#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction

[crescenthoax]

“Please. Make me forget. It's over. I know it’s over. It's over. But I no longer know who I am.”

“(…) You speak of survival, yet what you truly desire is victory. You cloak this delicate ego of yours beneath the guise of a yearning for peace. At what cost, Annika? What kind of victory is it the one who begets more adversaries and puts further walls between you and the world?”

i’m never gonna love (again) – chapter xxxiv

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Hello!!! For the requests, can I request one for Aegon II? Pregnancy kink and maybe some family fluff with reader and Aegon's kids?

Divine Honour.

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader

WORDS: 1,515.

WARNINGS: domesticity, references of p in v sexual intercourse, pregnancy kink/breeding kink, lactation kink, breast play, swearing, possessive!Aegon ii, slight exhibitionism.

A/N - literally anything that involves Aegon with kids, domesticity and breeding/pregnancy kink is my weakness... I am a whore like that. hope you enjoy, I've combined these two requests :) also dedicating this as a little gift to you all in honour of the King's bday!!!!

"Father! When can we choose an egg for the babe? Meraxes has laid a fresh clutch!"

"How much longer must we wait for this babe?!"

"B-Bub!"

The uproar of their high-pitched, eager voices left Aegon defeated, as he swiftly picked his youngest in his bulky arms, lifting the little princess onto his seated lap, where she settled herself comfortably. Babbling incomprehensible sounds [as she was still yet a babe herself, only able to muster a few coherent words] and idly pointing at your round, swollen belly. Your elder sons on the other hand, twins nonetheless, found themselves encircling their father like hounds, pouncing at his sides, desperate for answers, as you waddled yourself over to the edge of the royal bed, where they outnumbered Aegon.

"How many times must I tell you this, boys? When the babe is ready to come, it will come! Any day now, you'll have either a baby brother or little sister that you can dote on and protect for hours on end... Is that understood?"

The silver-haired boys both ecstatically eyed each other, giddy with excitement and anticipation for the newest arrival into the family, refusing to stand still. Turning towards you, your youngest only a few minutes apart from his elder, Rhaego, warmly embraced your side, careful with his grip around your protruding belly.

"You will find us when the babe is coming? Promise us, mother, that you will!"

The streak of worry tinged across his small, growing face, was enough to melt your heart. He was your exact twin, with some of Aegon's Valyrian-esque features. A smaller boy than his brother, and far more emotionally attached to you.

"Of course, my love. I will need you by my side, okay?"

"Now the lot of you, off to bed! Your mother needs her rest-"

Aegon's deep, stern voice clouded the room, before being met with the sighs and sounds of defeat from his twin boys. Gesturing for your lady in waiting, Sara, to make herself present: leading the boys, Rhaego and Aenys, out, as you warmly kissed each goodnight. Your littlest babe remained safe and sound, wrapped in Aegon's arms, desperately trying to stay awake, as she drifted in and out of sleep.

"And this little princess—”

The sudden drop in his tone, speaking in a volume only above a whisper, and far more softer, was enough to prove that your little girl was Aegon's weakness.

"My little Aelora, just doesn't want to sleep. She has far too much fun with her Daddy."

He plants a tender peck on her head, as she brightly smiles up at her father, taking much of his likeness, before rubbing her small eyes with her tiny fists, edging closer to slumber.

"Here—Here, she just needs her mother's boring touch to put her to sleep”, you tauntingly exclaim.

In exchange for his amusement, you take the babe in your arms, cradling her above your belly, as you gently sway her, lulling her to sleep. Aegon finds himself walking towards the edge of the bed, as he begins to undress, unbuttoning his tunic. Watching you from a meek distance, he feels a palpable twitch beneath the dark fabric of his pants, feels more tighter than he had noticed moments before. His thick cock stirring with excitement, as he witnesses the surreal vision of you holding his babe, whilst carrying his other unborn child.

"You truly are a divine sight, my love... You've never looked more beautiful than you do now."

His heavy words caught your immediate attention, as your focus pans from the sleeping babe to Aegon, looking rather ravenously at you. Although his orbs a light lilac shade, his gaze felt rather dark and menacing, his plump, cherry lips licked and glazing in the candle light. He looked as though he could devour you right there and then, you were rather familiar with this particular sight of your husband.

"Is that so?" You softly chuckle, turning from Aegon to the silent babe, before resuming your attention once more unto him.

"I do not feel so. I feel I am at my heaviest, Aeg. You honestly do not mean to say I am-"

Pouncing to stand, his heavy and heated footsteps pace towards you, a firm grip tugging at your silky night gown by your hips.

"Speak no more, Y/N. You cannot fathom how irresistible you look to me in this very instance... Put her down, I think she's deep in her sleep now, Mumma."

The firmness in his deep voice, almost a mimic of a growling predator, was an occurrence you saw in court, with your husband upholding his position as King. Aegon had established himself as a formidable man, despite the doubts surrounding his succession. You obeyed his command, gently lowering Aelora into her crib, as you nestled the babe in her minuscule, handwoven duvet.

"Come here—”

Gesturing you towards the end of the bed, his wolfish eyes lingered over your every inch, every detail of exposed skin, his hands wandering in sync with the insatiable lust in his eyes, as though it was your wedding night all over again.

"You think you do not look divine? Carrying my precious babe not only in your arms, but in your womb as well? Do you not think it an honour to carry and bear the seed of the King? Need I fuck you s'more and plenty, my dearest. Swelling you with as many children as your body can take, for you to understand your significance, hmm?"

Thoughtless against his lust-filled words, you hadn't even realised how swift and deliberate Aegon's sensual movements were, snaking his sturdy arms around your swollen, tender body, weak against your husband's touch. His soft lips latched to your tender skin, suckling at the sweet crevices of your neck, feeling your Grace slowly making his way carefully down, towards your busting cleavage, as he sat himself down by the end of the bed, pulling you closer towards him, trapped between his thickly sprawled thighs.

"Does your King not make you feel good? Have I failed you as your sovereign and as a husband, hmm? Need I spoil you more than I have already?"

Candidly unbuttoning the few clasps of your low-cut ivory nightgown, your tender, perky breasts instantly exposed themselves to your Grace, each tit filling with milk in preparation for the royal babe. The wintry, crisp air of the night left your skin crawling with chills, and Aegon's calloused hands, groping at each breast did not numb the feeling at all.

"N-No- Ahh, Aeg—"

"So fucking sensitive, look at you... I did this, I did this to you, you do well to remember that—"

"Y-Yes, y-your Grace," You feebly whimper, one hand firmly clasped over Aegon's broad shoulder and the other tangled in the short strands of his platinum locks: desperate to keep composure, as he taunts your delicate body. Flicking his thumb over the peaking buds of your raw, sensitive nipples, deeply chuckling to himself as he earns a helpless moan from you.

"Your body knows exactly how to take, my beloved. Knows what it is expected of, made to take my seed so fucking well, huh? Look at how steady your belly grows day by day, our babe kicking healthily inside... How these tits swell with that sweet, heavenly milk of yours, hmm? You were born for this, my dear. Made ripe for the taking of the King himself."

Without a second to spare, not even so much for a breath, Aegon's ravenous mouth latched itself onto your breast. His warm, slick tongue flicking at your nipple, suckling fiercely, eager for a drop of flavour. Instinctively your hands immediately drop onto his hefty shoulders, nails digging into the thick padding of his apparel. As you gradually grew more accustomed to the exhilarating sensation, your hands travelled their way back up, busying themselves by tugging and pulling at his silver strands: occasionally even guiding Aegon's head deeper into your bosom, keen to satisfy your King's insatiable hunger.

M-My body at th-the disposal of th-the King... The g-greatest honour b-bestowed. K-Keep fucking me, keeping m-me full of his seed—"

The mouth clasped tightly around your breast, a hand remained groping, kneading at your swollen flesh, whilst his other roamed below, firmly squeezing and palming at your ass cheek.

His stout chest heaving breathlessly, as he regained himself: Aegon's mesmerizingly violet eyes fluttered shut momentarily, before gazing upon you intently, a sly smirk strewed across his handsome face.

"Hmm, that's right, my beloved... We might even populate the Red Keep alone, and everyone will know exactly who you answer to... Everyone shall know that I be the man who fucks you hard time and time again, how well your pretty cunt takes my cock and seed. And when your body shows, everyone will know how willing your body is craving to be full of me. My beloved loves the attention from her King, yes?"

"I do, Aeg."

"And I love you... And the children, even the ones you will bear in time... I love you, just as you are."

general taglist - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11

credit for divider - @/firefly-graphics

[aemondsbabe]

Anniversary

summary: swimming & face fucking || you and aegon relax at a snowy cabin in winter town for your first anniversary

pairing: modern!aegon x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, i love him idk, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day four of 12 days of smuff!! surely this counts for swimming they are at least in some water lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

You let out a soft sigh and relax further into the balmy water, letting your eyes slip shut as wafts of steam warm your face, which contrasted nicely with the cold mountain air that blew in breezes all around you. Your lips can’t help but curl up into a soft smile as bubbles gently break across the surface of your bare skin, tickling slightly as they rise to the surface of the water. 

“Okay,  you were right,” Aegon rasps next to you, his signature soft smirk audible in his words, “Maybe celebrating our anniversary in Winter Town wasn’t such an awful idea.” 

You blow a huff of laughter through your nose as you crack open an eye to peer at him — watching as he lets out a contented sigh, head tilted back against the lip of the hot tub, along with his stocky arms. Your eye opens a bit more as you let your gaze linger for a second longer, taking in the soft pink blush smattered across his full cheeks and the way silvery strands of hair stuck against the top of his forehead from the steam billowing up off the surface of the water. 

“Better than Dorne?” You tease, letting your eye slip shut once more. 

You hear him let out a soft laugh next to you before he sighs happily again, “Better than Dorne.” He agrees, voice strained as though he were speaking through a stretch. 

The two of you stay that way for an indiscernible amount of time, minutes seeming to blur together as jets massage every inch of you. 

Suddenly, you feel the water seem to shift around you and you open your eyes, smiling when you see that Aegon has chosen to move much closer, his shoulder nearly bumping against yours. 

“Hi,” you say simply, peering up at him through your lashes before you turn and lay back against him, your back against his side. 

He quickly readjusts and hooks both of his arms around your middle, his hands resting idly just underneath your breasts. “Hey,” he chuckles, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the damp hair at the top of your head, “Come here often?” He teases; you can practically feel his chest swell with pride as you laugh against him. 

“As it just so happens, this is my first time,” you reply, tilting your head back to look up into his violet eyes, “Although, I happen to be on an anniversary vacation with my boyfriend.” Your smirk quickly turns into a pleased hum as he cups your breasts in his warm hands, your nipples hardening as you arch your back enough for them to rise out of the warm water. 

“He sounds very lucky,” he rasps, savoring your gasps as he kneads the fat of your breasts, eyes glimmering at the whimpers you let out every time his thumbs skim across your nipples. 

You reach a hand up and twine your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “He tells me quite often he is,” you breathe before tugging his face down to yours and hungrily pressing your lips against his. 

Both of you sigh into the kiss, your lips moving together lazily, unhurried. Aegon groans above you when he feels your tongue brush over his bottom lip, his hands grasping tighter to your breasts as he parts his pouty lips and lets you lick eagerly into his mouth, a gesture he happily returns as your tongues languidly swirl together. 

The two of you kiss for a while, moving against one other leisurely, each of you drinking down the other’s small noises of pleasure. 

Before too long, though, Aegon started to become restless and you smiled into the kiss when his touches became more desperate — harder, more incessant. You squeak against his lips when one large hand comes down and suddenly cups your center, already bare from when you’d both decided to forego swimsuits. 

“Wait!” You breathe, sitting up and disentangling yourself from your boyfriend’s arms. 

“Everything okay?” He asks with concern, one eyebrow quirked up. 

You can’t help but smile, endeared at his concern, although you quickly correct yourself with a sly smirk before you lean in and press kisses in a trail, starting at his chest and working your way up and over his collarbone and neck until you reach his ear. 

“Just want you in my mouth…” you tease, biting your lower lip as you pull back just enough to peer into his eyes.

“That can be arranged,” he says around a gruff laugh before tilting his head toward the sliding glass door that leads back into the small, cozy cabin you’d rented for the weekend, “Shall we head inside?”

You nod with a small giggle as you pull yourself from the bubbling water, squealing playfully when he takes the opportunity to smack a hand against your ass. The two of you quickly skitter inside, the cold air instantly nipping at your skin. 

You sigh a sigh of relief as you make it into the cabin, happy to be out of the cold breeze. Aegon makes quick work of the sliding door, quickly locking it into place before he takes one of your hands and leads you to the soft leather sofa in the middle of the room, a pleased smirk on his face. 

“I believe someone said something about getting their mouth on me…” he said, quirking his head to the side in mock contemplation as his hands settled on your hips; he presses a soft kiss to your lips before plopping himself down on the couch, one hand wrapping loosely around his already half-hard cock as he stares at you expectantly. 

You merely give him a playful eye roll before sinking to your knees between his thighs, the plush fur rug cushioning your knees from the wood floors of the cabin as the heat from the small fireplace in the corner of the room warms your back. 

He meets your gaze with a groan, tongue darting out to wet his lips when you place your hands on the tops of his thighs; the hand around his cock relaxes at his side. 

You lean in and press soft kisses to the light trail of hair that leads down from his bellybutton, taking your time before softly licking at the head, a pleased hum bubbling up from your throat at the salty taste of his pre-cum. 

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs above you, dark eyes nearly black as he watches you gently lick and kiss around the tip of his cock, “That’s it.” He praises when your lips wrap around him and eagerly suck him into your mouth. 

You groan softly, relishing the heavy weight of him on your tongue, before you begin bobbing your head. You wrap one hand around the base, stroking what little of his considerable length you can’t fit into your mouth, as you look up at him through your lashes, your eyes scanning over the pale planes of his chest before locking with his eyes once more. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he huffs above you, pushing a stray lock of hair out of your face, “So beautiful with my cock in your mouth, hm?” 

You nod as best you can, eyes watering slightly as the head of him pokes against the back of your throat. You can already feel his length twitch in your mouth, feeling cocky as you cup his stones with one hand, smirking when you find them already tightening up as you roll them gently in your hand in a way that makes Aegon’s head tilt back with a loud, drawn out groan. 

You move against him for a minute more, your other hand gripping at the top of his thigh as lewd wet noises fill the cabin. He can’t help but curl in on himself slightly when you run your tongue over that one sensitive area at his head, a hiss leaving his lips as one hand cups the back of your head. 

“Seven Hells,” he mutters, swallowing thickly before just barely canting his hips up, eyebrows furrowed in a silent question as his eyes meet yours, “‘M close, princess, please — fuck!” 

You can’t help but giggle around his length, nodding the best you can. He makes a soft sound of relief before the hand at the back of your head tightens in your hair; you steel yourself, groaning as he begins rutting his hips up into your waiting mouth. 

He lets out a beautiful whining groan above you, relishing the way his cock slides so easily in and out of your mouth as his tip prods deliciously at the back of your throat. 

“Shit,” he grunts, guiding your head down at the same instant he snaps his hips up, watching intently as your eyes roll back into your head, pleased at how you seem to enjoy this just as much as he does, “Gonna cum down that pretty throat, fuck.” He warns, gripping tighter at your hair as he starts to lose himself. 

You nod as best you can, sealing your lips around his cock a bit harder, squelching noises filling your ears as you choke around his length. Tears spring to your eyes as he thrusts a handful more times before his hips still, cock buried down your throat for a second as he all but growls above you. 

Pride fills your chest as you feel his length twitch against your tongue, the heady taste of his spend fills your mouth as you swallow around him, careful to breathe through your nose. 

After a moment, the fingers in your hair relax, allowing you to pull yourself off of him with a soft pop, smirking as you press soothing kisses to the insides of his thighs before you push yourself off the floor, wiping a hand across your mouth as you join him on the sofa. 

“I take it you enjoyed that?” You ask softly, chuckling at the soft moan that sounds from his throat as you straddle his legs, your breasts pressed up against his warm chest as you settle yourself in his lap. 

“You are goddess,” he murmurs, half-lidded eyes peering up at you as his hands come to rest on your hips. 

You merely chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair, gasping as he pulls you to him, violet eyes flicking up to yours before he runs his tongue over one of your nipples, sealing his soft lips around the bud for a moment as he suckles it into his mouth. 

“Aegon…” you breathe above him, whining as his hands sink down to cup your bum, pressing you harder against him still, as if he can’t be close enough to you. 

“Give me ten minutes and I’m yours,” he promises roughly, nose digging into the fat of your breast as he busies himself against your chest. 

You sigh softly and pull him up, slotting your mouth against his.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

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[aemxnd]

the fire king | aegon ii targaryen x velaryon wife!reader

Aegon needs to have his own way for once. 

Inspired by a filthy anon request for Aegon with absolutely no limits…

WARNINGS: consensual non-consent/dub-con, basically p0rn with very little plot, canon typical incest, v fingering, squirting, physical force, p in v, language, praise, degrading, mention of virginity loss, overstimulation, aegon going from cute to angry to cute again, slightly fluffy if you squint, absolutely not proofread sorry not sorry

WORDS: 5.5k

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Fuck this. 

Aegon’s mind rattled through the infinite curses that could spill from his tongue in that moment, yet his immutable standing as King of the realms forbade him, an invisible gag clutching at his lips.

Fuck. This. 

The council meeting had dragged on with no tangible progress, supporters whining about Rhaenyra’s uprising from her Dragonstone seat, hapless solutions to an impending battle floating in the stagnant air and looming like a stormcloud in the room. Although he’d resigned himself to his fate as their chosen heir to the Iron Throne, it brought Aegon no joy to bear witness to the endless bickering in his name. No matter how hard he protested, his mother or grandsire would soon interject with an alternative, alluding that they knew best and it would be wise to follow their instruction. A king in nothing but name, Aegon had no true command over his own destiny. Compliance came first, contentment came second. 

Fuck all this. 

Aegon’s fingers danced over the glass orb perched before him, the pad of his thumb gliding over its cool, smooth surface his only distraction from the banality of his position. Like his idly occupied digits, memories swirled of a more peaceful time spent in the bowels of the Street of Silk, when a simple cloak could conceal his identity yet the mere mention of his name would open doors closed to all but the onetime prince of the realm. Although such heady freedoms had been snatched from him with the placing of the crown upon his silver curls, there was only one thing such halcyon days of his life lacked: his Queen.

Betrothed to the youngest of Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen’s heirs since the Driftmark succession, the pairing sought to publicly immortalise the union between High Tide and the Red Keep, or at least in the eyes of the slowly perishing King Viserys who longed for peace between his Targaryen offshoots before he departed his mortal body. Little did the two factions expect the couple forced together for political appearances would fall so deeply in love as Aegon and the Lady Velaryon. From the moment their eyes first met over the grand banquet at the succession, every interaction between them seemed as natural as breathing. From chaste brushes of fingers as they clanked goblets in toasts to Aegon’s uncharacteristic soft giggles as his gaze dropped comfortably to his chest before snapping back to lose himself in her lilac eyes.

The Lady Velaryon brought out the best in the drunken prince in the blink of an eye. He swore off cups and promiscuity that same night, resolving that no amount of bitter wine and fleeting company could rival the ecstasy coursing through his veins when his betrothed looked upon him as if he were the only man in the known world. 

The star-crossed lovers were wed the next day, saving their first kiss for the moment they were announced man and wife. Aegon stepped nervously toward her, reaching a hand to cup her cheek and capturing her lips, two jigsaw pieces slotting into place. In the years that followed, his lady wife guided Aegon through his father’s demise, his council’s enforcement of his claim to the Iron Throne against his father’s final wishes, and the ensuing rise of incurable ill will between House Targaryen’s fiery branches. Throughout the rumbles of conflict that would surely melt down the Iron Throne, the only constant in his life would be the Queen at his side, hands clasped at her front and a comforting grin dancing across her lips. Whatever troubled waters he faced in the day, he could always retire to his chambers to the calming brook of his wife’s arms. Although the therapeutic steady stream would soon burst into a fierce waterfall once Aegon’s hands fell upon her irresistible frame, their tidal waves colliding together among the sheets and crafting a devastating tsunami in their wake.

