireplace. The atmosphere seemed somehow... romantic. What was happening here?

"Where are the others? Did we not want to go into town?" you asked him, confused, and you pulled your hood off your head so that he could look at you properly. The flickering lights made it seem as if shadows were performing a dance on your pale skin, which he could not take his eyes off for a second. In this light you looked even more beautiful, he thought.

"There was a change of plans, little lioness." Aegon replied and sat down on his sofa, which he had personally dusted off any dirt before you came, because he had a plan. He had always wanted you and tonight he would have you.

You started to nervously play with the rings on your hands, which was a habit you had picked up from your mother when she was still alive. You did not know what he was up to or what plan he was talking about, but somehow you were also intrigued.

"How about we both spend time together here? I have more than enough wine and I can prove to you that I am not that annoying after all."

Oh, so that was what he was after. He thought you had the wrong idea about him and now he wanted to prove you wrong. Maybe you should do the same, because it seemed like he also saw you differently than you really were. This evening could help you both get closer and maybe, just maybe, he would get what he wanted. You would give it to him, but only if he did it right.

"I am not as bad as you think either, Your Grace," you said with a small smile playing around the corners of your mouth before you sat down next to him on the sofa, but at a reasonable distance, which would most likely decrease, knowing him.

"You will have to prove that to me," he said playfully and turned to the small side table that was next to the seat, and he poured you both a glass of sweet wine from the Arbor, which counted as his favorite wine along with the stuff they drank in the south in Dorne. Dornish wine did not taste nearly as good as this, but it served its purpose better than any other.

"I shall do my best." You took the golden cup of wine that he handed you and the smell of alcohol immediately filled your nose. It was only when you came to King's Landing that you started drinking so much that the smell alone relaxed you and he was probably largely to blame for this development. But you could not bring yourself to blame him.

"Oh yeah? Then start. Convince me."

You hesitated for a moment, taking a sip from the wine glass, because you did not know how to even begin to convince him that you were not a spoiled, annoying brat, but just a woman like any other, even though he probably would not see it that way.

"I... I honestly don't know how," you admitted, your cheeks turning a little pink.

"Fine, then I will start. I wanted you all to myself and that is why I stayed here with you. Martyn and Leon went into town alone.”

This was something you definitely did not see coming. You had first assumed that he just did not feel like leaving the castle at this late hour and that he preferred the comfort of his chambers, but the fact that this was the reason he did not want to share your company with his friends surprised you. He had actually done you a favor by doing this, because you knew that at some point they would have turned onto the Street of Silk and then things could have turned out badly for you if some drunk man had taken a liking to your appearance. You could only have hoped that he would have protected you, but perhaps this was his way of doing that.

“When I was younger I had a cat and my uncle made me believe it was a lion cub for months,” you told him with a giggle, because it was true. Your uncle, your father's twin brother, could be a real jerk sometimes, and ever since you found out that your beloved lion was actually a simple cat, you never spoke to him again. In fact, you even avoided him at all feasts as punishment, which was very amusing to think about sometimes.

"I sometimes slept next to Sunfyre in the Dragonpit."

"I hate all sweets except lemon tarts."

"I once went swimming drunk in Blackwater Bay at night."

For what felt like hours you shared stories like this, drinking and drinking and drinking. At some point you had started drinking from the same cup, and his head was resting on your lap while you ran your fingers through his hair. Neither he nor you knew how you got there, although the next morning you could perfectly remember what happened immediately afterward.

"You know, I thought you were the most annoying woman I have ever met!" Aegon slurred drunkenly, his hand squeezing the side of your waist, his mind filled with the thought of how good it felt to have his head resting against your soft thighs and how wonderful the way was how you ran your thin fingers through his silver hair as if you were gently brushing it. He wanted more. He wanted you more than ever, even though he had several cups of wine inside him and could barely concentrate on anything other than the thought of pushing you onto your back and taking what he wanted. He could do it, but he managed to control himself - for now.

"And I thought you were just trying to bed me!" you laughed, although there was some truth in that statement, since you really did believe that was the only reason he was always around you.

"I do. I want to bed you and I will do it if you let me.”

Your fingers stopped sliding through his curls and your breathing became faster. You were slightly in denial, because you had not expected him to admit it so easily. He wanted you. He wanted to lie with you, claim your maidenhead and ruin you for all other men, and by the gods, you could feel yourself suddenly getting hot and instinctively clenching your thighs together at the thought.

When Aegon felt you rub your legs together for a moment, he felt his self-control slowly slipping away. He was arousing you. Knowing the effect he was having on you made him feel triumphant, because he finally had you where he wanted you. You were so close... and all he had to do was grab you.

"Do you want this? Do you want me to take you, to show you who I really am?"

A shiver ran down your spine, especially at the way he looked up at you, but you also knew that it would be the worst decision to let him take you now, because you were still unmarried and a war was brewing on the horizon. Your hand might still be needed. But that did not mean that you could not have some fun.

"I am still a maiden, Aegon."

He immediately opened his mouth to make a crude remark or say some other clever thing, but you quickly put your index finger on his lips so that he would be quiet for once.

"But that does not mean I do not want you."

Before you could say anything else, you suddenly felt his strong hands grab your hips and suddenly you were lying on the sofa beneath him and he was hovering over you, looking down at your heavily breathing, drunken form with a wide grin.

"Gods, you are divine," he simply murmured before he lowered himself onto you and began attacking your throat and neck with kisses, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, his body pressing against yours.

