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[pocksprincess]

[pocksprincess]

@aneid / sydney smith / unknown / @bakwaaas / @nutnoce / @dearestvita

[pocksprincess]

behave

[pocksprincess]

Off-duty

[pocksprincess]

Someone. Anyone.

PAIRING: Aegon II X Reader

WORD COUNT: 4688

WARNINGS: None

SUMMARY: Aegon has waited his entire life for someone to care.

A/N: This simply refused to leave my brain until it was written down. I can't wait to see more of Aegon II in season 2! As always, please reblog, like, comment, send an ask, a raven – anything! I wanna talk to you guys! ❤️

The days seem to blur together recently. Aegon can’t tell the difference between them anymore, bar something particularly extraordinary happening. No such thing has happened of late and so the days continue to blur.

When Aegon wakes that morning, he half-expects it to be the evening. It’s an odd thing the way he sleeps. Erratic. Some days he rises before the birds, and other days it’s just as supper is being cleared from the dinner table. No one thinks to wake him anymore – probably glad to be rid of his presence.

With a sigh, he shuffles out of bed, groaning when his head pounds in response to being on his feet. The thought of washing before he leaves the room crosses his mind. Briefly. There’s no one around to draw him a bath, and frankly, he’s in no mood to wait. He is hungry, tired…and lonely. But he can only do something about those first two things.

He exits the room looking quite haphazard, but rests easy knowing that no one would dare comment on his ghastly appearance. Most of the servants and guards avoid eye contact as he passes. Aegon takes that to mean that no one has requested his presence somewhere. No one wants to see him.

Even when he sits to eat, he’s left utterly alone. He stares into space as he downs his breakfast. A drink. That’s what he needs. It doesn’t distract from the loneliness anymore – it hasn’t in years – but it dulls the pain at least. He finishes eating, and though he has had his fill, the pit in his stomach remains empty.

Sunfyre.

Perhaps that is who he needs. She always manages to plug the hole in his heart, however temporary it may be. He rises and immediately heads for the dragon pit.

On the way down there he walks past Helaena’s room. The door is ajar, and the laughter of children filters out into the hall. Aegon’s lip twitches as he edges closer to the door. It has been a few days – two, maybe three – since he’s seen the kids. He wants to sit with them, play with them. They’re growing so fast.

He pushes the door open further and slides halfway through, but his smile falters when he realises that his wife and children are not alone.

His brother, Aemond, is sitting on the floor with the children. They’re tugging at his hair, completely unaware of the discomfort they might be causing, while Aemond sits there trying his best to appear annoyed with them. Alicent and Helaena are watching from the lounger, entirely amused by the scene before them.

They seem happy. Happier than they could ever be in his presence at least.

Instead of dampening the mood with his entrance, he quietly slides back out of the room, making sure he isn’t seen or heard. It’s selfish to be hurt by the fact that they are happy without him, but he can’t help it.

He can’t remember a time when his family were happy to see him. His father ignores him, his mother berates him, his brother is disgusted by him, and his wife can’t stand the sight of him….And he’s not entirely sure he can blame them.

He has never been the best version of himself that he could be…but what is the point in being great when all that is expected of him is failure? They all look at him and see nothing of worth. Why prove them otherwise? Worthless he shall continue to be.

Aegon is content to wallow in self-pity for the remainder of the day until he runs into a familiar face upon turning a corner. Although you barely collide, it's enough to startle you and make you jump back.

"Aegon!" you yelp, but quickly recover and bow your head in a more composed manner, "My Prince."

His mood is instantly improved at the sight of you, and he can't say exactly why. He’s paid attention to you, in a way he never has to other young maidens in the castle. At first, it was purely due to the allure of your striking beauty, but soon it became…more.

Your father joined the Small Council only a few months ago, and you've been strolling the halls of the Red Keep since. Not long after your arrival, you joined Aegon for a drink just outside the servants’ quarters and he questioned you about why you accompanied your father to the capital rather than remain at home with your mother and sisters. You clammed up and offered a rather vague explanation that indicated a turbulent relationship with her. Aegon let you be, but since then, he made sure to stop and speak to you whenever you crossed paths.