“Your Grace?” The distant voice of the Hand called through Aegon’s dream-like stupor, snapping his consciousness back to the dimly-lit council meeting hall. Vision focusing slowly on the Hand’s figure standing bolt upright across the table, his countenance expectant yet determined all at once. “What do you suggest, your Grace?”

“I… uh…,” Aegon stuttered, gaze darting around the table for a signal of the conversation he missed, meeting only blank faces eagerly awaiting his response. “I… think we should all… uh… retire for the evening. It is late, we have spent hours debating our next move and now the hour of the owl is almost upon us, our judgement is clouded. I order you all to return to your chambers to consider the situation anew on the morrow.”

Aegon slammed his fists on the table insistently, rising to his feet with their aid as the eyes of the room bore into him bewildered. 

“Your Grace, I strongly suggest we—.”

“Yes, grandsire, I am certain you have a veritably long-winded suggestion to raise to keep us here until daybreak,” Aegon seethed through gritted teeth, fists tightening beneath him against the ageing wood. “But I, on the other hand, have a wife I must attend to. I trust you remember what that feels like.”

A stony silence fell amongst the present number, Otto’s brows knitted together.

“But your Grace, I must protest—.”

“I dare you to protest against me once more, ser!” Aegon’s tightly coiled temper snapped into a booming roar, his bark still echoing around the chamber seconds after his last syllable left his tongue. “And I will have your head on a spike for defying the King’s orders!”

The tension in the hall was so palpable, Aegon could swear the very air hanging over the council table pulsed and swelled, taking on a deep crimson hue. His own laboured breaths from his outburst burst through the uncomfortable silence, taking deep inhales as he scanned each face to ensure compliance had fell upon them all. 

“Good, I can see we have all come to an agreement,” Aegon kicked his chair aside and bounded across to the door, bellowing on his exit: “On the fucking morrow.”

The doors on Aegon’s furious journey back to his chambers bowed out of his path in the same manner he would wish from the council, days wasted trying and failing to persuade his own trusted advisors to acquiesce to his will when he could be laying with his lady wife, or rather hammering her very skeleton into the mattress beneath him. As he meandered around identical flagstoned corridors, Aegon wrung his hands before him, pressing his thumbs into the flesh until it turned a white hot beneath the pressure. His plan of action lay before him as straight as the horizon, arriving at the door to his marital chambers sooner than he expected. A deep sigh escaped him as he laid his hand on the wood that came between him and his final destination, squeezing his eyes shut before plunging through the portal without a care for what he would find on the other side. 

Spinning to close the door against his back, Aegon discovered you surrounded by maids clutching at your heavy gown, the weight of its deep green velvet making the fabric plummet to pool at your feet as they disrobed you to your smallclothes. You spun on your heels to face your husband, your maids hurriedly curtsying in their arranged circle around you. 

“Good evening, your Grace,” you chimed sweetly, a warm smile spreading across your cheeks as your gaze fell upon the man who held your heart from the moment you first met. 

“Leave us, ladies,” he sighed gently, not expecting to be heard. 

“Yes, your Grace,” each lady chirped, gathering the fabric from the floor and dutifully scurrying from the room. 

Aegon cast a confused glance at the flurry of ladies sweeping past him, heads bowed to avoid his vision. “Well, that was alarmingly easy.”

“Has the council finally set you free, dear husband?” You cooed, pacing gently toward him. 

“It would appear so,” he stated matter-of-factly, battling his own better judgement to revive the anger he felt before he opened the door and found the beauty of his lady wife.

“I was just trying on a new gown for Aemond’s return from Storm’s End. Gods be good you just missed the full show, I was hoping to keep it a secret for the grand occasion.”

Upon your arrival before him, you raised the back of your hand to graze against his cheek. His alabaster skin was searing hot with pent-up rage, the young king closing his eyes and dipping gently into the sensation of your cool skin melting his resolve. 

When his eyes opened again, however, his lilac gaze darkened to a pitch black.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded through gritted teeth, his jaw tensed as he spat each syllable with a sinister venom. “Now.”

“Y… yes, your Grace?” You half-questioned, scanning his face for confirmation yet finding nothing but a half-shaken resolve before treading tentatively away toward the four-poster. Two half-hearted steps later, Aegon lunged forward and briskly grasped your arms, his nimble fingers blazing a trail downwards to lock your hands behind your back, pulling you flush to his chest.

“Resist me with all your might and I shall reward you with every peak you desire,” Aegon purred into the shell of your ear, planting a kiss where his words left behind goosepimples. “What word will you say to cease my advances should you feel unsafe, issa jorrāelagon?” My love. 

You choked lightly as you composed your thoughts, thoughts swirling back to the previous occasion where Aegon insisted on proclaiming a word which would enable each of you an instant escape if either of you had taken your bedroom escapades too far. In the moment those two words hung in the air between you, you were to release one another without question or complaint, untie any restraints and salve any wounds or pain that might be caused.

“S… Sunfyre, ñuha perzys dārys,” you stuttered, hardly able to hear your own words over his deafening quickened breaths behind your ear, every second of holding you to his will driving his restrained fury to the surface. My fire king.

“Good girl,” he hummed into your ear, planting another confirming kiss on your ear before stepping you carefully forward. “Let’s get you on the bed.”

Aegon’s loose clasp of your hands and gentle treads forward betrayed his demands, his careful handling of his delicate wife ensuring your safety. The sole cause of the cold dread flooding through your veins as you approached the edge of the bed was when the kindnesses would cease and the ruthless Aegon would arrive. He had only made a handful of appearances in the bedroom before, but he had always been introduced well in advance. Tonight, you had no preparation, no introduction, only fear of where his limits lay this night. 

Your knees nudged to the wooden bed frame and you instinctively swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes together in prayer for your husband’s mercy once he had fucked his frustrations into you. 

“Do not be afraid, ñuha embar dāria,” he soothed, planting another reassuring kiss into the nape of your neck. My sea queen. “I do not intend to hurt you.”

Releasing your hands from behind your back, his own traversed your frame to unbutton your smallclothes until the linen pooled at your feet, the cold air of the chamber pricking your skin as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. Aegon gripped your forearm and spun you on your heels to face him, his eyes now blackened and menacing as they consumed the sight of you. 

“I only intend to break you.”

With a forceful palm pressed into your chest, Aegon pushed you down to the sheets, tumbling onto the soft mattress beneath you. His reckless silver curls framed his face as he towered at the foot of the bed, your thighs clenching together before him. 

“Tell me to stop,” he commanded, frantically battling to decimate his own black clothing from his frame, the three-headed dragon cast to the floor to remove all semblance of ceremony between you. “Order me to cease and I will force you to take what I give you.”

His words alone sent you gently writhing among the sheets as he kneeled on the edge of the mattress, the mere thought of Aegon not taking no for an answer had never really crossed your mind before. His lovemaking was always a level playing field, constant hushed queries of your current state spilling whenever you had fallen too silent for his liking. This new relentless version of your husband intrigued you, but also paralysed you to the spot with anxiety where this new facade would draw the line with you, if indeed such a line existed. 

“You look so beautiful like this,” he gloated, groaning hungrily deep in his throat as he consumed the sight before him, your anticipation of his next move utterly palpable. “So fragile, so delicate… so submissive.”

The predatory tone in his voice hitched your breaths in your lungs, coming out as ragged exhales as he crawled onto the bed, sharply nudging his knees between yours and forcefully parting your thighs, both hands braced on either side of your head and caging you to the spot. Gazing down at you through tumbling silver waves, Aegon tutted and skewed the corner of his lip in disapproval. 

“I don’t see you fighting me, dear wife. Do you perhaps need reminding that I will not continue if you do not obey my orders?”

You gulped so loud, the thrum of your throat could well have echoed around the deathly silence of the chamber. Aegon leaned to hover his lips over yours, towering over you with a menacing grin as he watched you feign a squirm beneath him. His mouth drew nearer, breaths fanning your face and you pressed your eyes closed, jerking your face to one side away from him as if your life depended on swerving his kiss.

“That’s my girl,” Aegon growled, one hand fired to grab your jaw and yanked you to face him, crashing his lips against yours and fervently pressing into you. Your false grunts of resistance vibrated into his mouth and drove him to consume you further, greedily smashing into you and nibbling at your bottom lip. “I knew you could do it.”

His fingertips digging hard into your cheeks, your jaw constricted in his grasp and your soft flesh paled to a searing hot white beneath his grip. 

“Get off me,” you snapped through gritted teeth, testing your ability to resist him by squirming and thrashing your head in his hold. “You’re power mad, Aegon, you can’t just take me when you feel like it.”

“You think so?” Aegon half-roared deep in his throat, eyes narrowing to a sinister sneer looming down over you. “I’ve spent all fucking day in that council being told what to do, I have no say in my own destiny so for once, just this once, do as I say.”

Releasing his grip on your face, his seizing hand fired down to your thigh, clutching at the soft flesh spread before him and earning a gentle buck of your hips in response. Your sensitivity prickled all Aegon’s senses, lurching his hand to your center to discover just how much your body truly craved him, only to find your sodden folds aching for his next move. 

“How is it your cunt knows you belong to me, but your tongue does not?” Aegon snapped, tracing a light fingertip over the outline of your entrance and fluttering his eyelids as you keened into the sensation. “Look at you, you’ve always wanted me to take you by force, haven’t you sweetling?”

“Fuck off, Aegon,” you scowled through ragged breaths, squirming beneath him in a vain escape attempt. “I’m only wet because I can’t remember the last time you fucked me properly.”

His eyes bulged, a cold wave of shock washing over him as a newfound venom spilled from your acid tongue. This character was so unlike you, he could swear his wife was possessed by an unearthly force. Were you being truthful? Was he not satisfying his wife for your entire marriage? Was this part of the act? 

For a brief moment, the King froze to the spot, gathering his thoughts and putting all his bets on the outcome he’d prefer. Settling for the latter result with all the hope he had mustered, he took your cutting words and buried two fingers inside your waiting heat, stealing the breath from your lungs with each knuckle breaching your folds as his finger curled fervently inside your core. 

“You’re going to regret that, my insolent little Queen,” he seethed, nestling his fingers deep inside you and filling you to the hilt. He stilled as he reached up to his knuckle, not pumping in and out as he normally would. Instead, his forefinger and little finger rested at the meeting of your thighs, stroking outside your core as he slowly started drawing his hand up and down from the sheets to the sky and plunging his fingertips into your walls, stroking the spongy surface before pulling back and slamming upwards again. Settling at an alarming pace, your body betrayed you as your hips grinded up into his touch, your thighs quaking beneath him. 

“S—stop, Aegon,” you ordered half-heartedly, voice cracking with the intensity of the building tension in your cunt. “You repulse me.”

“Tell that to your body, dear wife,” he rasped, ramping up his thrusts so that the rhythmic lewd splashes of pleasure from your core filled the chamber. “I can feel your cunt bowing to its King.”

Your weak efforts to restrain your hips to the sheets waned with every eager plunge of his fingertips into your walls, instead trying to disguise your pathetic writhing underneath him as an attempt to escape his clutches, but the more you struggled the more he chased your approval. 

“S… stop,” your feeble plea stuttered on your tongue with the building pressure inside your walls rising to a searing heat, your head sinking back into the pillows with your eyes journeying to the ceiling. The sooner you distracted yourself from watching your silver King claim you in the filthiest manner, the more convincing your rejections would sound and the less it would seem like you were nearing a faux-reluctant climax. “Let me go, Aegon, fuck!”

“Not until you let go for me,” Aegon snarled, perching on his knees and hooking a hand behind your head to force your gaze down to the action between your thighs, his fingers thrumming into your walls with his palm cupping over your bundle of nerves only increasing the pressure inside you. His ragged breaths from his exertion blended into your own stammering rhythm, battling to maintain your guise of composure as Aegon destroyed you from within. “Go on, let go all over my fingers. Soak the sheets I deflowered you on, show me how much you need me.”

His words alone sent you careering over the edge of your peak, screaming out in frustration and lurching your back up to meet him in mid-air as a tight band snapped in your core. A wave of ecstasy suddenly flooded within you and poured free from your cunt in a violent spray, following Aegon’s orders to the letter as warmth pooled into the sheets beneath you, withdrawing his fingers to watch your climax unfold. Your eyelids clenched shut with shame, drawing your bottom lip between gritted teeth and willing the ground to swallow you whole. So caught up in your own embarrassment, you could not see the accomplished grin beaming across Aegon’s plush lips or his pupils blown pitch black with lust, his expression a combination of sultry desire, predatory domination and pride over your staggering obedience.

A silence fell between you as you both calculated the event in very different ways — while you held onto a ridiculous hope that Aegon would forget this ever happened, Aegon was consumed with wonder when, or indeed if, he could make you reach that high again. 

“Do that again,” he declared, thrusting his fingers back into your dripping folds and caressing your slippery walls inside, dragging his fingers in the same beckoning manner that made your spine flex both away from and into him simultaneously. “Don’t make me wait, issa jorrāelagon.”

“G… get off me, Aegon,” you whimpered with all the strength you could muster, your mask of protest slowly slipping as you jerked beneath his vice grip on your heat, tension already rising inside you. “Y… you make me sick.”

“Now now, that’s no way to talk to the husband who can make your cunt flow like a waterfall,” his domineering sarcasm dripped like honey from his tongue, concentrating his strength on hammering inside you so hard the muscles on his forearm protruded with exertion. “You can give me another, there’s a good girl.”

“Stop, now!” You cried out with a spurt of faux-disobedient energy, desperately praying to the Seven that he could not draw another humiliating scene from you, obstinately clenching your thighs around his waist to offset the uncomfortably familiar pressure rising inside. “You can’t do this to me, Aegon!”

“Have you forgotten already, little one? I own you, you and this pretty wet cunt that’s already shaking around my fingers.” His filthy sneer accompanied a new move to a punishing pace slamming into your walls, stroking at the spongy interior as if to beckon your peak forward once more. “Just give me what I want and shut that disobedient mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Try me,” you spat without even thinking about the consequences of such a temptation, half-closing your eyes as if you would catch a glimpse of the eye of the storm in your husband’s gaze.

Sure enough, Aegon’s grip on the back of your neck released as he fired his hand to meet the valley of your hips, planting his palm in the plane of your pelvis and pressing down until he could feel his fingers plunging within you. Your strangled gasp in response suggested his new angle was working its charm immediately, your spine curving into mid-air to throw your hips up into his touch.

“That’s it,” he growled lowly, pushing deeper and pistoning his fingers faster to race you to the edge once more. “Can’t come up with a quick insult now, can you?”

“F… fuck you, Aegon!” You screamed out as your second wave consumed you, another clear fountain breaching your entrance and spilling over his waiting fingers, which he chose to run through your folds to spray your release even further over the sheets. Wails of frustration and overstimulation poured from your lips, your thighs quivering and writhing uncontrollably as the aftershocks took hold of your body.

“Soon, my love,” he cooed in a break from his dominant streak, too wrapped up in the power rushing to his head after eliciting two floods from you in quick succession. “Just give me one more.”

“N… no, please,” you begged as his fingers dipped inside your sensitive walls once more, your hips keening frantically into the sheets to desperately avoid another sensory onslaught. Your protests up until then had been false, tempting and almost goading, but that time, your senses could not withstand any more. Your folds puffy and abused, your forehead dripping with sweat, your breaths laboured and jagged. You were sure you could not produce another wave, let alone withstand his fingers punishing your core. “Please, no more…”

“Come on, little one,” his honeyed encouragement came through a softer voice than before, almost registering your overstimulation but craving one more chance at claiming you more than he ever had before. “Just one more for me, I know you can do it.”

His fingers slipped into your dripping heat with ease, gently caressing that sensitive spot inside you for a few moments before returning to his relentless pace hammering back and forth inside you. 

“Stop, Aegon, please…,” your pleas far more convincing as you began to mean the words you spilled, your voice cracking weakly as his ministrations inside your cunt stole the air from your lungs. 

“Just one more, that’s my good Queen,” he pressed, his one palm stroking the valley of your hips while the other rubbed your mound eagerly in time with his fingers curving inside your pulsing heat. “One more for me, soak the sheets again for your King.”

Your third wave arrived with a scream of his name that made no sound as it left your tongue, too exhausted to produce an audible syllable as you gushed another flood over his fingers still buried inside you, downright explicit splashing sounds echoing through the chamber in place of your voiceless cries. 

“Good girl, good girl,” Aegon praised with wonder as he consumed the sight of his digits dripping with your release as he finally withdrew from you, the sheets sodden to translucency beneath you, glimmering droplets of your climax splattered over both your thighs and his own. Your legs refused to still, quaking uncontrollably in the aftermath of the sensory onslaught brought upon you by your husband’s desperate clamour for power in his life. 

At last, he had power over one thing. But at what cost?

Brushing a tumbling silver curl from his face with a soaking hand, he reached to pay you the same kindness only for you to whip your face away from his touch. His brows knitted together tightly, a piece of his heart breaking to see you flinch from your husband so eagerly. Had he gone too far?

“Issa jorrāelagon,” he purred softly, a flush of dread cracking his voice. “Are you… are you well?”

You shot a stern gaze back at his terrified countenance, his pallor flushing to a sheer white as if the blood had drained from his face. His fingers ventured to touch your cheek again only to find you wincing away from him once more. Another piece of the King’s heart shattered. 

“My Queen, did…,” his fragile stammer signing the validity to his concern. “Did I hurt you? I… I never meant to hurt you.”

He scanned your face for a response, any response that would shatter the glass of suspense between you. Your eyes betrayed nothing, your cheeks gave away no sign, yet as his gaze journeyed to your mouth, Aegon discovered your lips ever so slightly curling into a childlike mocking grin. 

It was an act all along.

He let out a sigh of defeat and clicked his tongue in sharp disapproval. 

“You have played your hand well, dear wife,” Aegon admitted, running his still-dripping hand through his wavy locks once more before rolling onto his knees, pressing one palm to spread your thighs beneath him while the other gripped his length, palming it lightly and surging the tip toward your swollen entrance. “But you underestimate your opponent.”

In one smooth flick of his hips, his cock slipped into your heat to the hilt, earning her another strangled gasp from the bottom of your lungs. The overwhelmingly full sensation of his length finally fitting inside you like the missing piece of your jigsaw left you battling the urge to throw your arms around his neck and capture his lips with yours. For the sake of the wicked game to which you had committed yourself, your surge of energy was spent on planting your palms on his bare chest and pushing him away from you with all your might. Unsurprisingly, his body weight was immovable and your fight was futile, eliciting a sinister chuckle from your dominant husband as he picked up a rampant pace, drawing his hips back and slamming down into you with a brute force. 

“I don’t want this, Aegon,” you lied, your faux-protest delivered through a clenched jaw at the same time your thighs gave up their battle and spread wide for his languid thrusts to reach you easier. “I don’t fucking want you!”

“If you truly don’t want me, why is your cunt singing my name?” Aegon played his hand so eloquently for a man whose eyes were gently roving skyward at the feeling of your walls welcoming him so warmly, wrapping around him and choking his every piston deep into your heat. “Say the word and I will set you free, but until then I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You swallowed thickly, his menacing nature such a contrast from the doting husband who only moments before had feared his own strength on your body, the man who had broken before your very eyes at the mere sight of your seemingly authentic rejection. He revelled in your wilful resistance, but each time he doubted whether you truly meant the sentiments behind your actions, Aegon Targaryen crumbled. 

