#Aegon the conqueror smut

[sunnyhvnny]

Hi Sunny❤️ Would you mind writing something with Yandere!Aegon I and a Martell reader?

Tw: past noncon, dubcon, kidnapping

His hand covered her mouth to quiet her moans as he rolled his hips against hers. The sounds of their coupling filled the room. The wetness between her thighs making loud squelching noises every time he thrust himself into her.

It was his first time visiting her in her chambers since he had Visenya steal her away from her homeland and marry her the night she arrived back at the Dragonstone. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she had refused to cry as he forced her to wed him. Forced her to fill in the gap that her people had left behind when they had taken his Rhaenys from him.

Truthfully, he would have preferred the prince of Dorne’s eldest daughter but she was too well protected so he settled for his secondborn. She was no less beautiful and having her underneath him calmed the anger in him when he thought of what her people had done to his dear sister-wife.

She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts and he couldn’t hold back the cruel grin that spread across his face. When he first took her after their wedding he had to take her from behind and cage her between his arms as he fucked into her. Her sobs had filled the room and he wished he could bottle the sound and send it to Dorne. He wished he could see the look on the man’s face when he learned that his daughter hadn’t just been stolen away but she was being fucked by the man they called the ‘Conqueror’. Would he be angry that something of his was taken? Or would he be devastated that he was unable to protect her? Was it the same feeling Aegon felt when he thought about how he couldn’t save his younger sister and beloved wife from her demise?

It seemed that the Dornish princess had accepted her fate, though. She no longer cried or fought against him as he held her down and fucked into her without a care. He soaked up the sight of her bouncing tits as he chased after his own pleasure. While her moans spurred him on, the thought of vengeance pushed him closer to the edge. He would fuck her every night until she was heavy with his child. He didn’t need another. He already had two sons, but he wanted his Dornish wife to give him a daughter that she could write to her father about and tell him that his granddaughter was named Rhaenys.

Aegon buried his face into his wife’s neck and snapped his hips harder. Anyone that walked by the chamber doors would be able to hear what was happening inside by the sound of his wife’s loud moans and the bed hitting the wall loudly. Finally, he bit down into her shoulder as he coated her walls with his seed.

He didn’t bother rolling off of her instead, he let himself collapse on top of her sweaty body. Not caring that he was pushing her further into the mattress with his weight. She didn’t seem to mind, though. Her hands snaked up his back and sunk into his silver-blonde hair. A part of him wanted to turn away and refuse the comfort she gave him but he chose instead to lean into her soothing hands.

He wondered how she could be so kind after what he had done to her. He didn’t plan on dwelling on that thought, though because soon he felt himself hardening again. Within minutes he was rutting into her lazily again.

Neither of them said a word as she spread her legs further and he, for the first time, brought his hand down to the bud between her thighs and rubbed it between his fingers. She moaned in pleasure and this time he wanted to see what she looked like when she reached her release.

As he leaned down to capture her lips, once again another first for them, if perhaps he wouldn’t only get back at Dorne through marrying his princess but if he would end up falling in love with her.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello M! I saw you were open to writing for characters for GOT/HoTD, so I was wondering if I could send in a request for Aegon the Conqueror x fem! reader (non-Targaryen - maybe Nymeria's sister?) with the prompt 'Gift giving'? As for smut level, if possible lemon please, if not default or lime are perfectly fine too! Thank you and have a great rest of your day :)

Hello! Nymeria actually lived and died long before Aegon’s birth, and the princess ruling Dorne during Aegon’s time was already eighty or so, so I will write this fic with the reader being princess Meria’s great-niece instead. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Aegon the Conqueror x Fem. Reader (House Martell/Great-niece of princess Meria | Second person POV)

Themes: Soft | Smut

Warnings: Size kink | Kissing | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Wordcount: 1.3K words

Summary: The day after his return to Dragonstone, Aegon receives his first gift on the day of gift giving

Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: In this version, Visenya and Rhaenys are merely Aegon’s sisters, and not his wives. I also write the seasons running for three months each, instead years and years.

Divider by @estrelinha-s

The Dornish custom of gift giving during the winter solstice was not unheard of in the other kingdoms, but they, besides the Northmen, were the only people to practice such a custom. Once King Aegon took a Dornish princess to wife and adopted many of their ways, his own kin started to exchange gifts as well.

The dreary holdfast that was Dragonstone was awash with black and crimson banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, and black and crimson bunting besides. Sprigs of evergreen clung to columns and windowsills, adding to the color that cut the chilling white of snow.

When Aegon opened his eyes, it was to the sound of a bell chiming. It was still dark out; the sun was obscured by thick clouds bearing more snow. Aegon hoped it was morning and that he had not slept through an entire day. His journey to Volantis was a triumph. It was also long and tiresome. Now he was home, and he did not have to think of leaving again for quite a while.

“Good morrow, my love.” Relief surged through him when he heard your greeting. It was indeed morning, and he had not, as he had feared, slept for a full day. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead, sweetling.” Aegon threw back his pelts and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. The room was still warm; someone had added fresh logs to the fire. He suspected it may have been you, and he was grateful for it. “Is everything ready for tonight’s feast?”

“It is.” The featherbed was comfortable, and the pelts were soft against your skin. Still, you opened your eyes and sat up in bed. The appointed hour for the giving of gifts was still a long way away, but you wanted to give Aegon his before breaking fast. “And I have something for you.”

“You need not trouble yourself, my lady,” Aegon replied. He watched while you slipped out of bed and slid into a thick robe. He felt a stirring in his blood, a yearning. He decided the first meal of the day would have to give way to more pleasurable diversions. “I have a great many treasures already, you most of all.”

“True, my lord,” you agreed, and then blushed after hearing his praise. Aegon was now king. The immense wealth of gold and jewels of House Targaryen was his to use as he saw fit. Nevertheless, today was the day of giving gifts, and you padded across the room and opened the doors to your wardrobe. There, safely concealed between gowns of velvet and silk, was a heavy object wrapped in leather. The king sat up in bed, his eyes full of ravenous curiosity. “But I thought of giving you this all the same.”

“What have you there?” He inquired. His fingers twitched in anticipation. For nigh on half a year, the two of you shared the same chambers as husband and wife. You dined together and shared the triumphs and trials of ruling a great kingdom together. This, however, was his first true festival with you, and he did not know what to expect.

“I carved this myself,” you confessed, and you placed the parcel on the bed. Worry consumed you the entire time. Aegon had received many a fine gift in his life, and you prayed your own would pass muster. “It took quite a while, and I had to make sure you never came upon me making it.”

“Oho! You made it yourself, is it? Now I have to see it.”

Despite the many cares and expectations that came with wearing a crown, Aegon still possessed the enthusiasm of one free of such. He loosened the thin ribbon and drew away the leather.

“It is you and Balerion,” you explain, and run your finger along an unfurled wing. They were the hardest to carve. One night, you despaired that you would not get them right. “That was how I remembered seeing you for the first time. When you arrived at Sunspear, to ask my great-aunt Meria for my hand.”

Aegon lifted the piece of carved wood and studied it intensely. He admired the embellishments along Balerion’s body: the scales all over his underbelly, the horns on his head, and the sharp spines going down his tail. Then there was Aegon himself, perched on Balerion’s saddle, his crown atop his head. The king was deeply moved. All the wealth he possessed did not compare with this.

“I will treasure this always.” Aegon placed the carving on the chest of drawers next to his side of the bed. He decided to have the carving placed in his council room, on the mantle beside the painted table. “And I have a gift for you as well, my lady. For now, come here.”

He did not give you time to frame a reply and pulled you back into bed. Thoughts of gifts and feasts and celebrating were all but forgotten after his kiss. He was exceedingly gentle as always, stroking your arms, your thighs, his mouth hot and sinful while it plundered yours. Your hands found their way into his hair. He trembled and kissed you harder, moaning into your mouth when those same hands moved lower and clutched desperately at his back.

“Temptress,” he growled when nails dug into his flesh. Aegon slipped his hand over your belly, and loosened the sash of your robe. The rush of warm air made goosebumps prickle all over your skin. He trembled again, this time when you slipped out of it and wrapped your legs around his thighs. Your husband was big, and wonderfully so. You felt it even more when he slid that rigid part of him inside of you.

It hurt a little, even though you were more than ready. And it felt glorious at the same time. Every time he drew his erection out and then pushed it back in, flames sparked to life and surged through your veins.

“It is wonderful to be home again,” Aegon whispered in your ear. And it was not just him who thought so. You felt the same, and you reciprocated his sentiment by kissing him with fire and passion. Aegon nearly faltered, his hips and back now burning with effort. The room felt hotter, and the air was thick and sweet. His cock twitched within the warmth of your body when he felt a coiling deep in his belly. Faster he went, driving you deeper against the featherbed as he chased his release. It was too much. The pleasure was too much. The sensations that came whenever he pushed himself in were too much. Bliss—pure and otherworldly—rose and dragged you into a dark tunnel you did not seek to escape from. You could not think. All you could do was feel: the trails of fire that lashed at you and left you weak, and your very body slowly dissolving into a kind of pleasure that had no name. Then you heard it—your name spilling from your husband’s lips, and the deep, guttural cry that followed. Aegon thrust one last time before he stopped, and went still. 

Later, after he forced himself to move away from you, he admired his gift once more and then inquired after his sisters.

“Rhaenys has built a small mountain of gifts, her ladies tell me.” Aegon hooted when you told him. “Most of it will be given away to our guests during the feast. Visenya has only prepared tokens for us, for Rhaenys, and for no one else.”

“At least she has crafted a token for you, which is a miracle in itself.” Visenya, having expected Aegon to wed her according to the traditions of their House, was wroth when he chose a Dornish bride for himself. She had been cold and aloof for most of your marriage to her brother, but during the the last turn of the moon, there was a softening in her stance, an attempt to meet you in middle ground. It gave you hope for a much stronger bond with her in the future. “Send for the servants, sweetling. I think it is only proper for you and I to share a bath.”

[sunnytarg]

How would Yandere!Aegon I, Aemond, Daemon and Margor react to a Stark!Reader who refused to marry them on religious grounds? (As in she doesn’t want to marry and have children with someone that doesn’t worship the Old Gods)

I’m still having a hard time writing Daemon and I have no idea if anyone can tell through my writing. Anyways, enjoy!

TW: Somnophilia, dubcon, kidnapping(?), and stalking.

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

Aegon was a persistent man. When he wanted something he would eventually get it even if it took him a while.

None were surprised when after the Lord of Winterfell finally bent the knee to him, Aegon soon set his eyes on conquering another part of the North. The Lord of Winterfell’s sister. Unlike most that had come before her, she was not bending over backward to fulfill his every want nor was she cold and distant. She was dismissive, as though he didn’t have a dragon perched outside the walls of the cold castle. The more she acted as if he was not there, the more attention he paid to her.

He soon learned she was unwed and that every day she would take a stroll out to a tree that he had been told was where they worshipped the Old Gods. While his sister-wives were entertained by the feasts the northerners put together in their honor, Aegon found himself following Lady Stark out into the forest. He tried his best not to be seen. He watched as she knelt in front of the tree’s face for several minutes before getting up to leave. He didn’t follow her back that night. He only stayed for a few moments longer and watched the tree. He knew nothing about the Old Gods and why the northerners worshipped them. Truthfully, he didn’t care enough to know. He couldn’t see why it would be so important to him.

The next morning as Visenya and Rhaenys still slumbered, as well as most of the castle, Aegon went to the Lord of Winterfell. With the Lady barely giving him the time of day, he knew he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted so he decided to ask her brother for her hand in marriage. The man agreed quickly, stating that his sister only needed to agree, and once she did they would be wed.

Aegon had not expected an immediate yes but he hadn’t expected the Lady to say no so quickly and with so little thought. She refused to marry him due to her Gods. The Gods he did not worship. She stated that she could not marry nor bare children for a man who did not understand her Gods or the way of her people. Aegon had suggested that a Weirwood tree be brought to King’s Landing for her to which she only laughed, claiming he clearly understood nothing of what it represented. With a forced smile, he nodded and left the Lady to herself.

That night he had asked his dear sister-wife Rhaenys to find a Weirwood tree and place it in King’s Landing. She left without question and when Visenya raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for an answer he gave none.

He went to the Lord of Winterfell again who patted Aegon on the shoulder and pitied him for the rejection. Aegon had only to remind the Lord of the two dragons that stood outside his gates and what had happened to his previous enemies when they went against him. It was a threat and the Lord could see that. It was something Aegon appreciated because he didn’t care to dance around this for much longer.

The next morning, Visenya made sure that their things were packed and atop their dragons. Along with Lady Stark’s belongings. When the Lady herself was brought into the room in which Aegon stood with her brother, the look of boredom that was present on her face every time she saw Aegon was wiped away with a look of worry. Aegon stood back as her brother explained to her that she would not be wed to Aegon, as she wished, but she would be going to King’s Landing with him. When a look of confusion appeared on her beautiful face Aegon smiled and took her hands and told her that she would live with him as his mistress. She would not need to bare him any children and a Weirwood tree had been brought to her new home for her.

It may not have been what he wanted initially but perhaps after years as his mistress and years without a child of her own, Aegon could only hope that the love he showed her would be enough for her to finally agree to wed him but for now, he could settle for this.

Maegor

When it is whispered that the Stark family might join his nephew in rebelling against his claim to the throne, Maegor himself goes to Winterfell to sort things out with the Lord of Winterfell. When he first arrived, though, it was not the Lord that caught his eye but one of his daughters. She was beautiful, Maegor noted, but that was not what drew him to her. There was a fire in her eyes that he had truly ever seen in dragons when she looked at him.

That night, as he was talking to the Lord of Winterfell, he brought up his daughter. He claimed she was a Snow, a bastard, but he had loved her mother very much and had agreed to raise her alongside his sons. Maegor seeing the opportunity had suggested that if the Lord held no objections to Maegor marrying her, he would simply forget about the talks of the Starks rebelling. The Lord quickly agreed, knowing how Maegor handled his enemies and he wasn’t going to disagree with the man whilst his dragon, the same dragon that frightened his father enough to bend the knee, was outside the castle walls. Despite his agreeing to give his daughter's hand to Maegor, he warned the king of how devoted his daughter was to the Old Gods. Maegor simply laughed and said that it could be dealt with.

The next morning, as they were breaking their fast, Lord Stark announced the union that would be had between their House and House Targaryen. When his daughter heard this news she immediately protested but it didn’t matter. Maegor had already decided she was to be his wife so under his command he had his men take her to her rooms and have her locked in there. She was only to be let out that night when they were to be married. Lord Stark said nothing as the guards took away his daughter, who only spat in Maegor’s direction before she was out of view. When everyone at the table was settled again, Maegor smirked and said to no one in particular, “I think I will enjoy this marriage.”

When night fell he stood before the Weirwood tree and awaits his bride. When she was walked down to Maegor by her father, her beautiful dress could not hide the chains Maegor had requested be placed on her. She glared at him the entire ceremony and after she said her vows, she declared that this was a mockery of The Old Gods. Maegor refused to acknowledge her as the ceremony continued and when it ended he brought her to the chambers he was staying in by himself, although, he refused to remove the chains. She would learn that despite his name, he could treat the things he wanted well as he believed he did when he had their wedding ceremony before her precious Weirwood tree.

Daemon

Daemon had asked the sister of Lord Stark to marry him on several occasions. The first time in his youth and the most recently after his first wife had died. He made no secret his love for the Stark woman. Proclaiming she was his to anyone that had ears. She was not his, of course, as she would remind people. She never would be. She could never marry anyone who did not understand and worship the Old Gods. She would not compromise on this it infuriated Daemon because he was no king and his brother had refused to make the match on the grounds that the Lady, herself refused.

So, Daemon watched her. He was lucky enough that she lived in King’s Landing as one of the queen’s lady-in-waiting. When many thought he snuck down to the city and the depravity below them, he only snuck through the hidden passageways in the castle to find Lady Stark in her chambers. She mostly read or slept and when he saw her leave her room he would enter it. Searching for things that smelt like her. Once, he found her nightgowns and decided to take them all. Knowing that until she could have more purchased for herself she would have to sleep naked. It was something he enjoyed watching immensely. He didn’t know if she knew that he was behind the stolen clothes or if he watched her every step but even if she did, he would not stop.

Eventually, though, as most Ladies-in-waiting do, she got married. It was to a man who belonged to a Northern House a house no one could really remember. He did pray to The Old Gods, though, and apparently, that was enough for the woman he had so longed to marry to agree to be another man’s wife. Luckily, because he was not the Lord of his House the Queen could request that they stay in King’s Landing.

Daemon was glad that his love wasn’t going to be taken away from him but he couldn’t help but roll his eyes and glare daggers into the ungrateful man that his Lady now called her husband. At the feast to celebrate such a joyous event, Daemon made sure to sneak out when the newly married couple decided to take their leave for the night. He hide in his usual spot and watched as his Lady undressed for her new husband and laid down on the bed with her legs open for him. Daemon pulled out his own hard cock at the sight of her naked form. Her breasts her soft and he would give anything to taste her cunt. Her new husband didn’t even think to have her on his tongue, he only climbed on the bed and thrust his cock into her.

Daemon watched as her tits bounced with every thrust and pumped his own cock harder when she moaned. Her own husband had finished before she had and rolled off of her and promptly fell asleep. Daemon bit the inside of his cheek to not growl at the thought. How could a man have this beautiful northern lady underneath him and not have her cum with pleasure? He stayed long enough for her to fall asleep and he debated with himself for a few seconds on if he should enter the room.