He wouldn’t call you a friend. No, not at all. However, you are one of the few able to keep up with him when it comes to drink. You don't sigh when he enters a room, nor do you look at him with derision or contempt in your eyes. You laugh at his jokes, so he tells even more for your sake. Because he wants you to enjoy his company as much as he does yours.

He's starting to care, and though it terrifies him, it's better than anything he's felt for years.

"My Lady." Taking your hand, he turns it over so the palm is facing upwards. He raises a brow and looks up at you, "I see you have been drawing again."

It's the charcoal dust on your fingers that gives it away. He's aware of your hobby – drawing various flowers and documenting their differences and similarities. You swear it'll be useful to the maesters one day. Aegon is not so sure, but he doesn't share those thoughts because he sees how happy it makes you.

"Someone ought to do it," you shrug and wipe your hands on the small purse slung across your body, "If I don't, who will?"

"Is that where you are off to in such a hurry?"

"No," you sigh heavily and roll your eyes as you seem to recall something of particular annoyance, "Do you know that there are weeds growing in the godswood?"

"Weeds?"

"Weeds!" you repeat, even more concerned, "I have asked the gardener to prune them but it doesn’t seem to have been done properly. So, I have decided to do it myself."

Your passion is infectious, it breathes life into him. He cares not about the art of gardening, but he cares about you, your interests. It pains him to admit that he craves the idea of being a part of your life, in any and all ways.

"I shall join you," he says after a moment of thought, "If you will have me."

It's a silly question to ask, one to which you don't bother responding for he knows the answer is always 'yes'. Aegon walks alongside you, occasionally glancing at each other, but not knowing what to say. He’s always like this when he hasn’t had a drink.

"I called on you earlier. I was told you were still asleep."

Most are rarely happy to see Aegon, much less purposely seeking him out. This is unusual for him.

“I was, I only woke a short while ago,” he says, “Were you after something?”

You look up at him with a cheery smile, "No, I just wanted to spend time with you."

He frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You come to a sudden stop and look up at him properly, a soft pout forming on your lips, "You and I are friends, are we not?"

Friends. He cannot say that he has ever had one. Every person he has ever spent a reasonably enjoyable time with was either paid to be accommodating, or did so out of mere obligation. Everyone but you.

"Besides, who's to say you and I will even have the chance to speak at the feast later?" you say with a chuckle.

"We are to have a feast tonight?"

Your brows crease as you search his eyes for any sign that he may be teasing, “Today is your Name Day. Have you forgotten?”

You state it as if it is the most obvious thing to remember.

“No, I–,” he stutters as he tries to recall the date, “No one told me...”

Aegon retreats into his own mind. Until this very moment, he had completely forgotten that this is meant to be a day of celebration. Normally his mother would be dragging him out of bed first thing in the morning, and there would be some attempt from his family to spend time together. But today has been like all the rest, and they have chosen to exclude him.

That is expected. Forgetting his own Name Day is not. It's a painful thing when no one seems to care, but it's terrifying to know that he is starting to care less about himself.

"I'm sure your mother is preparing a banquet that shall be the talk of the Kingdoms," you gently touch his arm, a level of tenderness he can’t remember when last he received.

Aegon looks into your eyes, a ray of light in this haze of misery he calls a life. And just like that, he doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

***

As the honoured guest, Aegon is seated at the head of the High Table, his mother and grandsire on either side of him along with his siblings and children. But somehow, as the night goes on, Aegon climbs down from the raised platform and joins you at one of the tables meant for the Small Council members and their families.

Although you are flattered, people are staring because it is not in fact common for the Heir to ignore most of the guests at his own Name Day feast in order to spend time with the Master of Coin's daughter.

No matter. You do your best to ignore them just as Aegon seems to do.

Slouched in his chair, right leg up on the table and his left hand holding a goblet of wine, you can’t help noticing that he isn't drunk – yet – and you hope it stays that way for the evening. He engages you in a heated discussion about whether or not the dance being performed by the guests is worth watching. You are of the strong opinion that it is entertaining to watch and romantic when participating.

Aegon shoots you a look of incredulity, "They are not even touching!"

"Yes, because this dance is about the simple intimacy of the near-touch," you hover your palms close together to imitate one of the dance moves.