“No!” You cried out, gently writhing your hips in a false attempt to escape him but only succeeding in grinding up into Aegon and slipping his cock even deeper inside your heat. “Please, no!” 

“As you wish, my sea queen,” Aegon confirmed with an accomplished grin, rearing his hips to deliver a punishing thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. “Think you can give me one more?”

Your gentle shake of your head acted as both truth and a lie at the same time — your resistant facade suggested you didn’t want to reach your peak a fourth time, your overstimulated cunt certainly did not feel as if it could deliver another flood of fluids, yet you somehow craved another chase of that ecstasy with Aegon splitting you open so perfectly. 

“Good, I knew you could take it for me,” Aegon growled, curling his hips to plunge inside you so deep that his cockhead nudged impatiently at your cervix, leaving a hollow tension in your stomach in his wake. “Gods, your cunt is still so tight around me, you feel like the heavens.”

You whispered his name like a secret sacrament, inaudible over the wet slapping of skin and Aegon’s eager groans as he impaled you. Unfortunately for you, Aegon had read your lips. 

“That’s it, little one,” he gloated gleefully, pouring every inch of his length within you in devastating curled motions. “Your King has you now.”

“F—fuck,” your broken stammer betrayed the tight coil of searing heat building in your core and constricting your walls around his cock in the same way your thighs clamped around his waist. “Fuck, I’m…”

“My dear sweet submissive Queen,” he cooed softly, pummelling into you with a newfound energy and leaving you both gasping for air. “Chase that high again, I know you can give me one more.”

With his next merciless plunge into your cervix, you instinctively flung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips, screaming into his mouth you toppled over your peak and flooded over his cock, the clear jet of your ecstasy spilling from your folds and soaking his length until his sack of stones dripped with your release. A hungry growl rumbled on his lips as his hand travelled to where your bodies joined, splashing his fingers through the fountain of your climax feverishly spilling over him as he continued to pummel inside you. 

“That’s it,” he drawled lazily into your mouth, his syllables catching on his tongue and rolling slowly onto yours. The veins traversing his length protruded and prickled as his own release neared, jolting and twitching inside you as he continued plunging into you. “Now take everything I give you like a good girl.”

His last sound signalled a stutter of his hips, his own climax flooding inside you and pouring his seed as far in your cunt as he could reach. Aegon deepened your kiss to disguise his own explicit moans, lazy growls echoing into your mouth as he jerked softly into you, his peak flooding your insides with a familiar warmth you knew so well, but this time, the sensation was unrivalled. 

“I… I love you,” Aegon’s fragment whisper against your lips sounded fragile once more, his dominant alter ego well and truly buried with his seed inside you. Refusing to withdraw his length as if the action of leaving your folds would draw a close to the moment between you, Aegon continued kissing you as feverishly as the night you first met. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, hands trailing into his silver waves and tugging gently, clamouring for contact after refusing to touch him ever since he laid you on the sheets, now sodden and cold beneath you. “Always.”

Aegon’s kiss came to a sudden halt, his eyes firing open as a realisation swept over him. Tearing his lips from yours, his eyes frantically searched your lips for a response before his enquiry even left his.

“Did you mean what you said?” His fearful query came from beneath furrowed brows and puppy-like pleading eyes. “Do I truly not fuck you properly, my sea queen?”

“My fire king,” you sighed contentedly, tightening your thighs around his waist and drawing his softening length deeper inside you. “If that is what I have to say to get you to do that, you can expect to hear it every night.”

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. "Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Ivory,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Ivory, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and we do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Ivory! Ivory, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Ivory…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

"When my father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

[idksmtms]

The Prettiest Trophy - Capitol Elite!Aegon II Targaryen x Games Winner!reader (Hunger Games AU)

Summary: You never thought you would make it out of the hunger games, but now you have another fight ahead of you. What do you do when one of the most powerful citizens of the capitol has chosen you to be his? 

Word count: 3.5k 

Trigger Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, Dub-con due to power imbalance, coercion too ig (???), some angst (reader talks about survivor’s guilt from the games),  p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, oral f receiving, degradation (constantly referring to lesser status of districts), objectification and ownership,  (please let me know if I missed any) 

Rating: 18+, MDNI

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim to own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :) 

AN: Aaaaa my first fic finally! Didn't mean to make it this long but I got a bit carried away! I hope you enjoy! (Side note: I was imagining his hair as the style in the black and white pic, just with Targaryen white, Side note 2: I def realise the references to the way Gollum talks about the ring, IT WAS ON PURPOSE)

You never thought you would leave the arena. Every second could have been your last and you still didn’t quite believe you had made it out, that you were standing outside the President’s mansion at a lavish party, dressed in silks and jewels. No one told you how to live after the games were over. It had taken you three days just to be able to get out of bed and move around again after leaving the arena. Being at this party? It felt like a betrayal to all the people who had died so you could live. You sipped from the sickly sweet drink that almost seemed to glow in the night, and looked around the garden. 

Most people had finally left you alone thankfully, though you could still see eyes turning your way, whispers and conversations pointed toward your presence in the garden. At least no one was trying to force you into a picture like some capitol celebrity anymore. 

People in the most lavish costumes customary of the capitol milled about, talking, whispering, cackling like witches in their modified bodies with their modified voices. It was a horror show. The gardens had been decorated with delicate yellow fairy lights strung up in the trees and over poles around the tables. You assumed they wanted to give it a warm and welcoming look with the yellow lighting but it only cast grotesque shadows on the building that was not only the backdrop to this party, but to all your nightmares. There were tables set up with stark white tablecloths draped over them, an area cleared away for a dance floor, and more noise coming from the entrance to the mansion. Avoxes walked around carrying trays of food and drink between their hands, heads bent low, and shame began to rise inside you. What were you doing here? Why were you forced to be here?

There was someone behind you. You didn’t know when you had become so aware of any presence, probably somewhere between fending off humans and wildlife alike in the arena, and you could distinctly feel someone behind you. A slight shadow fell over your shoulders. A small touch rustled the train of your dress. Someone cleared their throat. You turned around, hands quivering, and looked at the man smirking broadly at you. Your first thought, shamefully: was he even real? 

His hair was so blond it was white, cut short and combed back so perfectly he could be no less than an aristocrat. He wore a suit of dark grey over a black shirt, one of the less eccentrically dressed people at the party. But his shoes were lavish. Black and shinier than anything you had ever seen, embroidered with gold thread, gold jewellery dangling from the laces and gems stamped into the fabric. Surely this man was of the richest of the rich, because even in the capitol people were wont to have shoes so lavish. You stared at his shoes for a good minute, whole body frozen, when he cleared his throat once more. You looked at his eyes. You couldn’t tell if they were more blue or grey, like ice had formed over a stormy ocean. 

“And who might you be?” He asked, mouth still smiling, before he brought his glass up to his lips and took a drink while waiting for your answer. 

“You don’t know who I am?” You asked, almost taking a step back. That couldn’t be true. Viewing was mandatory, your face had been plastered across every screen in Panem for weeks, it couldn’t be true that he didn’t know you. And yet… for a moment… it felt so good not to be recognised. You were just some other girl, lost in the crowd at a party, who hadn’t gone through what you had gone through. 

“Well, I may know of you, but I don’t know you know you,” his smile had softened and he stepped closer until his elbow lightly brushed yours and you were both looking out at the party.

“I suppose that’s true,” you answered quietly, still watching his face. His skin was almost as dangerously pale as his hair, and sallow, like he was never quite in the best of health. Though you couldn’t deny the truth, he was a handsome man regardless of his slightly ragged appearance. 

“Aegon Targaryen the second,” he held out his hand, running his eyes over your face like he hadn’t gathered enough of it the first time, “and you?” 

“Y/n L/n,” you breathed out, reaching out an unsteady hand to limply shake his own. He gently clasped your fingers and brought your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your knuckles before releasing your hand. It was such an odd sensation, his hot breath brushing over the back of your hand, his fingertips slightly rough - but not enough to suggest any sort of manual labour - clasping the skin of your palm. Your cheeks went hot, the tips of your ears tingling, and you continued staring at this enigma. 

“How has the capitol been treating you?” He asked, chugging the rest of his drink and depositing it on the tray of an Avox as they passed by like some well-practised dance. You didn’t want to reply. “Well, I suppose you haven’t had the time to truly enjoy it. At least, not the truly fun bits anyway,” he shrugged, tilting his head and looking at you like it was a particularly amusing thing he just said. 

You couldn’t understand this at all. Who was this man? What was this interaction? What did he want with you? Why was he acting so mundane, like this was normal?! None of this was normal. 

Noticing the look on your face, Aegon chuckled and reached forward to push some hair over your shoulder. It took everything within you to hold in your shiver. 

“Ah, you must be confused about who I am! I shouldn’t have assumed you would understand the name Targaryen. We may be famous in the capitol but who knows what goes on in the districts,” you swallowed hard and nodded, trying not to flinch at the dig. “Our family works in all sorts of sectors, for example, my uncle Daemon is responsible for manufacturing arms for the state, my younger brother Aemond works under the president in some position or other - god knows he never shuts up about it - and my father currently runs the peacekeeper program. Of course I’m expected to step up to that eventually but- I won’t bore you with the details.” 

You didn’t really consider that work. You had seen the way your parents toiled in the factory every day, had seen the way every member of your family slowly became a hunchback from their work. But you weren’t going to say anything to him. 

“What does your family do?” He asked, and again you almost moved out of surprise. His face seemed so sincere as he watched you, waiting for an answer. 

“I’m from District 8, so my parents work the looms,” you answered slowly. You almost sounded condescending, like you were talking to someone who couldn’t quite understand your words, but Aegon understood it was the shock of him speaking to you. After all, it had only been a week since you had left the arena, he understood how difficult it would be to gain your confidence. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. And Aegon was a firm believer that flattery could get you anywhere, especially a girl’s bed. So he decided to change course. 

“Do you see that man over there?” He pointed discreetly to a spot just to your right and you shuffled back so you could look over without being noticed. You sipped from your glass as you noticed the man, an older gentleman wearing a full fursuit topped with a lion’s mane going around his head. Even his face had been painted with fur and whiskers to resemble a lion with the body of a human. You nodded to Aegon, turning away from the man. Something about that picture made you uncomfortable in a way you had never been before. “Well, rumour has it that he wears that entire get up, face paint and all mind you, every time he fucks.” You gasped, staring at Aegon with eyes so wide they started to hurt. 

“You can’t be serious,” you whispered sharply. 

“I am the most serious, dearest. Why would I lie to you?” He smirked, leaning closer once more. He draped his arm over your shoulder and you stiffened for a moment before continuing to listen to his next story. 

You were slowly beginning to relax in Aegon’s company as he continued to chatter to you. He no longer asked questions or expected you to speak, just pointed out people in the crowd and made colourful commentary that had you hiding your face in his shoulder and giggling against the fabric of his suit. He gazed at you with sparkling eyes full of mirth and shared his ever-full glass of whatever drink they were serving at the time. You couldn’t help but be charmed. Maybe, just maybe, not everyone in the capitol was as bad as they seemed. 

“D’you wanna go somewhere quieter?” He finally asked after completely relieving another stranger of their dignity. You took a moment to catch your breath and looked at him, at the sudden darkening of his eyes and the way his tongue poked out to lick his lips. He watched you like a tiger readying to pounce. You nodded without a second thought. Though he had made the party bearable, anywhere would be better than here. He smiled and reached down, sliding his fingers over your inner wrist, then your palm, then grasping your hand in his own. “Come on.” 

Aegon led you into the house and up the stairs, nodding at random people (who sometimes you could barely recognise as people), skilfully dodging attempts at conversation. Up and up the lavish stairs you went before walking down a large hallway and stopping in front of a wall. Aegon pushed at the wall and it gave way, revealing a spiral staircase in the dark that led up into an abyss. 

“Um, are you sure you know where you’re going?” You asked, pausing at the entrance to the rather dingy looking chamber. 

“There are some perks to having been at the president’s mansion practically since I was born. One of those being secret access to the roof, now come on!” He dragged you into the dark and shut the door behind him, before ushering you up the first steps. 

The staircase really wasn’t all that tall. In fact, you could see the top and light bled down from the opening. Your heels clanked against each step and you almost toppled back into Aegon more than once. Then you were at the top. Then you could see the whole Capitol. Oh it was breathtaking! The whole city, laid out before you like a miniature scene to play with. There were lights glimmering in houses and cars on the roads and life! There were signs of life everywhere. Oh you couldn’t believe it. You almost believed you could see to the very edges of Panem. 

 “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Aegon asked, and you turned to meet his eyes. Both of you had moved right to the edge of the rooftop so you could look out over the party, and he moved to stand directly behind you. You could feel his chest press into your back. The fabric of his shirt rubbed against the skin of your back and he was a solid pressure behind you, like the comfort of a wall at your back when you slept. “Hm?” He asked again, bending his head down to run his nose up your neck. You shivered, the light graze was just ticklish enough to start a spark inside of you. 

 “Yes,” you breathed out, clenching your hands on the concrete to stop yourself from leaning back into him. You didn’t know him. You didn’t really know him. You didn’t know him at all. 

 “You know,” he began slowly, hands going to your shoulders and turning you around to face him. “When I first saw you on the television, the day of the reaping, I knew you would win.” Your breath caught in your throat. Your mouth was so dry. You wished you hadn’t discarded that sweet drink so quickly. “And look at you now,” he leaned in closer, cupping your face to force your eyes to meet his, “you’re the winner, the greatest person in Panem, to come out of the districts anyway.” He gently kissed your right cheek, warm lips on plush skin, and when he pulled away the breeze cooled the hint of saliva he had left behind. “You’re the greatest treasure one could possess, you know?” He kissed your other cheek, firmer this time, like he was trying to leave the imprint of his lips on your skin. “Everyone knows the winner of the Hunger Games, and to say you own them? To parade them on your arm for everyone to see, saying you own the very concept of survival?” He seemed to groan in pleasure, and then everything was moving. 

His lips were on yours, slightly wet and forceful. His tongue was delving into your mouth, tasting like sugar, too much sugar, and you wanted to pull back because it was so overwhelming and everything he had just said and and and… and it felt so good too. It was warm, and desperate, like no one had ever been for you before. 

A hand moved into your hair and grasped the strands at the back of your head tight, pulling slightly to tilt your head back so you had to look up at him. He was almost leaning over you so your spine bent over the edge of the roof, and the skin of your back scratched against the unpainted concrete. He huffed against your mouth then pulled back, his other hand coming up to trace your mouth with his thumb. You stared into his eyes but he wasn’t looking back at you, not really anyway. He was watching his prize, the reward that no one but him deserved. 

You whimpered, a small and pathetic sound that only seemed to make his skin hotter, and he let go of your hair to begin pulling the straps of your dress down your arms. It was a heavy thing, and it felt good to finally be rid of the weight, but you were keenly aware of the cold night and the party in full swing just underneath you. If someone in the garden decided to look up, they would surely see you bent over the edge. 

“Wait-” you began to protest, but Aegon was past listening, past caring. He just shoved the dress under your breasts and down your legs, before grabbing your face and bringing your mouth to his own again. His hands travelled over your neck, then caressed your shoulders. He gently pressed the red indents the straps of the dress had left and you sighed into his mouth, leaning onto his chest. Your nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt and you gasped into the kiss before moving your chest slightly. The warm little tingles travelled all the way through your torso and you clung to his arms. 

Aegon kissed sloppily over your cheeks, your neck, pausing to bite into it until you grunted with pain and pushed at his shoulder. He licked all the way down to your chest, his tongue warm and wet, then the slick trail of spit suddenly cold. Your legs felt unsteady, and you leaned back against the barrier as he began mouthing at your breasts, little circles of warmth formed everywhere he kissed, and then his mouth closed over your nipple and you clenched. It was so… weird. A wet suction formed over your nipple and it seemed to make the inside of your breast spark, your stomach jolt, and the space between your thighs tingle and turn to mush. 

“Come on precious,” he mumbled against your skin, “you can be louder,” and he bit the flesh. It really was a live wire attached to your skin, so easy to spark, so easy to create a fire that spread all throughout your body. 

Aegon was quicker with the other nipple, licking over it like a dog with a bowl of water, before making his way down to the apex of your thighs. He seemed to be in a hurry with the way he dove his face between your legs. A cry left your lips, loud and shriek-like, at the overwhelming activity. His nose slipped between your lips and pressed to your clit, his tongue out and flat and lapping against the sticky slick that covered the puffy folds that hid your hole. He was ravenous, pressing his face in in in until you stood on your tiptoes and half your weight was balanced against his face. The contours of his face pressed at your hole, his nose rubbed at your clit, and he moved his face back and forth so his tongue could poke inside of you then slip back into his mouth. He began speaking into you, rumbling words you couldn’t understand over the rushing in your head. 

“Come on, cum on my face,” he huffed, grabbing your thighs and licking at your clit until it was puffy and swollen. “I wan’ you to cum on my face, give me what I want.” He pressed his tongue inside you. In. Out. He licked your clit. In. Out. He sucked it into his mouth, and your legs shook so much that you would’ve fallen onto the floor if you weren’t practically laying on the barrier already. It was a release. That’s all it could be called. Every muscle clenched then released. Even your mind felt like it had slowly been clenching and now it had been unravelled and was slowly dripping out of your skull. 

“Fuck, that’s right,” Aegon mumbled as he pulled away, standing to full height and pulling your hips against his own. His hair had fallen forward into his eyes and his mouth and nose glistened in the low light, but he didn’t seem to care one bit. He had leaned over your body again, pressing his face into your neck. The slick on his chin stuck to your skin and squished whenever he moved. He humped into you a few times, grunting and groaning, before hurriedly reaching down and fumbling with his belt and zipper. You could hear the clanking of metal, the rustle of fabric, and then something warm pressing to your thigh. 

There was no waiting with Aegon. His body simply didn’t contain the patience for it, and really why would you wait when the prize you had so long coveted lay bare before you, just ripe for the taking? A shift here, a push there, and he caught at your entrance. He finally pulled away from your neck and looked into your eyes. He caressed your cheek, and you could tell all he saw was a trophy he had just won. 

Then Aegon pressed into you, and his veins rubbed at your slick insides, pressing against your walls and sliding against your own textured flesh and you were leaning back to moan into the night sky, chest heaving. He kissed your breasts and pushed into you again, his lower stomach pressing your clit. Again, he moved into you and the sparks flashed and you clenched around him, onto him, and he moaned against your ear, hot breath fanning the shell. 

“Fuck yes, you’re my precious little thing aren’t you? Huh? You’re my special little prize?” His hips slapped against yours and the sound echoed over the roof. His mouth biting into your neck sent sparks through you. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and oh god it was too much! You clenched onto him and screamed into his neck, open mouth pressed to the sweaty skin. You clenched and unclenched onto him as waves passed through you, melting your flesh and your bones. It was over too soon yet it lasted too long. He pushed once more, twice more, and you could feel him quiver against you, even as you tried to push him away from the pulsing flesh of your insides. You could feel the spurts inside you, hot and gushing. You felt it trickle out of you, slide down your thighs in warm rivulets and you shuddered. 

Aegon still lay on top of you, huffing heavily into your neck. You didn’t know what to do, so you stayed still, waiting for guidance, waiting for the other shoe to fall. He slowly pushed up on his arms so his face hovered above yours, and he smiled a dazed and delirious smile. Was it always there, or had it just appeared, that insanity in his eyes? 

“Oh my precious,” he sighed, cupping your cheek, “we have so much ahead.”

[spider-stark]

THE CONQUEROR'S CROWN

Aegon II Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary - After being captured by a member of the Kingsguard on your way to Winterfell, Aegon calls for you in the throne room.