"Fuck, I can't wait... I want you..."

"Oh, Aegon..." you whispered breathlessly as he found a certain spot on the side of your neck and immediately began sucking and nibbling at it. It would surely leave red marks on your flawless skin, but you certainly would not complain.

"Need to taste you...need to be inside you..."

Without another second's hesitation, he pulled your dress up until the red fabric reached your hips and your pretty legs and the long stockings you wore came into view. He would only have to pull your skirt up a little further and he would see the object of his desire, the thing he had been dreaming of for weeks.

"Please, Your Grace...touch me..." you begged as your fingers dug into his shoulder-length silver strands and tugged lightly, causing a low growl to escape him.

He did not know if it was your pleading, your fingers in his hair, or simply the way your chest rose and fell rapidly as small whimpers escaped you at what he was doing, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back. In his eyes, you were breathtaking. Better than any whore he had ever fucked.

"You are begging? Already?"

His hand traveled the length of your leg until he reached your soft thigh and he began to trace small, slow circles on the flesh that would probably drive you to the brink of insanity. That was exactly what he wanted, though. He wanted you to go insane over him. He needed it.

"Aegon, please... I need you..."

"As you wish, my lady."

Aegon pulled your skirt up further and then, in the darkness of his candlelit chambers, he was able to catch a glimpse of your exposed, wet cunt. The realization that you had been wearing no smallclothes the entire time made him even harder than he already was. The effect you had on him was dangerous.

He quickly switched positions again so that he was on his back and you were resting on his hips, making you bite your lip hard as you could feel his hardness pressing against you. You would give anything to feel him inside you, but you also knew that would be too hasty, even if you were both drunk. Maybe you would allow him to feel you another time, if he behaved well.

He pulled you further up, away from his hips and towards his shoulders, making you eye him with furrowed brows, not knowing what he was about to do. You had always assumed that men could only feel satisfaction from their cocks.

"Come on, I want to taste you," he said impatiently, pulling you even closer to his face, your womanhood almost touching his chin.

"You... you want me to...?"

"Gods, woman." He pushed you against him with force, a surprised squeal escaping you as he buried his handsome face in your cunt and without hesitation he began to lick you and push his tongue into your hole while his hands held your thighs tightly so that you would no try to escape him. You moaned loudly and your hands immediately buried themselves in his hair, but in your state you did not know if you wanted to push him away from you and pull him closer to you - or both.

While he feasted on your sweet nectar, you brought one of your delicate hands behind your back and leaned back ever so slightly so that you could place your hand on the obvious bulge in his breeches and slowly stroke him up and down.

Aegon cursed under his breath and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he felt your hand caressing him, something he had dreamed of for weeks and something he had always imagined when he had touched himself at night with the image of you in his mind. The little lioness had her claws out and he was going to enjoy every second of it, even though he knew it would not take him long.

His nose nudged your clit over and over a few times while his tongue stimulated your wet hole, eventually causing you to cum undone with a cry of his name and your grip on his cock loosening, so he quickly got you back under him and he began to move his hips fast and hard against your own, chasing his own relief.

You just laid there breathing heavily as you wrapped your arms around him to hold him while he took what he needed from you. It only took a few more thrusts before he groaned lowly into the crook of your neck and tainted the inside of his breeches with his spent.

You both lay there breathing heavily, he still with his face in the crook of your neck and you stroking his back with your gentle hands as if he needed rest now.

"We will repeat this."

And that you did.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[ewans-mitchell]

Targaryen women + dragons

GOT | S07E04 — "The Spoils of War" HOTD | S01E10 — "The Black Queen" HOTD | S02E03 — "The Burning Mill" HOTD | S02E04 — "The Red Dragon and the Gold"

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you. 

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky. 

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on that same end of that stick just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected. 

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces. 

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different. 

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction. 

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait. 

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore. 

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks. 

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in. 

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is. 

Maybe he’s it. 

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine. 

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom. 

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him. 

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists. 

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust. 

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet. 

And you have a heated… What was it called again? 

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay. 

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you. 

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind. 

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works. 

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water. 

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery. 

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable. 

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.  

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen. 

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact. 

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?” 

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake. 

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather. 

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask. 

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks. 

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed. 

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him. 

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating. 

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice. 

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to. 

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his. 

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality. 

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea. 

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna. 

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now. 

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most. 

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice. 

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end. 

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t. 

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken. 

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting. 

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room. 

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track. 

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command. 

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep. 

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him. 

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features. 

“Love… you’re awake.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (13/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

They were betrothed.

He never thought that marriage would be something in his life that he would look forward to with contentment – he knew that his destiny would be to wed the daughter of some pathetic lord who wanted a bite of the cake that was the Crown and the Iron Throne.

He couldn't imagine himself in the role of a husband: a man courting the heart and love of his wife, falling asleep and waking at the side of some foreign woman who would suddenly invade his space.

He thought then with relief that indeed, in their wisdom, the measters had acted properly for centuries, giving spouses separate chambers so that they could live apart from each other in peace, except for their duties of bringing their inheritance into the world.

And then he abducted his cousin.

He enjoyed observing her from the distance as she practised archery – in the breaks between sparring with Ser Criston, he watched as she stood sideways to a target in front of her and with a calm, gentle expression on her face, pulled the string to her soft cheek, suddenly letting go, her arrow hitting the center of the target straight on.