Aegon scoffs and sips his drink, "There is nothing intimate about not touching your dance partner."

"True intimacy is about when you–" he stops himself and laughs, shaking his head, "I suppose it would be improper of me to divulge such salacious secrets to a virtuous maiden such as yourself, my Lady."

You roll your eyes at his condescending tone and shove him playfully in the shoulder which makes him laugh.

“Lady Y/N!” ha gasps in faux horror, “You just touched me! How will we ever know the meaning of true intimacy now?”

You laugh and shove him again, earning even more looks from the people around. Quickly you quiet down and focus on Aegon again. He's watching the dancers but you're looking at him.

Even half-drunk, with tousled hair from constantly running his hand through the cropped locks and red-rimmed eyes, you still find him beautiful. You feel the urge to reach out and touch his cheek or his hair, but stop yourself from doing something so inappropriate in public.

Besides, who knows how Aegon would react to such a thing?

“You truly don’t believe two people can share an intimate moment without touching?”

He chuckles at first, ready to brush off the question with a silly joke, but when he turns to you and senses how serious you are, his eyes soften.

There is many a moment you've shared with Aegon that you would consider intimate, and not once have you touched him during them. You want to know that he feels the same way about those moments. You need to know.

He holds your gaze for some time, and you can't be sure what he is thinking about, then he answers in a low voice, "Perhaps..."

He glances down at your lips, it is only for a second, but you catch it anyway. Aegon knows this, but it does not make him lean back into his chair, nor pretend to be embarrassed.

"There are people looking at us," you whisper, glancing around the room at the obvious stares, "Could we go somewhere?"

He frowns, "Why?"

"I want to give you your gift."

***

Aegon follows you to a less visible corner of the room. He doesn't truly care about what this gift may be, he is only happy to be alone with you away from prying eyes.

He watches as you reach into a hidden zip in the front of your dress, a clever design, and pull out an oval shaped case. It rattles when you pull it out so there is clearly something hidden inside. You step closer to him and press the case into the palm of his hand, practically shaking with excitement.

Whatever it is, it's small, which is quite an unusual kind of gift for Aegon. He often receives famous first edition books, expensive fabrics and custom-made swords for his Name Day. The gifts are piled high on the other end of the room at this very moment.

"Will you open it?"

Aegon, amused by your visible excitement and anticipation, snaps the case open. Inside is a golden insignia ring displaying the three heads of the dragon, perfectly etched into metal.

“It was supposed to be black and red, like the sigil of your House, but I think I like it better in gold,” you say, a look of pride in your eyes as you look down at your gift, “When it catches the light, it shimmers like the scales on Sunfyre.”

You smile as you tilt the ring towards the candle above you, “You see?”

Aegon can’t say for sure if your assertion is true because he doesn’t look to inspect the ring. Instead his gaze stays fixed on you, confused and in awe. He has been showered with gifts since before he had memories of his Name Day, but none as thoughtful as this.

When he glances down at the ring, he notices an inscription on the inside of the band. "To my dearest Prince, Aegon," it reads in High Valyrian.

"You added this?"

"There wasn't much space to have any more inscribed," you say, "But I had Aemond translate it to High Valyrian for me because I wanted it to mean something to you."

He doesn't know what to say. The gift is so small, yet sentimental. No one has ever offered him such kindness, and Aegon doesn't believe he deserves it. His entire life he has longed for someone, anyone, to care about him. Not Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, Heir to the Iron Throne – just him. He is not used to receiving such compassion and doesn’t know how to respond to it.

He ignores the stinging of tears behind his eyes and clears his throat.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says as he slips the ring onto his pinky finger, "I shall wear it always."

Your heart swells as he kisses the ring.

"I know it is improper for a Lady to ask," you begin, already feeling the burn of embarrassment on your cheeks, "But would you care to dance, my Prince?"

Aegon is beyond flattered and kicks himself for not asking first. He does not want you to think that he is not eager, when it is in fact the opposite.

"I would–" he cuts himself off at the sight of his mother approaching from behind you.

A frown carves itself into his lips, "I would love to, but it seems my mother wants to have a word."

You look behind you and nod in understanding when you see Alicent walking up, "Of course. Perhaps later then?"