Warnings - light smut, oral, kidnapping, blades/blood, possible hematolagnia, eludes disappointed mom!rhaenyra (absolutely no bashing tho), and obvious incest

Word Count - 3.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

His tongue traces the subtle curve of his bottom lip, his lilac eyes watching carefully as you waltz into the throne room, escorted by Ser Willis to the base of the Iron Throne. With a slight nod of his head, he dismisses Ser Willis, leaving you to stand alone as the Kingsguard takes his leave. 

You have stood in this very room more times than you could possibly count. Your childhood was spent chasing your brothers around the large stone pillars, studying the intricate weaving of the tapestries adorning the wall, and sitting upon your grandsire’s lap atop the Iron Throne.  

You were born to stand within this room, born to sit the throne standing before you now. If you focused, you almost swore that you could hear your grandsire’s voice whispering in your ear, bouncing you on his leg as he vowed—someday, my sweet little dragon, all of this will be yours.  

But, before it could become yours, it would first belong to your mother—the rightful heir of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.  

And before it could be hers, you would have to kill the cunt that had stolen it out from under her.  

You make a show of leaning into a melodramatic curtsy, playing up the role of his complaisant prisoner, “Your grace,” you practically snarl up at him, a silent challenge gleaming in your narrowed gaze.  

Aegon sucks in a breath before hesitantly lifting his arms, gesturing to himself, “What do you think?” It was not the voice of a king that pierced your ears, but the voice of the same scared little boy you have always known—the one you have always loved.  

A thousand jagged, twisted blades glimmer in the dim candlelight, all of them forged together to create the infamous throne that had started this godsforsaken war. Your throne, your mother’s throne—a throne that he now sat upon.  

While there was no doubt that Aegon lacked the proper cadence, it was undeniable that he looked every bit like the king he pretended to be. Dressed in his finest clothing, woven from a deep-green material so dark that it nearly appeared as black at first glance. A circlet of Valyrian steel rests at his brow, embellished with glittering rubies; the Conqueror’s crown.  

“I think,” you begin, holding your chin high, “that you are sitting in my mother’s chair.”  

The blow wasn’t unexpected, yet Aegon’s jaw still tenses at the venom that laced each and every syllable.  

He knew you would be upset with him—infuriated, actually. But expecting that anger and experiencing it were two very different things.  

He wasn’t used to you being mad at him, and he didn’t like it.  

Forcing himself to swallow back against the sea of emotions rising in his chest, Aegon pushes himself to his feet, careful not to nick himself on one of the jutting blades. He descends the steps with the same impressive swagger he’s always possessed, walking towards where you stood motionless at the base of the throne.  

Your body stiffens at his approach, your muscles tightening, shoulders pulling back, fingers curling into fists. He notices, and you briefly remind him of a cornered animal—captured and awaiting a rescue that may never come, armed with nothing but brazen defiance.  

Stopping less than a few inches from you, he realizes that this must make him the predator of your story. The big bad king, whose first act of war had been to steal away his precious little niece, unwilling to go even one more day without her by his side.  

When he stretches a hand towards you, you’re smart enough not to recoil from his touch as he glides a finger along the fine silk of your skirts. “You wore it,” he mutters softly, admiring the rich green color of your dress.  

“I wasn’t aware that I had a choice in the matter,” you retort swiftly, suddenly aware of the incessant pounding of your heart.  

You hate yourself for wearing this—a gown that wasn’t entirely unlike the ones that the dowager Queen Alicent had worn from your entire life, the ones that had been marred by a color you learned to loathe. 

But when a few handmaidens came pouring into the room in Maegor’s Holdfast where Aegon had kept you imprisoned for the last several days, you felt as though you had no say as they plunged you into a tub of steaming water, scrubbing your dirt-stained skin until it was raw, only to pull you back out and then wrap you in varying shades of emerald.  

He pulls away from the fabric, giving you his usual pouty frown when he asks, “Why would you believe that you have no choice?”  

The sheer innocence of his tone had you grinding your teeth. “Must I remind you, uncle?” He winces slightly, unused to the cruel formality with which you now speak. “Remind you of how you have stolen my mother’s birthright? Or of how you ordered your guard to steal me away, and throw me into the Holdfast? Of how you’re holding me prisoner in some desperate attempt to wound my mother-”  

“I am not holding you to wound Rhaenyra,” her name sounds like poison on his lips, the taste of it vile on his tongue as he interjects, “nor are you here to be my prisoner, niece.”  

Your brows rise alongside your voice as you shout, “Am I not? Then please, Aegon, enlighten me as to why you insist on keeping me here! Tell me why you have torn me away from my family and humiliated me!” You gesture down at your body, to the gown clinging to your curves.  

Aegon’s answer came in the form of a growl, “Because you are mine to keep.”  

His hands shoot to your wrists, tightly gripping your delicate flesh. A flicker of desire burns in his lilac gaze, a look that you are all too familiar with. It pierces through you, and you can do nothing but curse yourself as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. “And I refused to sit idly by as your family sold my girl to whichever Lord had the biggest fucking army, auctioning you off like livestock so that they might acquire more men to fight in your mother’s war!”  

Disdain laced the word—family.  

He spoke it as if it were a plague, a curse, a weakness. But you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, hidden emotion catching in his throat. You were his family; he had said so himself, repeating it often during your years spent together, sneaking through halls and hiding in shrouded alcoves.  

You were his plague. You were his curse. And you were his only weakness, the only thing that could be held over him. The only thing that could make him yield.  

It suddenly dawned on you how much it must have bothered him to learn that you were being escorted to Winterfell under the protection of two of your mother’s Queensguard, how infuriated he must have been to find out that your hand had been promised to Lord Cregan Stark in return for his aid. That was why he had sent Ser Willis after you—why he had him kill your mother’s men and bring you here.  

Your mouth went dry as you dug your nails into your palms, unable to will yourself to pull your wrists from his touch. “This is your war, too,” you remind him, your voice softer than you wish it to be, your stare wide but never wavering from his.  

Aegon shakes his head softly, wavy silver locks spilling over his delicate features. “No,” he tells you, releasing one wrist so that he can reach up and brush a finger along your cheekbone, “I have only ever been a pawn in this game, little love.”  

A shiver rolls down your spine as his hand moves lower, his thumb trailing along your bottom lip, tracing the delicate curve.  

“But you,” he drawls, his mouth curving into a lopsided smirk that had your pulse sputtering, “you were always meant to be a queen.”  

His declaration only stirs confusion in your mind. Your brow creases and you blink at him once, then twice. “What is it that you want, Aeg?”  

A sweet sound escapes his throat, a low hum of satisfaction at the simple pet name rolling from your tongue. Your voice was still sharp, still guarded—but all he had needed was that one subtle show of affection to know that you were listening, that you were willing to hear him out.  

His thumb tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it ever-so-slightly and revealing a gleam of white teeth. Sensible enough to recognize that Aegon was supposed to be your enemy now, and not your secret lover, you gnash your teeth at him. The display only makes his grin grow wider, a foolish sense of hunger turning his usually pale complexion to a light shade of crimson.  

“I want to make you queen,” he purrs, letting his touch fall from your face as he lets go off your other wrist, stepping to the side. He sweeps an arm out to one side, gesturing grandly towards the throne before you. “My queen.”  

You feel disoriented, like the room around you is suddenly spinning in circles. A fuzzy feeling settles in your stomach as your gaze flickers from the throne, to Aegon, then back to the throne again.  

The look on your face must be one of pure disbelief, as Aegon appears to be laughing at the shock morphing your features.  

“But…” You take a series of shallow breaths, shaking your head as you force yourself to ignore the throne, turning back to focus only on Aegon. “But my mother is the rightful queen, not me—not yet!” You object, stuttering over your words as they spill out.  

This doesn’t make sense… 

The Greens would never allow this!  

“Queen Alicent,” you sputter out, realization dawning on you, “and your grandsire, they… They don’t know that I am here, do they? They don’t know that you captured me?”  

The pieces began to fall into place in your mind, filling in the gaps of a very long and complicated story. The reason why Aegon had only sent one of the Kingsguard after you, why you had been thrown in the Holdfast rather than the dungeons, why he had waited until the hour of the wolf to finally call for you, having you brought to throne room only once he was certain that it was abandoned for the night.  

Aegon hadn’t just captured you. He had kept you hidden—hidden from Alicent and Ott0.  

He gives a single, gentle nod as he says, “You, my sweet girl, have become my best kept secret,” there’s a certain eagerness in the way he is looking at you, greedy and expectant, as if he were awaiting praise for his scheme.  

“I cannot give your mother my throne, not without risking my own head,” Aegon reaches for your hand once more, and you allow him to lace his fingers through yours, even as you scowl at the possessive language he used—his throne. “But I can give it to you.”  

You feel unsteady as you glance down at your joined hands; his grip was tight, while yours was limp—allowing the show of affection, but not returning it.  

You draw a breath, “And you plan to do this by… By making me your wife?” Nerves had your voice jumping an octave, and you curse the Warrior for not granting you enough strength to maintain an even tone.  

The shift in Aegon’s expression was tenuous, but you knew him well enough to catch even the most subtle changes. You noticed the way his lilac eyes shifted to his feet, the way his bottom lip trembled as his fear of rejection pierced through his chest like a knife.  

It was second nature to want to comfort him, to want to reach out as you used to, brushing the messy waves of silver from his face, reminding him that you wanted him in ways that you could never want another.  

You resist the urge as best you can, but you cannot stop your fingers from finally curling around his hand, squeezing before you can stop yourself. When he looked back up at you, it was with a look of foolish hope.  

“It might be an ignorant plan,” he admits, “but the realm doesn’t need a puppet for a king. It needs you—an iron-willed girl, born for an iron throne.”  

It’s not the right choice.  

And you know that if your mother were here, she would be disappointed in you for considering such a proposal. If Daemon were here, he would cut you down himself, spouting out allegations of treason over your still-cooling corpse. Jace and Luke would hardly be able to look you in the eye, you reckon, if they found out of your feelings for the uncle they both loathed so desperately.  

This wasn’t the right choice, because before the throne should belong to you, it must first belong to your mother, the rightful heir.  

And yet…  

To take the throne now, to take advantage of the opportunity Aegon has offered, would be seizing a chance to deliver the throne to the Blacks. Taking the throne did not mean that you must keep it—only that you might hold onto it until it could be passed over to your mother; only that you might offer her a clear path to it.  

And marrying Aegon…  

Marrying Aegon was the culmination of all your wildest dreams, of all of your secret wishes and most desperate desires.  

“If you wish to say no,” his voice wobbles, his eyes squeezing shut as he prepares himself for your answer; for your refusal. “Then I will allow you to leave. I refuse to deliver you to Winterfell, but I will arrange for a guard to escort you to Harrenhal. I’ve heard word that Daemon has-”  

You refuse.  

Refuse to let him finish speaking, having decided that you had heard more than enough to make your decision, unable to care if it is the right one.  

In a brief moment of reckless abandon, you tug on his hand hard enough to send him stumbling towards you, his bright eyes shooting open just in time to watch as you rise on your toes, bringing your lips to crash against his.  

His muscles went rigid, eyes remaining wide-open as he felt your other hand slip into his hair, tangling your fingers in his messy locks, your nails scraping lightly against his scalp.  

Slowly, he relaxes. Slowly, he melts into the touch that he had missed so much, the one that he had dreamt about every night for the past several months that he had been forced to spend without you.  

Muscle memory kicks in, his body abruptly remembering all of your secret encounters over the years, reminding him of all the little ways that you liked being touched, of all the ways that he could drive you wild.  

He pulls his hand loose from yours, his palm instantly collided with the outside of your thigh. His fingers knot in the silky fabric of your dress, pulling it higher and higher, until he’s finally able to press his palm flat against the warmth of your skin, sinking his nails into the plump flesh.  

“I’ve missed you,” he utters against your mouth, his voice so guttural and delicious that you nearly moan. His other hand slips beneath the fabric as well, ghosting past your abdomen to greedily paw at your chest, “And these,”  

A ragged gasp slips from your lips as he kneads your breast. You pull away from his kiss, your head tilting back and exposing your throat as you indulge yourself in the feeling of his hands roaming against your bare skin. His sweet, pouty lips instantly find their way to your neck, suckling and kissing at the sensitive skin.  

“Greedy,” you chide, the euphoria flooding your veins leaving you breathless.  

“Should I take this as a yes, then?” He croons against your flesh.  

You wish to be bold in your response, derisive, even; but as his tongue glides along the smooth column of your throat, you can’t bring yourself to sound anything other than desperate.  

“Fuck—yes,” you practically moan the affirmation, yanking his hair and making him hiss.  

“In that case,” Aegon’s lips curve into a playful arc, placing another kiss against your throat before saying, “allow me to show you to your throne, my queen.”  

The whine that escapes you when he pulls his touch from your skin is something vulgar, and you don’t miss the smug expression that settles on his face. He’s pleased with himself, and you’re not surprised. After all, he had just barely touched you and you were already writhing against him, your months apart having left you so needy that you were mere seconds from begging him to take you right here on the floor of the throne room.  

Before you can complain, his hand is swiftly slipping back into yours, tugging you up the stairs leading to the throne. When you reach the top, he motions you to sit.  

There is something different about sitting on the throne now compared to when you were a girl—a certain power that warms your veins, sending your blood rushing to your cheeks. There is no time to ponder on the feeling, however; not when Aegon is sinking down to his knees the very moment you settle against the cool steel.  

“What are you doing?” You’re practically panting when you ask the question, your pulse thrumming in your ears as you watch him, intrigued.  

He’s still wearing a smirk when he lifts a hand, plucking the steel circlet from his brow before stretching out his arm and urging you to lean down just enough for him to place it on your head.  

The Conqueror’s crown is nearly too big for you and sits askew, but neither of you seem to care about that as he immediately gets back to work, shoving the delicate fabric of your dress back up your legs.  

“Swearing fealty to my queen,” Aegon finally answers, his lips ghosting against the side of your knee. “Taking care of you,” he continues, peppering light kisses along the inside of your leg, moving at a tantalizingly slow rate until he finally reaches the top of your thigh. “And eating as though I were a starved man.”  

With no warning, he places his lips against your core, his greedy tongue already swiping against your folds. You fight the urge to throw your head back at the sensation of his warm mouth, trying to remain conscious of the jagged blades that surround you.  

You can hardly breathe.  

You can hardly think.  

You can hardly do anything other than gasp as his palms squeeze against your legs, his nails digging into your skin as he forces them apart, keeping you from squeezing them shut as he devours you.  

Shoving one of your legs over his shoulder, his right hand slips from your thigh to begin toying with your entrance, and the way you squirm against his touch only encourages him to shove two fingers inside of you. A lewd sound pours from your mouth, echoing so loudly amidst the throne room that you worry someone might hear and come find the two of you.  

As his thick fingers plunge in-and-out of you, his tongue circling your clit, you grip the arms of the Iron Throne without thinking—a yelp tears from your throat as one of the blades slice into your palm.  

“Shit!” You hiss, the pain in your voice urging Aegon to pause, his mouth shimmering with slickness as he looks up at you, watching as the blood trickles down your wrist.  

His pupils flare, darkness overtaking the lilac in his eyes.  

Reaching up, Aegon mimics your accidental movement, allowing one of the jagged blades to tear into his palm, too. “Hen lantoti ānogar,” he mutters the familiar Valyrian vows as he reaches for your hand, his pronunciation sloppy, but his voice tinged with undeniable admiration, “va sȳndroti vāedroma,”  

(translation: blood of two, joined as one)

He presses your hands together, and his fingers intertwine with yours as the still-flowing blood begins to mix, binding the two of you together in a bond that transcends all else, uniting the two of you in an oath that could never be broken—not by your family, not by war, not even by death.  

Getting lost in his eyes, feeling his blood drip down your arm, you find yourself praying to any God that might listen.  

Not for absolution, disinterested in the thought of receiving forgiveness for the betrayal you commit against your mother by even sitting in Aegon’s presence.  

But for strength.  

Enough of it so that you might be able to play the role of the Green Queen, a gift bestowed upon you by Aegon. Enough of it so that you might grant your mother the victory she desires, the one she deserves. Enough of it so that you might be able to paint the walls red with the vile blood of the Greens.  

Enough of it so that you might become their demise.

a/n - considering that I wrote this while sleep-deprived at one am, it actually turned out pretty alright lmao. still can't write smut but o well.

aegon looks pretty in the new trailer <3

[officialaemondtargaryen]

From Her Knees

❝either we're smoking, or we're drinking, or we're at each other's throats. ❞

Summary: You're in a toxic relationship with Aegon.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Unnamed Female Character (no Y/N)

Word Count: ~1.5 k

Author’s Note: This is a rewrite of an old fic for a different character, but it fits Aegon so well that I had to write it for him. I hope that you enjoy it! As always your support through a reblog or comment is appreciated!

Warnings: alcohol use, language, p in v intercourse, oral (m receiving), mentions of previous domestic abuse, they are so bad for each other.

“You don’t do anything, Aegon!”

That was true.

The words she screamed at him usually were. He knew that, of course. That’s why it pissed him off so much. She was always right and she rubbed it in his face every single time. He had been home less than an hour after the shittiest day and she was already gunning for him.

“When am I ever here?” He spat. “I’m never fucking here! And when I am here, I have to listen to you bitch, and moan, and complain, and I’m fucking sick of it!”

That was also true.

He was almost always working; bearing the cross of being his father's son, forced to live a life he despised. It was exhausting, and draining, and all he wanted to do was come home and rest for the few short hours that he had before he had to get up and do it all over again. She’d never let him, though.

“Oh, you’re sick of it? Boo-fucking-hoo, Aegon,” she threw her hands up in the air. “What are you going to do? Leave? You tried that before, remember? It didn’t work.”

She was right again. How many times had they broken up? They had probably been separated more times than they had actually been together. He broke up with her the night before over something equally as futile, and yet, here he was again.

He just couldn’t stay away.

“You’re such a fuckin’ bitch!” He yelled. “You know that?” 

Yeah, she knew. She always had been and he always knew it. Yet, he stayed, she stayed. The two couldn’t stay away from each other.

They were moths to a flame.

He threw the door open, marching outside to the balcony, cigarette already lit and beer bottle in his hand. He slammed the door behind him, but she didn’t flinch. She was used to slamming doors, used to him in her face. Their screaming fits turned into fist fights almost every single time.

“Yeah, well fuck you,” she mumbled.

She poured herself a drink, swallowing the warm liquid quickly; it burned the whole way down. His silhouette danced along half-opened blinds as he paced back and forth on the balcony. Through the thin glass of the door she could hear him talking to himself; talking himself through hypothetical arguments while waving his hands in the air as he rehearsed. She didn’t even know why she was mad anymore. That’s how it was most nights. Something so small would trigger one of them, and then one sarcastic remark after the other and they were fighting again. The only time they ever got along was when they were both drunk, high, and fucking like animals on the closest surface available.

He was contemplating leaving again. Contemplating grabbing the keys, getting in the car, and spending the night in the gutter of some bar. This relationship was toxic. It always had been. His family begged him to stay away from her; the ‘narcissistic bitch’ they called her. Told him she was no good for him and that all she did was use him for money and sex. No matter how many times he tried to tell them that wasn’t true, they still wouldn’t believe him.

She didn’t want or need money. She didn’t want or need the sex. Hell, she barely wanted him. She could do so much better, they both knew it. She was beautiful and smart, and had everything going for her. Why she was sucked into this black hole of a fling, he would never know, and at times that made him feel even worse; knowing that she- in all of her holier-than-thou attitude and narcissistic personality disorder- she was still the prize of the two of them. He was just some cubicle junkie who only amounted to anything because of his last name, not because he cared.

Not because he was good at anything.

He came back inside when he was done smoking his cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. She was sitting at the table waiting for him. That was it, that was all it took; either he left or it was going to be World War III. He knew it by that shrewd look in her eye. The one that said, ‘you say one word to me, and I’m going to hurl this bottle of Jack Daniels at your fucking head’. He pulled the keys from the counter and started making his way back towards the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?” She asked him, standing up from her seat at the table and placing her hands on her hips.