He realised that he didn't feel the need to run away from her, as he did with Floris, because she never invaded his personal space – she never tried to follow him, she never begged for his attention, his word or his gaze – she simply existed and graciously allowed him to wander around her, which for him was a refreshing sensation.

He longed to know her, longed to be close to her, but on his own terms – the fact that he decided for himself when he approached her, when they spoke to each other, when they lied in bed together, gave him an surprising sense of freedom and lightness.

Another man might have taken her approach as indifference, but he knew it was otherwise – he could feel it in her fingers clenching on his bare, sweaty skin as he pounded into her with low grunts of pleasure, hear it in her sweet, helpless moans, see it in the hot, warm gaze of her doe eyes.

She spared him no tenderness when they were alone – on the contrary, she was sweet and smiling, beautiful in her wonderful nudity, making neither of them ashamed of their negligee or their desires anymore.

"What is it?" He asked, looking intrigued at the jug with which she had walked into his chamber, wearing nothing but her nightgown and a light blue robe thrown over her shoulders, smiling from ear to ear.

She lifted her chin high, as if proud of herself, a joyful contentment in her dark eyes from which he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.

For some reason, she was never afraid of him or his cool demeanour, of what he would think of her or how he would react.

His little dragon.

He sighed and twisted in his place, putting the book he had prepared for her aside, lying on his bed in only his breeches, used to the fact that they both no longer even pretended that she was coming to him for anything other than to spend the night with him.

True, he still taught her, but usually only after they had satisfied their desires, lying in each other's arms, reading together short stories written in Old Valyrian.

He looked at her calmly as she approached his bed and reached for one of the metal cups, pouring into it a pleasantly scented, steaming liquid that had a light, brown colour.

"When I was a child I often had trouble falling asleep. My nanny would then bring me warm milk mixed with honey and ground grains brought from distant Essos. I tried to prepare it the way she did and recreate that taste." She said and took her first sip.

She smiled and licked her full, pink lips that gave him the sweetest kisses every night, her face expressing a kind of melancholy.

"I want you to taste it. It's delicious, it's sweet, it's warm, it soothes the nerves and doesn't dull you, unlike the poppy milk you drink." She said softly, handing him the cup.

He took it from her hesitantly and sniffed the contents first, wondering if she might have added poison to the contents – however, he decided that after all, she had tasted it herself first, and the drink did indeed smell good.

He took a tentative sip and swallowed, feeling the smooth taste of milk, honey and something else that melted pleasantly over his tongue combine into a wonderfully delicious whole.

He blinked, thinking he felt like drinking even more.

"These are very expensive cocoa seeds. I found out you have them in the Red Keep, the cooks sometimes add them to cakes. I ground them by hand for you. Do you like it?" She asked uncertainly, as if some part of her feared he would be disappointed and not share her enthusiasm.

"It's delicious. Very tasty indeed." He confessed, handing her the cup, and she smiled happily in the way he loved, her eyes shining warmly as she took another sip, handing the vessel back to him.

"I'm glad to hear it. If you want, I can prepare it for us for a good night's sleep. There are no side effects." She said lightly, and he hummed under his breath, taking another sip, deeper this time, and licked his lips, feeling the wonderful taste of the liquid spill over his palate, a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

"Come here." He hummed, putting his arm around her, and in some natural reflex she clung to him, cuddling her face into his cheek.

"We must decide who will lead you down the aisle." He said calmly, running his free hand down her back, the other hand passing her the cup.

She looked at him surprised and blinked.

"Isn't it obvious? My cousin, Lord Royce. He was like a father to me." She muttered, surprised by the question, swallowing a deep gulp of the liquid, passing the cup into his hand.

He looked away and swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"It's impossible, hāedar." He said coolly, drinking the contents of the vessel to the end – he felt her place her hand on his chest, looking at him in disbelief.

"Why? He despises Daemon after what he did to my mother." She said in pain.

He licked his lips and set the cup down on the table next to his bed, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"He remains a vassal of House Arryn. He is the head of House Royce, which rules Runstone, and that means he won't be able to attend our nuptials. Even if he had received an invitation, he will not arrive." He said, finally looking into her eyes, meeting her horrified gaze full of pain and disbelief.

"He will arrive. Of course he'll arrive, it's my wedding." She muttered in a breaking voice, clasping her hands on his shoulders, stroking them as if to convince him and herself.

"This would mean opposing Lady Arryn's allies. Daemon is in Harrenhal and will burn them once he learns of their treachery. I am sorry, zaldrītsos." He whispered, and she rose from her seat and moved towards the door, startling him completely.

"Hāedar. Hāedar, come back here." He said, standing up behind her, grabbing her arm and turning her around before she could open the door.

"I don't need anyone. I'll walk down the aisle myself." She said coldly, not looking him in the eye, trying to pull away from him – he put his arm around her waist and her body slammed against his, her breath caught in her throat.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes red from the tears she refused to let flow.

"I understand your grief. My grandfather is on his way to King's Landing at my command. He will become my Hand. If you will allow me, I would like him to accompany you on this journey." He muttered, pressing his nose against her warm, soft cheek.

Don't go, he thought.

"He's a stranger to me. I don't want him or anyone else." She growled with rage, finally closing her eyes and bursting into an angry, mournful sob.

"Since he is my grandfather, he is also yours. Our father is dead. Our brother lies in bed, unable to rise. It must be him, hāedar." He whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb, wanting her to finally understand that there was no longer such a thing as her family and his family.

Now there was only their family.

She swallowed hard, looking up at him in shock, her lips parted wide as if it took her a moment to realise what he was trying to tell her.