Her husband had drunk so much wine, Daemon doubted that a wild horse running about their chambers would wake him. His lady had also had a fair amount to drink, especially after her husband had fallen asleep. So after a moment of rationalizing to himself, Daemon snuck into the chambers for the first time that she was also in there as well. He walked over to her side of the bed with his cock still out. He knew simply jerking off to her would no longer simply suffice. So he positioned himself on the bed carefully, so as not to jostle her husband or wake her, and slipped his hard cock into her. Her poor cunt was still wet and after a few slow and deep thrusts, he could tell it was just begging to be pleased.

He leaned down and latched his mouth onto one of her soft tits to muffle his moans as he continued to thrust into her. He brought one hand to her weeping cunt and rubbed at her clit. She clenched around his cock which made him buck harder into her. She moaned in her sleep but did not wake and when Daemon was sure she wouldn’t wake he continued until he felt her clenching again and soaking his cock with her creamy cum. When he felt her release he quickened his own thrusts and finally spilled his seed in her. When he pulled away he stood and looked down at his Lady. Her cunt was a mess of her own cream as well as her husband’s and Daemon’s seed. He snuck out of the chambers the same way he came in and told himself he would find another opportunity to taste her on his tongue.

Nearly nine moons after her wedding she gave birth to a son and when Daemon finally saw him he smiled in triumph. The babe had patchy white hair on the top of his head and large lilac eyes. Despite her marrying another man, Daemon had still managed to make it so they were bonded through blood.

Aemond

When Aemond is sent out to all of the great Houses of Westeros to gain the support of his brother he wasn’t expecting his attention to be grabbed by a widowed Stark. While the Lord would deliberate and talk to his counselors, Aemond would find himself sitting with the Lady and talking. He learned of how her husband was a Stark and how he died of a fever a little less than a year ago. When Aemond offered her his sympathies she only smiled sadly and shook her head saying, “I prayed to The Old Gods, and they saw it right to take him. Who am I to argue with that?”

After their talks, Aemond would find the library in Winterfell and read about The Old Gods. They clearly meant quite a bit to this widow. When he searched out a maester who resided in Winterfell and believed in The Old Gods, he told Aemond that the widow he had his eye on would never marry him nor bare his children because he did not worship The Old Gods. Aemond refused to believe the old man and on his second week in Winterfell, he went to his dear widow and asked for her hand. She smiled sadly at him and declined. Claiming that she had grown to care for Aemond and that despite her love for The Old Gods she would never want him to pretend to believe in something he truly didn’t. She kissed him on the cheek in parting and left.

Aemond didn’t know what to do with himself. He was certain he loved the sad woman despite barely knowing her. He wouldn’t force her to marry him and she was right, as fascinating as The Old Gods seemed, he didn’t believe in them. When he realized that his affection for her couldn’t go on any longer he drowned himself in ale with a rather burly northerner.

The northern man took pity on Aemond and brought him to the only brothel in Winterfell, there Aemond found a woman who looked like his widow from behind. He spent the entire night with her and when he married her the next day he was still slightly drunk because that was the only way he could look at her face and see the woman he truly wanted. By the time he left Winterfell, he did not have the North’s allegiance to the new king nor the widow he had coveted but a new wife who when he bedded her he would moan the name of another.

[hxmocrastic]

Yandere!Aegon I x M!Reader + NSFW HCs

— pairings ; Yandere!Aegon I x Male!Reader

— a/n ; There's barely any M!Reader fics in ASOIAF Tags so I wanted to make my own ! (And bc I was curious 🤭)

— warnings ; NSFW ; 18+ TWT Links ; Coercion ; Dark Elements ; Yandere Behavior; Hinted Homophobia ; Affair ;

You're a Lannister boy, The youngest of your four brothers and considered the weakest because of your stature, frame, and meek personality. Your father —Loren I Lannister— has always looked down upon you, He shunned and spurned you relentlessly even claiming that you weren't a Lion but a insolent rat. You're brothers were worst, Like your father they maligned you any chance they got hindering your self esteem to a crippled sheet of parchment. Though despite their belittlement, You were determined to prove yourself.

You caught Aegon's Attention when you attended a Tourney, Adorned in Red & Gold Armor representing your house colors. You were up against Ser Dayken Tyrell, A formidable knight but viscous as well. You fell from your horse more times than you could count surely making a mockery of house Lannister. Tyrell came charging at you atop his white stallion until his grace, King Aegon abruptly halted the knight ceasing the tournament.

Aegon took an interest in you and started to unintentionally eye you in the courtyards, Though very discreetly. His stare would linger as you bowed and sulked past him. He began wondering why you always held that glassy look in your eyes.

After watching you for long enough he decides to make you his cupbearer, Deeming you unfit for tourneys. Truly he just wanted to get closer to you. To know you.

During this time the both of you became close with one another, You vented to him about your problems and he'd listen. With his permission of course, It was almost impossible to get this information out of you.

A year passes and Aegon feels something stir within him, The Dark desires he tried to keep down boiling to the surface.

His behavior started to...shift within the last couple of months. He grew overwhelmingly possessive of you, You could barely pour another lords wine without his violet eyes burning holes into your form. You couldn't even go out and speak with your friends without him requesting your presence. Seriously you couldn't even eat by yourself !! And the worst part is you couldn't question him about it either...

It was only a matter of time before His sister-wives started to grow suspicious. I mean who could blame them, He spent more time with you than he did with rhaenys which said something.

Anytime they'd bring this to light to him, Aegon would just chuckle and reassure them that you were a mere servant— a cupbearer at that, And he would never have any relations with you.

Oh boy was he wrong. He'd sabotage and oppose any & all of your marriage proposals. Even going as far as having one of your bride-to-be's killed in her sleep. But for some reason, Even after all the marriage annulments they'd always end up missing.

This put a far greater stain on your reputation, on your house. There was rumors that you were cursed and you started to believe them yourself. But Aegon with that stupidly handsome smile on his face placed your sobbing form in his lap and cooed into your ear with sweet nothings. You couldn't see the twisted grin on his face.

Aegon would pull you from his chest to stare into your (E/C) eyes as he'd persuade you into Bed with him. You stared at the man in shock, mouth agape with no words spewing. You tried to reject him but he'd subtly threatened the Livelihood of your brothers and father, Cornering you. You had no other choice...

— 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 18+

✪ The Faith already had issues with the Targaryens Incestuous polyamory but lying with another man—A Lannister at that, If they were to find out chaos would erupt. Good thing they weren't ever going to. You two had your affairs in secret, You would sneak into his chambers at a certain time and not the other way around.

✪ He's never laid with another man before, But he's willing to try for you. Though Same sex relations weren't entirely scorned upon in his childhood, They weren't praised either. Aegon figured it worked just how a Man & Woman had sex, Let's just say he's a fast learner.

✪ His pace is rough and quick almost unforgiving, He likes to use you as a stress reliever especially when he's aroused. He's quite big, Cut and pink 9'8 but his girth certainly makes up for it.

✪ Aegon can be just as possessive in sex as he is when you're speaking with your brothers. After all the hell they put you through, He dislikes having you around them so more often then not he has you face down ass up on the table with hips slapping against yours. ⭐

✪ He loves taking you on your back with your legs over his shoulders and you underneath him. It gives him a sense of dominance and control over you as if he doesn't have already. But it's also intimate and passionate, He can gaze into your eyes and witness your face contorting into different motions of pleasure. ⭐

✪ When he's feeling gentle, Best believe he will absolutely WORSHIP YOU. I'm talking Shoulder kisses, Feet Massages Etc.

✪ Even though you two were quiet in your affairs, By this point Both Rhaenys & Visenya had put two and two together and already discovered your affair. Rhaenys encouraged him and Visenya could care less.

m.masterlist

Art By @chillyravenart

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Only a Dragon

pairing: Fanon!Maegor Targaryen x Female OC

summary: Aenora Targaryen, twin sister of Princess Rhaena Targaryen and older sister to Aegon, Viserys, Jaehaerys, Alysanne and Vaella and Aegon Targaryen's betrothed, or is she?

Word count: 3,9K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Kidnapping, Exile, Forced marriage, Smut, Childbirth, Maegor is a warning on his own

Navigation

Aenora did not know what was going on when she was rudely woken up from her sleep by her great aunt, Visenya, in the middle of the night. The woman hurriedly made Aenora change her nightgown to a maid's dress along with a cloak and sneaked her out of her room and the Red Keep, trying as hard as possible not to notify the workers still working on the red walls. Aenora tried to resist but she was no match to the warrior woman despite her age.

"Where are you taking me, sodjisto?" Aunt. Aenora rubbed her eyes tiredly. Visenya did not answer and pulled her harder. Aenora felt sleep slip out of her as the cold night air welcomed her. Her eyes trailed around the yard to find Vaghar waiting her and her aunt's presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" Aenora questioned. Eyes never leaving those of Vaghar. The dragon glared right back at the girl.

"Climb up child" Visenya ordered. The lack of Dark Sister did not make her the less intimidating. That woman helped unite the seven kingdoms, she was a warrior queen.

"Where are we going?" Aenora asked. The ten and six name days old girl reached carefully to touch Vagahr's snout. She had her own dragon, Crystalwing, a male dragon as white as snow with fire as blue as the sky with yellow eyes, what earned him the name Crystalwing was the shimmering of his white body under the sun, Aenora has been ridding him since her tenth name day when he was large enough to hold her safely on his back.

"Maegor is awaiting us" Visenya finally answered. Aenora turned to look at the older woman in confusion, why was her uncle waiting for her?

"What of Crystalwing?" Aenora questioned. Visenya stepped forward placing a hand on Aenora's cheek firmly. Her eyes sparked as watched the frown on Aenora's face simmer away.

"We will return for him" Visenya promised. Aenora gulped but nodded her head believing every single word uttered by her great aunt. She shuffled to the rope on Vaghar's side and struggled a little climbing up the beast.

Visenya smirked victorious climbing after Aenora taking her place behind the small girl. She ordered her dragon to fly just as guards swarmed the yard. Aenys, Aenora's father followed with her mother Alyssa screaming for Visenya to land again. The Queen listened not to them and headed to Dragonstone with a very concerned Aenora.

"Father did not know?" Aenora felt tears prick at her eyes. She loved her father dearly, her mother was overbearing always telling her that it was her duty to marry her brother Aegon when she gets he is of age, her having already had her moon's blood at ten and three. Aegon still had three more years to reach his adult age of ten and six but it seems their marriage will never happen. Aenora was glad so, she did not hold such affections for her brother but she was ready to do her duty.

"He did not agree no, but he knew this was going to happen some day" Visenya responded. She personally delivered the request to Aegon her brother/husband when Aenora and Rhaena were born but he had refused her and then when Aenys rose to the throne she had the same request, one of the twins to marry Maegor, but was denied again. Aegon refused the match because of the age difference of eleven years however Aenys refused it with fear of Maegor usurping his throne.

"Will he be angry with me?" Aenora wondered. Visenya had no answer and focused on her dragon landing on Dragonstone. The sun has begun rising in the horizon and the sky was turning a shade of orange and pink. Maegor was awaiting their arrival in the yard with a maester by his side.

"Mother, niece" He greeted. He had a smirk of sorts on his face, it caused shivers to run down Aenora's body.

"Come my dear, we have much to do and so little time" Visenya wrapped an arm around Aenora's shoulder once both were on solid ground again.

"What are we to do? What is going on?" Aenora pulled away from the Queen and took several steps away from the trio. Vaghar grumbled annoyed before taking flight leaving the yard looking empty. Visenya's eyes hardened as she looked at the angry girl.

"Has your mother not taught you manners? That is no way to speak to a Queen" Maegor was more amused than angry at Aenora. She looked adorable angry, thinking she could fight him and his mother, he was almost twice her height and size with Dark Sister strapped by his side while she was a small girl, short with no weapon except her tongue.

"My mother taught me what I needed but when I get taken against my will with no information I think not manners matter anymore, uncle" His title left her lips dripping venom. He wondered what his brother told his children of him, they were not close they never were and Maegor lived on Dragonstone as its rightful owner although Aenys did have sons, three for that matter.

"Sweet girl, no need to worry or tire your weak brains" Maegor was the only one brave enough to step closer to the enraged girl. Aenora did not hesitate to throw a punch at him when he was close enough, her eyes widened when he did not move or seem the least bit affected, his head stayed in place unlike when her brother would punch soldiers during training and his lips quirked up in a smile. He thought she looked like a mouse, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

"I am not a sweet girl and my brains are not weak" She hissed not growing dishearten by her failed attempt at hurting her uncle.

"Then you should know why you are here" Maegor pointed out. One of his hands rested on the hilt of Dark Sister, a silent threat, while the other moved to push the hood of her cloak off her head showing her short platinum hair, it barely reached her shoulders almost like a man's would.

"You are already married" Aenora pointed out. Maegor laughed loudly at her words, she sounded desperate.

"Have you forgotten that we are Valyrians, your grandfather had two wives and I shall have two as well" Maegor leaned closer to her so their faces were almost on the same level.

"Uncle, please" Aenora pleaded. Maegor felt his heart grow softer at her wavering voice. He leaned closer to place a loving kiss on Aenora's forehead if there was any love in that kiss, Aenora did not feel it.

"Listen to the Queen" Maegor instructed. Aenora sighed in defeat, looking up into his eyes. She prayed in her head for her father to come flying in but he did not, there was no sound of another dragon or the sighting of it. Aenora was sure Maegor had men on the roof to inform him at the sight of a dragon, Maegor was no idiot.

"Go" He urged. He placed a hand on her lower back pushing her gently toward his mother. Despite how gentle he was Aenora stumbled a little, she wondered what would have become of her if he were to push her with all his strength. She cursed herself for feeling butterflies in her belly. Maegor was a better match than Aegon who was in love with Rhaena.

Aenora made no more complains and followed after Queen Visenya who dressed her in robes fit for a princess. She stayed silent the entire walk to where Maegor waited for her in matching robes with some witnesses among them Ceryse who looked beyond furious. Aenora felt sad for the woman but no guilt which concerned her, when did she begin feeling like this was right? Was it when her father told her of Maegor's adventures or was it when Maegor crushed rebellion after rebellion for her father?

It was Queen Visenya who officiated the marriage in the ways of old Valyria. Maegor insisted on a feast being held in the main hall of Dragonstone. Maegor never smiled in his life and he did not that day either but his eyes held a mischievous glint to them, Aenys may have the throne for he had his first born daughter.

On action of Maegor surprised Aenora beyond imagination, he asked if she were comfortable with a bedding ceremony, he worried for her comfort, that was so unlike Maegor that even Queen Visenya's eyes widened in horror. Aenora replied with "You may have forced me into this but now you are my lord husband, I must prove to you and the realm I am pure".

Maegor chuckled darkly whisking her away to their chambers. Men tried reaching for Aenora to undress her but were pushed back by Maegor, he wanted to do the honours himself. Woman did the same but he swiftly moved out of their grabby hands wanting his new and young wife to undress him.

Maegor ordered drapes around their bed to be as black as the night sky showing only shadows, his niece was a princess and should not be viewed in such a manner. He took his time much to the annoyance of the lords and his mother and his first wife awaiting the bedding ceremony as fast as possible. Visenya almost began scolding her son when he decided he wished to devour his wife's soaking cunt but held her tongue.

Aenora tried not to show her pain as his stretched her open but it was inevitable, a man his size could never have a tiny cock, it was enormous and she cried when it first entered her, she felt like she was being ripped in half from the inside. Maegor shushed her staying as still as he could, she was tight enough to cause him some pain as well. Aenora took hold of his shoulder and pulled him down from his kneeling position in between her legs, Maegor feared he would crush her with his weight and held himself up as much as he could with her short arms holding him as close to her a possible.

"I wish to hold you husband" Aenora whispered in his ear. He looked down at her tear stained face with a smirk. Then he began his moving feeling her open up around his length. He enjoyed every second of it, watching her face scrunch up in pain and morph to pure pleasure. He enjoyed hearing her sob desperate for more. He enjoyed seeing the lords squirm uncomfortable at the display they could never give their wives. He loved seeing Ceryse's jealousy through the small opening of the drapes, he was never this gentle with her, he never gave her any pleasure. Maegor treated his niece better, she was blood of the dragon and not some common whore like her.

"Uncle, please" She whimpered in his ear. For the first time Maegor showed his pleasure with a rumbling growl, rutting into her at a faster pace, stomach tightening as she came around his shaft.

"I shall fill you with my children and you will thank me for it" He groaned in her ear. Aenora rewarded him with a loud moan. His hips stilled as he seeded her, cock pulsing with pleasure.

"Thank you, Kepus" Uncle. Aenora whispered to him. Maegor looked down at her red and puffy face, satisfied with him. He pulled the drapes down once everyone had left their room awkward and uncomfortable.

"I am not done with you just yet, niece" A savage smirk grew on his face at her shocked face. Cock still deep inside of her moved again still as hard as before if not more.

"I will not stop until you swell with my heir, do you understand?" He grabbed her chin so she would not take her eyes off of him. She had a hard time keeping her eyes open when she was feeling so euphoric.

"Yess" Her words were slurred like a drunk, she was drunk on his cock already. Maegor could only chuckle darkly and rut harder into her tight hole.