He rolled his eyes and stopped. He really, really didn’t want to argue with her. He was tired, his muscles were sore, and he was so fed up with her shit. When he turned to face her, he sighed internally. She looked so cute standing there like that. Like at any moment she could just jump on him and claw his eyes out.

He hated crazy, but he loved her crazy.

“Well?” She drew out after not getting an answer the first time.

She was really trying to start something, and Aegon was caught in a cross hair; if he answered her, they fought. If he didn’t answer her, they still fought. If he left, they’d fight when he came back. Either way, there was going to be a fight.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here!” He yelled, knowing that everyone in their apartment complex could hear him. “Away from you and you’re fuckin’ voice that’s like nails on a goddamned chalkboard.”

All he had to do was say ‘I’m leaving’. He didn’t have to add the comment about her voice. But back-handed remarks were his thing, and he really couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it really mattered.

“Oh my voice is like nails on a chalkboard, huh?” She replied. “You aren’t saying that when you’re asking me to scream for you in bed! And trust me, the only reason I would be screaming is in laughter because your dick is so fucking small!”

She was in his face now, not intimidated at all by the way his eyes darkened. His fists were balled. He had hit her before a few times, and he always felt bad about it. But Gods, she was so annoying.

“What are you going to do? Hit me?” She egged on.

He was seriously thinking about it. Shut her up for the rest of the night. She might even pack her bags and stay with someone else for a few weeks. But he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t. Instead he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into him, crashing his lips on to hers. It didn’t take long at all for her to wrap her legs and arms around him.

They wasted no time; Aegon pushed her up against the wall, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled her panties to the side, and spit in his hand to wet the tip of his cock before he pushed himself into her. She gasped, fistfuls of his hair. Her mouth hung open as he pounded into her, slamming her up against the wall with each thrust. Her heavy moaning in his ear only added to the built up frustration that he needed to take out on her. She nibbled at his ear lobe, sending a shiver down his spine.

“I fuckin’ hate you,” he groaned in between thrusts.

Aegon pulled out of her and forced her down to her knees, shoving his wet cock into her mouth. She sucked the taste of herself off of him with pleasure before he pulled himself out and slapped the tip against her cheek, exploding on her face. He stood there for a minute, riding out the climax as she licked the dripping seed from his shaft. Then, she looked up at him from her knees; the sticky white liquid covering her face as she smiled. 

This was why he couldn’t stay away.

She stood up, adjusting her clothes, and wiped the semen off of her face with the t-shirt she had pulled off of him. Aegon fixed his pants and plopped down on the couch.

“Grab me another beer, would you?” He asked after a yawn.

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. “Get your own fucking beer.”

“You’re so ungrateful!” He replied.

“I’m ungrateful?” She started. “I fucking cook your meals, wash your fucking clothes, do your fucking dishes! And what do you do? Nothing!”

She suddenly realized why she was mad at him in the first place.

“Here we go again,” He replied with a groan. “For the last time, I’m never fucking here!”

[huramuna]

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other. 

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard. 

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days. 

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

 You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design. 

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased. 

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red. 

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly. 

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits. 

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly. 

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?” 

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.” 

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?” 

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets. 

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here. 

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.” 

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.” 

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?” 

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–” 

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?” 

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet! 

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets. 

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions. 

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’ 

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup. 

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.” 

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–” 

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.” 

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…” 

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house. 

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red. 

— 

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot. 

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you. 

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.” 

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen. 

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,” 

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction. 

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little— 

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing? 

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you. 

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you? 

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him? 

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working. 

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. 

“Oh. You’re still here.” 

“Yes?” 

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.” 

“The… what?” 

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.” 

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?” 

“Why not?” 

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?” 

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?” 

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you. 

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins. 

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?” 

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?” 

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.” 

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?” 

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.” 

“... what.” 

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?” 

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours. 

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.” 

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves. 

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.” 

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.” 

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?” 

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.” 

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?” 

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh. 

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone. 

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil. 

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat. 

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into. 

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded. 

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off. 

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt. 

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.” 

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was. 

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?” 

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.” 

“How about just in my room? Please?” 

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

[wittysuns]

𝓲. 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆 | Aegon II Targaryen

which in Aegon II Targaryen runaway from King’s Landing with his dragon and founds love on the way.

masterlist ✨

“My sweet Leo, you must take it easy on the eating.” Eva says to her 5-year-old son who was practically eating fast.

The little boy wanted to go play outside with his ‘friend’ and wait for his father to return home. Eva didn’t know how to tell her son that his father wasn’t coming back because he had left her for another woman who was a few years older than her. Just like she pretends to her son imagine a friend does exist. His father has been fighting in the war and doesn’t when he is coming back.

“Mama! I want to go outside and play! Want to play with my friend.” Leo replies to his mother with a cute tone of his voice.

Eva sighs softly and walks back to the pot of chicken soup she made. She grabbed a bowl of soup went back to the table of two and sat down.

Living with her 5-year-old son was stressful for her. Eva had to leave her son home alone while she went out selling her home loaves of bread. She couldn’t afford a kind person to take care of her child because she needed to have a lot of money to play with them.

“All done!” Leo rushed out of his seat almost falling. Sometimes it scared her when he did that.

“Leo be careful.” Eva’s motherly voice told her child. “And don’t talk to strangers.” She reportedly told her son.

“Okay, mama!”

Whenever her child left she would close her eyes and pray to god that nothing bad would happen to her son.

Leo opens the door leaving it wide open for his mother could hear or see him. Eva knew he would come back whenever she called his name.

The little boy ran around the pile of huge grass that was almost as tall as him. This was his favorite place to run around and it was also right in front of his home. He was playing around with his ‘friends’ and having a good time with them. Play all those games that kid plays with their friends.

A huge crack came from the forest. He makes Leo a curious child and slowly walks over to the forest. He looks back at his home but he knows his way back home because he has been into the forest before.

One of his mother’s strict rules is not to go to the forest because that is where danger usually happens. He turns back to the forest and walks into the forest that his mother forbids him to enter.

He carefully watched every surrounding he walked on and made sure no dangerous animal could attack him. Until he heard a shriek scaring him and regretting coming to the forest but he needed to know.

Leo follows the path where he hears the shriek coming from. He walks past multiple big trees when he stops his track after finding a large beast that is bigger than his home. It had gleaming gold scales and pale pink wing membranes. His eyes widened when he saw an unconscious person lying on the ground.

The large beast was nudging the person as if he was trying to wake them up. He steps a bit forward when he triggers the beast after stepping on a branch. The golden beast snapped his head and saw a little boy.

He just stared at the golden beast not knowing what to do in this moment. The beast only looked at the boy and huffed at the boy scaring him half to death. It went back on shaking the person that was still there.

Then the little boy’s mind clicked. It was probably the owner of his beast. Maybe he needs help.

“Does your owner need help?” Leo thundered as he could to the beast. It turns its head to him again and then growls out to the little boy getting answers.

“I can help you—well my mama can help, she does a great job!” The boy tells the beast.

This time the beast didn’t make any sound but grabbed the unconscious person off the ground by his large teething mouth and got on his four feet. Leo didn’t know how big the beast was and the beast was big all right.

Leo made sure the beast was ready to follow him. It looked like he was all ready to follow him back home. The little boy started walking back home with the beast and wondering how his mother would react. As he and the beast are walking back, the boy starts talking to the beast all about his mother and how he had the best mother in the world.

[tridentqueen]

Claimed

Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ | minors dni

Content warnings: handjobs, thigh riding, possessiveness, adultery (both Aegon and reader are married to other people), f!reader, no use of y/n, if I forgot to include something let me know

Summary: You are upset when you hear Aegon occasionally still goes to the Street of Silk, so you decide to make it clear to him that you have a claim on how he spends his nights.

Fic also posted on ao3

“I don’t know how Princess Helaena puts up with it,” Yva Ashford confided to you while the two of you sipped tea and nibbled on blackberry tarts in the gardens.

After a week of rain, the first day of sunshine brought many courtiers outside of the castle despite the still-lingering humidity. You and Yva were only one of many pairs of ladies taking their afternoon tea in the rose garden. You knew there were likely even more in the other gardens spread throughout the Red Keep.

Your brows knitted at her comment. “Puts up with what?”

“Prince Aegon,” Yva scoffed. “He goes to the Street of Silk at least twice a week.”

You froze, your cup of tea comically remaining halfway between the table and your lips for a few moments before you recovered.

“And how do you know that?” you asked, praying to the seven that your voice sounded casual to Yva’s ears. That she could not tell how her revelation stung.

“Everyone knows he does not keep to one bed,” she shrugged.

“Yes, but how do you know he goes to the Street of Silk twice a week?” you inquired. You hoped your gentle prodding would be enough for her to reveal her source.

Luckily, it was.

“My handmaid told me. Some of the kitchen helps apparently see him there frequently, and they told the girls they’re fond of, and so on and so forth. Servants talk, as you know.”

You did know. Despite the Red Keep’s size, it seemed as if no one could do anything without the courtiers gossiping about it the next day.

Well, almost.

As far as you knew, no one was aware of your meetings with Aegon. After that first night together, he showed you a way to secretly travel directly from an abandoned chamber to his own. You had been known even before your trysts to walk the corridors of the castle late into the night, having had trouble falling asleep even as a young girl, so no one thought twice whenever they passed you despite the late hour.

You hummed but did not push the subject further. That did not stop Yva’s words from haunting you for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.

He goes to the Street of Silk at least twice a week.

“I’m going to bed, my love,” Roland, your husband, told you two hours after evenfall. Supper had been eaten and cleared away, the hearth lit, and the pair of you spending your evening as you always did - pursuing separate activities.

As every other highborn, your marriage to Roland Redwyne had been arranged without your parents even asking if you liked him. Two years ago, after you both attended the wedding of the heir of one of the lords of the Reach and shared exactly one conversation, he apparently became enchanted by you and begged his father to send a raven to your father asking for your hand. And how could your father, the lord of a much lower house, refuse the Lord Redwyne?

With just a handful of ravens, your future was decided.

You liked Roland well enough. He was kind to you, which you knew was more than some of the other ladies at court could say about their husbands, but even after a year of marriage you still felt that you were married to someone half a stranger.

You will become closer once your first babe is born, your older sister wrote to you a few moons ago. But when that would happen, you did not know. You and Roland coupled perhaps once a week - he rarely initiated, and you certainly did not attempt to pick up the slack.

Perhaps that was why Aegon seemed so appealing to you. You moved to court just a few weeks after your wedding and the prince almost immediately began shooting looks your way that made you feel as if he was undressing you with his eyes. Roland never once looked at you like that. And it was certainly improper for a man who was not your husband to do so.

But you liked it. It made your skin feel as if it was fire. And during the night, when you thought of Aegon, a feeling you had never once experienced for Roland began surfacing.

Desire.

After months of Prince Aegon’s heated looks in your direction, suggestive remarks, light touches whenever you were near each other - one night you finally succumbed to him.

Before Aegon, you did not know women could feel such pleasure. When you and your husband lay together, it felt . . . nice. Intimate. But Aegon made your body writhe and squirm against his, forced sharp cries of ecstasy from your throat, pleasured you until your back arched and your cunt squeezed his cock so tightly his own movements stuttered.

That was three months ago, and you never felt the same again after that first night. You went to his chambers nearly every night, after Roland fell asleep. But some nights Roland stayed up late, keeping you in your apartments. And on those nights, apparently, Aegon sought his pleasure with someone other than you.

You waited a couple of hours after Roland turned into your shared bedchamber for the night before you left your apartments, going straight to the abandoned quarters that would take you to Aegon’s.

Anxiety churned in your stomach at seeing the rooms empty. He was at the Street of Silk. You knew it . Where else could he be? He certainly was not with his wife, as Aegon told you himself once that they barely spent any time together. You did not know how Princess Helaena felt about her marriage - you were not close with her, and you did not want to risk asking the other courtiers, for fear that people would wonder why you were so curious.

As you sat in his empty chambers, your anger and anxiety fed off one another.

Aegon was obviously a lech, why would he view your liaisons any differently than his other dalliances?

Because you were different! You were a married women with a reputation to protect, not some whore. He was lucky you had even allowed him into your bed, that month Roland was away at the Arbor helping his father and brother attend to some business. You feared from the beginning that he would tire of you. But that would not happen without a fight from you. Not now that you knew how good he made you feel.

Finally, after nearly an hour, Aegon returned to his rooms through the secret passageways, confirming that he had gone into the city. His brows rose in surprise at seeing you before his expression turned heated within the span of a few seconds. You were alone in his rooms at night. That could only mean one thing, to him.

You wanted to slap the look off his face, in part because of how your body was already responding to it. Your face was warm and your cunt was beginning to throb.

I am doomed. The seven hells are nothing compared to the torture he can inflict on me with a mere look.

“Where have you been?” you asked him sharply.

“Out,” he responded - maddeningly vague.

Your temper flared at his answer. “To the brothels?”

Aegon walked to his nightstand and poured himself a generous goblet of wine. “What of it?”

Before you could think twice, “I want to be the only one who warms your bed,” spilled from your lips. It was true - you had thought it over and over and over again while you waited for him - but you did not mean to say it aloud.

You knew you were being a hypocrite. Here you were, a married woman fucking a married man demanding to be the only one he fucked outside of his marriage bed.

“And what of my wife? Your husband?” Aegon sneered as he placed his goblet of wine down on the table. He moved to stand within a hair's breadth of you. “Do not think to have any claim on what I do or where I do it.”

His words made you feel as if you had been slapped. In your anger, your breath began to come in heavy pants. Aegon’s eyes moved down to your low neckline, unashamedly ogling your tits as they rapidly rose and fell.

The movement of his eyes set you off. You pushed him so hard he stumbled backwards half a step. It was an extremely childish way to handle your emotions, you knew. The amused look on his face told you that he felt the same.

Wanting to wipe that look off his face, you raised your hands to push him again. This time, he was not caught off guard by your movement and grabbed your wrists. Aegon briefly glanced down at your parted lips - the only warning you had before he brought his lips to yours in a firm kiss.

He bit your lower lip, so hard you immediately opened your mouth wider in shock. His tongue slid into your mouth, moving against yours. A muffled moan escaped you as he let go of your wrists and gripped the sides of your face to ensure you did not break the kiss.

Only when you both needed to breathe did Aegon’s lips leave yours, but he lavished your neck and collarbone with bites and sucks and licks. Nothing too hard to leave a mark but enough for pleasured gasps to fall out of your mouth.

His hands moved from your head to caress your sides and back with a gentleness that contrasted with the harshness of his attack on your neck.

You let out a pleading “oh” as he bit the left side of your neck where it met your shoulder, the spot that always got a reaction out of you.

Your cunt throbbing and wetness beginning to pool between your thighs, you moved your hands to the ends of his tunic, pulling it up. Aegon acquiesced to your nonverbal request, removing his lips from your neck to pull the garment up and over his head. He then turned you around and began unlacing your dress. Once loosened, you stepped out of it and took off your chemise before turning back around to meet his gaze.

The two of you stared at one another, both breathing quickly. His eyes held a fire in them that you had come to know well, his pupils so dilated you could barely see the purple of his irises. His cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly parted.

Not breaking eye contact, you placed your palms flat on the planes of his chest and pressed. You did not press so hard that he thought you were trying to knock him down again but firmly enough that he understood what you wanted. He walked backwards, only stopping when his knees hit the edge of his featherbed.

You pressed again, and Aegon sat down on the bed. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, he placed his hands around your hips and pulled slightly. You smirked as you straddled him, your knees on either side of him.

“I do want a claim on what you do and where you do it,” you breathed as you sat on his right thigh.

You unlaced his trousers and wrapped your hand around his hardening cock. You only had Roland to compare, but Aegon’s cock was longer when hard, with more girth. And it filled you up perfectly.

He groaned as you began moving your hand in slow strokes. Once he was fully hard, the head of his cock red and leaking, you removed your hand from him - feeling a surge of power when he whined at the loss of contact - and spat into your palm, maintaining eye contact as you did so.

“Fuck,” Aegon moaned when you wrapped your wet palm around him again, working him at a steady pace as you lightly turned your wrist with every other stroke. Just like he had taught you.

You watched his face contort in pleasure - his brows furrow, his eyes clenching shut, his mouth agape.

“Faster,” he begged, licking his lips as his pants increased.

You happily obliged him.

His grip on your hips tightened and his own hips began gently bucking up when you began swiping your thumb on the underside of the head of his cock on each stroke.

“You always make me feel so good, Aegon,” you quietly praised, causing him to sigh out your name. “You’re so good to me. I want to be the only one that’s good to you. I’ll do anything.” Your last words came out in a breathy moan.

His eyes shot open at your pleading. You could only imagine how much of a mess you looked. Eyes wild, chest rising rapidly, lips swollen from biting them so hard in an effort to keep yourself from rubbing yourself to completion on his thigh while you watched him in the throes of pleasure.

“Do you love me?” he rasped.

“Yes,” you told him immediately. “Aegon, I love you.”

Aegon came with a whine of your name just moments after you said the words, his warm seed coating your hand. You immediately brought your hand to your mouth, licking his release off your fingers and palm. Aegon groaned at the sight.

Perhaps you did love him. Why else would you become so angry at the fact that he still visited whores?

Still panting, Aegon moved one of his hands from your hip to your lower back. Urging you to rub yourself on his thigh. You did not need any extra encouragement, your cunt throbbing so hard it nearly hurt and so wet you knew your slick already stained his trousers. You tilted your hips quickly, so eager to come from how worked up you were from giving him pleasure.

You sighed when he palmed your breast with the hand not on your lower back and released a sharp cry when his thumb began circling one nipple while he wrapped his mouth around the other and used his tongue to mimic the actions of his thumb. You wrapped your hands tightly in his hair, to ensure he did not move away from your tits.

“Aegon,” you moaned as you moved back and forth as fast as you could, waves of pleasure hitting you from head to toe with each pass of your hips, your bundles of nerves rubbing directly on his clothed thigh.

You were already so close.

Yes yes yes oh fuck oh gods

“Say it when you come,” Aegon demanded. The feeling of his breath on your nipple, wet from his tongue, sent shivers down your spine.

You nodded, so blissed out that you barely registered what he said. But you did.

“I love you,” you cried out when your back arched and your cunt clenched. You softly repeated the phrase, and his name, through the aftershocks as your hips slowed their movements.

Aegon removed himself from your chest once your hips stilled, kissing his way back up - the tops of your breasts, the hollow of your throat, your neck, your jawline, your lips.

You returned his kiss hungrily, pushing your tongue in his mouth and moving it against his.

“I want to be the only other woman you fuck,” you told him once the two of you broke away. You looked him straight in the eyes as you said it, so he knew you were serious.

Aegon gave you a look of such tenderness that it made your heart melt. He brought your lips back to his in a gentle kiss.

“You’re perfect,” he told you softly, resting his forehead on yours.

After that night, Aegon did as promised and stopped visiting the Street of Silk. But you made sure to find a way to sneak out of your chambers every night to see him. Just to prevent the possibility.

[aegoniiwifey]

Anon who requested the chubbydaddy!aegon and his daughter <3 you did my request justice and way more I'm obsessed- I literally reread it like ten times I love it. Also another chubbydaddy!aegon request: Aegon getting requests to court/ wed his precious girl, and he ignores them all, ignores what the Small Council wants, etc and goes to her after a long day, letting her ride his belly, then breeding, then cumplay, and whatever your genius mind comes up with <3

Wanna Be Yours

PAIRING: King!Aegon ii Targaryen x daughter!fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,944.

WARNINGS: incest, swearing, angst, breeding kink, praise kink, stomach riding, cum play, titty sucking, p in v sexual intercourse. indented parts are previous scenes.