He nods with a smile, "Don't tire yourself out."

You bow to the Queen Mother as you excuse yourself, glancing back at Aegon when you walk away.

Alicent sidles up to Aegon’s side, a goblet of wine in her hands. “I see you’ve grown quite close to Lady Y/N as of late,” she says, “You’re fond of her?”

Aegon’s brows furrow as he looks down at his mother. He’s not sure where she is going with this and thinks to lie, but even he knows he can’t deceive her.

“I am,” he answers, looking away from her and searching for you with his eyes.

Alicent nods slowly and sips from her cup, “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

Aegon finally spots you among the dancers, floating across the floor with Tyland Lannister as your partner. His heart warms as you laugh at something the man says, your smile tugging at something that has long been buried within him. As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn your head to look at him, throwing him a wink.

“I suppose she is,” he responds absent-mindedly to Alicent's question as the corner of his lips begin to turn up.

Alicent looks at him again, growing more and more irritated as the seconds go by.

"I hear her father intends to propose a marriage for her to Tyland Lannister."

Aegon's head snaps towards his mother.

"Tyland Lannister?" he gasps violently, "He is an old man!"

In truth, Tyland Lannister is a mere six and thirty – not considered old by the country’s standards.

"He is the Master of Ships and brother to the Warden of the West," she says, ignoring the outburst, "A Lannister is a good match for her."

Over my dead body, he thinks. There is not a reality Aegon is willing to accept in which you belong to somebody else. If he must claim you as his wife, then he will. Just as Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, so it shall be for Aegon II. The thought of you being wed to another man not only makes him angry, it is sickening.

“Aegon.” He is torn away from his thoughts of you by his mother’s stern voice.

This conversation is annoying and agitating. He does not want to hear it. He wants to go to you, to tear you away from that Lannister Lord and take you somewhere you can be alone together.

"Whether it is to Tyland Lannister or some other nobleman, she will be wed," Alicent says, her firm tone taking on a desperate edge, "Her father sits on the Small Council. She will be married to a decent man someday who will make her a good husband."

His scowl deepens. "Why are you telling me all this, Mother?"

"Because she is not like one of your whores, Aegon,” she turns to face him fully, though he avoids her eyes, “You cannot sully her skirts with your debauchery. You must leave her alone.”

Aegon has never believed that he is good enough for you, nor that he even deserves your friendship. It is why he has kept you at a distance as much as he can. Too selfish to completely let you go, but also afraid that one day, you will see him as he is and abandon him. His mother has just taken that fear, and in a few words, beaten him over the head with it.

Does she not see that he is trying? He has not stepped foot in a pleasure house in some weeks now. And though he still drinks, he does not do it until he loses his senses anymore. The days no longer blur, and he wakes eager to start them. That emptiness that tormented him so, it has faded.

Does she really not see?

Devastated does not convey the intensity of the pain that descends upon Aegon in that moment. His efforts to do better, to be better, have gone completely unnoticed by the one who chastises him the most for his self-indulgence and lechery.

“Aegon,” she says again, pulling on his arm, “Promise me that you will leave that girl alone.”

Aegon glances in your direction. You’re still dancing, but with a different partner now. Blissfully unaware that his heart has just been shattered into pieces.

“I promise,” he grunts.

As soon as he says the words, Alicent leaves his side, no longer needing to be in his presence.

Aegon stumbles, a bit overwhelmed in the moment as he looks around the room for something, anything, to distract him from the shame and embarrassment he feels. He spots a pitcher of wine on the corner of a table by him and swipes it, heading down to the cellars of the Keep.

***

Aegon promised you a dance, but after searching for him for close to an hour, you find him in the cellars with Balerion, sitting against the stone wall, legs spread out in front of him as he stares at the dragon’s skull. A wine chalice lies discarded by his side, spilling out what was left of its contents.

Aegon does not react as you walk towards him. Even when you stand right in front of him he doesn’t look up at you. He is completely out of it, and the sight makes you let out a deep sigh.

You move beside him and slide down the wall, choosing to sit quietly with him. Aegon drinks wine like it is water, but to get like this, something must have upset him. You don’t ask him about it. He always wants someone to listen, because of that you never have to press him to share his thoughts.