He bred her until the first rays of sun rose in the distance. He stayed in her bed even after holding her exhausted body against his own. She glowed in the sunlight, burying her face in his chest to block the sun from disturbing her much needed sleep.

It was around midday when Maegor heard the roar of a dragon. He could not help but feel excited to see the look on his brother's face at the sight of his precious daughter covered in bruises to show his claim to her. Maegor pulled her with him to the court yard where her father was descending from the back of Quicksilver.

"Maegor" Aenora has never seen her father so angry in her entire life. She was not one to cower however and stood tall by her husband's side.

"How dare you take my daughter from her bed-" Aenys Targaryen paused seeing his daughter free beside her uncle, no chains and no threat. She looked different if that were possible in a fortnight. Aenys guessed what has happened but he refused to believe it.

"I may have taken her from her bed brother but now her bed is in my rooms, where she will stay for the remaining of her years" Maegor responded, pride filled him at the shattered look on Aeny's face. Visenya joined them then taking the space on Maegor's other side. Aenys was outnumbered, his wife too distraught to join him at the Red Keep in what little space has been already built while his mother was long gone.

"Maegor, she is but a little girl" Aenys pleaded. His eyes looked his daughter up and down, she wore a red and black dress much different in style than the ones she wore only hours ago. It was open showing her feminine traits with a cape blowing behind her. Her shoulder were covered but her arms were out in the open. Her hand trailed down to hold one of Maegor's.

"Father I wish to remain by my husband's side" Aenora's voice was steady holding a new womanly tone to it, or maybe it was just Aenys' imagination no longer viewing her as a little girl. Maegor held her hand tightly showing his claim to his brother, not shying and hiding their intertwined fingers like Aegon used to do whenever she tried initiating any affectionate touches. Maegor was a man grown not a boy still, he did not stutter in her presence nor did his cheek turn as red as wine.

"You know not of what you saw, tala" Daughter. Aenys never used such a hard tone on one of his children before in his life. He immediately regretted it at the sight of hurt in her eyes but she masked it as fast as it appeared.

"I will give you a choice, brother, either you annul and end whatever this is or you go to exile for five years" Aenys chose to be a king over being a brother and father.

"What is your answer, byka zaldrītsos?" Little dragon. Maegor asked turning to Aenora. She did not turn to him and kept her eyes locked on her father who stared back at her, begging her to chose returning with him to the Red Keep.

"Pentos will be our new home, valzȳrys" Husband. Aenora answered. Maegor chuckled turning to Aenys. The King's face hardened into a glare.

"Shame, tala" Daughter. Was the last thing Aenys said before climbing on Quicksilver's back and flying away. Aenora's heart broke seeing her father losing some of his love for her. She wandered then if she had made the right choice.

Maegor did not need be in her mind to know what she was thinking of so he pulled her to his room and fucked her doubt out of her. The next morrow he flew her to the Red Keep to retrieve Crystalwing. Rhaena was there awaiting her and begged her to change her mind but she replied with "I cannot take back what happened, dōna idaña, for all we know, our kepus' child is already growing in my belly" Sweet twin. Uncle.

Aenora climbed atop Crystalwing in her red riding gear, Maegor thought she almost looked like a red priestess making his cock stir in his trouser. Aenora looked at the Red Keep one last time knowing her parents were watching her from somewhere along with Aegon, she could feel their heated glares. She yelled loud and clear for Crystalwing to fly and join Balerion in the skies. The two flew away with a heavy heart but not looking back.

Aenora was right in assuming she was with child, mere weeks after moving to Pentos and being filled ever single day several times with her kepus' cum she was proven right, her moon's blood never showed and the maester announced her pregnant.

"I told you only a dragon can birth a dragon, not some Hightower barren whore" Maegor mumbled in Aenora's ear fucking into her weeping cunt. She moaned his name feeling her heart hammer with anticipation for their child.

"Will you hate our child if it were to be a girl?" Aenora asked him one day. She was standing in front of a window looking out, watching as pentoshi women collected weeds and water to feed the royals inside their palace. Queen Visenya had taken flight a couple days prior to the Red Keep. News reached them that she ordered a feats boasting that her son will have an heir soon. Maegor deemed the women of pentos were of no worth to his Aenora and only two women kept her company, the wife and daughter of their host alongside his own company.

"I could never" Maegor threw Dark Sister on their shared bed. He walked over to her, still much shorter than him and smaller despite her growing belly. He had to bent down a little to reach for her hips and slid his hands up to her belly where their child kicked furiously.

"This is as much my child as it is yours" He kissed the crown of her head. He was still cruel, just not to her, she was his Aenora, the mother of his heir.

Aenora was rended speechless when Dreamfyre landed near the palace she stayed in, bedridden, too big and heavy to move comfortably. Rhaena barged in with red eyes. Maegor has chosen to stand in front of the bed protectively. Rhaena did not spare him a second glance running to her twin's side.

"I had to come and see you, are you alright?" Aenora laughed at Rhaena's worry.

"I am with child, this is normal" Aenora shook off Rhaena's worries. Rhaena refused to leave even when their father sent a raven ordering her to. She wanted to remain here with her sister till she birthed the child.

Rhaena was shocked when Maegor refused to leave the halls when Aenora's labors began. He paced in front of the doors with only his mother for company. It was just as the moon settled when Aenora groaned in pain worrying him and a maester was summoned.

"You're killing her" A voice spoke. Maegor turned to the woman who dared speak, she was old in age and small in size.

"A maester cares not for the mother, she needs a midwife who will save her life as well" The woman dared step closer. Visenya wanted to block her way but Maegor pulled his mother away.

"Save her then" He gestured. The woman's face softened and walked into the room. Aenora was laying on her back, the first mistake and she was immediately moved to crouch on a birthing chair. The woman ordered for oils and for everyone to clean their hands at least ignoring the maester's screams. Aenora sighed in relief as some of the pressure released in this new position.

"Take him out" She ordered pointing at the maester. She now believed that only a woman will understand another woman's pains and needs.

"Your grace, what if I was needed to intervene?" The maester whined to Maegor after being pushed out by Aenora's new handmaidens having been sent to her by her mother.

"You mean to butcher my niece-wife" Maegor replied. What saved the maester from being one of the many victims of Dark Sister as it was held in Maegor's grasp was the loud piercing cry of a child filling the air. Visenya refused him entry however and walked in herself.

"A healthy child, your grace" The midwife informed. Unlike the maester the gender was not a priority in the birthing bed of Aenora. Aenora was being moved back to the bed by Rhaena and Alysia Torrent, one of the handmaidens sent by Alyssa Valeryon.

"Give me my child" Aenora demanded. The child was much bigger than the normal child, Maegor's size. Visenya remembered when Maegor was born, many deemed it a miracle she was not ripped in half birthing him and but seeing her grandchild she also deemed it a miracle that Aenora was alive after birthing him or her.

"Oh my boy" Aenora cried pushing the blanket away just enough to check his private parts. The child's wails quietened down in his mother's arms.

"Where is Maegor?" Aenora questioned looking up. Her arms were tight around the child although she was very weak and tired. Her face glowed with sweat shining against the sunlight now streaming through the window.

"Outside, dear girl" Visenya responded.

"Tis unfair how much he looks like, as if I was not the one suffering" Aenora grumbled. Maegor could not help laughing, eyes twinkling with happiness now that he had the child he desired so much.

"The next one shall be a copy of you then" Maegor humoured her. The baby looked like a normal newborn in his father's huge arms but looked at least a couple of moons old in his mother's, it could be because she was still small from her young age or it could be because he was huge or maybe both.

"What shall we name him?" Aenora shifted into a more comfortable position. Her hands rested on her belly still big but much smaller than earlier.

"Gaemon?" Maegor suggested bouncing the fuzzy child.

"He does not look like a Gaemon" Aenora shook her head in refusal.

"Daeron?" Maegor moved to sit by her side. Aenora peered down at her son pushing the blanket away from his face watching as his violet eyes looked around curiously while at the same time cooing, trying out his voice outside of the womb.

"Baelon" Aenora responded with a name of her own. Maegor's gaze looked over her face. She looked on the verge of falling unconscious but still smiled brightly at her child.

"Baelon it is then" Maegor nodded in agreement. He placed the baby in the cot close to the bed on Aenora's side, it was so close that if Aenora wished she could reach for her child without having to sit up much.

"My little Baelon" Aenora slurred resting her head on Maegor's shoulder letting sleep crawl up on her. Maegor moved to stand up but she was quick to hold him in place.

"Stay and guard our son and heir" She demanded. Maegor laughed kissing her forehead. He moved to lay beside her, the two squashed uncomfortably on Aenora's side of the bed wanting to stay close as possible to their only child but neither minded as sleeping consumed them both. Maegor may be cruel to the world but he was Aenora's guard and protector.

[writingsofwesteros]

Request:

Dark Aegon the conqueror takes the daughter of a king who refused to bow to him as his wife after he defeats her father and makes her remaining family watch as he consulates their marriage on her father’s thrown.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The dark chuckles of the conqueror echoed in her ears as his larger, hungry hands groped at her sweet, soft body. The dress that had clung to her curves that drew Aegon’s eyes to her in the first place was now in a puddle at their feet; ripped apart by the dragon King. “I think they enjoy witnessing this.” He cruelly began to whisper in her ear.

“They can see how much you enjoy this.” Aegon continued as his arm snaked her body. His fat, throbbing cock stuffed inside her weeping pussy. The King had not moved since he had bottomed inside her; teasing her as she whined. Her toes curling as soft gasps echoed around the throne room each time his fat cock twitched inside her.

“No..no, I’m not…” She hated the breathless tone of her words as her head fell back. His chuckling is only louder now. Aegon leaned in and began to mouth at her soft neck, marking her pretty, sweet skin for all to see. The pain and pleasure mixed deliciously inside her as the King began to rock his hips. “Hmm, so wet for me.”

It was something she could not deny as the wet, obscene noises echoed around the room full of her Lords and Ladies. The ones that had watched her grow, she thought to herself before his softer than she thought lips captured her own. His larger hand reached for her soft face and kept her impossibly close against him.

His fat tongue pushes in; dominating her own sweet one without any care or fight. All the while his thrusts continue and only push deeper. His hand snaked around her stomach that bulged as his cock only moved quicker. The wet, obscene noises echo once more as Aegon still darkly chuckles into her ear and watches her bright blush move over her sweet, soft body.

Aegon could only smirk as those bright eyes of his found the section where her family were standing. “It seems your brother is enjoying this a little too much.” The king whispered as she so prettily gasped out. Her eyes fell onto her older brother and whined at the sight of the dark desire moving over his eyes. A small smirk tugged on his lips as she moved to find comfort in Aegon’s touch.

“It seems you are more desired than you thought.” Aegon purred; smirk tugging on his lips before he leaned in and burrowed into her neck. The marks he had prettily planted on her sweet tasting skin only had his cock throbbing inside her warmth some more. Gods, how he had lasted this long, he will never know.

Her delicate, ringed hans reached for the throne to steady herself as he bounced her body up and down his thick length that was covered with her own wetness. Her stomach was only tightening in anticipation as the sound of their bodies slapping against each other echoed in the audience’s ears. She fought against staring at her family before Aegon realised her intent.

“Oh, my love…do you not like them watching?” He hummed as he gently took her neck in his hold. Aegon’s dark chuckles sounded out as her creamy, sweet pussy clamped down on his cock at the action. Oh, that would be something to explore later, he thought to himself as he guided her gaze towards her family. 

“I may have to bring them with us..” Aegon cruelly threatened as his larger hand slowly moved to her bouncing breasts. He ripped the thin material of a dress that was now below her station and soon those sweet, ample breasts of hers were now free for him to torture. The cold air brushed over her and he watched in delight as her pink nipples pebbled.

His mind flashed with how her body would change once he had claimed her completely; starting with those delicious breasts. Aegon grunted as his own desires got the best of him. Those larger hands of his moved to her hips as he helped the pretty Princess move against him, taking his throbbing cock deeper once more.

Aegon leaned in and passionately captured her lips; the sweet girl could only gasp as his tongue forced against her own again. Her body began to shake like a woman possessed whilst she reached for his hair. She tugged without care as the pleasure drove her to the edge whilst the King could only enjoy the ride immensely. 

His fingers soon replaced his thick, hot tongue as he began to thrust them at the same speed. Her drool soaked him as her climax ripped through her sweet, shaking body without warning. “Fuck…that’s it..” Aegon groaned; head falling back as he forced her to still bounce on his fat cock. Her orgasm squirting from her with each thrust.

The bruises that would litter her soft skin in the morning only brought more arousal to Aegon as he brought her against his chest. She could not escape even as her body fought to hide from the intense pleasure continuing its assault. Her toes curled as his fat, mushroom head pushed against her soft, spongy spot with ease.

Her sweet, creamy pussy milked him with ease as Aegon palmed at her breasts without any care. For a moment, those bright eyes of his found his pretty wife’s brother and the smirk on his lips only widened. Oh, he was going to have so much fun. His slender fingers slowly moved down her body now and began to rub at her too sensitive clit. 

Aegon was running out of patience now. The dance had been going for too long and now he just wanted to claim her. His larger hand came down on her arse as she cried out; tears welling up in those big, doe eyes of hers that had pulled him under a spell. Now, he would never allow her to leave his side. Aegon knew by the time he was finished with her - she would not want to either.

“No..please…not , not inside…” She stuttered out, much to his amusement as his cock throbbed. Aegon only hummed and forced his pretty bride to look at him. Her face was screwed up in pleasure as she whined and thrashed. Her movements only brought his own release now as he pushed deep and stayed there.

It was at that moment the fight began to leave her. Her body seemingly hummed and began to milk his still leaking cock as his cum flooded her with ease. Aegon had saved himself, forbidding his sister wives from his bed so he could fill his new bride. His cum slowly began to leak down his length as her soft eyes rolled back.

His hands moved to gently grope her breasts now as she cockwarmed him. Still, he needed to ruin her more - in her own eyes and the ones before him. Her mind had softened with ease as she lolled against his chest. But only a moment later did they flash open as a sharp gasp of hers echoed around the throne room.

She began to wiggle but Aegon’s grasp as ever was strong. The soft licking of her clit had her whimpering before she looked down. The familiar eyes of her brother locked on as she cried and shook her head; those delicate hands of hers moved to his head to force him away but Aegon only gently captured them and placed them behind her back; trapping her with ease.

Aegon only hummed as she thrashed some more but it only had her body rocking against her brother’s face. “It seems you are just a little whore after all.” The King purred and watched as she shook her head before her second climax ripped through her once more. “Did I tell you to stop?” He ordered the boy on his knees as his hand reached for the back of his good brother’s head and pushed him closer.

After that, he did not need any guidance as his hunger controlled him. Aegon’s fat cock began to harden at the mere sight of his bride losing herself once more. She whined and clamped down on him again as she wiggled. Aegon only smirked and leaned in; his spit falling into her mouth as she cried out. Her image was destroyed as was her spirit.

[fairysluna]

The Conqueror's Crown | Masterlist.

GENERAL MASTERLIST > Here

ㅤ

STATUS: Complete.

PAIRING: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!OC (Velaryon/Strong).

SUMMARY: After many years of secrecy, Aegon and Visaella's relationship was discovered just a few days prior the beginning of the Dance of the Dragons, unleashing the chaos and uncontrollable feelings that will do more harm than good. 

Part 1 — Old Valyrian Traditions

Tags/TW: angst, blood, smut (blood kink if u squint, p in v), aegon suffers a lot, cursing, incest (niece/uncle), cheating (aegon is married to helaena), toxic behaviour, daemon being a manipulator.

Part 2 — The Usurper

Tags/TW: angst, violence, blood mentions, sexual references, cursing, incest (niece/uncle), cheating (aegon is married to helaena), toxic behaviour, daemon and alicent being manipulators.

Part 3 — Shattered

Tags/TW: angst (like seriously a lot), murder (with fire), blood mentions, death of multiple characters, violence, birth, daemon being manipulative, incest (niece/uncle), toxic behaviour, grief.

Part 4 — Queen of the Ashes.

Tags/TW: death of multiple characters, blood mention, murder, angst, sexual content (nothing too explicit), death threats, grief, mentions of forced marriage, typical sexism of the time, visaella lost her mind, insanity (?), violence, cursing, aegon is emotially attached to the oc.

[pinkydevil16]

Monster Aegon Targaryen x Reader: part 5

18+ smut

Y/n wandered through the walls, her dark green dress draping along the floor as she made her way to the throne room, two guards behind the Queen. Aegon had summoned her and she was excited to see him, he had been busy with his duties, well forced to be busy by the council. Aegon smirked as his wife entered, his eyes lazily dragging over her as she approached him. Bowing before him deeply so her cleavage showed more, her eyes innocently staring at him before she stood. Aegon signalled for her to come to the throne, as she stepped up Aegon put his hand out for her to take. As she slipped her bejewelled hand into his he yanked her into his lap, her arms wrapping around him as she lounged against him. Aegon ran his hand along her clothed thigh, hardening against her butt as he wrapped one arm around her waist. Dragging his hand up her waist his fingers digging into the side of her breast, greedily groping at her flesh as he moved around pretending to get comfy so he could grind on her. Y/n bit her lip as he kept grinding into her, his hands grabbing at any flesh he could whilst still keeping up conversation with Lords, his actions seeming innocent to them. 