A/N - I am so so sorry for responding so late, I took a little hiatus with tumblr and am starting to find my rhythm again. I absolutely adore this trope and your ideas. so happy you enjoyed the first piece, it was an absolute privilege to write! hope this is just what you imagined also xx

Apologies I have not reread this as I finished work and my eyes are about to shut! will proof read tomorrow ♥️

credit to my beloved BOOBIE @bnb-atnite for making this godly image of my man CHUBBY! ilysm!

"Your Grace, it is highly frowned upon by the Seven that you wed your daughter! We have given many exceptions to your ancestors for upholding their queer customs, but this- This arrangement we do not condone!"

Aegon's deep exhale as his eyes darkly snapped towards the elderly maester, was enough to silence the room with his palpable vehemence. He was beyond tired and irritated by the constant nagging of his esteemed Council, of their blatant disapproval of their King's intentions to wed his beloved... His only surviving blood, his daughter.

Throughout the war, Aegon had grown insatiably protective of you: in addition to having a special place in his heart as his eldest born, you remained the last remaining figure in his previous life, despite his mother and himself. As your grandmother silently fell into madness, in the privacy of her chambers, where she preferred to seclude herself, Aegon had no other person he soulfully cherished than you. And as he was to you, the feelings had become reciprocated. Your father loved you dearly: since becoming of age, a young, matured woman, his advances had grown more intimate and lubricious. You owed him your life, and wished nothing more than to devote yourself to him. No man could have done what he did for you...

"It is done, Maester Orwyle... I will wed my daughter in the ancient traditions of our House, if it be the last damned thing I do. I am the fucking King!" Aegon loudly asserted, slamming his pudgy hand against the solid, wooden tabletop, as his words simmered the Council into a fright.

Aegon was known for his temper, although it took a great deal for him to raise his voice: he was a stubborn man at that, also...

"My dearest, what is it? What have they done now that troubles you so, hmm?"

Aegon defeatedly relinquishes in the wooden rocking chair by the stoking fire: it’s orange-red tinged flames being the only source of light emitting in the room.

You walk up behind your father, his face stern and unmoving besides his closed eyes as his hand rubbed at his temples. Your hands find their way to his broad, thick shoulders, giving them a gentle massage as you knead the tension.

“So-So tense, my beloved. Tell me what is wrong, so that I may be of some help. Let me ease your mind, Daddy.”

Aegon’s shrugging shoulders said plentiful, as he opened his eyes once more, head turning slightly to its side so that you were in his peripheral vision.

“There is nothing to be sorted, my love. I am to wed you, and as their rightful King, it is my final word above all else. Those elderly cunts can yap all they want. I will have you.”

With his final word, a yearning flare brews between your thighs, aching for one particular thing. Your father always had a way with words, especially with you.

“Is that so?” You teasingly utter, as you straddle yourself comfortably on his lap. Your arms grip the overarching wooden frame of the chair as you swiftly lift yourself up, before plopping back down, although this time elevated by your father’s overgrown, rotund belly.

Your earliest, core memories of your father had always been admiring him at feasts and family dinners. He never denied himself a hearty meal, and his grand appetite never ceased during the war. Inevitably, as the years went by and his youth disappeared the weight remained and latched on with each mouthful. The intimate moments your attention would linger onto him, as he savoured each bite, the way he'd unashamedly lick the grease and crumbs off his chubby fingers, even off the rings that had fit him a time before... Now that he had sized up immensely, most treasures and clothes that he had worn, he had rapidly outgrown. None of his rings could go beyond the tips of his fingers, and he was in great denial about it, refusing to resize until you had convinced him otherwise. The way he had often rubbed his aching, bloated belly: swollen beneath the restricting fabric, a somewhat elevated and satisfied look strewed across his handsome, fat face as he would pat himself proudly.

"But I want Daddy all to myself. I want Daddy to fight the whole realm for me, if he has to. Can Daddy do that for me?" You utter closely into his hear, your hot breath dense against his earlobe: after hastily hiking your skirt up [wearing nothing below, as you instinctively anticipated this precise moment], you unbuttoned his top garment, only to expose his rotund, plush belly. The handful of rolls engulfing his sides, the grip-able hips that accentuated his width, streaked with raw, red stretch marks all across his love handles and lower belly. His tits were double your size, nipples sensitive under your gentle touch, even a flick of his nipple was enough to make him moan. It made you flustered, the sheer sight in evidence of your father's blatant growth... And he had no shame in admitting it.

"Of course, baby. Anything for my sweet, little princess. Daddy would burn the entire realm if he has to for you... I'll repopulate the world with my princess, if needs be."

With each of his longing words, you pressed yourself down deeper, sinking your bare cunt further against his naked belly, causing him to whimper. His pudgy hands found their way beneath your layered gown, each palm rested atop your cheeks, firmly cupping and squeezing at your flesh.

"My princess knows just what to do, to make her Daddy happy, huh? My only joy in life, is you."

Your grinding rhythmic, the pace begins to quicken with excitement, as your throbbing cunt becomes moist, the wetness stirring and oozing beneath, against the warm friction. As your cum coats his smooth fat, slowly it becomes more tolerable.

"I-I just wanna make m-my Daddy proud- D-Daddy can s-say whatever, a-and I'll do as I'm t-told-"

"Is that so?" His mimicking voice, a deep growl wretched from his throat, as his hands find their strength, shoving you deeper against his swallowing frame. He always admired how tiny you appeared in comparison to him, how fragile it made you look. He rejoiced it was a symbol of how he could protect you, that he was your shelter.

"Daddy wants to fuck Princess senseless, all night long. Fill my Princess up with my hot, hot seed until I'm certain she takes. Daddy wants Princess to swell with his child, and show her off to the realm. That the babe kicking in her belly, is all his undoing, hmm."

"A-Anything for Daddy- Just f-fuck me, Aeg-"

Although it drove Aegon wild to hear you mindlessly moan and whisper Daddy, something in particular, whenever you called him by his name, would often trigger something more insatiable in him. He could devour you in the spot, like some afternoon tea honey cake, whenever you spoke of his true name.

"Undo my pants-" Immediately without sparing a thought more, you obeyed. As Aegon's plump belly expanded over his thick, wide lap, his portly fat pad beneath had somewhat engulfed his cock. It made it difficult for him to even try to locate or masturbate himself. For now, you had both learnt tricks to overcome the obstacle, having your father lean in a certain angle, as you put in the effort to locate his fat, hard cock, plunging it deep between your walls.

As he tried to reposition himself with great difficulty, in the faint space left remaining in the seat with you atop: breathless by the end of all the moving, you managed to pluck out his cock. The sheer sight and tension beneath your gentle stroking grip, its reddened, blush tip oozing with a sheer-white, translucent reside, palpating with excitement.

"Don't keep Daddy waiting, Princess. I need to feel your walls take my cock. Make you so fucking full of me, I'll make you a human waterfall."

The raw feeling of his cock between your inner walls, clenching to adjust to its girthy, solid size: although it could no longer delve as deep as it used to, the friction of his fat pad against your clit, and the pressure of his mass against your lower stomach, made it invigorating nonetheless.

"Th-That's it, Princess. S-So tight for me. All fucking mine, and the w-whole world will know it-"

"Y-Yes, Daddy-"

"If I need to fuck you with the eyes of the Court watching, I will."

As means to muffle your moans and loud pleas for Aegon, bashfully mindful of the servants and Kingsguard stationed beyond the inches of the door outside, your mouth latched onto Aegon's porky tits.

Suckling at his tender flesh, as your tongue licked at his nipple, causing him to wince and growl in eager approval, one hand left your ass cheek, gripping close your bucking hips, and found its way snaking behind your back, before pulling at your loose hair.

Tightly tugging at the free strands, mottling between his pudgy fingers, he once more, gave gentle encouragement, shoving your face down deeper against his tubby chest.

"F-Fuck Y/N. S-So impressed by Daddy, huh, Princess? You keep going at this rate, I'll be making my own damn milk for you and the babes."

Noticing the glistening residue of your cum spilled across his rolls and paunchy stomach, his other hand cleaned the mess up over with his bare hand. Before hungrily licking off your wetness with his tongue, licking his hand clean free.

"Delicious."

With his heavy, dense weight keeping him pinned down against the chair, he made no effort to thrust himself inside as he once jovially could. Alternatively, the chair swayed with his potent motions, as he would subtly buck his ample hips forward into your frame.

"My sweet, beautiful girl is gonna cum already. I can feel you swallow my cock whole, your walls suffocating my cock. Take me, princess, take it all-"

With the finish of his words, signalling his epitome, Aegon shot his hot, fresh seed into you: warmly coating your inner walls, as your own wetness gushed over his eager, hard cock. Catching a minute to regain your breaths and thoughtless mind, you lifted yourself off, and instantly the mess began to pool across your inner thighs.

Almost on cue or from impressive instinct, Aegon began to scoop at your inner thighs, sensitive from his touch, its abrupt presence startled you.

"Did I not teach you about letting things go to waste, baby? Never let this out. This is as precious as Valyrian steel. I ought to keep you plugged up with my cock..."

The tips of his fat fingers tease at the entrance of your folds, softly tracing over your stained, painful walls: impressed with your sudden shiver and moan, his deep chuckle left you feeling reminiscent of your first time. How nervous you felt, inexperienced against your father's wit.

"I-I want this to take. I want to have as many babes as the Gods see fit with you, Aeg... I want to swell healthily with child, and give you the heir you want... As many as you desire-"

As one fo your hands remained nestled against his chest, tracing soft, random lines against the crevices of his rolls: the other travelled its way to his face, pushing aside a random strand of hair, away from his handsome, fuller face.

"I want our sons to be the spitting image of their father, and our daughter's kind like their grandmother... Will Daddy fuck me day and night, to make my wish come true, hmm?"

"Of course..."

credit for dividers - @/valeskafics

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Aegon is the best big brother to his sweet sister, who is in third trimester of pregnancy; not only does he help her relieve the feeling of her heavy breasts by sucking on her tits greedily like a babe, he sometimes helps the aching feeling between her legs by sticking his cock, tongue or fingers in her cunny

Such a good brother, especially when she’s not even his wife

Blood of my Blood.

PAIRING: Older!Brother!Aegon ii Targaryen x Little!Sister!Fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,715.

WARNINGS: incest to the max, implied affair [Aegon is the father of the child], age gap [reader is of mature/consensual age], lactation kink, pregnancy kink, slight reference to breeding kink, p in v sexual intercourse, possessive!Aegon, swearing.

A/N - now I NEVER write brother x sister tropes even in the ASOIAF universe just because it’s not really my cup of tea, but this ask sparked something very very feral in me. I might make a neice x uncle version of this or a Daddy Aeg x daughter!reader version.

credit to the owners of the images.

Curse the Gods who afflicted the journey of motherhood, for it could be such a gruelling thing... Heading into the final few moons of your first pregnancy, you had never felt such intense discomfort in your life. Your beloved mother, Queen Alicent, had informed you of such grievances, although with little empathy for her pregnancies had been quite embracing and facile. Your eldest sister, Helaena, having already given birth to a set of twins, now in the early stages of her current pregnancy with your elder brother, Aemond, could somewhat console you, becoming an anchor of support.

It was Aegon, your eldest of the siblings, that you seemed most attached to, for it was Aegon that granted you bliss in your pregnancy, more so than your absent husband, some delinquent lord of the Vale. You had argued your way with your mother, and batted your eyes to your father, begging you to stay in King's Landing, in familiar territory with the finest maesters at hand. More so, it was Aegon who had plotted with you this essential plan.

"Do you truly think that the maesters of the Vale and that imbecile you call husband will keep you safe and satisfied, dear sister? Not in the least... But I can."

Aegon's temptress of a tongue was convincing alone, although it had been his merciful gestures of chivalry that kept you sane and grounded. Easing your aches and pains of expecting, Aegon became your sole beacon of ease, like the formidable arms of a warrior and you, the damsel he heroically carries.

"Do they ache again, sweet sister?"

The softness in his husky, drowsy voice breaking the silence of the chamber, woke you whole from your half-hearted daze. You had both succumbed to slumber [often Aegon insisted that you remain closely by his side, even in bed] what felt like hours long ago, and yet through the ginger firelight, by the open window, night remained swallowing the sky.

"Mhmm-" You uneasily stir: weakly trying to muster enough strength to sit yourself upright: however, with the sheer, bulging mass of your grown belly you visibly struggled until Aegon's efforts of pulling you effortlessly upright ended your dilemma.

"Want me to help, princess?"

His calloused, thick hands began to rub small, soothing circles against your lower back, knowing the babe inside exerted much pressure on your lower spine: its weight growing more rigid with each passing month.

"You've helped me enough, Aegon. I mustn't ask more from you... If this state is any indication of me being a mother, consider me a terrible one," You defeatedly utter, one hand stretched from behind supporting your upright position, whilst the other softly caressed at the protruding temple of your clothed belly.

"Don't speak like that, Y/N, dearest. This is your first babe, you must understand your body is adjusting. Hel suffered a great deal with the twins also, and now, look at her... You are going to be a beautiful mother, indeed. I have no doubt...C'me here."

Lightly tapping at your exposed thigh, your night gown had been pulled up just below your way with all the commotion and movement. Obeying, Aegon summoned you onto his lap, shirtless he had entered the bed, however before you could even gather motion to straddle yourself atop: he'd managed to tear away his undergarments, leaving his exposed girth, reddened at the tip with excitement. Modestly covering himself with the sheer, ivory linen.

"Right now?" Your snappy tone vicious, however Aegon remained unfazed.

"Well, little sister, if I'm being quite frank it seems you've been dreaming quite vividly... Do you not hear the moans and pleas that escape your lips in sleep, crying out for me, begging... Want your elder to sate you, is it? Was that babe growing inside of you not enough, you wish me to spoil you some more, hmm?"

"A-Aeg- We shouldn't..." You meekly whimper, a surge of heat coursing through your face, certain your cheeks had grown scarlet with shame.

"All you had to do was ask."

His dark voice a low growl, like some concealed predator eager to ambush. Aegon's motions remained in contrast, tender and cautious, easing your delicate and sensitive frame over his wide, gelatinous thighs. A scorching sensational painfully heightened sent lightning bolts in waves throughout the entirety of your body, shuddering with excitement as your aching cunt eased itself over his pulsating cock. It had been a while since you had been intimate with Aegon like this, prior to the pregnancy in fact: the changes your body had undergone since were bracing and raw.

Feeling the tensity beneath and the heat as you began to bob ever so slowly and sensually over Aegon's tense, fat cock: feeling its hard tip hitting at your cervix [you had hoped rather than the babe]. Your tight walls overstretched, desperate to adjust to his girthy width, you swore to yourself it had never felt this stimulating ever before: every primal sense in your body, every fibre of your being resisting the urge to collapse into a faint against Aegon's soft chest, gripping onto the bare, pale skin of his broad shoulders for dear life.

"That's it, rūs [baby], doing so-so well. It hurts I know, but Daddy's gonna make you feel so much better. Keep going, princess."

Head rolling back in admiration, you felt the intensity from between your inner thighs beginning to lessen, a wetness pooling between, coating the friction to ease the motions. Your hands release their strong hold over him, as your eyes began to wonder over his body, you had immediately noticed the raw, reddened marks lashed across his ivory skin. To avoid any more damage, you guide your relaxed hands up towards Aegon's short strands.

Tugging and playfully pulling at the loose, platinum locks, whilst Aegon's face remained buried, eagerly lapping at your petal-like skin on the base of your neck. One strong arm snaked around your back, gripping you firmly by the neck providing some lumbar support, whilst the other strategically untied the knots of lace at the front of your night gown, exposing your voluptuously full tits. Hardened nipples raw and perky, even as Aegon teasingly flicked at your tit with this thumb, a grimace forming across his handsome face you felt against your skin: kneading the swollen, plump flesh with his palm, you instinctively squirmed and moaned with such debility.

"Seven Hells, you are so fucking full, dārilaros [princess]. This babe is going to be so spoiled. Such a good Mumma, already eager with milk for the bub... Could feed the an entire realm, Mumma."

"J-Just you A-Aeg. Only you get to taste this sweet m-milk before the babe. T-Tell me how good I taste," Stuttering whimpers mottled between mouthful of moans echoed between the dense walls of Aegon's royal chambers. His fat cock still buried and plunging itself deeply inside of you, penetrating against your already tainted and filled womb, Aegon's hand cupped at your breast from beneath. Lifting your tit upwards, latching his mouth tightly against its curvature peak.

"Mhmm- Keep going big boy... M-Making me feel s-so good, A-Aeg. H-Have your full."

The imminent relief your occupied tit began to succumb to, felt like a blissful dream. You felt your breath could finally release, not hitched against your throat from the sheer agony of feeling it was about to burst. The milk you intently sensed, lusciously pouring into Aegon's ravenous mouth, his plump, moist lips suckling at your skin, totally encompassing the nipple in its entirety. His teeth lightly gnawed at your flesh, however, it was a pleasant sensation nonetheless.

"So w-warm and fresh- Gonna f-fill me up so fucking much. P-Poor princess... The weight of these, the copious a-amount- I-I'm greedy for you. Sh-Should've fucked you earlier in your womanhood... Drenching your w-womb of my seed, till we fill the keep i-if need be. M-Mother would rather enjoy it."

Aegon, famished like a destitute of the realm, bathed his taste-buds of your milk from one breast and onto the other: regaining his breath between each as he felt inclined to credit your production. Descending his face down once more, he spared no further second wasting away, as he continued to fervently feed, like a man starved of pure water.

"Th-The el-eldest you may b-be, such a b-big baby y-you are. S-So needy for me, huh? A-Always needing t-to take me, m-make me yours. Every bit of me... Is devout t-to you, A-Aegon."

As if your breathless, sensual words had struck a chord in him, a man gone mad with a fever. His hold on you had tightened, his mouth suckled deeper, tugging at the flesh of your bosom, whilst his cock felt it had grown a size more inside of you. The wet mess coating between your inner thighs now glazed all over Aegon's plump lap, expressed no denial of his power over you, the purpose he gave to you. In theory and practice, you felt your body collapsing into a bliss, a shudder of ecstasy waved through your feeble body as you screamed for Aegon, a gush of your wetness coating all over his stiff cock buried inside. Only to be met with Aegon's mutual appreciation of your vulnerability and submission towards him.

"That's it, baby. Such a beautiful woman... Gevives [beauty]. You honour me with this holy act. You privilege me to your womb, your body and your life... Skorkydoso kostagon nyke mirre deny ao mirros? [How can I ever deny you anything?]."

Easing yourself off of Aegon, your limp, frail body tiresome and relieved of such exploits endured. Aegon knew better than to leave you to your own strength, as absent as it was: carrying you over towards your empty side of the bed, still laying you closely against his natural warmth.

"Continue to serve me, brother. And I shall pay it back 100 times over... And besides, if it had not been for your mischief many moons ago, I would not be in such a state. Although, I wouldn't have it any other way, Aegon... I love you."

"Avy jorrāelan [I love you], my dearest, sweet little sister. Continue as you are and I might have to fuck another babe in you once more to teach you a lesson or two."

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @zaldritzosrose

Aegon ii taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11 @bucknastysbabe @callsignwidow

credit for divider - @/saradika-graphics

[dreamcatcher2113]

The Sunflower and The Dragon: The Dragon’s Sunflower

Summary: No one would have that Aegon Targaryen would settle down, and commit to someone. Then he met you. Aegon started to become a better person since he met you. The two of you just made sense when you are together.

Author Note: Just another cute little series that I want to do.

Warnings: Suggested Sexual Content

Masterlist

The Dragon’s Sunflower

It was early morning, Aegon was dead to the world. He usually doesn’t wake up at ass crack of dawn. So when he turned to your side of the bed, expecting you to be there. Instead he feels your side of the bed empty. Aegon should have known that you are already up, he looks at the clock that was on the bed table. It was 9 in the morning, Aegon groaned as he got out of bed. He loves you dearly, even though you love waking up before noon is a mystery to him. Aegon puts on gray sweatpants, and decide to just go shirtless because why the fuck not. It’s yours and his apartment, he can do whatever he wants.