“What is worse than hate?”

Those are the first words that leave his lips after almost an hour of silence. He’s still staring up at Balerion as he speaks, but his arms are now resting on his knees which are pulled up to his chest. Though he is right beside you, he feels a million miles away.

You ponder the question some, but can’t quite offer a response, “I can’t imagine there is anything worse than hate.”

“Indifference,” he answers, nodding to himself, “It is empty. Hollow. Lonely.”

Finally, he looks at you with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes, “That is all I see when my family looks at me.”

Your heart breaks for him, and a lump forms in your throat as you try not to cry.

“Aegon,” you whisper, voice shaking, “Your family do not hate you. Nor are they indifferent.”

He laughs bitterly as his head rolls back to rest against the wall. “You do not have to lie to make me feel better,” he says, “That is what the whores are for.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, preferring the sting of physical pain than the one caused by his words.

“It’s the drink making you feel this way.”

His head rolls to the side so he’s looking at you again, though at an angle. At first, he doesn’t speak and it sends your mind racing as you try to guess what he might be thinking in that clouded head of his.

“Without the drink, I sink into a hole of despair,” his eyes soften, “A hole…I fear I may never climb out of.”

You hate seeing him like this. So broken and worn down by what he sees as a burdensome life.

Aegon’s eyes shift from you to the ground when he feels you trying to lace your fingers through his. He shakes his head and draws back, burying his face in his hands. This is the first time he’s rejected the comfort you offer. He is in a worse state than you imagined and you don’t know what brought him to this.

“Aegon,” his name falls from your lips like a desperate plea. You reach out to pull his hands away from his face, but even that won’t make him look at you.

You look down at your hand as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I’m not indifferent,” you mumble, but in the quiet, the words come out clear as day, “And I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

That seems to stir something in him. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, as though he is suspicious. But the longer he looks, the suspicion fades. And without a second thought, he reaches over and grabs your head in his hands, roughly capturing your lips in a kiss.

His lips taste of wine and salt from the tears now freely spilling down his cheeks. Everywhere his hands find, they grip you tight, afraid to let you go. And you melt into him, promising him with every kiss and every tug that you won’t leave.

You don’t care that his kiss is not the sweet and tender one you imagined. It’s rough, needy and desperate, noses bumping into each other and hands fumbling against your bodies as he pulls you into his lap – a motion only made possible because you want it to be.

All you can think about is how you can’t get enough of this. Of him. Day and night he has consumed your thoughts, dreaming of being held and kissed and touched by him. His sad eyes plagued your mind from the first night you spoke with him. You knew he had burrowed himself deep in your heart the first time you got down on your knees in the Sept and prayed for his healing.

But even now, as his lips merge themselves to yours, his hands sliding up your thighs, you can’t enjoy the moment fully. Because he’s drowning. His heart is broken, and you’re not sure you can fix it.

Just as the thought crosses your mind, he pulls away from you – though, even that seems hard for him to do.

“Aegon…?”

He opens those beautiful sad eyes again and upon meeting yours, shakes his head. He’s fighting with himself, with what he ought to do and what he wants to do. What he needs from you.

He looks up at you again and gently strokes your cheek.

“I don’t want to debase you,” he chokes out, looking like he is in physical pain.

“How could you debase me?”

“I can’t–” He grips your face tightly and pulls you closer, searching your eyes in desperation.

More tears spill over and roll down his cheeks. “You are far too precious to me.”

The pain in his eyes is so raw you can practically see him twisting the knife in his own heart. He’s clinging to you for life while begging you to let him go. He doesn’t know that if you let him succumb, the darkness will consume you too.

“And what do you think you are to me?” you whisper, hands cupping his face, “A rarity. The person I love.”

His grip softens and his eyes widen.

“You love me?”

“More than anything,” you say without any hesitation.

He stares at you in awe, fingers tracing your cheeks and jaw and lips. You cannot say if he is in the room with you in this moment, or if his mind is somewhere else. As if snapped back to his senses, he sucks in a stuttered breath and his gaze refocuses.

“You love me?” he asks again, voice breaking as he speaks.

The last of his resolve breaks when you nod again. Burying his head into your chest, he begins to sob uncontrollably, arms squeezing around your waist as he holds onto you.