"Let me have five minutes to discuss with my wife then you may all come back." Aegon demanded, the Lords and guards leaving quickly, the doors barely closed before Aegon shoved her dress up. Releasing himself from his trousers, running his cock against her soaked folds, watching her face as he rocked against her. Y/n letting out a small moan before sliding onto him, until she was sat completely on him. His hands gripping her hips, Y/n went to start bouncing, she could make him cum in 5 minutes, but Aegon pulled her back to lay against him. Once again lounging against him as she squeezed him, moaning at the harsh drop onto him, Aegon fixing her dress so it draped over them. Any outside would not know of Y/n cockwarming the king. Aegon called back in the Lords, resuming the light bouncing of his leg making Y/n grind onto his cock, her legs clenching around him as she tried not to moan at the sensation. 

"My King, the people of kingslanding would like to present you with tributes." A lord spoke before the doors opened showing a long line of peasants each wanting to congratulate the new king and show their respect. Y/n's eyes widened as she saw the line, she had thought Aegon wanted to play dangerously for a small meeting, they had done this before but Y/n could only last so long before she got greedy. 

"Now be a good whore and sit politely my Queen, try not to cum too loudly or everyone will know what you're doing." Aegon whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him and bouncing his leg. The two sensations making her whimper as she tried not to moan out, Aegon smirked as he gestured for the first peasant to enter. By the tenth tribute Aegon got mildly annoyed by Y/n's refusal to moan out, growing bolder he gripped her hips and ground her into him. Her breath catching as she clenched tightly around him, Aegon's pout becoming a grin as she turned her face into his shoulder and moaned. Her eyes screwed shut as he kept up his movements against her, she tried to concentrate she didn't want to cum so early on. Aegon whispered dirty praises in her ear, telling her to cum all over his cock, let everyone know she was a whore, Y/n whimpered as he bounced his leg harder. Her eyes rolling back, biting his shoulder as she came hard around him, her hand gripping his shirt praying no one would be able to see her body shake. Aegon slowed his movements, he was on the brink of coming from how hard she came around his cock. Aegon demanded the tributes to continue the next day, shouting at everyone to leave. The door slamming shut as Aegon forced Y/n up, bending her over the throne as he pounded into her. Her moans bouncing off the walls as she whined and begged him to slow down. His name like a prayer from her mouth as she tried to string together coherent sentences, only able to think of him. 

"That's it you whore, take it from your King on the iron throne." Aegon groaned as he watched her back into him, he had stopped moving watching as she fucked herself onto him until she came, her body shaking and collapsing against the iron throne. Aegon gripped her hips and fucked her body, using her as she used him until he came harshly, curses spewing out from his mouth. 

"Fuck, My Queen, All mine." He groaned out, pulling out and watched their cum spill from her throbbing cunt. 

"Thank you my King." Y/n spoke breathlessly, gasping as Aegon pushed his cum back into her abused cunt. 

"Cannot waste your King's cum." He chuckled, slapping her exposed cunt lightly making her moan and twitch at the roughness. 

[my-lunadea-universe]

Tumblr hates me and does not allow me to publish my work here so… here’s the link to the first One Shot from my Conquest series!.

It’s smut so beware, you can find the links to the main series and my AO3 account on my masterlist 😊

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Skyfall

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: Death, mention of miscarriage, mention of rape, forced marriage, angst, smut fluff, post-Dance

Summary: Daemon was the only surviving, elder Targaryen to wear the Conquerors Crown. His heir was a broken little boy. Driven by spite, he took the widow of the nephew he had slain as his wife.

A/N: This fic was inspired by this fic game from @ewanmitchellcrumbs

He felt the crash hard. It was unlike falling to the ground. Water was more resistant, and firmer. He wanted to groan, the pain shooting from his back to his whole body. But as soon as he tried to breathe, water was already filling his lungs.

The weight of his heavy armour pulled him down to the ground of the lake. But he resisted as best as he could. His head broke the surface of the lake, coughing, and spluttering as he took deep breaths.

He crawled out of the water with difficulty. His wet jerkin was adding to the weight of his chain mail and dark armour. His body was protesting against every move he made. Crying out for him to give up, to surrender. But he was too stubborn.

Tears of frustration threatened to spill down his cheeks. His hands were muddy and full of cuts from the stones on the shore. Left shoulder, where Aemond’s sword pierced him, burned from the exertion. He could feel the pumping from his heart in the gaping wound.

He gave up in the middle of the cobblestone shore right where the grass line began. He was heaving heavily. He was trying to get enough air into his lungs to breathe, but all his body wanted was to shut down and succumb to the darkness calling him.

The last thing he remembered where men of his army rushing to him. Carrying him to a cart.

He woke up surrounded by maesters and servants. All fussing as he tried to sit up. He was stronger than any of them if it wasn’t for the milk of the poppy the maesters had given him in his unconscious state. His movements were sluggish, his head fuzzy. He roared out for the hands around his body to unhand him. He threatened them to behead them in the name of his wife, Queen Rhaenyra.

The room grew quiet at his mention of Rhaenyra. He looked around, his eyes hardening. “What is the meaning of this?” Everyone in the room averted their eyes. His anger burned brighter with every quiet moment passing by. “Talk!” He boomed.

A maester hesitantly came closer to his side. He bowed deeply. “My p-prince, the Princ-Queen Rhaenyra was killed by the order of King Aegon. She burned in the fires of Sunfyre.” The elderly man became quiet at the end. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath for his reaction. Fearing the worst.

Daemon’s nostrils flared as the words sunk in. The usurper green cunt burned her alive. They had their flaws, but he cared for Rhaenyra deeply. She did not deserve to die like this. “Where is he now?” The servants looked down. The maester, an elderly man with a bald head and dark brown eyes, looked at him with sympathy. He looked like a Great Dane, with his sad dark eyes and the deep wrinkles around his face. “He is dying, my prince.”

Satisfaction spread through his body as he got the news about Aegon dying. “Who else is still alive?”

The maester looked up at him, fixing his posture as he had been bowing the whole time. “The Dowager Queen Alicent, Princesses Jaehaera, your son, Prince Aegon the younger and…” The man trailed off.

Daemon impatiently looked at him. His fingers drummed on the bedding. “Who else?” He growled. “The widow of Prince Aemond, my prince.”

A wide, nearly sadistic grin spread on his lips. Good, he thought. He takes further revenge on his naïve nephew.

The day Daemon was announced King, was the day Aegon the Second died. He took it as the opportunity to announce not only his coronation as king, as he was the only elder male Targaryen left. He also announced his betrothal to the widow of Aemond.

He saw in the corner of his eyes how she stood next to the Dowager Queen. Her eyes cast down as the herald announced the news. The corners of his lips lifted at her reaction. Alicent broke down, another triumph for him, as he knew the Lady had become like a daughter to her.

She stood in her chamber with her maids flittering around her. They had already undressed her out of her heavy wedding gown. Lifting the weight from her shoulder, but not from her chest.

She had heard stories from her late husband about his uncle. He had admired the man. But his arrogance and his ignorance had led to his death. She had mourned him, even though in the end he didn’t deserve her tears.

She had heard of the witch of Harrenhal. How he had bedded her time and time again. Maybe he had been under her spell, maybe he did it out of his free will. But she was with his child, not her, the witch.

She stood in front of the mirror of her room. Seeing the maids working on unbraiding her hair. How she wished they knew how to unbraid the coil in her stomach.

Her hands shook slightly as she touched the fine lace of her night dress. A gift from Daemon. “The lace was made in Myr, my lady.” One of her maids whispered in awe. She only nodded. Her mind was blank. Her soul had gone to a far-off place.

She was led to Daemon’s chamber. Her steps were so stiff she felt like a puppet being moved on strings. Maybe the gods took control of her, leading her to her slaughter. She had been Aemond’s wife, now married to his killer. From one kinslayer married to another. But who had not earned that title in the Dance? No one's hands were untainted with spilt dragon blood. Not even her own hands were clean.

Daemon sat in front of the lit fireplace, a goblet of the finest braavosi wine in his hand. He held the conqueror's crown in his hand. Looking at it with indifference. He was king now. A king with a broken heir. Aegon had seen his mother being burned alive. Being scared for his life.

He had always been a guarded boy. Keeping to himself most of the time when Viserys wasn’t next to him. Viserys, his other son, was taken by the Triarchy. Believed to be dead.

He took a large gulp from his drink. He was staring into the flames with a blank stare. He needed a new heir. Aegon would not be fit to rule. He was too broken, too much grief and darkness surrounded him. He would break under the weight of the heavy crown.

He pursed his lips and chuckled humourlessly. Would he break too? He had lost much too. Laena and their son, his brother, Rhaenyra, their younger son Viserys, their daughter, his dragon, his trusted life companion he had fought in plenty of wars with. Caraxes was nowhere to be seen. His guards searched far and wide for any signs of his beloved dragon. But until now, he was believed dead.

His chamber door opened and a maid of his new wife stepped in, announcing her presence. He did not turn as she entered. Did not acknowledge her. It seemed she did not do the same. Maybe she was scared of him? He fought with amusement.

He heard her move before he saw her stand next to him. She was dressed in a thin robe covering her shoulders. It was opened, probably a maid’s work. She looked like she wanted to close it again.

"Should I lay on my back, lord husband?” She whispered so softly. He looked up at her, seeing the hidden fear in her glassy eyes. “No.” He spoke softly. A softness he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You are not willing to lay with me.”

Her eyes widened at his words. He chuckled and drank the rest of his wine before putting his cup and crown on the table with the jug of wine. “Did the Dowager Queen tell you I would take you without your consent? I think she has lived too long with her rapist of a son and sadly, my brother too. I am not too obsessed with having sons like he was. I have a living son, even if I see him as unfit. I also have two daughters from my dear Laena. If one of them marries and has a son, he will inherit my throne.”

He stood up and looked at her for the first time. She was beautiful, he had to admit that. He was not blind. “I think you would appreciate it if you were to be left alone. You do not only mourn Aemond, do you?” Her body stiffened. “How…?” He smiled softly. “I have my little birds everywhere. They told me about your … misfortune. No woman should ever feel that kind of pain.”

She bit her lip and looked down at the stone floor. Her arms wrapped unconsciously around her empty womb. A few months ago she had felt the flutter of life there, but the gods were cruel to her.

“I could order my men to hunt her down and kill her,” Daemon murmured. His lady wife looked up with shock. “Do not kill Alicent! Jaehaera needs her!” Daemon shook his head. “Not that green snake. I mean the witch. Aemond’s mistress who is with his child. I could let her be killed if you want.”

She stared at him with wide eyes before she shook her head. “No, let her be.” “Even if she was the one who caused you to lose your child.” She took in a sharp breath. Her answer was still no. Even if the rumours were true, she didn’t want more blood on her hands.

Daemon nodded, walking past her to the open balcony doors. He heard music and the cheering of the smallfolk. “Why did you marry me? I am not of Valyrian decent.” Daemon grinned softly. “You are not, little dove. I married you to spite your late husband. I want him to look from beyond and see you filled with my child. Caring for my children. I want him to see what he has neglected.”

He turned to her, seeing her wide eyes. “Only if you want. I will not force you. I am not my brother and certainly not my nephew. If you want, I can give you a child.” They stared at each other. The room is quiet.

It had been a year since that fateful night. The realm slowly regained strength under Daemon. No one thought he could become a good king. But he listened to his small council and had competent and trusted advisors. One was his lady wife. She was beautiful but had a sharp tongue that matched Daemon’s wit.

He looked down at her as she writhed on top of the wooden table of the small council as he drove his member over and over into her warmth. Her mewls and moans floated through the empty room. Only the noises of their sticky skin slapping and her moans filled the room.

His stones slapped against her buttocks as he leaned over her. Holding both her wrists over her head. “Who is fucking you this good, little dove.” He looked into her pleasure-filled face. Seeing her struggle to keep her eyes open. “You… Daemon!”

He clicked his tongue and slapped her thigh harshly. “Wrong answer, dōna ābrazȳrys. Who is making you feel this good?” (Sweet wife)

Her soft lips opened and closed like a fish out of the water until her soft, pleasure-filled voice gasped. “You, my king. Ñuha dārys!“ Daemon smirked at her words. “Good, you are learning, little dove.” (My King)

He drove himself over and over into her tight warmth. “Will you give me another one? Another little girl.” She nodded softly. “Kessa, ñuha dārys!” (Yes, my king!) Daemon chuckled softly at her words.

His pace slowed down as he felt his end approaching. His thrust became hard, pushing into her with force. Her gasps grew louder with every push. “Such a good, little wife. Taking her king's cock. Ñuha sȳz dāria!” (My good queen) He groaned out loudly. Filling her with his warm seed.

Her body began to tremble as she approached completion. Her body tensed until it went limp under him.

He looked down at her. Her chest heaving. The sun rays streaming from the window made her sweat-covered skin glisten. He was far from a religious man, but to him, she looked like the personification of the maiden. So innocent and vulnerable. If he weren’t so possessive he would commission a painting of her in her post-orgasmic state.

He leaned down, kissing her softly before helping her sit up. He was still inside her, his softening member keeping his semen inside of her. His arms were tightly wrapped around her. “I heard you had coaxed Aegon out of his room and walked around the garden.” He smiled softly at him.

His wife smiled at him. “We talked. I wanted him to know I would never replace his mother. Then we talked about his studies. He is a smart boy.” She grinned up at him. Daemon chuckled. “Good. He told me he feels safe with you.”

His wife looked down, playing with the embroidered dragon on his doublet, heat spreading across her face. “I feel honoured.” She mumbled.

Their bubble was broken by hurried steps coming closer to the small council chamber. Both turned as a knight entered the chamber. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply. “There is a boy at the gates claiming to be your son, my king.”

Daemon looked up from his wife to the knight. “Go.” His wife whispered. She pushed him softly from her. He hissed at the loss of her warmth. Whining slightly as she closed his breeches with nimble fingers.

With a fast pace, he rushed into the courtyard, seeing Viserys riding into the gates. He had grown since the last time he saw him.

Daemon was at the horse's side, pulling his son down from the animal. He held him to his chest. Viserys wrapped himself around his father. Both Targaryens couldn’t hold their tears back.

Another body crashed into Daemon’s side. Aegon sobbed loudly as he wrapped his hand around his father and little brother.

With tears in his eyes, he looked at the steps, seeing his wife standing with their daughter in her arms. A gentle smile on her lips. He nodded at her, thanking her for bringing Aegon down from his room.

[barbieaemond]

A curse for a curse

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, sub!Aemond, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), overstimulation, orgasm denial, p in v, chains kink (idk if that’s even a thing but it’s there)

Word count: 8.5K

Author’s note: PLEASE READ THIS ->There's a little canon divergenge as in Rook's Rest is not happened yet, so Aegon is King and Aemond went to Harrenhal. Based on a request I got for sub!Aemond.

Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @ashovertheriver (y’all i can’t remember the others, I had my taglist in my old blog so…sorry 🫠)

Harrenhal tastes like curse and smoke when she enters the blackened and ruined walls.

She is sure, as she is sure that dragons are real, that this place has been cursed over and over since Balerion and Aegon the Conqueror proved that not even stone was safe against dragonfire.

The air is heavy in her lungs, as breathing through a thick layer of wool and her steps echo down the corridors in a strange way; it seems like a never ending sound, echoing through the walls and many lost ages.

But her stride is steady, her eyes fixed on the doors of the Hall of One Hundred Hearths where she is sure to find him, where she will end this thing for which she has no name, and yet it is draining her, wearing her out like a starved leech.

“When is Aemond coming back?” the Queen Mother asks, and then little Jaehaera asks the same question, even Helaena, in those rare moments of clarity, wonders about her brother. And each time, she doesn’t know what to say. Her lip grows stiff, her jaw clenches and she wonders obsessively from dawn till dusk. What is he doing there?

Why has he not returned now that Harrenhal has been taken?

What is he doing with that bastard woman? 

“They say she’s a witch.” King Aegon says with his glassy eyes, putting down his cup as he looks around to choose a target on which to pour his anger. Wine seems to not work anymore, it is not enough to quench his thirst for revenge, and unfortunately, she happens to be the easiest mark.

“He killed everyone in that gods-forsaken place. Everyone except the witch.” He leans forward, watching her with amused anticipation just like a child who waits for his favorite toy to break. “Why did he not do it, sweet good-sister?”

He wants her to snap, and surely something does snap inside her, but she refuses to be humiliated like this.

“I do not know, your Grace. Perhaps my husband learned the Gods’ mercy and decided to spare a woman.”

His chest shakes violently as he laughs, and there’s nothing more humiliating than his laugh, not even the whispers traveling all the way from the Riverlands.

He’s taken her as his prisoner, keeps her in his chambers.

She has utterly bewitched him.

Every word is a stab to her heart and every time his word reaches her through a raven, the wound splits more open and festers.

He does not mention the bastard witch. He says nothing on the matter. He informs her of the war progressing, tells her he will come back soon.

Soon.

Soon was two moons ago and he’s still there.

It doesn’t matter anymore, she thinks as she reaches the doors of Harrenhal. Soon is now.

The look on Ser Criston Cole is almost comical as two soldiers open the doors of the Hall of the Hundred Hearths. “Princess?”

She immediately looks around, but there’s no silver in that huge black hall.

“What are you doing here?” the Hand asks, walking to her “It is not safe for you—”

“Where is the Prince?” she cuts him off, her tongue hitting her teeth like a blade cleaving the air.