"Do you understand what I mean, zaldrītsos?" He asked, stroking her chin with his knuckles, and she nodded, snuggling into his chest like a small child.

He exhaled quietly, feeling relieved, enclosing her in the tight embrace of his arms, placing warm, loud kiss on the top of her head.

"– that's my girl – come here –" He hummed and caught her under her hips, lifting her up – her legs crossed over his back, her arms thrown around his neck as he carried her to his bed and lay down with her.

"– I – I'd rather not –" She mumbled in a breaking voice and he kissed her forehead, understanding what she wanted to say to him.

What she needed now was comfort, the tender embrace and safety of his arms, not for him to fuck her.

Though he would never say it out loud, he understood it better than anyone.

"– shhh – sleep – I won't take you, sweet girl –" He whispered into her ear, combing his fingers through her soft, dark hair – she snuggled tighter into his body at his words, her lungs leaving a quiet, sweet sigh.

They fell asleep in each other's arms with their legs intertwined, their faces sunk into each other's bodies in an embrace that was strangely tender and natural, as if they had spent their nights like this not for months but for years.

He dreamt he was a child – he was lying in his chamber the night he tamed Vhagar, howling in pain, feeling his freshly sewn eyelid stripped of its eyeball pulsate, all swollen, tears of horror, grief and sadness rolling down his face.

Where was his little sister?

Why was she not with him?

Why was he alone?

"Hāedar," he seemed to call out in a weak, squeaky, childish voice towards the door, "hāedar, I am scared."

"Lēkia."

He shuddered and pulled himself up on his bed, sitting up, panting loudly as if he had made some great physical effort, cold sweat on his back, his cheeks hot with tears. He glanced sideways, only after a moment realising that someone's hand was stroking his arm – he looked at her sleepy, sweet face, her pleasant, fresh scent filling his nostrils.

"Why weren't you by my side then?" He muttered, feeling himself quivering all over, picking at the cuticles around his fingernails exactly as his mother always did.

He couldn't remember why she hadn't come to him then.

He couldn't remember her face when she was a child.

Their moments together.

Why?

His not fully awake mind could not comprehend it, a heavy grief filled his heart.

She blinked and shook her head, wrinkling her eyebrows, clearly not understanding what he was referring to.

"What do you mean? When?" She asked, her gentle fingers cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking his wet skin seeing that he was crying.

"That night. When I lost my eye. Where were you?" He mumbled, looking at her reproachfully, and she swallowed hard, her brow arched in pain, her dark eyes big with sadness and affection.

"I was very far away from you then, brother, living alone in Runestone." She whispered, and he froze, suddenly remembering who she was, feeling ashamed.

He turned his head away and swallowed hard, laying on his side with his back to her, hugging his face to the pillow, wishing he could sink into the ground, make her simply forget this pathetic, childish outburst of hysteria on his part.

He felt her lay down behind him, a pleasant shiver ran along his spine as her fingers began to run up and down his arm.

"How old were you then?" She asked quietly, nuzzling her face into his hair, her breasts, her legs and womb snuggled into his back as her hands embraced his waist.

His palm involuntarily lowered to hers, his fingers running over her pleasantly smooth, soft skin.

"Nine. Maybe ten. I can't remember anymore." He muttered, and she swallowed hard – one of her hands entwined her fingers with his, the other rose up, stroking his chest, circling around the area beneath which his heart lay.

"Gods, that must have been so painful." She whispered, and he hummed under his breath.

"Mmm. This was the price the gods set for me for Vhagar." He said, and she twisted in her place, rising slightly, looking up at him over his shoulder, her warm breath enveloping his cheek.

"What do you mean?" She asked, and he sighed.

He'd never discussed this with anyone.

Not like this.

"They teased me, you know. Luke. Jace. Aegon. Because I was different. Because I didn't have my dragon. They gave me a big pig with wings and mocked me. They tried to stop me that night too. But they failed." He whispered, feeling a squeeze in his throat, his heart pounding like mad while his thumb stroked her hand.

She was silent for a long moment, but he could hear her uneven breathing, as if she was shocked by what she had heard.

Don't take pity on me, he thought.

Don't give me advice.

Don't try to be my mother.

"Did your brother ever apologise to you for it?" She asked quietly, and he burst into a sudden, short, low uncontrollable laughter.

"Aegon? A king would apologise to his faithful hound? That's what he called me. The hound that barks when he fucks his whore." He sneered and licked his lower lip feeling her embrace him tighter, her nose pressed into the soft skin of his cheek, making him close his eyes, delighted by her closeness and tenderness.

"Does it reflect badly on me that I now regret that your brother did not die in the dragon fire?" She whispered in his ear and he opened his eyes and sighed, his lips parted slightly in a grin of satisfaction.

"No, zaldrītsos. Your soul is pure. Filled with concern for your elder brother." He murmured with contentment, raising their entwined hands to his lips, placing a warm, long kiss on her skin.

She was on his side.

His little sister.

He felt the need to put his feelings into words, but was unable to get them out. Instead, he turned towards her and looked at her – her gaze was warm, full of understanding and care he so desperately needed.

He twisted with a soft purr on the bed and slid his arm under her body, embracing her at the waist, his other hand lifting to her warm, silken cheek. He smiled with the corner of his mouth when he saw her close her eyes, her long lashes glistening in the moonlight as she snuggled her face into his palm.