With trembling lips, you place a kiss to the top of his head, your tears soaking through his silver hair.

[pocksprincess]

"You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you."

[pocksprincess]

No one will ever love me like you again

[pocksprincess]

"You said I killed you — haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"

I posted this on twitter a couple months ago, but I thought I might as well crosspost onto here. Rhaenicent has quickly become my favorite ship of all time and thinking about how their story ends makes me a little feral.

Refs: this painting by Gerald Moira + Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

[pocksprincess]

Some of my old Rhaenyra studies

[pocksprincess]

Feral

[pocksprincess]

"cafe date? Fine. Whatever. But you're paying"

Just a lil doodle of the new jjk cafe official art, ty for the support! :3

[pocksprincess]

lonely even when we’re so close

[pocksprincess]

50 shades of Gale Dekarios

[pocksprincess]

The Manor

modern!aegon x neice!reader

A/N: this is based off a short little blurb i did the other day. just thought i'd make it into smth more

WARNINGS: SMUT!!, DUBCON!, incest, exhibitionism perhaps, pervy aegon

WORD COUNT: 1,468 words

There’s nothing you hate more than family gatherings. It’s a pity really because you know you would enjoy them if it wasn’t for one thing… your uncle. Aegon torments you endlessly. It started small when you were younger, tugging on your braids like a schoolboy. Now, it’s the way his touches linger. He gets more and more reckless with each graze… each grope. Your brothers could see, his mother could see if only they looked close enough.

It’s your grandfather’s birthday today, a summertime celebration that you resent because it means a whole weekend spent at the manor and Aegon loves nothing more than a tantalizing, off-limits girl in a sundress.

“You wouldn’t deny your favourite uncle a hug, would you?” He says with a smirk as you walk up the steps. Your step-grandmother is oblivious as she beckons you over.

“Family greets each other with hugs!” She encourages, pulling you into her soft embrace before pushing you into his.

Filthy arms snake around your waist and you hate how your body leans into his. You hate how good it feels when his hand slips up your dress to give your ass a sneaky squeeze, fingertips just barely grazing your clothed pussy. You try not to gasp as you push him away, glaring at him for his perversion.