Ser Criston looks puzzled for a moment, and even if she doesn’t show it, anguish twists her gut. But then he says “The Prince is not here, your Grace. He’s out, on the battle camp.”

She looks at the soldiers in the room, watching her like some kind of weird creature—a lamb in a den of wolves. That is no place for a princess, no place for a woman. And yet, it is precisely her place.

She belongs to his side. As he belongs to hers. It’s what she’s been telling herself for two moons of sleepless nights.

She should have come here with him in the first place, war be damned.

“Leave, please.” She orders the men “All of you. I need a word with the Hand.”

They may not be used to taking orders from a woman, but they immediately leave the Hall like a pack of unruly children.

The thud of the doors is like some kind of curtain falling and she is finally free of this act, free to snap.

“What is going on here, Ser Criston?”

He shifts on his feet, looking down, looking utterly incapable to answer her question. “The situation in the Riverlands is quite delicate at the moment—”

“I don’t give a shit about the war, Ser Criston.” She almost hisses “You are perfectly aware of what I’m asking.”

His mouth shuts and she resists the urge to use her hands as talons to part his lips and grab the truth from his throat.

“What is going on between Aemond and the witch.” she states, she is not asking.

The Hand sighs deeply and takes a step closer. His whole demeanor changes, becomes confidential, almost fatherly. “My Princess, you must not believe the foul whispers that have been spread.”

She feels a glimmer of relief blooming in her heart, but not strong enough to relinquish the leeches sucking at her bones. “What should I believe then?”

“It’s true. The Prince spared her life.”

“Does he keep her in his chambers?”

“What? Seven Hells, no. She has her own chamber. A little room in the wing intended for servants.”

“Did she ever visit his rooms? Alone?”

Ser Criston looks down for a moment, his lips contracting. “You must understand, my Princess. There are no servants here.”

The wound between her ribs cracks open.

There are no servants here. Did she help him dress? Did she help him bathe? Did she do all the things she used to do? All the things only she was entitled to do?

“I want to see her.”

“Princess, it is not wise.”

“I believe it is very much wise, Ser Criston, since my marriage is at stake here.”

 Ser Cole sighs again. “She’s…dangerous, my Princess. She’s eerily persuasive.”

“So, you think it’s true? That she’s a witch?”

“I’m not sure about her powers, my Princess. All I know is that…one of our soldiers spat in her face when she was still a captive by order of the Rogue Prince and she just…murmured something to this man.” He swallows lowering his gaze and takes a deep breath. “The next day he ripped out his own tongue with his bare hands, bleeding to death.”

Disturbing as these words can be, she keeps a steady and cold face.  

“She claims she can read the flames. That they speak to her, that she saw all of this happening—the Prince coming here. She claims she saw the fate of the war.”

A long silence stretches between them, but however right the Hand’s reasoning may be, she is not keen to let magic and superstitions take what she has come here to retrieve. “Take me to her.”

Ser Cole stalls for a moment, trying to make her give up by merely looking at her. But at last, he caves. “As you wish, my Princess.”

Her room is completely bare, save for a hearth and a bundle of dirty covers and a pillow thrown on the ground.

She enters and the air feels even heavier, more cursed. She feels it like something weighing on her shoulders, drying her throat.

There’s a woman sitting before the fire, clad in rags with long black hair falling down her back. She seems to register the door opening and closing only minutes later, as if she was too focused on her fire staring. But then she turns her head and looks at the woman before her with a strange smile.

“Alas, you have come.”

The Princess blinks quickly, watching the woman stand up and walk closely to her, chains on her feet and hands. She feels something unsettling under her skin, behind her eyes, as if she can’t stop looking straight into the green eyes of the witch, not even if she wanted to.

“You must be Alys.” She says, quickly scanning the witch before returning, inevitably, like a magnet, into her bright green eyes.

The woman, whose age is impossible to determine, keeps her smile as she looks at the Princess from head to toe. “You are exactly as I saw you in the flames.”

“That will save us some time, then. No need for introductions.”

“No. I know who you are.” The witch says, curling her cracked lips some more “I can see his mark on you.”

“His mark?”

“Yes.” She says, unnaturally widening her eyes. “He leaves a mark on everything. Things, places, people. Much like me, I’d say.” From her throat gushes a high-pitched laugh, jarring and spiteful. “We have much in common, the Kinslayer and I.”

The way she utters the last words makes the Princess grind her teeth, as if they were…what? Friends? Allies?

Lovers?

“Have you been in his chambers all this time?” she finally asks and the witch has the boldness to roll her eyes. “Is that the only reason you’re here? To know if he cheated on you?”

“Answer my question.” The Princess orders.

“Darling, If I wanted to fuck him, I would’ve done it ages ago.” She starts laughing again, grinning mischievously and then she sighs. “You left your mark on him as well. I can feel you in his head. And you are so heavy.”

She doesn't know what to make of that. There is not a single reason why she should trust her word. And it's not just the alleged powers this woman may possess. It's her whole demeanor. Haughty, even though she is a bastard. Mocking, as if she looks at the young woman before her, and sees much, much more.

“Just as you, I’d say, since he’s forsaken his family and his wife to do whatever you’re making him do it with your witchcraft.”

She bursts out laughing, so loud that the Princess flinches and takes a step back.

“I’m not making him doing anything. I can’t play with his head. He’s too stubborn. I did not curse him, sweetheart. Your beloved prince is already accursed.”

“Then what do you want? Gold? Lands?”

“I do what the flames command. I serve no God, no King, no Lord. And neither does your husband. It was his choice to see.”

“To see what?”

“What the flames choose to show. I know how this war will end. I know which color will stain the other for good. I know who will sit on the Iron Throne.”

The Princess furrows her brow, confused and puzzled, apparently pleasing the witch who smiles again and nods. “Oh yes, he will make a sight to behold wearing the Conqueror’s Crown.”

Who? Aemond? On the Iron Throne?

“So that’s how you’re keeping him here. With visions and fantasies.”

“He asked me to. At the moment I’m more valuable to him than all his generals and soldiers put together. Besides, I know how to deal with him.”

The Princess almost laughs at this. “I see. You think you can handle him, don’t you? A wild dragon for you to tame, is that what he is for you?”

“Well, I’m not denying he’s handsome enough to please my eyes.”

“And once you have tamed him, what will you do? How will you handle him when you scratch the surface, and you see the neglected son? Lonely, misunderstood, maimed. The boy no one cared for.”

It is the first time the witch does not have a quick biting answer. It makes the Princess rejoice.

“All your witchcraft won’t be enough to handle him.”

The witch falls silent. There is a distant look in her eyes as she observes the Princess and the more she stares, the more the younger woman feels dreadfully uncomfortable. She starts to feel something in the back of her mind, like a gentle abstract push.

“Ser Criston." she says suddenly, swallowing but keeping a collected mask. "The keys, please."

“Your Grace, Prince Aemond will not be ha—”

“I’ll deal with Prince Aemond.” She says, looking straight at the witch and the ghost of a superb smile hovers on her lips “I know how to handle him.”

The Knight slides the keys from his armor and hands them to the Princess. She is ready to free the witch’s wrists, but she stops, locking her eyes on Alys. “There is a carriage outside. And some guards who will do whatever Ser Criston will order them. Take it and go wherever you want, there’s even gold in the—"

“I told you, I don’t want—”

“I don’t care of what you want!” The Princess snaps, raising her voice, and the pushing dissolves. “You live to serve the flames? Fine. Do it elsewhere, far away from us.”

Alys shuts her parched mouth, and simply nods. “As you wish, Princess.”

She removes the shackles from her feet, and then from her hands, holding the chains between her fingers. Alys touches her hurting wrists, before tilting her head down in some kind of bow, or maybe a mocking gesture. The Princess cannot bring herself to care.

The witch makes her way past the younger woman but at last, she stops for a moment, leaning back her head of dark curls to say “I did touch him, just once. He put a knife to my throat.”

Vhagar likes to nestle on the burned blackened towers of Harrenhal, like some kind of dreadful reminder of the legacy of ruins and ashes Balerion the Dread has unleashed on this cursed land.

Aemond enters the castle walls with his circle of counselors and generals. They crowd on him like bees with honey and he knows why. He knows that most of the time they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about. They hang on his lips and jump like little good soldiers, jostling with one another in the hope of gaining something more when the war ends. A land, a title, one of them had even had the guts to offer a daughter to marry.

“I am not sure of what you are implying, my Lord.” He had said to the Lord with a dangerous black glint in his eye, as the fool thought it was wise to remind the Kinslayer that he and his wife had had no children yet. “Whether you are insulting me or my wife. I am sure of one thing, though. You will shut your hole before I take your tongue and feed it to my dragon.”

There were no more talks of unwed daughters between those walls.

“My Prince, if you allow me—” one of them says as they enter the Hall of the Hundred Hearths “We should give the lords who pledged for the Blacks more time to consider—”

“I gave them enough.” He says turning with a glare, looking even taller than he is, with his silver armor streaked with gold and the long green cloak. “They will pledge to my brother before dawn or I will bring dragonfire to their lands. Then we shall see where their loyalty lies while they burn to the crisp.”

They all shush and Aemond almost thanks the Gods for this brief blessed moment of peace. He ponders for a moment and then looks at a young soldier behind him.

“Summon the witch.” He orders “Bring her to me.”

He looks down to remove his riding gloves but out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the boy is still there.

“Uhm, my Prince, the witch is not here anymore.”

“What do you mean she’s not here?”

“S-she left, your Grace.”

The last word does not even leave his mouth the poor soldier feels a hand around his neck and the Prince is easily lifting him from the ground as if made of feathers. “You let her flee?!” he rages with his eye blown wide.

“I-I did—not your Grace!” the boy manages to croak while he’s choking, legs kicking like a chicken in the butcher’s hands.

“He’s right. I did.” Her voice cuts through the air and Aemond turns his head in a blink, looking positively stunned to hear his wife, to see her there.

He lets the soldier boy go and stares at her on the threshold of the huge Hall. He blinks with disbelief, as if he’s finally able to see after days and nights spent in a cloud of fog. Something shifts inside him him—something that has been wandering ceaselessly day and night, lifting the weight from his shoulders, from his black heart. Not Harrenhal’s weight, not Alys’. A weight far darker, a curse far more dangerous.

“Out.” he orders the Lords “All of you.”

They obey at once, scattering down the Hall only to stop for a moment before the Princess, to pay their respect.

The doors close but she stays on the threshold. His eye roams on her figure, once and then twice. He has never seen her wearing such a simple dress, easy to disguise her noble roots, her royal ones. And even though the mere sight stokes almost three moons of ugly and burning desire, it only makes him angry. It only makes him ashamed.

“What in the name of the Seven are you doing here?”

She walks to him and without uttering a single word or even sparing a glance to him, she begins removing the heavy armor plates from his body.

“What are you doing?” he asks with deep wrinkles on his forehead.

“My duty as wife.” She replies sternly, holding his arm “Or did you forget you had one?” she looks at him and sees rage blazing behind his eye—rage and maybe a tinge of hurt.  

“Am I doing it right?” she asks removing the armor plate from his forearm “Was your witch friend better than me?”

The metal clatters on the ground as he grabs her arm, hard, pulling her close. “I asked you a question. We’re at war and you go strolling around the continent? Have you lost your mind?”

She tries to wriggle herself out of his iron grip, unsuccessfully as always. “How strange, that is a question I should ask you.”

“Enough.” He says grinding his teeth, digging his fingertips into her skin until her mouth twists with pain.

“Enough was two moons ago, Aemond. When you were supposed to come home, to your family, to me.”

“In case you didn’t notice, we’re at war, my dear wife. Things in war don’t go exactly as you planned them—”

“Oh spare me!” she cuts him off, freeing herself “Spare me the war talk, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you.”

“What did you expect exactly? Love letters?”

“I expected what I deserved. To know the truth. You have not mentioned her. Ever, not even once. Do you have the faintest idea of what I’ve been through all this time? Of all the dirt they have been spreading behind my back?”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says turning his back on her, as if he had not done that enough.

“No, you will.” She promises, circling him to look straight at him again. “They said you were so besotted with her to deny her leaving your chambers.”

“I don’t want to hear about it.” He says again, closing his eye for a moment.

“They said, and this was from the wretched mouth of your beloved brother, that you put a child in her womb since I was not able to give you an heir.”

“I don’t want to hear about it!” he shouts, and she knows she hit a nerve there, because he never shouts.

“Why? Does it make you ashamed? It should. I had to hear all of it. I had to endure it while you stayed here playing fortune teller with your witch whore.”

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and raises his gaze to look at her, dead serious. “You know nothing about her powers. She saw many things, happened precisely as she predicted. I needed her. I needed her powers and you had no right to send her away.”

“You needed her?” she repeats, pale with utter disbelief. “You needed her for what? For her to tell you how good you’ll look wearing the Conqueror’s Crown? To feed you with fairy tales while we risk our lives staying in the capital, unprotected because Dreamfyre can’t fight and Tessarion is still in Oldtown. What if the Blacks decide to attack us now? They have a dozen of dragons, we have only Sunfyre.”

“The Blacks will not attack.”

“Did she tell you this? Did she see this in the flames?” she can’t fight back the contempt curling her lips “Are you listening to yourself? Flames and visions to win a war? You poor fool.”

“Watch your mouth, woman.” he seethes “You don’t talk to me like this.”

“Or what? Are you going to chain me up? I kept her chains, you know? I thought you’d like a token of your time with the witch.”

“Did you come here for this? To make a scene like some common girl who feels threatened by another woman?” his lips turn upwards, curling and twisting with ugly deprecation “What do you think you know about the war? What is your contribution while you lie around in a lavish castle waiting for me to come back and fuck you? I’ll tell you. None. You can’t even perform your duty to give me an heir. And you come here to lecture me?”

The wound is rotting from the inside and he’s pouring salt on it.

“I came here for my dignity. As a woman, I have nothing else. I came here for your mother, who I fear will go mad with worry just as your sister. And lastly, to tell you that I’m with child.”

Aemond stills completely, so much that she thinks the witch’s curse is hitting him right now, no matter how far she is, turning him into stone.

“But it seems utterly irrelevant to me right now. So, go. Hurry! You might still find her.”

She moves to leave the room and he does it at the same time, trying to reach her, to stop her, but she flinches as he tries to touch her, battling his hands away.

Aemond utters her name, softly, and it makes her stomach turn.

“I will leave at dawn.” She informs him with a blank face “I won’t disturb you and your precious war any further. Fret not, husband. I will stay in my lavish castle like the good soldier I am, waiting for you to come back and fuck me.”

This is place is not only cursed, but it is also so freezing cold that she wishes for one of those direwolf furs the Northerners use to wear as she sits before the hearth in what she assumed to be Aemond’s chambers. The room is large, even larger than the ones they share in the Red Keep, but it’s completely bare and almost ominous with its black walls that stink of ash and smoke.

A cursed place, fitting for a cursed woman.

She has been for quite some time. Because she chose to stay by his side, because she chose to love him.

“We could turn to a Septon. Annulments are rare but possible. You cannot remain married to a Kinslayer, it is the highest of sins.” Her father had said in the aftermath of Lucerys’ death. She had looked at him like he was some kind of lunatic.

As if she could leave him, as if she could turn her back on him and marry another man.

As if he hadn’t left his mark on her.

She thought the Gods had cursed her for good, that was why, however much they tried, she couldn’t bear his child.

“A child is the highest of the blessings from the Gods.” Her mother had said during one of her last visits to the capital “How can they bless your union with a man so accursed?”

And yet.

She is impatiently waiting for the sun to set. Even if her limbs have never been so heavy, as much as her heart, she finds no reason to stay here, not when she can’t stand even the sight of him. But of course, how can there be peace in such a cursed place?

She hears the door opening. She knows his gait. She wished to hear it for two moons as she lied alone in their bed.

She hears him approach until he is beside her, but she does not look at him. She only sees his arm holding out a small tray.

“Eat.” An order, not an invitation.

She doesn’t even bother to look at the food, keeping her cold gaze on the fire. “I’m afraid I lost my appetite, dear husband. You can thank yourself for that.”

She can feel his eye piercing, burning her skin, the air coming from his nose short and harsh.

“Eat or I’ll feed you myself.”

She doesn’t bother to even answer this time.

Aemond stares at her, waits for her to look at him, he needs for her to look at him. “Is it true?”

“What?”

“That you’re with child.”

“In my husband’s lovely words, I lie around all day so I guess I’m capable enough to notice if I miss my moonblood.”

He leaves the tray on the stone mantelpiece, noticing a pair of chains lying there, and then looks down at her.  “You will stay here with me.” Another order.

Another rejection. “I will not.”

“Yes, you will. You are not going anywhere, not in your condition.”

“I see. Now I’m worth something to you, am I not?” and finally she looks up “My duty is fulfilled, my womb is finally swollen. It’s a shame your witch left, we could have asked her to look in the flames and tell us if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Aemond lowers his shoulders and grabs her chin with the same cruelty he is used to brandish his sword, tightening her cheeks to prevent her from uttering another word. “I said enough.”

He watches as she tries to escape his grip, pushing his shoulders as her eyes grow more and more scornful, and he knows he deserves it. But that ugly thing breaks, snaps like a thin rope pulled too tight.