Aegon walks out of your shared room and turns to the kitchen. He starts to hear music, and then he sees you with your hair up in a messy bun, and only wearing one of his black shirts. He couldn’t help but to smirk at the sight. Aegon sits on one of the chairs on the island, watching you sway your hips. The shirt is a little long, but it left room to the imagination. His goldendoodle Sunfyre came up barking happily. You turned and saw your boyfriend sitting on the chair, smirking at you. 

“Oh goodness. Aegon you scared me.” You were startled at his sudden appearance, but smiled regardless.

“Good morning my sunflower, what are you making?” Aegon asked.

“I am making french toast.” You said sweetly, putting the bread on the frying pan.

Aegon chuckled a little bit, since your back was turned you didn’t see him walking behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist, you jumped a bit but relaxed. Aegon starts kissing your neck.

“Aegon.” You called out his name.

“Yes, my love.” He replied.

“I’m trying to make breakfast for us.”  You said, but not really trying to pull away from him. Leaning into him closer, you love feeling his touch. 

Aegon smirked into your skin. “I’m not hungry at the moment. I’m craving for something else.” He continues to assault your neck, moving his hand to your hips, rubbing circles on them. Wanting to feel your lips, he spins you around so you are facing him. Aegon immediately smashed his lips against yours. He licks your bottom lip, asking for access and of course you gave it to him. Your hands begin to travel to his hair, gripping it. Aegon couldn’t get enough of you, you have become his addiction. The both of you pulled apart for air, his lips made their way back to your neck this time he wants to find the little special spot that makes you weak in the knees. His hands travel to the bottom of the shirt you are wearing a little bit, exposing a little bit of the dark green lace panties that Aegon loves so much. 

“Aegon.” You moaned a bit.

“Yes sunflower?” Aegon said against your neck, still raising the shirt a bit more.

“The stove is still on, and I really don’t want to explain to our landlord why we burned our kitchen down.” You explained, feeling Aegon sucking on the spot on your neck that makes you feel weak.

Chuckling a bit, Aegon skillfully turns off the stove and he picks you up and places you on the counter that is next to the stove, earning a yelp from you. He places himself between your legs, and you wrap them around his waist. The two of you start kissing again, his hands gripping into the shirt that you are wearing, and sliding it up more. While your hands explore his neck and his hair. Aegon pulls you closer, and moves the collar of the shirt, so he can kiss the space between your neck and shoulders and starts marking you up again.

“My love.” You said so sweetly, one hand gripping his hair while the other grips on his bareback.

“I’m a little busy Princess.” He said, kissing your neck this time.

Giving up, you just let Aegon do what Aegon does. Not that you are complaining. Wanting to mark him up too, you make him pull away from you for a bit. He looks at you with puppy eyes, and pouts a little bit. You giggled at his reaction, and started kissing his neck. Aegon moans a little bit when you start to suck on the spot on his neck. Once you pull away, you admire your work. Aegon smirks and starts kissing you once again.

“Gods I want you sunflower.” Aegon growls in your ear.

“What’s stopping you my dragon?” You asked.

Aegon chuckles a bit, he was about to pull the shirt off but then his phone begins to ring. Usually he would just ignore it but he recognized that ringtone, and knows that it’s his mom that’s calling. He grunts in frustration, a little irritated that the two of you were interrupted. 

You giggle a bit. “You should probably go get that.”

Aegon groans again. “Fine.” He gives a quick peck, and leaves to answer his phone.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. You hop off of the counter and start making breakfast again. You hear his footsteps again, hearing Aegon talking to his mom. “Just give me one sec mom, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Alright mom, you’re on speaker.” Aegon said. As he sits on the chair that he sat on before.

“Hello Y/N.” You hear Alicent.

“Hey Alicent.” You yelled back, still making french toast.

“I was wondering if you would like to come to a family dinner at our place tomorrow night.” Alicent said over the phone.

You looked at Aegon, mouthed if he wanted to go. Even though his relationship with his mother and the rest of his family has gotten better, there are still wounds that need healing. As much as you love his family, Aegon’s well being is more important to you. Aegon gave you a nod, telling you that it’s okay.

“We’ll be there Alicent.” You answered, putting the last of the french toast on the plate. Putting them on the island where Aegon is sitting.

“Great! We will be seeing you tomorrow night. It’ll be nice seeing you both.” Alicent said.

“It’ll be nice seeing you too Alicent.” You said.

“I have to go. Love you both.” Alicent said.

“Love you too mom.” Aegon replied, and hung up on the phone. Aegon sighed, you reached one of your hands to hold on to his. Without hesitation he holds your hand back. Rubbing his thumb across your knuckles, grounding himself a little bit.

“Are you sure you want to go, baby? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” You suggested, looking over your boyfriend with a worried look.

Aegon shakes his head no. “No, sunflower. I want to go. Mom has been trying, and I want to show her that I am too.”

You walk around the island and sit on Aegons lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck, while Aegon has his arms around your waist so you wouldn’t fall.

“You have been trying my love. You have made so much progress, and I am so proud of you.” You said. Putting your forehead against his, smiling at him. 

Aegon smiles back at you. “Thank you, sunflower.”

“Of course, my dragon.” You said back, giving him a quick peck on the lips. The two of you started feeding each other the french toast you made. The both of you were laughing, smiling and having a good time. Moments like these, makes you feel so thankful that you fell in love with Aegon. Even though things started rocky between the two of you, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You and Aegon are happy together, and both of you have become better people for each other. You love this man, and he loves you too.

[aemxnd]

strength in numbers | aemond & aegon ii x strong!reader

Two scheming Targaryen princes shatter your world as you know it. 

Inspired by a wonderful anon request for a Targaryen sandwich… 🥵

WARNINGS: reader has brown hair for plot point, change of canon events, manipulation, praise, degradation, v fingering, oral f receiving, p in v, titty sucking, name calling, threesome, multiple orgasms, restraint, overstimulation, language, Aemond is a lovestruck cutie, Aegon is a dick, it’s just chaos.

WORDS: 5.6k 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

✨ my requests are open! ✨

Fire and blood, if commanded correctly, can melt Valyrian steel, lead an army to battle and change the course of a meandering river. 

Aemond’s gaze fixed into the commotion of the family meal to celebrate the Driftmark succession, gaggles of relatives mingling in groups around the hall before dinner arrived. His eye was trained on one of the present number, a woman with rich wavy mahogany tresses tumbling over her shoulders, mixing confidently with his family as if you were always there. 

He was so fixated, the one-eyed Prince missed the approach of his brother Aegon at his blind side, toting a full tankard and observing him unashamedly glaring at you. 

“Are you sure about this, brother?” Aegon leaned into his younger sibling’s shoulder, wavy silver curls brushing his poker-straight locks. “Not too late to back out, you know.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Aegon,” Aemond asserted without a falter, refusing to part his gaze from the vision which made his heart soar.

“You’re well and truly cuntstruck for her, aren’t you?” Aegon pressed jokingly, choking back a chuckle deep in his throat. “She only arrived at King’s Landing last week and you’re already smitten.”

“She deserves to know she is betrothed to her own brother,” Aemond’s lips slowly puffed into a determined pout. “The Strongs aren’t familiar with our family’s… customs.”

Aegon shrugged, eyebrows quirked. “Keep it in the family, I say…”

“You would, brother,” Aemond snapped. “Besides, if nothing else I cannot see her marry that bastard. A beauty of her standard deserves better than Jaecerys Velaryon, eventual heir to the Iron Throne or not.”

“What if all this backfires on you, though?” Aegon took an eager sip of his flagon. “What if she doesn’t choose you, or she turns against you?”

“She will not,” Aemond insisted, watching the way you smile warmly as you make polite conversation with the Queen. “She will know the right course of action.”

“You remember what happened the last time you made a scene like this, don’t you?” Aegon nudged. “Mother wielded a dagger, Rhaenyra’s family left for Dragonstone. It got messy.”

“Yes, brother, I remember it well. We got rid of those bastards from under our feet for a good few years.”

Aegon laughed, jabbing his brother’s arm in jest.

“You do realise you’re risking our family for the sake of a Strong, muddying our bloodline with brown hair… just because she’s Ser Harwin’s only legitimate child, you don’t have to be the lone saviour to keep their low family name alive.”

Aemond did not dignify his statement with an answer, not even breaking his fixation on your form flowing around the hall in your black dress. Fitting for the occasion, he thought to himself, considering you were as good as signing your own death warrant by boring yourself into the grave.

“Well, I’m all out of protests,” Aegon cinched his lips into a grin, demonstrably slapping his own thigh with his free hand. “All that remains is that I hope there’s something in it for me if you want me to help you in this fool’s venture.”

“Your cup will never empty, you can be assured of that,” Aemond clicked his tongue, nodding his head toward Aegon’s quickly dwindling tankard. “I know your price, brother.”

“As you wish, Aemond,” Aegon sighed. “Don’t come crying to me when mother actually stabs our sister this time.”

Three loud chinks of hollow metal signalled the call to be seated.

It’s now or never, Aemond thought to himself.

—

You could cut the tension in the hall with a butter knife. 

“I, umm… I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” Aegon jibed to you through a mischievous grin, his provocative jest at your betrothed’s lack of carnal knowledge worked as soon as the syllables left his lips, your gaze flicking to Jaecerys’ fists balling at the table. “But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

Jaecerys slammed the table and rose to his feet in a fit of rage. 

“Jace,” you pressed quietly, calming his temper purely for the sake of public appearances. You may not know many things about Aegon Targaryen, save for his reputation for evocative outbursts like this. The sooner you refuse to humour the platinum-haired firstborn, the better. 

Aegon made a demonstrative nod to his one-eyed brother across the table, who stood upright and cast a stony glare over the room at him. The grace of his stature, the manner in which his poker-straight silver tresses flowed like crystal waterfalls over his shoulders — the man was a striking example of Targaryen beauty that had you all wrapped up in his image rather than the palpable tension in the room.

Aegon dutifully returned to his seat, feigning defeat as per their well-orchestrated plan. Establishing a tension between the two would surely dissuade any concern about their scheming, ensuring any and all consequences would not be levelled at them as a pair, instead dismissed as two isolated incidents in the midst of palpable conflicts within the room. The hall obediently fell silent for Aemond as if he wished to make an announcement, but now was not the correct time to break his cover in sure and certain knowledge that whatever he uttered next would be connected to his brother’s snide remark. 

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” Jace raised his goblet tentatively, casting a suitably awkward nod to each of his uncles. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies.”

Aemond remained aloof, jaw clenching ever so slightly as he glanced over to you, also raising a toast. 

“To you and your families’ good health, dear uncles.”

Jace tipped his goblet and sipped carefully before placing an assertive hand on Aegon’s shoulder and jabbing a playful fist into his arm. Aegon swallowed harshly, eyes widening at the insinuation. 

“To you as well,” the elder prince conceded reluctantly, stifling a chuckle. 

You had yet to piece together exactly why your betrothed was so anxious around his uncles, or exactly why Helaena Targaryen attested to the ease of married life until your husband is drunk. Word had not reached Harrenhal of any quarrels or infighting between the branches of the silver-haired Targaryen clan, but it seemed like such common knowledge among present company that you didn’t dare question it around the table. 

As the festivities continued, music drowned out small talk and groups gathered to dance. Your betrothed requested a dance, but you refused with a quick excuse that you were too hungry to consider dancing, noticing that more food was being served at the table. A plump roast pig was placed just in front of Aemond when Lucerys began stifling a giggle. In awkward compliance with the commotion around you, you prepared to rise to your feet and join Jaecerys across the room when the one-eyed Prince slammed his fist on the table, silver cutlery chinking against the wood as he stood to address the room. 

“Final tribute,” he declared, raising a goblet aloft as the room fell silent. His jaw tightened. “To the health of my nephews.”

Your gaze fell into your lap, still perplexed by the tension that fell over the room like a grey cloud descending before the storm. 

“Jace,” he nodded. “Luke… and Joffrey.”

You swallowed harshly, reading his body language that felt as if he could lunge across the room at any moment. 

“Each of them handsome, wise…”

A pregnant pause fell mid-sentence. You couldn’t calculate why, but your fingers had begun clinging to the edge of the wooden table, pressing so hard your skin turned pure white. 

“Strong.”

The coil of suspense in the room snapped with his word, but you remained fixed to the edge of the table. 

“Aemond,” the Queen interjected, her face pale and fearful. 

“Come,” he cut off his mother. “Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again,” your betrothed interrupted. 

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment.” To the untrained ear, it was nothing more and nothing less. Your gaze frantically scanned the room, confusion washing over you in a tidal wave as you found shocked, horrified and nervous faces all around the room. Aemond paced over to Jace with rigid shoulders. “Do you not think yourselves strong?”

Jace’s fist flung at Aemond’s and clocked him across the cheek, and in the blink of an eye Aegon was slamming Lucerys’ face into the table. You tried to rise to avoid the commotion, but found yourself frozen to the spot with fear. Aemond smirked proudly, shoving Jace to the floor and walking away with a smug grin as the younger was restrained by the waiting guard. The Queen raced over to the one-eyed Prince in blind panic. 

“Why would you say such a thing before all these people?”

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother,” he dismissed coolly. “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

His comment caused Jace to lunge free of the guard’s restraint, and suddenly bile rose up into your throat. The penny dropped, a freezing wave of shock washing over you as you realised the enormity of his accusations, no less factual statements considering the response of the entire room to his declaration.

The three brown-haired princes were not Velaryon offspring, but Strong bastards. You were related to your betrothed.

Suddenly, you flung yourself to your feet and scattered from the room, your chair tumbling to the floor with a loud crack behind you. Racing to the nearest exit, your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough away from the horror your mind was beginning to process.

Each darkened hallway that led you further and further from the epicentre of your discovery made your stomach turn, twisting around stone corner after stone corner with your dress billowing behind you.

Having only arrived at the Red Keep mere days ago, you had no idea where you were, where you were going or even your destination, but the thought didn’t cross your mind. Sheer terror had descended a red mist over your vision, your revelation replaying like a recurring nightmare over in your head until the sound of your own blood thundering through your veins sickened you. 

Stumbling around another darkened corner, you hastened until your body slammed into another, a rock-hard cliff face of a human standing before you. The blur of your panic blocked out any features except the black leather chest that stilled your motion, squeezing your eyelids together and opening them to find poker-straight blonde locks flowing over its shoulders, framing a pale, stern face adorned with a leather eye patch. 

Aemond. The executor of your terror.

“Eh… excuse me, your Grace,” you panted out, hastily battling for breath and frantically wracking your brains for an excuse to duck out of idle conversation. “It—it is late, I must retire to my chambers. G… good night, Prince Aemond.” 

You smoothed down your dress and slinked past his broad shoulders obstructing your path, scanning the doors in the hallway and choosing one to swing open. Yet on the other side, you found less of a lavish bed and more cleaning equipment, mops and buckets stacked high in a restricted chamber.

“You’re boarding in the broom cupboard?” Aemond scoffed lightly as he observed you floundering at your discovery, a gentle dismissive shake of his head disguising the delicate notes of a polite giggle. “Why don’t you come with me, Lady Strong?”

In one swift motion, his hand clasped around your forearm and tugged you through another door, this time one where you found a lavish bed at the centre nestled atop ornate flagstones, the walls draped with a thick black satin swooping from corner to corner.

Carefully casting you into the chamber and releasing his grip on your arm, Aemond turned to close the portal behind you, where he pressed his back to the wood and leaned against it. 

“Umm… Prince Aemond, what do you mean by this?”

“You said you wished to rest, my lady,” he nodded dutifully, clasping his hands behind his back. “After the commotion this evening, I shall guard the door for you.”

Your confusion skewed into anger in a heartbeat. 

“A commotion you concocted, Prince,” you spat back through now gritted teeth, lunging toward him. “You conspired to humiliate me in front of them all!”

“Not at all, my lady,” he corrected, his brows knitting into a gentle frown as you closed him against the door. “I only sought to help you.”

“By exposing the princes’ parentage in front of your entire family?” Your hands flew demonstrably in the space between you. 

“They already knew,” his calming voice reassured. “They just don’t like it when I bring it up in conversation.”

“So that display was for my benefit only, then? I was the solitary person in the dark in the entirety of Westeros, so it was a good idea to tell his future wife that she’s marrying her cousin in the most public manner possible? Seven hells, why did you and your drunkard brother Aegon not simply shout it from the Red Keep so even Flea Bottom could hear?”

“Cousin?” Aemond’s head tilted slightly, perplexed at your presumption and pushing himself off the wood to close the gap between you. “Y/N, Jaecerys is your brother. His father is Ser Harwin Strong.”

The wave of bile rose up in your throat again, your fists instinctively clenching at your sides.

“My… my brother?” You retched, throat thickening and constricting at the mere concept. “I’m to be wed to my brother?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” he insisted.

“I could not possibly marry my brother, that’s… that’s…,” you spun away from Aemond, storming across the room to the bed, propping yourself up against the ornate post at its corner. “I’m not accustomed to your… queer Targaryen customs!”

Aemond stifled a laugh under his breath, pacing toward you with his hands still clasped behind his back. 

“This is… this is monstrous,” you choked again, palms pressing into the hollow of your throat in a vain attempt to control your sickened reactions. “My mother called for this betrothal, did… did she know too?”

Aemond didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

“Oh gods,” you despaired at the thought that your mother not only knew your father had sired three bastard sons, but also intended to wed you to the eldest. You sank onto the edge of the bed and dropped your head into your hands. “It’s all such a mess.”

“It does not have to be,” Aemond reassured, approaching to perch by your side. “I want to help you.” 

Unsure you had heard him correctly, your eyes squinted hard and brows furrowed as you raised to look at his softened, sympathetic features. 

“Why do you care?” Your eyelids half-shut in a suspicious frown. “What does it really matter to you whether a Strong suffers a fate of marrying their closest relation?”

You could hear Aemond’s hard gulp, his eye refusing to meet yours. 

“I know right from wrong, Lady Strong,” he dismissed, looking away and twirling his thumbs together like an awkward child. “You deserved to know the truth.”

“The one-eyed prince wanted to do the right thing?” You scoffed. “I would never believe that in an infinity of moons. Tell me the truth, Aemond. Why did you do this for me?”

His lips skewed into a pout. “Because you matter, that’s why.”

“Me? A lowly unwed Strong?” You interrogated him despite his refusal to even meet your gaze as you spoke. “You didn’t even know I existed until last week.”

“The passage of time does not change how you feel for a person!” Aemond’s temper finally snapped, his eye meeting yours with a fierce violet glow. “I could not see you marry that bastard when I would give anything for your countenance to be the last thing my remaining eye sees in this world.”

His words finally slotted into place, and you immediately softened your temper. You reached out a gentle hand to brush his cheek, closely observing the way his eyelid fluttered on contact. 

“Aemond, I didn’t know,” you sighed, recalling each time you caught his gaze upon you ever since you arrived at King’s Landing. He wasn’t just observing you, he wasn’t suspicious of the new betrothed to the second in line to the Iron Throne, he was yearning. 

“It was never my intention to inform you, you were simply supposed to call off your betrothal to Velaryon and leave the Red Keep behind you.” Aemond’s hand rested on your gown draped over your thigh. “But I could not watch you walk away from me.”

You leaned to gently rest your nose against his, breaths heating up each other’s lips as you waited for him to close the gap between you. His eye scanned yours for confirmation before crashing his lips against yours, feverishly pressing into you for the most contact possible. Within moments, his tongue darted to explore your mouth and beckon your own, your mind swirling as frantically as your tongue around his. You blossomed under his touch, his arms now wrapping around your waist as he rose to his feet and lifted you to the centre of the bed. 