"Just a few more days, sweet girl. A few more days and everything will be as it should be. I have ordered a larger bed to be placed in my chamber so that my wife will spend all the nights of her life in comfort." He said lightly – she giggled and leaned in, placing a tender, gentle kiss on the tip of his nose from which he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.

"All of them? Be careful what you wish for, brother. Desires sometimes come true." She said with a glint in her eye from which he grabbed her and turned her with him, forcing her to lie on her back, his lips finding hers in a loud, sticky, greedy kiss of their fleshy lips.

They just kissed lazily for a while, the rustling of their bedding and the quiet clicks of their saliva spreading around them like a whisper, their hands trailing tentatively over their faces, hair, necks and shoulders in gestures that were filled more with tenderness than desire.

He lay down beside her and sighed heavily, embracing her tightly, and her body clung to his instantly, her face sunk into his chest.

"Sleep."

He knew that not everyone in the keep was pleased with his independent decision regarding his betrothal. His mother accepted it, expressing neither objection nor her blessing, while her brother, and his uncle, was more harsh in his judgement.

"You need allies and a fleet, nephew, not a mistress." He told him when they were left alone, approaching him after the finished military meeting he and Criston Cole had chaired.

He looked away and licked his lower lip, then chuckled under his breath as he looked down at his fingers.

"My mistress is Daemon Targaryen's daughter and brings a dragon as a dowry for our army, which means more to us than an unstable pact with the Greyjoys. Meleys has fallen, as has her rider. Daemon is in Harrenhal. Rhaenyra is alone, and Sheepstealer is bigger than Syrax." He said calmly, and his uncle sighed heavily.

"It has come to our attention that three of the bastards have managed to ride dragons great and mighty. Capable of facing Vhagar." Said Gwayne, and he looked at him surprised, feeling his lip clench in rage.

Three?

"Perhaps you should take more than one wife then, like Aegon the Conqueror. Apparently a young girl called Nettles is regarded by Daemon as his daughter, though some whisper that not even the Targaryens would put their cock in their child. And so, opinions are divided on their relationship. Apparently it was because of her that Rhaenyra sent him back to Harrenhal." Said his uncle.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, burying his face in his hand.

The news that their advantage in the sky was melting again made him furious, but it was the vision of his betrothed if she found out that Daemon had taken a young girl into his care that filled him with dread.

Was she capable of enduring even more humiliation?

"Be careful with your words, uncle. I warn you not to try my patience and forbearance again. You may leave."

Indeed, Gwayne no longer broached the subject of their upcoming nuptials in his presence, however, to his fury, he dared to approach his sister in public.

He stopped, seeing their silhouettes facing each other in the courtyard, his uncle's body taking a step too far towards her. He moved in their direction – his hāedar caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, her calm smile meant to assure him that she was in control of the situation.

He, however, was furious.

"Hāedar. Skorion massitas (what happened)?" He asked coldly, looking at her expectantly and she threw him a soft, amused look.

He knew she could easily see how tense he was, and her attitude was meant to make him cool down and not explode.

"Aōha kēpus jaelagon naejot gīmigon lo nyke gryves aōha riña iemnȳ nyke (your uncle wants to know if I am carrying your child). Nyke udlitan zirȳla bona gaoman gīmigon daor (I answered him that I do not know)." She said without hesitation, and he closed his eyes and turned his head away, feeling his jaw clench in rage.

Who was he to ask her such brazen, intimate questions, reprimanding her in front of others, demanding answers from her as if she were his subject?

"Henujagon īlva, hāedar (leave us, little sister). Jikagon naejot ñuha tistālion (go to my chamber)." He said matter-of-factly, and she nodded and left them alone without a word.

When he looked at his uncle, Gwayne sighed and raised his eyebrows, as if to tell him that he was to blame himself.

"You're straining my patience." He said through clenched teeth.

His uncle rolled his eyes.

"The whole court knows about what you are doing. What was inappropriate about my question? It is merely my pure curiosity as to when the heir to the throne will come into the world." He said lightly, and he grinned in a way that made Gwayne freeze.

"You'd better concentrate on watching over your sister, and my mother. I don't want any more siblings, if you are aware of what I have in mind, much less from an illegitimate bed. I, as her son, will not rebuke her that the Dowager Queen cannot afford to fuck her own sworn protector. Mmm, I leave this matter to you." He hummed and turned away, leaving his uncle with a look of disbelief on his face.

As he walked into his chamber he felt the frustration of seeing that, despite his command, his betrothed was not there – he sighed, pouring himself a bit of wine into his goblet, thinking that perhaps she wanted to take a bath first, as was her custom.

He had no objection to her coming to him still wet and hot, smelling of floral oils, tasting of pure sweetness under his tongue.

However, after the hour he had spent on the book dedicated to the Riverlands and Harrenhal he had lost patience, knowing it had taken too long.

She had never defied his orders before, nor did she seem to be upset with him, so he began to worry that perhaps something had happened to her.

That was why he finally went out into the corridor and walked a few steps to her quarters, opening the door wide – he stopped, looking at her in disbelief when he saw that she was lying on her bed, staring blankly ahead, dressed exactly as before, a small piece of parchment lying next to her body.

A letter.

Who had delivered it to her without his knowledge?

"Hāedar." He said, hearing the guards close the door behind him with a loud clatter of wood.

She did not move or look at him, as if she had not noticed his presence.

He approached her slowly and reached for the rolled parchment, seeing only a few words on it.

Congratulations on your betrothal Kepa

Kepa.

Daemon.