His mouth is on hers, fingers squeezing her cheeks to force her to take his kiss, which is not really a kiss, but more of an act of war, a relentless and rather quick siege, because she was already starving. She opens his mouth and this alone makes him whine with relief as his tongue slides between her teeth. Her hands grab his doublet collar, knuckles turning white and she angles her head, only to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He winces as he pulls his head back and sees her licking her lips, a dead distant look in her eyes. But her hands move, gently, through his silver strands. "My words are but blunt knives on you. I must hurt you in the only way I can."

“I did not touch her.” He says like an oath “Ever.”

“I know you didn’t.” she reassures him, but her eyes stay distant, as if even being this close now, they are also miles and miles apart. “Maybe it would’ve been better if you had.”

“Did you want me to fuck her now?”

“I wanted you to need me, not her.”

His eye is on flame, rage and shame dancing together, but it’s not aimed at her. He finds that the only person on the receiving end is none other than himself.

Something dies in his eye, his shoulders slump and his head falls forward, hiding what no one would dare even think of seeing on the stern, cruel face of Aemond One Eye.

He kneels before her and lays his head on her belly, catching her off guard. She can't see his face, and yet she has it before her eyes, clear and indisputable as something carved into stone.

The surface has never been so frail. She doesn’t even need to scratch it, she only has to lift it.

No man is so accursed as the Kinslayer.

She had thought it true enough, but what about Aemond’s curse?

“I know you feel guilty.” She says, or rather whispers, as if she’s being blasphemous by accosting such a word to such a man. “I know you feel guilty for Jaehaerys. For Helaena.”

His answer is mute, but it’s the loudest confession she could get.

He fists the fabric of her gown between his hands, knuckles turning white on the verge of breaking. She feels him nestling further inside her, like a child, and she closes her eyes for a moment, placing a hand on her wound to stop the bleeding, and leans over him, sliding her hands on his back, softly but firmly, as if helping him to stay whole, as if preventing him from breaking into pieces.

Aemond didn’t believe in curses.

He did not regret, not even for a moment, the murder of Lucerys. He did not care that the Gods had turned their backs on him. They had done it a long time before. He did not care of how people called him, of how they would baptize him in the annals of his lineage.

He had started to care, to feel guilt, after he actually killed his kin.

For he had killed Jaehaerys, he had killed Helaena.

Kinslayer. Kinslayer. Kinslayer.

In his head, he heard that word with his mother’s voice, with Aegon’s, Helaena’s.

He found some kind of peace, of solace, only in his wife. But then the war was calling and he fled to Harrenhal. It was his duty, it was his way to try to make things better, to get revenge. 

He had taken Harrehanl back and he knew he should have come home. But then the witch, the very same who had forced a man to rip out his own tongue, had spoken to him, talking about visions and flames, of predictions that happened to be alarmingly accurate, of him sitting on the Iron Throne with the Conqueror’s Crown on his silver head.

And he saw an opportunity, however blurry, to set things right, as they should have been in the beginning. He saw a way to get the upper hand in this war. And furthermore, as much as he did not realize it, he had found a way to stay away from the Keep. He would rather dare with witchcraft than return home and hear Helaena's wails cutting through doors and walls, and through his heart.

But next to the guilt had come the shame, for he had turned his back on his wife, for he could imagine the filth their enemies and non would spread, like shit flowing in the sewers.

He had tried to confine her to the back of his mind, but she became heavier and heavier as the days passed, along with the scarce letters in which he never mentioned the Rivers bastard.

She, of course, had sensed it immediately.

“You can’t win this war if your mind is elsewhere.” She had said one night, on one of his visits to her room.

He always stayed on the threshold, arms laced behind and poorly disguised distrust stretching his features.

“I told you to stay out of my fucking head.”

“You need not worry, my Prince.” She retorted with a chilling smile “I can’t play with your head. It’s too heavy…and ugly. And this woman…oh, she’s eating you alive.”

The witch is gone now, and yet she is still there.

She lingers on the walls of his chambers like a ghost, she imposes a wall between him and his wife and perhaps neither of them is strong enough to climb it. So, for days they just circle one another like wounded animals.

The Princess is staying with him of course. He has forbidden her to leave his side and she has caved, on one condition though. She has given him three days to deal with the Riverlands and then they will go home, together, where they are needed, where the mighty dreadful Vhagar is needed.

The day before their departure, Aemond returns victorious from the Riverlands. He has gained the allegiance of the lords in a way Visenya Targaryen would be proud of.

He will never forget the Lords' faces draining of color, probably pissing themselves, as Vhagar roared a war chant in the sky, and tongues of fire brushed the lands as warning.

He enters the chambers quietly and sees her crouched on the floor as her hands dig into a drawer, pulling out papers that she carelessly drops to the ground. Aemond closes the door firmly, announcing his presence, and she looks at him for a single moment before sighing in defeat, closing the drawer.

“Looking for my love letters?” he teases, for the first time after days of loud silence.

“I was looking for ink, actually.” she says looking below a paper left on the table. “Besides…love letters from you? Ghastly.” 

He can’t fight back the smirk curling his mouth as she walks close to him and begins removing the armor. He looks at her face and she’s stern, almost rigid in her gestures, in the way she touches him, as if she despises doing it and yet she can’t help herself.

He doesn’t have a clue.

He doesn’t know that her stiffness has nothing to do with contempt. He doesn’t have a clue of how much she aches for him. Of how much she wants for him to take her, fast and rough, as he often used to do, because she can’t stand to be treated like some porcelain doll to be cocooned thanks to his child growing inside her belly. She wants to be more than that, she demands to be his wife again.

“Have you eaten?” he asks her, gently, and she wants to break something.

She can’t stand it anymore. She can’t stand all the questions.

Did you eat? Did you rest? Did you sleep?

“Is this how is going to be from now on?” she asks looking up “You acting as if you are my maid?”

He clenches his jaw and his face turns stern just like hers.

“First you accuse me to have forsaken you and now you don’t want my attention. Make peace with your mind, wife.”

“I want you to be my husband.” She says getting close to him until she smells dragon and ashes.

She wants to bathe in it. “I want to be your wife.”

Aemond’s eye lingers down on her throat, on her constricted chest, and his lips part. “You are.” He vows, locking his eye on her.

“Prove it.” She whispers tilting her head with a challenge dancing on her parted lips, hovering against his.

He is one breath away from swallowing her whole but he stops, melding their breaths in one, and he grins. “Are you going to bite me again?”

“As if you didn’t like that.”

A moment later his teeth sink into the soft flesh of her lip, her neck. His hands are everywhere, frantic and needy. She can feel he’s restraining from holding her too tight, but she wants, no, she needs more. She wants him in her bones.

They move without logic, clinging to each other, trying to assert dominance on one another. He grabs her wrists and forces her down on the chaise beside the hearth. He is looking at her in the same old way, as if he’s blind to anything else. She aches so much for him that she’s breathing hard, the word please climbs her throat, slides on her tongue, but she will not beg for him.

In all truth, she doesn’t have to.

He kneels on the ground like a pious man at the altar, and she hikes up her skirts, spreading her legs to place them on his shoulders, heels pressing on his back to bring him close.

“You know what you want, don’t you?” He teases with a feral grin.

“Curse you and your hideous smirk.” She says sliding on the chair to bring her apex close to his overly talkative mouth.

“You love my smirk.” He says grabbing her thighs to secure them around his face. “Besides, I’m already cursed.” He leaves a red mark biting on the soft skin of her thigh, looking straight at her and how she startles, whining in half pain half pleasure.

She catches a glimpse of the sapphire glinting between her thighs before her eyes fall shut and she moans unnaturally loud as he licks a stripe along her wet folds and up to her apex.

She is trembling with anticipation, with arousal that pools from her, glistening his mouth and nose. Her hips begin bucking against him and he moans contentedly as he buries his tongue inside her, lapping and tasting like a starved beast.

Her breath grows shorter and shorter for how close she is already, so much that he stops to look at her with a spiteful grin. “Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“Shut up.” She whispers hoarsely and pulls herself up just enough to grab his head, pulling his hair to force him to take where he left off. Her hips are rocking on their own against his face, nails scratching his scalp harder and harder as she comes undone in his mouth, while he hums with pleasure, drinking of all her. Eye fixed on her as he watches her throw her head back, spasming and trembling with a loud moan.

Her back hits the back of the chaise as she catches her breath and looks at the black ceiling in a moment of pure bliss. Two moons of anguish are but a distant memory, her mind is foggy, she doesn’t even remember the face of the witch.

He dismantles her legs from his neck and she looks down at him, cheeks red, watching as he climbs on her, unbuckling his belt.

“No.” she says, and she stops his hands. “Do you think I would make it so easy for you?”

Aemond looks at her, half puzzled half curious, and then she pushes him down, overturning their positions so now she’s sitting on his lap, feeling all of his hard length against her.

“It’s my turn to prove it.” She says raising an arm that goes on the mantelpiece behind them.

“Prove what?”

“That you’re my mine.” She promises, and Aemond hears the distinct sound of metal clinking.

She lowers her arm and he sees a pair of chains between her fingers. He is bold enough to smirk at her. “I thought you were the one who wished to be chained.”

“I’m not the one in need of a lesson.”

She grabs his wrist but he easily pulls away. “What if I don’t want to?” but there’s an intriguing glint in his eye, on the edges of his arched mouth.

“Then who will take care of you?” she asks with fake innocence, grinding on his cock, and she smiles as the air comes out of his mouth in a hiss. “Are you sure your hand will suffice?”

He looks at her with challenge, breathing slowly through his mouth, and he caves.

“Chain me.”

She smiles darkly and grabs his wrists, fastening the chains and then locking them to the sides of the chair. She stands and grabs his legs, sliding his back further down.

She notices his eyebrow rising and she looks at him. "I want you to be comfortable. I'm afraid this will not end so soon."

He swallows with anticipation and watches her as she slowly climbs back on top of him and begins to unbutton his doublet., pushing the fabric aside to reveal his diaphanous pale chest and her hand slides over it, over his ribs, stomach, and navel, halting his breath.

Her lips hover against his, swallowing his shallow breath, but suddenly her head dips down, leaving a trail of little heated kisses on his neck, on the planes of his chest.

He watches as she does that, feeling her lips like burning embers marking his skin. Her eyes lock on him and she opens her mouth engulfing one of his nipples, circling her tongue around it. He tilts his head back, lips parting to let a puff of scorching air out, and then she's grazing her teeth over the soft pink skin.

The chains metal clink as he winces.

She grins pulling herself up and slides a bit down his legs with her bottom, so she has open room to his belt. She begins unbuckling it, looking at him, watching the glare he’s giving her.

“I can’t tell whether you want to kill me or fuck me.”

“I need you to fucking do something.”

“Like what?” she asks, palming his cock through the fabric “Tell me, husband. I may grant your wish.”

He rocks his hips in one slow movement, trying to feel every inch of her hand, but it’s a faint touch that only makes him ache for more. “Move, grind on me.” His voice is imperative as always, but his tone is different—all heated and husky.

She frees him of the constricting belt and breeches and lays on him, releasing a blissful sigh when she feels the hot hard flesh colliding perfectly against her core. The chains clink again as he tries to move and she smiles, caging his snatched waist between her legs.

Aemond is panting quietly, trying to get a grip on his own body but he finds it’s a useless fight when he’s so hard it’s starting to hurt.

But then his wife seems in favour of granting him some mercy. She starts grinding on him and his lips part some more, panting loudly this time, as he feels, and hears, the beautiful obscene sounds her wet flesh is making rubbing on him.

“Lift up your skirts. Let me see.”

She stops grinding and he almost whines with annoyance, moving his chained wrists in a useless attempt to grab her waist and force her to move again.

“I don’t like that tone, husband.” She says, and her voice is husky as well, her breath labored “Ask nicely.”

Aemond is silently starting to regret this whole thing. Patience was never one of his virtues, if he even has virtues. He’s completely at her mercy and cannot do anything but comply.

“Please. Lift your fucking skirts and let me see.”

“Hmm.” She hums smiling. “Better.”

Her skirts turn into a bundle of fabric around her waist and he dips his chin, looking straight at their flesh as she resumes her torture.

“Fuck” he utters, his eye growing heavy but he keeps looking, and he doesn’t have a clue whether it’s the rubbing or the mere sight of her coating his cock that draws a moan out of his throat.

“Do you see how I much I’ve missed you?” she asks hoarsely, grinding more and more firmly.

His head hits the back of the chair as he keeps panting and rocking his hips against her, lifting his waist as if desperately trying to slide inside her.

“I touched myself every morning. I woke up all wet and aching for you. And where were you? Here, plotting with your witch.”

“Enough of that fucking witch.” he croaks, a sheen of sweat is ghosting on his forehead. “Faster.”

She does the opposite. She stops altogether. And this time, he can’t do nothing to muffle the whimper gushing out of his trembling mouth.

The Princess tilts her head, savoring each moment, and soon his piercing glare comes back even sharper. “Once I’m free of these fucking chains, I’m going to fuck you senseless till morning.”

“Unless you are still chained to this chair in the morning.”

He watches as her hands hover on his thighs, a feather touch that drives him mad, that makes his hips buck uselessly. His lips twist, swallowing a plead his pride won’t allow him to let go.

But she hears it nonetheless, in the way his fingers flex and twist, in his chest raising fastly. It may suffice, but it doesn’t.

“Stubborn, are we?” she teases, just like her hands, barely touching down his navel. “Your witch got it right. She said you are too stubborn, that’s why she couldn’t play with your head. She couldn’t handle you.” her fingertips finally dip down and she can see the silent plead in his eye.

“I can, though.” her palm brushes the tip and he whimpers, again.

“Please…” he whispers impossibly low, too low for her liking.

“Louder, my love.”

His mouth twists again but the need, the ache is so heavy that it burns out all the pride numbing his tongue. 

“Please…” he begs freely “Please, touch me.”

A groan rolls out of him as she finally grabs it, squeezing softly before starting a slow rhythm up and down. He pants loudly, hips moving on their own as he tries to fuck her hand with a steadier pace. “Don’t rush it.” she scolds him, placing a firm hand on his waist to stop his frantic movements.

“I can’t take it…let me come…”

“Already? Gods, you must have missed me terribly.”

“You’re cursed, woman.”

“Takes one to know one. A curse for a curse.”

She looks at him, hair all ruffled and sweaty on his forehead, a painful pleading expression twisting his sharp features and she smiles victorious. “I have half a mind to leave you like this.” She says and for a moment, he dreads she’s being serious.

“Luckily for you, I’m just as greedy as you are.”

In a swift moment she nestles between his legs and he’s moaning loudly before he even has time to register anything, except her lips locking around his tip, sucking so harshly he thinks she’s going to utterly drain him.

She starts a steady pace, just as he likes it, taking all of him, down to the base untili it hits the back of her throat. The chains clink and clink against the chair as he twists his wrists, bucking his hips harshly to fuck her mouth as deeper as he can, enthralled by the lewd sounds she’s making.

“Gods, yes…” he moans watching carefully as he slips in and out of her “Yes…just like that, just a little more…”

She feels him tense inside her mouth, she feels him tense all over and she knows he’s dangerously close. She stops for a moment, licking her lips and looks at him. “Don’t tell me you’re going to break the rule.”

Aemond groans with frustration, not having the faintest idea of what she’s talking about. He isn’t even sure he remembers his own name. He is just blood boiling and bones so tense they’re close to snap.

“What was it again?” she asks “Ah, yes. My seed belongs in your cunt.” She leaves a trail of soft kisses on his hard flesh and he whimpers once more. “My ever-romantic husband.”

“Fuck the rule, you’re driving me mad. Let me come.”

“Ask nicely.��

“Please.” He begs “Please let me come in your mouth.”

The Princess is merciful enough to grant his wish. She engulfs him once more and he moans loudly for how sensitive he is. She picks up the pace and pride washes over her, pooling between her legs, as she sees him writhing beneath her, moaning with his mouth open, eye closed shut and the chains clink like a frantic bell while he twists his scratched red wrists.

He curses and mumbles nonsense under his breath until he stills completely letting out a long and loud grunt, spilling abundantly inside her mouth. She swallows to the last drop, gently sucking the pulsing tip.

The chains are finally still and silent. He’s breathing hard and short with his head thrown back, staring at the ceiling without seeing anything.

That is until he winces, feeling her hand on his sensitive skin. He raises his head to look at her, almost puzzled. She smiles slyly, moving her hand up and down. “Did you think it was over?”

If he did not feel so spent, he would be utterly thrilled and definitely flattered.

“Seven Hells, woman, give me a bre—” words die on his tongue wiped out by a hoarse gasp as she takes him in her mouth again. But this time, she sucks so slowly that Aemond actually whines in pain. And she looks straight at him, while her head bobs, relishing every moment, watching as he comes undone beneath her, babbling pleads, begging her to stop and a moment later to keep going. His voice is breaking, cracking as he whines and whimpers, poised between pain and pleasure.

Soon though, she hears more whines of pleasure than pain, as gets harder and harder in the hot haven of her mouth.

Suddenly she stops, and just stares, savoring the sight before her. The cruel Aemond One Eye, chained to a chair in a mess of sweat and sobs.

“Untie me…” he says, trying to make it sound like an order, but it’s a pale imitation of his usual tone. His words are slow, sluggish.

“You are not in charge here, my love.”

“Then quit the act and fuck me.”

Perhaps, if she wasn’t so equally desperate for him, if she wasn’t leaking between her thighs, she would have prolonged this torture, this excruciatingly sweet punishment. But she can’t take it anymore.

She climbs on him, and it takes her the least effort to let him slide inside her. He slips his back further down that chaise so that his hips are angled just enough to thrust into her, fast and steady.