“So good to see you, little niece.” He gives you a wolfish grin before letting you walk away, if only so he can watch you go.

~~~

You get into your bikini after unpacking, wanting to soak in that hot summer sun before it sets. You venture outside to the pool just to see that you’re the only one there as Daeron and Helaena are down by the beach and your dumbass brothers are probably napping after the long car ride. As for Aemond, who knows what he’s up to. You walk over to a sunchair and lay your towel on it as he sneaks up behind you. You feel the ties of your bikini top undo with one swift motion.

You whip around. “Aegon, you bastard!” You grab the sides of your top to keep yourself covered but that only gives him the chance to tug down your bottoms.

“Ohh someone’s keeping herself well groomed for me.” He muses as you pull them back up and shove him away.

“Keep your hands away from me, perv!”

“If you want my hands off then why did you shave your pussy bare for me?” He smirks, stalking closer to you as you back away.

“Who said it’s for you?” You snark back.

That comment pisses him off a bit and he grabs your arm to pull you back to him. “Yeah? Like you’re fucking someone.” He pushes his hand down the front of your bottoms. “Not when you’re this wet for me.”

“I hate you.” You squirm out of his hold but he still sends you off with a harsh smack on the ass as you storm away.

“Sure you do, sweetheart!”

You make your way to your room, locking your door and changing out of your bathing suit and into a short sundress so you aren’t lounging in swimwear.

Gods, maybe he’s right about you doing things for him. If you were so disgusted by his advances then you would probably want to drown yourself in clothing, rather than dress yourself in such a tiny garment. And more than anything, you wait around for him, eventually falling into a mid-day slumber.

You’re awoken by the feeling of gentle fingertips gliding up and down your navel before fluttering across your collarbones. When your eyes finally open, taking their time because of how groggy you feel, you’re greeted by the sight of him with a hand down his boxers as he strokes his cock, looking as divine as a fucking god. This is when you notice that the bust of your milkmaid dress has been untied to reveal your pert breasts. You say nothing as you flinch away like a spooked mare, only glaring at Aegon with ire in your eyes.

“You were so peaceful when you were sleeping and now you had to go ahead and ruin it.” He gazes at you with such lustful hunger.

“You like to prey on sleeping girls?”

“I like to prey on you.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Nobody’s home… and I like it when you put up a little fight.”

He gives you a little smirk before lunging at you. You slip off the bed but you’re not on the side of the room with the door so there’s nowhere to run. He backs you into a corner but just watches for a moment, wanting to make you antsy. His lack of action makes you take your chance and you try to bolt past him but he just grabs you around the waist. You swing around him slightly but his hold is firm. Both of his hands snake around your struggling body from behind, his left holding your upper torso all the way up to cup your right breast and his right sliding up your skirt.

“You’re fucking sick. I’m your niece.” You spit out at him.

“You’re just as sick as I am.”

You struggle in his grasp but that doesn’t stop him from getting a firm hold on your panties. He tugs on them and you whimper at the slight pain-pleasure as he uses the fabric to rub against your clit.

“Aegon, stop.” You whine breathlessly as he manoeuvres the garment around to start pleasuring you.

“Give in.” He kisses at your neck. “I know you want to. You’re not saving face for anyone but yourself.” He whispers into your ear. 

“Fuck you.” You murmur but it just feels so good.

“You will, whether you’d like to or not. Just give in.”

You know you shouldn’t. You know it’s wrong but you tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder giving him better access to your neck.

“Good girl.”

He starts nipping and sucking at your soft skin even harder now as he unzips your dress. You’re only in your panties now as he shoves you back onto your bed, his lips immediately moving to kiss your supple breasts.

“Such nice tits, baby. Maybe i’ll have a turn fucking them after I split open that tight cunt.” He chuckles as your slight shudder and then rips off your panties so he can bury his face in your pussy.

You can hardly think of how to react as he devours you with such fervour. Aegon has been waiting forever for this moment; he couldn’t keep his eyes off you since you flowered and he eagerly wants to taste you. He wants you to fall apart on his tongue, and then his cock.

And so you do. Your high washes over you like you’ve never felt before. That sick feeling that has created a pit in your stomach only makes it hit even harder.

“Mmm, Aegon.” You whine, fingers tangled in his ivory locks. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

He’s over you, pumping his length already before you’ve even had a chance to recover.

“Use a condom.” You pout, legs spread wide for him.

“Little brats don’t tell their uncles what to do.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t even move to stop him before he’s speared himself inside of you. His mouth is pressed to yours and he swallows all your protests before they can leave your lips. He kisses you with the same fervour that he ate you with as he fucks into you roughly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He says after breaking the kiss, wanted a good look at your face as he ruins you.

“It’s too much.” You complain.

“Don’t be such a whiner.” He rolls his eyes and lifts your legs to push you into a mating press. If it was too much before, then it’s surely too much now as he somehow hits even deeper.

“Ah ah…” You let out little whimpers at the feeling of being filled so completely.

“God’s, never felt a pussy this tight. Knew you were saving yourself for me, baby.” He says cockily.

You can’t even form a retort, not with how cock-drunk you are from him pistioning his dick in and out of you. All you can think of is how close you are.

“I-I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t realize you were such a little slut after only one little taste.”

He talks a lot of talk but once he feels your walls clenching around him, he’s done for. He only manages to get a few more hard thrusts in, fucking you through your high, before he finishes inside you.

Once you come down from your peak, you realize what he’s done.

“Seven Hells, Aegon. Did you just cum inside me?”

taglist(comment to be added): General: @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[pocksprincess]

Driftmark was so foundational for Alicent stans

[pocksprincess]

Aemond Targaryen, my Beloved 💙

[pocksprincess]

Fare Well

Photo credit.

Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm. 

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him. 

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire. 

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern. 

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.” 

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.” 

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins. 

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh. 

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin. 

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is  to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.” 

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright. 

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.  

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips. 

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric. 

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck. 

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips. 

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs. 

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.” 

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?” 

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.” 

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.  

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat. 

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone. 

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus. 

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.  

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance. 

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you. 

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible. 

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you. 

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin. 

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next. 

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