He felt a wave of heat and cold pierce his body at the same time, the sweat on his back and the constriction in his heart testified to the panic rising within him, which immediately turned into rage.

"Where did you find this? Who brought it to you?" He growled, walking over to her, turning her onto her back and pressing her to the bed with his palms.

"Fucking speak. Shall I kill all your servants?" He hissed coldly, and she swallowed hard, looking up at him at last.

"Lysa told me that one of the guards instructed her to give it to me. According to him, it was supposed to be a letter from you, an expression of your affection." She whispered, and he pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling that he was not breathing, but panting with rage.

"Lie." He hissed, and she shook her head.

"No. I know Lysa. She described his appearance to me accurately, and I know he is the man who keeps watch over your chambers. He has heard everything, Aemond. He has passed on to him what you teach me, what we say. That word, kepa, is his mockery of me. He knows that it was not he who taught it to me, but that I know it and I understand what it means." She muttered, tears of pain, sadness and grief one after the other running down the sides of her face, her full lips parted in a ragged, drawn-out breath.

She was broken.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, burying his face in her hand, trying to calm himself.

That there were spies in the Red Keep was obvious, he thought, however, that after what had happened to Jaehaerys the fucking Lord Strong had, as assured, made sure they were all caught.

It appeared that rats were still prowling around them.

"Come here. Come. We'll go to my chamber. You will look at the guards and tell me if any of them fit the description. Don't tell anyone about the letter." He said, grabbing her in his arms and lifted her up, holding her under her buttocks. She threw her arms around his neck and nodded, and he took the parchment in his hand and headed off with her to his quarters.

His guards gave them uncertain glances as they opened the door to his room for him, but they did not say a word. When he laid her down in bed and looked at her he saw that she shook her head.

"It's none of them."

So we can sleep soundly, he thought and sighed heavily, undoing the buckles of his tunic.

For now.

He grabbed the dagger lying on the table and slipped it under one of the pillows, just in case.

"Undress." He commanded.

Let them hear it, he thought.

Daemon and all of Dragonstone.

Let them hear about what he is doing to his daughter.

She looked up at him and nodded, following his lead. When he finally pulled off his breeches and removed his shirt over his head, he saw the blush on her face, as if the sight of his bare body and the fact that he desired her surprised her.

For him it had become natural – his manhood reacted to her proximity and the sight of her without the participation of his will, pulsing greedily in the desire to unite with her.

She raised herself on her elbows as he knelt on the bed before her, his hands loosening the ribbon at the end of her long, complicated braid.

"Untie it." He said, and she smiled sweetly, sitting down in front of him – his hands slipped her nightgown off her shoulders as her hands reached back, curl by curl untangling her hair, letting it fall freely down her back.

Looking at her, at her slightly parted, swollen, glistening lips, at the hot, soft gaze of her dark eyes, at her long lashes, at her smooth face, at her bared body, her shapely breasts and puffy nipples, he thought she was graceful and sweet.

That she was beautiful.

He raised his hand slowly, admiring her like a nymph attending to her daily routine, his fingers stroking her silken, plump breasts in a lazy, soft motion.

"– I crave you – as you can see –" He gasped and rolled his hips so that his erect, hard manhood rubbed tentatively against the space between her thighs – they both sighed as they felt the material of her nightgown was damp, and when he lifted it up he saw the entirety of her pink, glistening womanhood, leaking from her wetness like a stream.

They were silent, tensions all around them, his gaze fixed on what was only his, letting his thumb run over her soft, fleshy folds.

"– ah –" She sighed as he began to lazily tease her small, sensitive bud, the source of her pleasure from where she was melting before his eyes.

"– will you resist me? – will you scream? –" He asked, rocking his hips back and forth, sinking the tip of the fat, smooth head of his cock into her tight slit again and again – her thighs spread wide apart in response, her hands on either side of her head, her gaze locked on the spot where their bodies met, watching what he was doing to her.

"– no, my King –" She whispered, and he looked at her, feeling a wonderful shiver run through him.

My King.

Her words were a betrayal, but a sweet one.

"– your words are punishable by death –" He gasped, feeling his breath grow heavier – they both sighed as he sunk deeper into her warm flesh, each time with the movement of his hips sliding out almost all the way, hitting the same sweet spot deep inside her again and again.

"– punish me then –" She muttered, panting hard, his eye grew large, the need to follow her desires unstoppable.

"– mmm – indeed, I don't want any harm to befall my sister for her words spoken in… ecstasy –" He exhaled, her head tilting back with a sob of pleasure as he forced his way deep into her slick, hot cunt with one, fierce push, each following thrust just a loud smacking of their hips against each other.

"– ah – g-gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, save me –" She whimpered, throwing her hands over his shoulders as he leaned lower, imposing an aggressive, sharp pace on her, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow with the loud clicks of her wetness, crushing her body to the bed, which began to creak loudly beneath them.

He looked down, watching in awe as he opened her little cunt wide on the thickest part of his swollen erection, feeling the way her warm, throbbing muscles enclosed it greedily, sucking it inside, begging for his seed.

"– confess your guilt – confess your sin to your betrothed –" He breathed out, grasping her buttocks in his hands, shifting positions so that he lifted himself up on his knees, groaning in pleasure along with her as he felt her from a different angle, savouring the wonderful, ravenous squeezes her walls were giving him.

She looked up at him with effort, quivering and writhing beneath him, her lips parted wide in heavy breaths, her fingers clenched on the pillow under her head while their bare skin slammed against each other with sticky splats.