“Oh Gods—yes!” she moans throwing her head back, frantically bouncing on him.

“D’you miss this?” he rasps, with a tinge of his usual infuriating confidence “Did you think of this when you touched yourself? Missed my cock inside you, hmm?”

She clamps a hand on his mouth to shush him and he bites her palm, thrusting even harder, making her whine loudly until her throat goes dry and her sight go white. They fall in a wild frenzy, utterly intoxicated with each other, leaving bites and marks all over, sealing one inside the other with a curse much more dangerous than any kind of witchcraft.  

They come together, as she clutches his head to her chest so tight that he can barely breathe. He rests his head on the chair, slowly catching his breath, and she nestles against him, still sank on him.

He moves his hands to touch her, wincing for his aching wrists.

“Untie me now, would you?” he asks softly on the crown of her head.

“I’m not sure.” She muses against his chest. “I’ve quite enjoyed having you at my mercy.”

“Who said I didn’t?”

She moves her head to look at him, a little smile starting to light up her face and he looks down at her lips, mirroring her.

“Besides, it’s your turn.”

She raises her eyebrows fighting back a smile. “Now?”

“Haven’t you heard? No man is so accursed as me.”  

[sunnytarg]

Hello dear >< what do you think of Yandere's reaction to Aegon I, Maegor, Aemond and Daemon being in love with a reader sister but she rejects them because she is in love with a lowborn man? (like a blacksmith or a soldier or a stable boy) and they catch her trying to run away from her with her lover to the free lands? <333 (Drama mode ON)

I’m gonna start referring to these 4 as the toxic four. It’s like the fantastic four, but really horny and toxic. [ Also, this took me forever to write. So hopefully you enjoy]

Tw: stalking, murder, non-con

Aegon I (The Conqueror)

His sister didn’t think twice about announcing her plans to marry and run off with some stable boy that none of her siblings have ever met. She thought that they would be happy for her. After all, ever since she had been able to read, all she could talk about was the Free Cities and getting away from Westeros. Now she had a man who adored her and promised to take her to see the places she had only dreamed of.

The only thing was: her siblings weren’t happy. Specifically her brother, Aegon. He was silent for a little while after her announcement and then after Rhaenys nudged him in the side (not so slyly), he gritted through his teeth a congratulation. He didn’t mention to his darling sister that he was planning on marrying her himself, making her his third wife. He held his tongue and didn’t comment on how a stable boy could never afford to bring her to the Free Cities. Instead, he only kissed his sister on the head and left the room. He had to think of something quickly before that stable boy took her from him forever.

The idea came to him during the evening meal. When she went to her chambers for the night he would lock her doors so she couldn’t leave and sneak away to see her stable boy. The next morning when she mentioned it, he only shrugged and pretended to have no idea why it was locked.

“Perhaps the guards locked the doors because they were afraid an intruder was within the walls,” he said with a shrug. She didn’t look like she believed him but she didn’t call him on his lie either. As the days went by he continued to lock her doors at night and eventually resorted to doing it during the day when she was in her chambers and not with him or her sisters. She had stopped questioning it and Aegon soon learned why. She was receiving letters from this man she claimed to love. He watched to see how they were delivered to his dear sister and when he saw that one of the guards was the middleman, he promptly brought him outside and let Balerion set him aflame. After that, he received the letters intended for his sister. He read every one of them and, after he was done, threw them into the fire.

He knew his sister’s heart would break thinking that the man she loved had forgotten about her but Aegon needed to do this. Luckily, his sister didn’t catch on to the fact that he was the one getting rid of the letters so when she asked him to give her letters to the stable boy, he agreed with a smile. When she was out of his sight, though, he promptly ripped the letters to shreds.

He figured it had been long enough and it was time for him to meet this other man. He was disappointed when he finally came across him. He was nothing special and he backed away in fear of his King. His sister deserved better than this wastrel. He made the conversation brief. Informing the stable boy that his sister had come to her senses and realized that she could never marry someone like him. She was to marry her brother and King and he should move on and forget about her. The stable boy only nodded meekly and Aegon had to hide the smile on his face until he turned to walk away.

Aegon kept an eye on the stable boy as days and nights passed. He watched as he married another woman, someone plain and lowborn like he was. When he informed his sister of this she wept uncontrollably and refused to believe it. He held her as she cried and offered to take her to his home to show her his new wife. His sister shook her head and refused. Aegon stroked her hair as she cried and remained with her until she fell asleep. When he finally left, he didn’t lock the doors to her chambers.

As she slept, he made the arrangements for them to wed the next day. He couldn’t put it off any longer in case she found someone else.

Maegor

Maegor is an observant man. He notices before anyone else that his sister has taken a liking to a blacksmith in the city. While it was suggested by almost everyone that he spend time with his wife, Ceryse, and try and put a child in her, he was instead watching his sister sneak away from the Red Keep. He would follow her through the hidden passageways and down to the city.

Watching her wasn’t new to him. He had been doing it for years. It only worsened after The Faith told his mother that he couldn’t take his sister as a wife. His mother had finally budged and he was married to a Hightower rather than who he belonged with. He watched as several men of noble birth tried to gain her attention. Before he could even scare them off she had already turned them down. He thought perhaps she harbored feelings for him and was bidding her time until he could get rid of Ceryse. He soon realized that wasn’t the case as he stood in the shadows and watched his sister with a blacksmith.

When he returned to the castle he didn’t tell anyone of his discovery and despite the building feeling of wanting to go into her chambers and claim her before that filthy blacksmith laid a hand on her, he bided his time and listened and watched. He acted normal when his dear sister was around and even went to his wife’s chambers at night. Still, as soon as he heard her making plans with her blacksmith to sneak away to the Free Cities when the moon was at its fullest and everyone important in the castle would be asleep, he began making plans.

He had to wait it out until he could set his plan in motion. He acted like he had no idea of his sister’s plan to run away. On the night that the moon was at its fullest, he went to the Sept. not to pray, of course, his mother taught him better than to believe in the Seven. He watched the moon through the window and waited. It wasn’t long until a few guards that were loyal to him came in carrying his sister who was shouting at them and the blacksmith who was being drugged along. Maegor smiled when he saw his bruises and bloodied face.

When his sister saw him she ran to him and begged him to command the guards to let her love go. Maegor only grabbed her arm and told her to look around. She did with a confused look. Finally realizing they were in a Sept and in front of them stood a Septon who looked terrified. She finally looked back up at her brother who told her that he knew about her plan and that he was tired of the handwringing of the Faith and their father, he would take a second wife, as was his right as a Targaryen. This time, though, it would be one of his choosing. When his sister started to protest he grabbed her chin and pointed it towards her blacksmith and told her that she either goes through with this and he would set the man free, or he would kill the man right now and fuck her in his blood so that she was dishonored, making it so she had no choice but to marry him.

With tears streaming down her face, she sniffled and told her brother that she would marry him. He smiled at her and gestured for the Septon to start. Once he had the woman he longed for as his bride he threw her over his shoulder and began to make his way to the castle. While he consummated his new marriage, his guards would know what to do. He knew that he couldn’t let that blacksmith go. His new wife would only try and find him again so as he spilled his seed in his sister's cunt, down in the sept his guards took the blacksmith outside and cut his throat.

Aemond

Aemond wasn’t surprised when he noticed his sister begin to blush over a knight from Dorne. When they were younger she had always read about knights who fell in love with princesses. Knights who married them, and despite all of the obstacles they faced they always had a happy ending. She had been watching her Dornish knight for a while now, long enough for Aemond to realize that something was going on between the two of them.

Without realizing it, Aemond had begun to secretly follow the knight. Watching what he did throughout his days and nights, hoping to find something that he could tell his dear sister about. Aemond was going to marry her. He knew this in his bones but his sister had yet to come to understand that they were fated to be together.

At their evening meal, Aemond didn’t say anything as she talked excitedly about the next tourney that was to be held for Prince Maelor’s first name day. She talked endlessly about how the knight from Dorne would surely be the champion, as he clearly was more skilled than all of the others. Their mother only smiled politely at her daughter's gushing. She knew that her daughter had feelings for the knight, it was why she had gone to Aemond the other night and asked him to let his betrothal to his sister go so she may be happy with this other man. Aemond had only told his mother that he wouldn’t and that his sister would find happiness with him.

After they finished and everyone went to their separate chambers, Aemond grabbed his dark cloak and slipped out, and found the knight that had caught his sister’s eye. He eventually found him in the gardens whispering behind some hedges. He couldn’t see who the man was talking to but he heard plans on running away before the next tourney. Of escaping to the free cities and making the woman he talked to his bride. He smiled as he listened, finally, he had something he could tell his sister that stops her childish fascination with the knight.

It was t until the knight walked away finally that he saw the woman finally emerge from the hedges. His blood began to boil when he saw that it was not some random woman, but his sister. The woman he loved and planned to marry was making plans of running away with that lowborn Dornish bastard.

He followed his sister quietly as she made her way back to her chambers. His mind was spinning as he thought of what to do. He couldn’t allow her to run off with some other man. He knew if he told her about their betrothal it would only make her move her plans up so that she would be gone before he could call her his wife. Perhaps that was why when she slipped back into her chambers, he followed her. With a surprised gasp from her, he lowered the hood of his cloak and looked at his sister. She laughed and asked him what he was doing but he couldn’t seem to make himself talk. He finally knew what he had to do to make sure the woman he loved didn’t leave.

He stalked over to her silently and proceeded to grab her. He didn’t listen as her questions turned to protests or when she started to squirm and fight in his arms as he hauled her to her bed and climbed on top of her. This was not how he planned for this to go. He had thought they would be married when he finally took her to bed and when he finally slipped his cock inside of her she would moan and gasp and beg for more, not cry and try to feebly push him off of her, but he had to do this tonight. He knew that by taking her maidenhood tonight and informing his mother of what he did tomorrow morning that she would be his wife within the week and she wouldn’t be able to leave him.

When the tourney to celebrate Prince Maelor’s name day came around he sat beside his new wife as they watched the knights come out. His wife tensed when she saw the Dornish knight appear. Aemond only smiled, knowing that they hadn’t seen each other since that knight he took his sister’s maidenhood. When the knight looked up at the box they were sitting in, Aemond reached over and grabbed his sister's hand. The knight could look at his wife all he wanted but Aemond would have filled her with his seed before they arrived at the tourney and who would bring her back to their chambers afterward instead of going to the feast, and fuck her like he had been doing nonstop for the past several days.

Daemon

Daemon notices his sister falling for one of his gold cloaks before anyone else does. He saw the man watch his sister before but thought nothing of it. After all, his sister is one of the most beautiful women in the realm.

Daemon hadn’t tried to stop anything between his sister and one of his men. While he loved his sister and planned to marry her one day, that day wasn’t today. He thought he’d let her have her little infatuation before he took her for himself. He hadn’t expected Viserys to agree to let her marry the man. He knew things about this man that neither his brother nor his sister knew. He had spent time with him in brothels as he fucked his way through whores and laughed with his men as they all found pretty commoners to wet their cocks. It was fine to Daemon when that man was just a gold cloak, working for him, but now he was married to his sister and it made him burn with fury.

He couldn’t kill the man right away. He had no problem with his inevitable death looking suspicious, but his sister would never come to him willingly if she believed him to be her husband's murderer. So instead, he watched the two. At meals, he would make his sister’s husband squirm as he brought up old stories and at night he would sneak through the passageways and watch, hidden away, as his beautiful sister moaned under her husband.

It was on a night that he had hidden away to watch as his sister got fucked that he overheard their plans. Her husband wanted to leave. He wanted to take his sister away from King’s Landing and sail to the Free Cities. It took all of Daemon’s willpower to not barge into their chambers at that moment and strangle him. His sister wasn’t going to leave him, especially not for her lowborn bastard of a husband.

After they finished talking, Daemon watched as the other man undressed and pushed his sister down to her knees. He closed his eyes and imagined it was her gagging on his cock as he fucked her throat. He didn’t touch himself, though. He had a plan that needed to be done tonight or otherwise, he’d be saying goodbye to his sister soon.

When the couple finally fell asleep, Daemon snuck into his sister’s chambers. He wasn’t worried about waking her husband. After spending so long on the City Watch with the man, Daemon knew how heavy of a sleeper he was. He stood beside the bed and looked down at his sister’s naked form. It had been several months since she had married and she was yet to be with child. He knew she didn’t drink moon tea and he wouldn’t be surprised if her husband couldn’t give her a child. The man had many mistresses and not one bastard.

Daemon pulled the sheet off of his sister slowly and snuck into the bed beside her. She rolled over unconsciously so that she was facing her husband and Daemon couldn’t help the smirk that found its way onto his face. He pumped his cock a few times before rubbing it between her folds. She hadn’t moved as he did so, still sleeping soundly. When he finally pushed into her she stirred only slightly, she mumbled her husband's name and Daemon brought his hand to cover her mouth as he began thrusting into her wet cunt. Even in her sleep Daemon felt her flutter around him and in no time he was spilling his seed inside of her. When he pulled out of her he stayed a little longer as he watched his cum ooze out of her.

He returned every night and spilled himself inside of his dear sister as she lay sleeping. After two moons of him claiming her, she announced one morning that she was with child. She was showered in congratulations and only Daemon noticed that her husband was grinding his teeth beside her. It was when she was beginning to swell with the child that he had put in her that Daemon realized that now was the time to shed her of a husband. After all, he couldn’t have his child calling someone else father. So one night as they patrolled the streets of the city together, his sister’s husband found himself in an accident.

He returned to the castle and delivered the news himself. They were patrolling like usual when they decided to separate for a time. After an hour or so some commoner came running up to him and told him that one of his gold cloaks had his throat cut while in a brothel. His dear sister was inconsolable at first but after several moons had passed and the birth of their child grew near, Daemon suggested to her that she remarry.

His suggestion earned him a slap across the face but later that night his sister came to him and apologized. She told him that she knew that he was right and that it just felt wrong to marry someone while she was pregnant with her deceased husband's child. Daemon only brought her into his arms and shushed her. When she quieted he reminded her that her husband was found in a brothel. One of which he frequented often before she had married him. He told her she would not be the one disgracing him.

When he pulled back from her, his sister looked up at him with innocent wife eyes and almost everything in Daemon told him to take her to his bed. He fought against his urges and told her that he would marry her. He would raise her child like it was his and her child would not want for a father, the same as she would not want for a husband.

A week after their conversation, they stood together as they said their marriage vows. His sister couldn’t stand for long periods of time, her stomach so swollen that it tired her easily. He tried to look happy at being newly married and not triumphant in finally getting what he coveted for so long. When he took her the night of their wedding he no longer needed to fuck her slow and gentle. He didn’t need to worry about waking her and instead he watched as her milky tits bounced with every hard thrust of his.

It was only a moon later when his sister went into her labors and after several hours he was finally let into the room to see his wife laying in bed holding a small bundle. When he walked over to her he kissed her on the forehead and looked down at the coping bundle. The little boy had a patch of silver hair and large lilac eyes blinked up at him. He smiled down at his son and kissed his wife when she suggested naming the child after him. The man, she claimed, always took care of her and looked at her son as though the child was his. He nodded his head, agreeing to the name, and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from telling her that the child she held was truly his and not her first husband's.

[happilyhertale]

Do not sleep - Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Summary: An evening with your husband can be exhausting – but Daemon has no interest in letting you sleep.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!niece!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

I'm sorry it took so long for this story to come! But now, on the occasion of my 2k follower anniversary, a little Daemon Smut for you!

The story can be read as a stand-alone story or as a sequel to "Shared Future" English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.4 k

Other stories of mine

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Your eyes slowly close, but the smile doesn't leave your lips. The blanket envelops your bare skin, which is covered in a light sweat. Daemon's deep laugh echoes lightly through the room, a reaction to you calling him silly.

He presses his face gently into the crook of your neck, wrapping both arms around you from behind. He holds you so tightly that for a brief moment you fear you will never be able to move again. The warmth of your body flowing through Daemon's slowly makes him close his eyes too. His head is swimming, but he struggles to stay awake. It's just too good to be in your arms, he doesn't want to lose it.

"Don't fall asleep," he whispers suddenly, "I can't let you go yet.... Don't let you drift off to sleep yet"

You smile as his voice rings out, your eyes flutter open for a brief moment, but you lose the battle.

"Why...?" you finally whisper. Daemon gently brushes his nose along your neck, "Because I enjoy holding you like this.... I don't want to stop," he whispers softly.

But you only answer him with a sleepy moan.

"Please... just ten more minutes... Then I'll let you sleep," he whispers, even he knows how ridiculous this request is, but he can't help himself.

You laugh softly now, but you give in, "Okay... ten more minutes," you say softly and turn around in his arms, your purple Targaryen eyes meeting.

"But you'll be the one who's grumpy in the morning if you didn't get enough sleep," you say softly.

Daemon smiles gently, his fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You feel his chest rise and fall as his breathing slows and he just smiles at you. His fingers glide gently down your neck, leaving a tingling trail on your soft skin. His caresses continue on your shoulder as he begins to hum. Your smile widens as his deep voice rings out.

"A song of ice and fire..." he whispers. "And blood..."

He continues, looking deep into your eyes.

"I think my father made the right decision when he announced that I had to marry you," you whisper, biting your lip lightly.

"We're going to have a wonderful Targaryen family..." you whisper, running your hands over his firm chest – you feel the scars, achievements of dragon fire and battles.