Tumbling into crisp silk sheets while jostling for dominance in each other’s mouths, you hardly noticed the tussle to remove each other’s clothing before you found yourself bare beneath Aemond, his knees locking you in on either side as he hovered over you. 

“So beautiful,” he hummed against your lips, consuming your frame with his hands brushing down your curves as he refused to part from your mouth. His fingers journeyed toward the valley of your hips, sinking into the expanse between your hipbones before traversing intrepidly over your mound, eagerly pressing his palm to your skin as he continued. Your legs instinctively twitched at the sensation of his touch, battling to both buck away through sheer sensitivity and also grind into him to chase your own desires, spreading open beneath him to allow the prince to crawl between your thighs. 

“Easy, my lady, I won’t hurt you,” he soothed, lips trailing feverish searing kisses from your lips down the column of your throat, making a determined path for your left breast as your chest heaved with anticipation. “Not unless you ask me to.”

A soft hiss escaped you as his tongue laved around your nipple, consuming the sensitive bud with his lips and latching as if a man starved of touch all his life. 

“Aemond, please…,” you pleaded through shallow breaths, your spine flexing as his touch ignited every vein in your body, pressing his teeth ever so slightly over the hardening bud. “Take me.”

“Patience, sweetling,” he mumbled against your skin, swinging over to lavish your right breast with the same undivided attention while his palm smoothed your mound, fingertips dancing lightly over your pulsing folds to complete his sensory onslaught on your body. “I have no intention of rushing this.”

While carefully suckling on your nipple, his index finger drove an intrepid trail around the perimeter of your waiting entrance, a groan escaping his lips with every soft jerk of your hips into his touch yearning for contact. Unlatching his lips to raise up to hover his lips over yours, Aemond watched your body writhing uncontrollably while your eyelids fluttered from your heightened oversensitivity. 

“So eager for me,” he moaned gratuitously. “You really need me this much? Don’t worry, you’ll have me soon, issa jorrāelagon.” My love.

With his last syllable, two fingers swiftly buried knuckle-deep into your heat with a sharp hiss and another buck of your hips in return. Aemond’s eye fluttered closed to the sweet music of your moans while his fingertips deftly stroked your walls, wasting no time in pumping within you at a pace you were not quite ready for. 

Stealing chaste kisses with every explicit purr from your tongue, Aemond hardly noticed the droplets of anticipation from his own length dragging onto your thigh as he leaned into you. Instead, his lips journeyed to join his pistoning fingers and lightly pecked your sensitive bud. Your hips keened furiously, weakened cries of his name spilling out as your eyes roved into the back of your head. 

“Stay with me, sweet one,” Aemond purred against your clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your sensitive nub as his fingers curled feverishly inside you just enough to bring your attention back to him between your thighs. “I’ll fuck you soon, I promise.”

Aemond licked a flat stripe over your folds before withdrawing his fingers and suddenly dipping the tip of his tongue into your waiting cunt, your walls clenching tightly around the new intrusion while your head threw back into the pillows. Drinking in your moans as the sensation overwhelmed you, he lapped at your core and bucked his hips into the sheets beneath with every flutter of your walls around him. Both hands ventured to spread your folds before him, allowing him easier access to lave deeper inside you. 

“Aem… I’m…,” you stammered, hands clawing at his shoulders and clamping down on your bottom lip to drown out your ragged breaths. “Please, just…”

“Cat got your tongue, sweet girl?” He muttered between your thighs, his eye lust-blown to a pitch black as he gently rutted into the sheets beneath. “You come undone for me so easily.”

Reacting to your fucked-out state so soon, he picked up the pace of his tongue swirling around your core, lapping feverishly while the pad of his thumb trailed to rub gently over your bundle of nerves, sending your hips keening up into his face and earning a hungry growl from the prince eating you like a man starved. Your spine flexed with the pressure building up inside you, the sensation of a spindle tightening within that would soon snap against the rising tension. 

“Aemond please… I’m gonna…”

The staccato flutters of your walls increased around his tongue, encouraging Aemond to ramp up the thrusts of his tongue inside you, licking flat stripes into your core until you toppled over the precipice of your peak, the coiled tension inside you bursting its banks and releasing a tidal wave onto his waiting tongue with repeated cries of his name. Aemond’s eye widened as he consumed the sight of you clenching around him and mewling softly as you rode out your high with the sensation of his breaths against your cunt and both his palms pressed onto your inner thighs, revelling in the gentle shake spreading through your body.

Planting a farewell kiss to your aching folds, Aemond rose to crawl up your body when the sound of an approaching voice burst through the chamber door, resulting in the image of Aegon frozen in the door frame, eyes on stalks as he calculated the sight before him. 

“Have I had one too many cups,” Aegon slurred slightly, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow beneath his dishevelled silver waves. “Or is my brother fucking a Strong in my bed?”

Aemond gulped, sloping his body in a bid to shield your modesty. “‘Twas mere coincidence, brother, I do apologise.”

“Oh no, don’t apologise,” Aegon dismissed, a wavering hand flailing in the space before him. “I may not be all that keen on witnessing my brother in such a compromising position, but the lady on the other hand…”

Aemond lowered his shoulder to conceal you further, still shaking softly in the afterglow of your orgasm, head sinking into the pillows and eyes still flickering closed. 

“Well,” Aegon slapped his thigh. “I guess I should, umm… I’ll sleep in the…”

“Actually, Aegon,” Aemond interrupted his brother, “Perhaps you could assist me further in this venture.”

Aegon puffed his cheeks. “Go on, dear brother.”

“I’m afraid my sweet girl here is in quite a… delicate condition, Aegon,” Aemond pressed, gesturing down to you still blissed-out beneath him, softly groaning and legs twitching as you eagerly awaited Aemond’s return. “Could you mayhaps help me send her over the edge?”

A satisfied chuckle thrummed through Aegon’s throat. “Brother, I know I requested a favour in return for my efforts tonight but, this… have you even consulted the lady?”

“P… please,” you purred weakly, raising a hand out toward Aegon in the open doorway. “Prince…”

“As you can see, brother,” Aemond observed. “At present, the lady is quite absent of mind. Your encouragement would be… gratefully received.”

“As you so wish,” Aegon hesitated for a fraction of a second before clicking the chamber door closed behind him and hurriedly disrobing on his way across the room. As he arrived unclothed at your side, Aegon swept a hand to brush your sweat-slicked hair from your face. “Poor fucked-out little whore, do you need help reaching your peak with my brother?”

“Pl… please,” you begged wearily, hands flailing to grip onto Aegon’s alabaster skin and drawing him in. “Please.”

The brothers shared a sinister chuckle as Aegon scooped his arms around your waist and settled in the space behind you, bare legs enclosing you on either side and his hardening length pressing into your back. 

“You’re going to take everything my brother gives you, isn’t that right little girl?” Aegon sneered into the shell of your ear through an accomplished grin, his manner far more degrading and humiliating than his brother’s which somehow only sought to arouse you further. “Take every inch and still beg him for more, do you hear me?”

Swallowing back a flush of envy as he witnessed his brother’s hands roving over your body, tousling into your hair and tracing your curves before venturing to part your thighs, Aemond’s attentions returned to your soaking cunt, stifling a groan as he noticed the glimmering trail of your own slick coating your thighs.

“Say the word and I will stop, my lady,” he reassured, grasping his length and nudging the tip at your waiting entrance. His eye searched your own faltering ones for a go-ahead signal, finding you making a frantic nod to proceed with all the energy you could muster. In one slow, glacial buck of his hips, his cockhead slipped inside your searing heat and elicited strangled gasps from you both in tandem. Your head dipped back into Aegon’s chest where the elder pulled your hair to face him, consuming your lips in a haunting kiss at the same moment his brother filled your cunt to the hilt. He tasted of bitter wine and desperation, his lips pressing into yours to make the most contact possible. Aegon hummed contentedly into your mouth as you blossomed for the two silver princes, your body and mind caving to their will at every turn as if you belonged to them. 

“She’s so desperate for us, brother,” Aegon observed, pulling from the kiss and watching you gaze up at him through glassy, lust-blown pupils. His vision journeyed down to your lips, parted and plumping to a cherry red after his onslaught. “Give this hungry little cockwhore everything and take no mercy.”

Your gaze snapped back to Aemond with a sharp, devastating thrust into your cunt, his thick cock stretching your walls as if a sculptor crafting his design to his own will, modelling your insides to take him and him alone. 

“My sweet girl,” Aemond cooed, a stark contrast to the humiliating tones of his brother. Bracing himself with one fist balled into the sheets beside you, his hips gathered a steady pace into your core as his free hand raised to cup your chin and captured your lips with his. Smashing into your face and plundering your mouth with an intrepid tongue, Aemond moaned softly against your lips. “You feel like the seven heavens around me.”

“Is she tight, brother?” Aegon groaned behind you, palming at your breasts in his impatient exploration of your body as if his turn to dominate you could not come soon enough. “Is she choking your cock?”

“As tight as your lips should be, Aegon,” Aemond sassed before returning his devoted attention to ruining you slowly but surely, every determined piston of his hips sending your spine bucking into him, thighs wrapping tightly around his waist to draw him in closer. “Is it too much, darling?”

In truth, it was. Between Aegon’s wandering fingers and Aemond’s relentless onslaught on your insides, you were battling for consciousness. The overwhelming tension within you kept you alert under duress, knowing that you could not give in to the darkness until their shared torment came to an end. 

“Y… yes,” you spluttered weakly, unable to gasp out full sentences between Aemond’s full-force thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Good,” Aegon growled lowly, a hand journeying to wrap around the column of your throat and squeezing at each side, stemming the flow of blood to your brain. “Now you’re ours.”

Although reluctant at the inclusion of his brother in the statement, Aemond punctuated with a sharp snap of his hips to press his cockhead against your cervix, making you wail out his name for its echo to carry around the stone chamber along with the lewd slaps of your coupling.

“You’re not going to marry the Velaryon bastard, are you?” Aemond queried while ramping up his pace to an unbearable tempo, his throbbing tip stroking the entrance to your cervix. 

“N… no, ser,” you complied, hands scrambling to clutch at Aemond’s poker-straight locks, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and tugging him toward you, helplessly signalling your cliff-edge nearing once more and your desperate need for more contact to push yourself over the precipice.

“Good girl,” Aemond swallowed, swooping down to capture your lips with his and clenching his eye closed to savour the warmth of your cunt bowing to his will.

Aegon’s hand tightened around your throat, exposing your neck and leaning in to drag his teeth over your sensitive skin. His free digits trailed between the valley of your hips to stroke your bundle of nerves, gloating at the keening of your hips into his overstimulation. “Now let go for us.”

You flexed and writhed between the two princes, screaming out into the void as they chased you to your peak, molten flame coursing through your veins as if you might lose consciousness at any moment. Aemond’s thrusts refused to relent, plunging deep inside you while your walls flushed waves of your own pleasure out to greet his throbbing member. Explicit splashes filled the room as he continued to ride out your orgasm in pursuit of his own, plummeting into you with a force that left your vision blurred with stars like the night sky.

“That’s it,” Aegon encouraged, his fingers still working your clit to oversensitivity and enjoying the way your thighs twitched away from him. “Aemond’s going to fill you up now, what do you say, Strong?”

Your fucked-out state could barely hear a word coming from behind you, which earned a hard squeeze on your windpipe. 

“I said, say thank you to my brother for filling you up, little bitch,” Aegon spat into the shell of your ear, sinking his teeth into your earlobe. 

“Th… thank you, ser,” you spluttered out mid-consciousness, your walls still fluttering so delicately that you could just make out Aemond’s twitching cock pulsing inside you, ragged thrusts betraying his own climax as he spilled his seed into your warm chambers. His own distempered breaths melted with your own as he bumped his forehead against yours, pressing a light peck to your nose while you both steadied yourselves and Aegon released your throat. 

“You swear you will not return to Jaecerys?” Aemond pressed once more as he slowly withdrew his length from your swollen folds, a wave of post-coupling clarity washing over him and a sense of dread rising to the surface that him and his brother may have scared you away for good. “Please, don’t go to him.”

“Never, Prince Aemond,” you reassured while you regained breath. “I’m yours, beloved.”

“Well, you say that now,” Aegon interjected behind you, threading his fingers into your brunette hair and tugging you back to face him. “Your evening is not quite over yet, Lady Strong.”

His lips crashed into yours and melted your resolve once more, your spine caving and sinking into his touch. Your spit-slicked lips felt swollen against his own narrow mouth, his kiss so feverishly intense as if he craved you with every beat of his drunken heart.

Your attention turned back to Aemond as the mattress lifted between your thighs, signalling his departure. He rolled back on his knees and grasped your shoulder to prop you up while Aegon moved from beneath you, taking his place caging you between his thighs and planting butterfly kisses on your head trailing down to the nape of your neck.

“It’s alright, angel,” Aemond comforted, long slender fingers entwining in your hair and cupping your neck beneath.

Aegon cleared his throat as he arrived between your parted thighs. 

“Lady Strong, you’ve seen how… precious my brother can be,” he remarked with a raised eyebrow, palming at his length and crawling to approach your cunt, reddened and enraged but by no means unwilling to sustain a third orgasm. “Are you ready to find out what it’s like to be fucked beyond your senses?”

You swallowed hard, glanced back at Aemond and nodded contentedly. 

As the river bends to the will of fire and blood, two Targaryen princes parted your Strong resolve, never to return to its former path. 

“Good girl,” Aegon growled deep in his throat, his aching cockhead nudging at your folds. “Hold onto Aemond for me, this might hurt a little.”

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝

Surprise

Paring: Aegon ii Targaryen × reader x Ser Criston Cole

Warnings: Swearing, smut

“Anyone walking by would think I have invited a whore from the streets of Silk into our bed.”

You swat at Aegon’s arm, “shush.”

The playfulness in your husband's voice brings a smile to your face. He has been attending small council meetings until late hours most nights discussing war plans, and by the time he returns to your shared apartments, you are fast asleep, so the intimacy has been lacking, and you crave nothing more than Aegon’s attention.

With your back pressed against his chest, you feel a vibrating ripple from him as he chuckles, “Am I wrong?”

“Oh gods,” you whine loudly, gripping onto Aegon’s wrist as he speeds up his movements of sliding two fingers in and out of your dripping cunny while rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit. His free hand is squeezing roughly at your clothed breast.

Aegon grazes his teeth against the back of your neck; he loved how obnoxiously loud you were being.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, and your body shudders with pleasure. “You're doing so well, taking my fingers,” Aegon whispers. “But I think you're ready to take more.”

“I want all of you, now.”

“Patience sweet wife,” he removes his fingers from you, leaving you with an ache between your legs that was verging on painful. “I have a surprise for you.”

A tingling sensation shoots through you. Aegon shuffles further back on the large bed that dominates the room until he hits the pillows, then motions for you to do the same. Your hand skims across the soft velvety emerald green sheet below, which matches the canopy adorned with gold thread and embroidered with intricate symbols including burning flames and dragons, before you sit between your husband's thick thighs again.

Hearing the clicking sound of the door closing, your head snaps up, and you lock eyes with the king's hand, who was wearing comfortable clothing instead of his usual armor. “Ser Criston,” heat rushes to cheeks; you were thankful that you hadn’t begun to undress yet. “I wasn’t expecting to see you; the hour is late.”

Criston stares at you for a long moment, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Forgive the intrusion, your grace, but the king requested I come at this hour.”

You sit upright and look over your shoulder to face your husband. “Aegon?”

The candlelight flickers softly, casting shadows across the room making your brother-husband's lilac eyes glisten, and his expression even harder to read than normal. In high Valyrian Aegon says he knows about your conflicting feelings towards the knight, who was not only the hand of the king, but your former sworn protector.

Your mouth goes dry. “What is your suggestion?”

It was common for the occasional lady to join you and Aegon between the sheets since you both found pleasure from it, but never before has it been suggested that another man joined. You assumed the surprise he mentioned would be a new toy, oil, or even a new outfit designed for your husband’s eyes only.

Aegon licks his lips, “for the king's hand to fuck you. Is this something you want?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“What do you say, Ser Criston? I see the way you look at my wife, and until the war is won, I cannot always be here to protect or satisfy her myself.”

Licking at his lips, Ser Criston looks down at the ground.

You lean forward and mumble into Aegon’s cheek, “I don’t believe he wishes—”

In the blink of an eye the knight is standing at the foot of the bed, “I believe what you are suggesting would be improper my king, I do not wish to offend her grace.”

Aegon reaches his hands down over your shoulders and slowly unlaces the front of your dress, revealing your breasts. “You can leave anytime Cole, or join me in pleasing our queen.”

The sexual tension in the air thickens as Aegon’s hand brushes against your thigh, slowly pulling your skirts up higher sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You could feel the heat emanating from your husband's body as his soft stomach pressed into your lower back, fuelling your desire. In a low voice you say, “no offense would or will be given Ser Criston.”

Aegon smirks against your neck.

Kneeling on the bed, Cristion’s eyes widen in anticipation as he stretches his arm out to slowly reach out to touch your breast. He traces his fingers over your nipples, causing them to harden under his touch. Sensing Criston was nervous, you decided to take the lead. You grip Aegon’s hand and press it against your other breasts; his touch is a lot rougher than the knights. You raise your skirts enough until your cunny is completely bare.

“My wife is wet and desperate to be touched.” Aegon rubs his thumb against your clit again, causing you to whimper. “Get on with it, Cole, or this chance will slip away.”

Criston seems lost in thought as he stares off for a moment as if he’s contemplating what to do. You half expected him to excuse himself and leave, but the knight surprises you by suddenly untying his breeches and lowering them enough that his hard cock springs free.

Aegon gives you a mischievous grin and says, “You’re going to enjoy this, my queen.”

You respond by clashing your lips against his while instinctively moving your legs open to make space for the knight. Criston presses the tip of his hard cock against your dripping hole, pushing into you slowly and stretching out your tight walls.

You moan at the stretch, “Oh gods!”

Criston grips your chin, turning your head away to face him so he can kiss you. His lips are softer than you imagined. Aegon hooks his hands under your knees to bend them back, opening you wider as Criston speeds up his thrusts.

Lightly, you tap at Aegon’s thigh and motion for him to move to the side. You lay completely flat on your back and fumble to pull his breeches down. You take Aegon’s cock in your hand and begin to stroke him before licking at his tip and taking him into your mouth.

“My queen, your cunt is so tight.”

Your free hand finds Cristion, linking fingers with his as his thrusts become sloppy. If your mouth wasn’t muffled by cock, you’d be moaning both of their names.

“Fuck!” Criston pulls out just as he cums, coating the outside of your cunny and thigh with his seed.

“It’s your mess, Cole; clean it up.”

When Criston goes to reach for a cloth, Aegon clicks his tongue and says, “With your mouth. And don’t stop until she cums.”

Without argument, Criston kneels between your legs and licks up your slit, tasting your wetness mixed with his seed eagerly. This continues for a few months until both you and Aegon climax at the same time, and his cum spills down your throat as your juices cover the knight's face.

—

You bask in the comfort of your husband's arms and the warmth from the water covering you from the chest down.

“May I ask what is in the box?”

A dark red leather box had been placed on the small table near your tub by one of your ladies a few hours prior. You were so exhausted from your activities the night before that you hadn’t had a chance to gift the item inside yet.

Stretching out, you lean further into his embrace. “I will deal with it shortly.”

“And which one of our children is this for?”

“It’s not for the babies. I’ve got a new collar made for my dragon.”

Aegon nuzzles his face into your neck, “dragon and children alike are spoiled just like their mother.”

“Me? Spoiled?”

He nods, “Not only do you have me wrapped around your finger, it appears the king's hand is bewitched by the sweetness between your legs also.”

“Hmm, I do hope so.”