"– I'm not being faithful to King Aegon, but to his brother – ah – I'm letting him use my body in spite of – i-in spite of the fact that he's not my husband –" She mumbled out with difficulty, just as he being on the verge of fulfilment, sweat running down their hot, naked bodies, his cock all soaked from her wetness, engorged as if it was about to explode inside her.

"– these are indeed grave sins – do not fret – your brother will guide you – fill you with his seed so that you will be pure again – shhh, I know – I know –" He exhaled as she cried out loudly.

She came on his manhood so hard that tears ran down her cheeks – her cunt began to clench around it in spasms of her pleasure, her eyes closed, her eyebrows arched as if he had caused her pain.

He tilted his head back and sighed when, after a few sloppy, sticky, messy thrusts, he reached his peak deep inside her with a loud grunt of satisfaction, feeling strong, invincible, desired, loved.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, panting hard, and he lay down on top of her, hugging her close, her fingers quickly clenching on his back – he could feel her hard nipples, pressed against his bare chest, his cock and her walls pulsing for a moment longer in shared delight and relief.

"– protect me – protect me from him –" She mumbled out.

He swallowed hard and leaned in, placing a warm, tender kiss on the top of her head, his broad hand stroking her hair.

"I will take care of everything. Do not fret. Sleep now and rest." He hummed and she nodded, snuggling into him tighter.

He let her fall asleep in his safe embrace, he, however, looked ahead and thought hard about what he should do with this letter and the informations he had.

Should he kill his guard, or should he interrogate him, torture him to squeeze out of him who he was working with?

Would he be able to get through him to Daemon, to his weaknesses and desires?

Rhaenyra had more dragon riders.

Their advantage was melting once more.

He needed to retake Harrenhal from their hands as quickly as possible, to force the Vale and the rest of the Riverlands to kneel.

He only fell asleep in the morning from exhaustion, snuggled into her warm, soft body, her scent affecting him in the same calming way as the embrace of her arms.

He was awakened by her touch – he hummed, feeling her lazily stroking his hair, his face in natural reflex snuggled between her soft, warm breasts.

Every gentle movement of her fingers, her calm breath, the beating of her heart beneath his cheek was a completion of wholeness for him, something he shared only with her, a closeness that was nothing but a pure need.

They both flinched and pulled away from each other when suddenly the door to his chamber opened wide – he looked there and opened his mouth, furious, wanting to ask who had dared to step inside without permission, his voice, however, stuck in his throat when he caught sight of his grandfather's silhouette walking towards his bed.

Otto stopped halfway and sighed loudly, as if he was disappointed but not surprised – his hāedar quickly covered her breasts with the material of her nightgown, looking at him questioningly, not understanding why he remained silent.

"I was hoping, my grandson, that I would find you alone." His grandsire said serenely, raising one eyebrow in an expression of passive disapproval.

He licked his lower lip, glancing at her uncertainly, her eyes big with terror.

"Henujagon īlva, hāedar (leave us, little sister). Kesan māzigon naejot ao tistālion tolī (I will come to you room later)." He said calmly.

She nodded, quickly grabbing her leather tunic and breeches lying on the floor, stepping around his grandfather without a word, disappearing after a moment behind the door.

He sighed heavily and leaned his back against the bed frame, covering his hips with the fur, looking ahead with a dispassionate expression on his face.

He had done this on purpose.

Nothing his grandfather did was without meaning.

"I heard you wish to become a husband." He teased, putting his hands behind his back, calmly stepping closer to his bed.

"Have you come to dissuade me from that idea?" He asked, turning his head away, for some reason unable to look at him.

He felt humiliated because he saw him in a helpless position, his face cuddled between her breasts, her embrace that he so craved.

He saw his weakness.

"No." He said, surprising him completely. "I came to ask how you can be sure she's faithful to you and the Crown."

He snorted under his breath, grabbing a small rolled piece of parchment that lay on the table next to his bed and threw it in his direction.

Otto halted, and the expression on his face changed – his eyebrows straightened as if he was intrigued, but he did not reach for the note.

"Go on. Read it. She didn't hide it from me." He said defiantly, but his grandfather just looked at him, his gaze gentle.

"I don't need to. I know what it says."

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling his heart stop in his throat, the unpleasant tightness in his stomach making him run out of air in his lungs for a moment.

"Daemon never wrote to her." He muttered.

His grandfather hummed.

"I wanted to see how she would behave. To be honest, I'm positively surprised. I was certain she'd be hiding it for a while, terrified of what you'd do to her and her servants when you found out." Otto said lightly.

He pressed his lips together, feeling that inside he was boiling all over with rage.

"You bribed my guard to spy on me for you?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling like a small, deceived child again.

His grandsire laughed at his words.

"I didn't bribe him. I ordered him to watch over my grandson and keep me informed of what was happening in the keep in my absence. Did you think that I simply abandoned you? That I no longer cared about you?" He asked with furrowed brows, stepping closer to his bed.

He swallowed hard, looking away from his eyes, too piercing and wise, feeling like he was ten years old again.

He was silent.

"What happened to your brother. Did you have anything to do with it?" Otto asked finally.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, grinning broadly.

Of course he thought he had something to do with it.

"No. But I don't delude myself that you will believe me. My brother thought he knew everything better and didn't listen to the advice of those wiser than himself." He said lightly.

Otto hummed under his breath.

"Are you planning to follow in his footsteps?" He asked matter-of-factly.