Daemon leans forward, cupping your lips with his. His hands reach for your hips and he begins to caress your body. Almost gently, his fingers wander over your curves, gripping your soft flesh.

As Daemon processes your words, his lips curl into a smile.

"And an incredible marriage..." he whispers, letting his fingers slide on, "We are the definition of Targaryen. We would make Aegon and his sisters proud"

Your lips almost touch as you bite your lip lightly. Then you lean up and Daemon growls, disappointed at first. But then you swing your leg over his hip and you sit astride him, your hands sliding naturally onto his chest as your hips move slightly.

"Do you really think Aegon the Conqueror would be proud?" you ask seductively and Daemon growls slightly again, but this time not out of disappointment.

"That I married my uncle? That we'll have pure Targaryen children..." you say softly. His hands slide along your thighs to your hips, gripping you as his grin widens.

"I think he'd be proud to know that our house is as close to the gods as humans can get," he says playfully, no longer as serious as he usually is, but you manage to rouse his playful nature. You can see him staring at your body in the light of the candles, your curves and the way your body moves.

"Do you think the gods would approve of what we're doing?" he asks in a teasing tone. There's a certain innocence in the way he wants to hear your answer, but that doesn't make it any less attractive.

You start to move your hips a little more, eliciting another growl from Daemon. "I don't care what the gods think.... I love you..." you finally say softly, "And I love the fact that we're going to have pure Targaryen children..." you say seductively.

"That your seed makes me swell with your baby..." you say softly, watching Daemon's grin widen.

He slowly loses control of himself as you sit astride him and your hips move slightly. His fingers glide over your soft skin, leaving a fiery trail behind them as they slide to your bum and grab you. The fact that your skin is not covered by any clothes only excites him more. Your words intensify this arousal. The pride in his Targaryen heritage, the love and respect he feels for you, and how both together arouse him. He stares at your body and whispers softly as you move your hips.

"Does it make you proud? To have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror in you?" His voice is hoarse and a little rougher due to fatigue. There is passion and lust in his tone.

You listen to these words, loving the deep vibration of his voice as you reach for his hand and slowly guide it from your bum to your womanhood. You press his fingertips against your sensitive pearl, pushing your hips forwards slightly and making a rumbling sound in his chest.

"Yes..." you finally breathe, "Does it turn you on to have your niece as your wife...?" you ask softly, your voice a little breathless.

"It does," he whispers without hesitation, his voice a little rougher than usual. His hand trembles slightly, but he keeps it firmly where it belongs.

He stares at you as he presses his fingers onto your bundle of nerves. With your mouth slightly open, you sit on him and savour the feeling. He moans slightly as his fingers leave circular motions. His lust has taken control of his usual calm. There's something about this moment that feels more real than most.

You close your eyes and moan slightly as your hips continue to move.

The movement of his fingers is deliberate, but he takes his time. This is different from your previous lovemaking. He wants to see you squirm, he wants to see you moan. He wants to watch you while your body feels this pleasure.

There is nothing else on his mind but your body at this moment.

His fingers move faster, he feels the slickness of your arousal, smearing the wetness along your folds. Your fingers dig into his chest as you lean forward slightly, and another grunt escapes Daemon. His arousal can no longer be denied, his hardness presses against you and he begins to move his hips. Slowly he pushes it through your folds, making you shudder and whimper slightly. He watches you closely, but then he bites his lip and his free hand moves to your hip and his fingers explore your body, caressing your skin and playing with your flesh.

His hand glides down your body, over your soft skin, until he reaches for your breast and you gasp. His thumb teases your nipple while his other hand doesn't stop moving.

"Gods..." you whimper.

His cock continues to slide through your folds, back and forth, as his growl gets louder.

"Say it..." he suddenly whispers breathlessly, "Say you want to keep enjoying this. Say you want me to keep doing this until you can't take it anymore..."

His touch is gentle but firm – you can feel the heat of his fingers.

"Make me... make me squirm... make me come..." you whimper softly as your hips move almost desperately against his fingers.

Daemon grins slightly as he hears your words, noticing how your hips push against his fingers. He grunts slightly, his other hand finding its way to your hip, holding you tight.

"I'm your eager niece..." you suddenly whisper as you moan out.

His grin widens at the sound of your words. His hardness slides through your folds with each of his movements, soaked with your wetness.

"You will be the mother of my children and they will have your beauty and my strength," he whispers softly. He notices your thighs begin to tremble and he grunts again.

"Say my name," he whispers suddenly, "Say my name while I give you pleasure"

But you only moan as your fingers dig deeper into his chest. The movements of his fingers bring you to climax. Your head falls back as you moan loudly. Daemon feels the spasms of your cunt on his fingertips and he grunts loudly.

"Daemon... Daemon..." you whimper as his fingers continue to move.

Daemon smiles, his breathing heavy – he knows what you like.

"Good girl," he whispers as his fingers move slower. His other hand releases your hip and leaves caresses on your body, "But did I say you could come?" he whispers teasingly.

You're breathing heavily, still sitting astride him. His fingers are still embracing your womanhood.

"Forgive me..." you say with a gasp and a slight blush adorns his cheeks.

"You don't have to ask for forgiveness..." he whispers, but the smug smile doesn't leave his lips. His fingers begin to move again, and he pays attention to every little movement you make. The way your body twitches slightly as his fingers caress your sensitive pearl – his own arousal not gone in the slightest.

But his other hand is still on your hip, holding you tight. "It's not like you have much control over your body right now..." His voice is soft again, but you can hear the teasing.

You whimper slightly as his fingers move faster.

"Don't..." you whimper, trying to escape his grip.

"I'm sensitive... Daemon" you whimper, leaning on his chest and trying to lift your hips to move your womanhood away from his fingers.

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" *he whispers in his deep voice, "I love seeing your face when your body betrays you."

He watches closely how you react, every feature of your face, how your lips are slightly parted. The almost desperate, yet aroused, look in your eyes. Your face is so beautiful as you feel this way, and he can see that you're so close again and he's in control. 

"Good girl," he grunts as he notices your hips starting to move again.

Your eyes roll into the back of my head and you moan as you suddenly come again and soak his fingers. Your moaning and whining echoes in your chambers, accompanied by his grunting.

"Good girl..." he repeats his words and he grins.

Your body is his, and he's enjoying it. But he's still not done with you.

"We're not done yet..." He whispers softly as his fingers slow down. His voice is hoarse; there's so much lust in it.

"I'm not done with you yet," he whispers softly.

Without hesitation, he grabs your hips and lifts you up a little. He positions you just right, guiding the tip of his throbbing member to your drenched entrance. The feeling of your wetness on his cock sends a wave of pleasure through him, making his desire burn even hotter.

You moan as the tip of his cock presses against your entrance. He growls in response to your moans and his dominant nature takes over. The urge to claim you, his wife. The urge to feel your tightness consumes him completely. Without hesitation, he thrusts, slowly filling you inch by inch.

Your wetness surrounds him, your tightness grips his cock and he can't help but let out a deep, guttural growl. The feeling is overwhelming, the passion almost unbearable. He relishes the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

"You're so fucking tight... so wet..." he grunts as his hands rest on your hips, guiding you faster.

You slam yourself onto his cock over and over again. Daemon's eyes burn with desire as he watches him disappear into your tight cunt over and over again, as you ride him, soaking his cock.

"It hurts..." you whimper, but it turns him on even more and you can't stop as his cock teases your walls to the extreme.

"You like it when I take you like this, don't you?" he grunts.

"When I fill your pretty little cunt.... Feel every inch of me... take it," he grunts

You can only whimper and your cunt clenches around his cock again.

"Oh yes... I can feel you tightening... you love the way I fuck this cunt," he grunts.

His fingers dig into your hips as he matches your pace. Thrusting deep to meet your eager movements. The chambers are filled with the sounds of your lovemaking and your bodies slapping together.

His cock teases the rough spot deep inside you and you moan. Again and again he thrusts deep, making you squirm and whimper. The familiar pressure in your lower abdomen builds up again and your body trembles slightly. You bite your lip, your eyes closed.

"Daemon..." you can only whimper and then your walls clenches hard around his cock, milking it.

"Yes... Take my seed and let the baby grow," he hisses as he grunts loudly. His fingers dig deep into your soft flesh as he feels a twitch go through his balls and into his cock. You're still bouncing on his cock, your eyes closed, your mouth wide open as you moan, your cunt still clenching around his hard manhood. And that's enough for Daemon – he watches you, sees your breasts bouncing, he just grunts loudly, thrusts deep inside you once more and cums deep inside you.

He grunts and groans and closes his eyes. You're still moving your hips as the grip of his fingers loosens slightly. You breathe heavily and look at him while his eyes are closed and his heartbeat makes his whole chest tremble. For a moment it seems as if he's asleep – he just looks content. This brings a small smile to your lips and you lean down, your breathing still intermittent, but you can't resist. You kiss him gently. His lips curl into a smile as your lips meet. His eyes are still closed, his breathing is heavy, but his arms are now around you, holding you close.

"Now you may sleep...," he mumbles breathlessly and you respond with a giggle as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

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@hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemonds-eyeball @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @valeskafics @dreamlandcreations @hopelesswritergall @bl4ckph0enix @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @fan-goddess @msmorningstaarr

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

Aegon I Targaryen Masterlist

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Kinktober 2023-2024

Requests: Closed

Aegon I Targaryen: Ashara Martell

Aesthetics:

Ashara Martell aesthetic 2

One Shots:

Snakes and Flames

Requests:

Rhaena Balaerys Aesthetic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Ever since that running aemond pic came out I've been thinking non stop about his thighs so... would you like to write something involving riding aemond's thigh? I have no other wishes and I totally get it if you think that's not enough of a prompt. You can ignore this if you want but I'd love to see what you can come up with!

You asked for this back in June, I'm so sorry for how long this has taken me. I am a shambles of a human being, truly. I hope you've stuck around long enough to see this!

Warnings: Thigh riding, smut, me playing fast and loose with canon. Word count: ~1.3k

The candle that rests beside her on the reading table burns low as she sits in her and Aemond’s marital chambers. The book that is spread out in front of her, Coming of the Andals, lays unread; her fingers tap anxiously against its pages, as her eyes remain fixed upon the door.

Aemond had been called to a meeting of the Small Council. They both knew why, it has been a long time coming. The injuries that Aegon sustained during the battle of Rook’s Rest have left him bedridden, he is no longer fit to rule, and their grandsire’s capacity for what he can do in his stead has reached its limit. Westeros needs a Targaryen upon the throne, and Aemond is next in line. It is a position she knows that her husband is all too eager to fill.

He ought to be back by now though, it has been hours. The evening grows late, and she has long since sent away her chambermaids, refusing to be readied for bed. She has no desire to sleep until Aemond returns, so she forgoes the comfort of her nightgown, despite longing to unlace the meticulously fastened ribbons that hold her bodice tightly in place against her ribcage.

Tiredness and impatience pluck at her nerves, making her shift irritably in her chair. She startles at a polite rap at the door, if it was Aemond then he would simply walk in, he would not bother to knock. Her brow furrows in confusion as she rises, walking towards the door to open it.

She looks down into the wide eyed anticipation of one of the Keep’s page boys. He clears his throat before speaking.

“Apologies for the disturbance at such a late hour, Princess, Prince Aemond has requested your presence in the throne room.”

She sighs, nodding and bidding the young lad goodnight, before snuffing out the candle and making her way through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards the Great Hall. The walk is long, and she is grateful she has not yet changed into her nightclothes, as the gown she wears does little to keep the chill of the castle air from nipping at her skin. She would feel annoyed at Aemond insisting she come all this way, were it not for the mixture of curiosity and excitement that flutters lightly in her chest.

Pushing open the great oak and bronze doors, her eyes scan the long carpet that stretches the length of the room, up to the high, narrow steps that lead to the raised iron dais. Aemond sits upon the throne. She stands silently as she regards him. His arms rest on either side of the asymmetrical tangle of jagged and twisted blades, long fingers curled around the makeshift armrests.

He is dressed as he was when he had left her earlier that evening; black, leather tunic, black breeches and leather boots, except this time the Conqueror’s crown sits atop his snowy head of hair, the Valyrian steel and rubies gleaming iridescent in the moonlight. He cuts quite the imposing figure as his single eye stares at her impassively.

Slowly, she descends the steps into the Hall, making her way along the carpet, maintaining eye contact with her husband the entire time. His lips quirk, the faintest trace of amusement tugging at their corners as he observes the unhurried pace with which she moves. It is not until she stands before the throne that he bothers to speak.

“It is not polite to keep your King waiting,” he utters quietly.

“Prince Regent,” she corrects him. “And it is not becoming of a King to rouse ladies from their slumber in the middle of the night.”

He huffs through his nose, smirking at her as he leans forward slightly. “You do not appear to be dressed for sleep. I must say, I am disappointed.”

“It is improper for a lady to greet the King in such a state of undress, or is that how you will have all the ladies of the court attend to you?”

“Hmmm. I have not yet decided how I would like you to attend to me. Will you curtsy to me?”

“Never,” she whispers with a playful giggle.

“Such insolence must be met with the King’s justice.”

She takes his hand as he offers it out, gasping as he tugs her forcefully up to him, her knees landing either side of one of his, as she sits against his thigh. Even through her skirts she can feel the unyielding sharpness of the throne beneath them. She steadies herself, placing her hands upon the smooth suppleness of the leather that covers his shoulders.

Aemond grasps her waist with one hand, the other moving to weave itself into her hair, as his eye drinks her in. She allows her gaze to wander to the crown, taking in the way it sinks into the thick silkiness of his hair.

“It suits you,” she says quietly.

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“And is this what has kept you from our bed?”

“I wanted you to see.”

He flexes his thigh, raising his leg to brush against her clothed core and she sucks in a shaky breath, the sensation causing a jolt that makes her throb with want.

“I would have seen…” she retorts with a slight whine, as the hand holding her waist moves to her hip, gripping it tightly and encouraging her to grind against him.

“Not like this,” he hisses, tugging her head back by her hair and mouthing hotly at her neck.

She moans, her nails digging into his shoulders to ground herself, as she fucks herself against his thigh, aided by the occasional bounce and flex of the muscle from Aemond. The ache between her legs is almost unbearable, the gusset of her smallclothes growing sticky with arousal, as the sensation of his lips upon her flesh makes her shudder.

“This moment is just for us,” he mutters, pushing and pulling her more forcefully against him, encouraging her to move faster. “But we shall have many more like it.”

“Gods, Aemond, please,” she whimpers, insides clenching around nothing as the friction against her aching pearl grows more intense.

“I will fuck a babe into you upon this throne,” he snarls, shifting his hand from her hair to pluck harshly at the lacings of her gown, before tugging down her bodice and wrapping his lips around the peak of her breast.

Arching against him, she buries her hands in his hair, keeping him anchored to her chest. The warmth of his scalp and the softness of the tresses between her fingers are oddly juxtaposed with the hardened coolness of the Valyrian steel that crowns Aemond’s head, but she has little time to dwell upon it.

She cants wantonly against Aemond’s leg, the pressure in her lower belly increasing, aided by the swirl of his wet tongue against her sensitive nipple. When it finally yields, she collapses forward against him with a strangled cry of pleasure, a rush of wetness soaking her smallclothes and leaving a damp patch on the area of her husband’s trousers that she rests against. Warmth cascades over her body, making her feel boneless as she pants for breath and Aemond’s lips release her with a wet pop.

He holds her steady, leaning back to look at her, as a cat might regard a mouse it toys with. His hooded eye roves over her glassy eyes, her parted lips, her bare chest, before he lifts a hand to adjust his crown slightly. “Hmmm. Yes. It makes everything look better.”

[darlingofvalyria]

in hightower green— a masterlist.

The life and lies of the secondborn daughter of Viserys I, twin to Aegon Targaryen II, her rise to power and prominence, and her bountiful marriage to King Jacaerys Velaryon, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.

For her crown, though no conqueror wore, was bathed in the shadows of the silent battles and wars she had won. For the Kingdom and for her lineage. Though she too wore many names, those that knew the stories— or the whispers — called her by others.

The Bastard Eater. The Kingmaker. The Spider Singer. The Emerald Fire.

+18 MDNI | Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Targaryen!Reader, (Aegon's twin)

｡˚ ❀↳˗ˏˋ please make note of the different TWs by each part ˊˎ˗ ↴

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MAIN STORY (chronological order; you can technically read it them each as one shots) ::;˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

I. IN SCALES OF GREEN, DRESSED IN SEA | smut, angst = The honour-bound prince does not want you. Or so he tells himself.

II. IN CLOTH OF BLACK, BABE IN BLOOD | angst, smut = Through all your scheming— you had made a mistake. It is about to cost you everything.

III. IN BASTARDS OF BLUE, WAGER IN WAR | angst, smut PART ONE | PART TWO (coming soon) = When whispers of the dalliance of bastards reach your ears, your vengeance roars for Winterfell.

(cold feet)

｡˚ ❀↳˗ˏˋ ADDENDUM STORIES ˊˎ˗ ↴🌸

COLD FEET | fluff | you talk your daughter down from her cold feet.

AU! | A DALLIANCE OF DRAGONS | smut, angst | after your husband betrays you, you turn to your uncle for help.

THE CHILDREN (& LEGACY)

FIC TAG MOODBOARDS | [ The Queen Consort & Gaelithox ]

Message to be added to the taglist!