He swallowed heavily, feeling his jaw clench as hard as if it was going to burst.

"I'm going to marry her. It's already decided."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" He growled, looking at him angrily, impatient and embarrassed that he was having such a conversation with him while he was standing over him lying in his bed, bare.

"If you wish me to become your Hand, you must not make the mistakes of your brother. You must listen to the advice of people more mature and wiser than yourself." He said, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a grimace.

"Listen to advices, yes – but do not think that I do not know you and your gift for manipulation." He said and turned his head away. "I know, however, how devoted you are to our family. Mmm, I wish you to be the one to reassure my betrothed – explain to her your intrigue and your reason for it. I expect you to take her father's place during our nuptials."

His grandfather was silent for a long time, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Yes." He said in a way from which he felt a cold sweat on his back. "I will gladly speak with her alone."

[folkloreandfable]

Serendipity･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x f!reader, Tags: Fluff Warnings: childbirth Synopsis: Just wholesome family fluff, no plot. A/N: I kept it very short.

The waning cresent rose high above clouds to cast silvery gleams into the Red Keep. As calm as the night may be, the princess’s chambers were certainly not. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tried taking the steady breaths the midwife instructed. It was a grave matter indeed, with her mother and the queen herself present to witness the birth of the Targaryen lineage. Her husband paced restlessly after being ousted, since such affairs were best facilitated by women. Also, he was being a meddlesome mother hen that questioned the midwives' every move. Slowly, the night began to move, the stars appeared and shallows gasps evolved to agonising screams. It took all for the young prince to not burst into the room again. And then it stopped. No screams, no gasps. It was all suffocatingly silent. The prince felt his blood begin running cold, and he stormed toward the chamber doors. Propriety be damned. Just as he opened the heavy oak, he heard a slap followed by piercing cries. Cries. There were two of them.

»»———-　˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀　———-««

The midday sun shone high in the rare clear blue skies though its incandesce dimmed in comparison to the beaming glow of the new family. The young mother smiled down at the blessings in her arms. A boy and a girl with dark hair, rosy cheeks and thick lashes that fluttered in content as they nursed from their mother. Hardly the image of Targaryen beauty, but they were in the image of the one she loved. The babes unlatched, tired from the strenuous task of being born and fell fast asleep to the gentle humming of their mother. As she rocked them, the chamber doors opened ever so slightly to reveal the peeking face of her husband. “Is it a good time to come in?” He whispered and the new mother couldn’t help but be amused by his caution, gesturing him in.

“I thought the meeting was to end at sundown?” She asks as he presses a kiss on her hair line before leaning down to kiss the babes. “I had more pressing matters,” Jace half smiled, taking a seat next to her on the bed and taking Visenya in his arms. “They look so much like me,” He proudly declared, causing his wife to scoff. “They just happen to have your hair colour and eyes.” “They have my nose too.” “The babes are barely a day old. They’re more like tubers with hair.” Jace clutched his chest with his free hand, feigning indignation. “You will not insult the heirs of house Targaryen so.” To which she rolled her eyes. “I carried them for eight moons and laboured for an entire night,” she retorted, playfully glaring at the twins. “Thus, their choice of countenance offends me even more.” This caused Jace to throw his head back in laughter before comfortingly wrapping as arms around hers shoulders. “Your time will come with our next ones.” “Maybe,” she rested her head against him, looking softly at their sleeping children. “But for now, I could not be more happy with what we have.”

Jace hummed in agreement, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Our Lucerys and Visenya.

»»———-　˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀　———-««

Inbox: Open

[alicents4lawyer]

HOTD AU

Alicent: Father, I must tell you something

Otto: What is it?

Alicent: Me and Rhaenyra… are in love

Otto: . . . Rhaenyra, as in the kings daughter?

Alicent: Yes-

Otto: Oh Gods, this is wonderful *runs out of the room* Viserys! Viserys! We must legalise gay marriage! Our children must be happy!

Otto’s mind: My blood on the Throne 😍

[suckmyfatdee]

So they didn't have the budget for Maelor....but enough for a character that didn't exist in the books(Dyana), for an unnecessary weird son/mother sex scene(Alyssa, mother of Daemon and Viserys), characters that didn't do nothing for the plot in season 2(Rhaenyra's sons Viserys and Aegon) and the brothel Madame Silvy or just the actors for the brothel scenes all together? As well as the small folk when they rioted against Alicent and Helaena because of starvation(which also didn't happen in the books) and much more...Hm. Aight.

[aemondstark]

AEMOND TARGARYEN played by EWAN MITCHELL

02.08 "The Queen Who Never Was"

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

LEO ASHTON & EWAN MITCHELL as Aemond Targaryen in House of the Dragon

[lemonsharkgirlfriend]

hotd tells the story of an undying love between two women which consistently overcomes the violence of war, feudalism, and patriarchy. the affection between rhaenyra and alicent weaves through the narrative to tell us something larger about misogyny, gendered violence, etc., that is far more compelling than f&b's incessant and arguably banal “male primogeniture is bad,” thesis. rhaenyra and alicent are not “codependent,” and hotd’s writing (with regards to this relationship) is not “misogynistic;” this relationship is a representation of the power of love against seemingly insurmountable odds and the consequences of rejecting adherence to duty in an inherently corrupt sociopolitical system. rhaenyra and alicent’s dedication to one another sharply contrasts the brutality of the dance, compelling the audience to contemplate the futility of the conflict, the pervasive nature of misogyny, and, ultimately, the faculty of love as a means to combat suffering.