#aegon ii targaryen smut prompts

[lovelykhaleesiii]

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

for aegon, i don’t know why but that line screams aegon for me (i mean it also screams aemond) but i can imagine aegon saying that.

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #8

pairing: dark!Aegon ii Targaryen x niece!fem!Reader

warnings: incest, swearing, mentions of SA, physical violence (altercation), female receiving (finger*ng), mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, jealous!Aegon, possessive!Aegon, breast play/kink, edging.

Your relationship with your Uncle was a unique one of that… Sharing a compellingly, special bond, one that was filled with nurture, possessiveness and love [although many would argue obsession, on Aegon’s behalf]. You were his, as he favoured to reiterate on many occasions. And tonight, he would come to attest this.

****

A lovely, Targaryen maiden you were. Many eager and hungry eyes of lords and knights in Westeros sought for your hand in marriage, as a potential wife. Not to forget, you had a strong connection to the Iron Throne, the political and societal advantage you had sowed to you, your potential husband would gain from also.

And although your relationship with your Uncle, remained a discrete one of that for now, as your mother [Aegon’s elder sister] and his own had their indifferences… You couldn’t risk being torn away from him, although at times he struggled to keep himself in line. Aegon was jealous through and through, and tonight’s ball had tested his ability to restrain himself for your sake and his…

****

“Oh Y/N, you are a young, beautiful and unmarried maiden… This hand yet belongs to no other man. Just allow me-”

“No!” You insist, Jason Lannister had been into you since the festivities had commenced. Showering you with compliments during the feast, as he approached the royal table, asking for a dance [which your mother insisted you take, as means to lure the Lannisters to her cause] and finally, having sought the chance to leave, seeking the fresh air and lonesome company of the gardens, he had somehow managed to find you. Although, things taking for a twisted turn, finding yourself backed to some stony corner and the young Lannister’s hands venturing and groping places only Aegon was granted to.

You felt frightened and fury, you attempted to retaliate, even going so far as to smack his face hard across, yet these attempts rendered useless. The man had an eager cock but even more of an eager mind.

“Do not play me the fool, Y/N. I saw how you enjoyed tonight, how desperate you are for me. Pathetic girl-”

“Let! Me! Go!” Using all your might, despite the restriction of your corset, you tried to shove him off, and you deemed your efforts a success, as Jason’s mass was no longer on you. Although, noticed a familiar figure and set of platinum hair, pulling the grotesque man far from you, shoving him against the sand stone wall, with such a ferocity.

“You ever touch her again, Lannister, and I’ll have your fucking hands. If you even go as far as to look in her direction, I’ll gouge your eyes out myself.”

Twisting his arm the way Aegon had, you were certain he’d dislocated something, Jason’s face forcefully shoved against the wall, as Aegon released him, standing his ground in front of you, you noticed small, fresh cuts across his cheekbone.

Jason’s eyes fluttered over you, looking beyond Aegon, and Aegon having noticed, took a great swing, punching Jason right across the jaw, leaving the young Lion to howl in pain, blood oozing from his mouth.

“Do not make me repeat myself, Lannister.”

Now whimpered away around the corner, his cries growing fainter until silence, Aegon turns to you, as he soothes his fist, now reddened from the impact.

“Aeg- My love, thank you,” You softly uttered, taking his hurt hand in yours, as you laid a gentle peck over the knuckles, caressing it.

“What were you thinking, Y/N? To dance with him, let alone run out here? Foolish girl, if a man is desperate enough, he’ll smell you out.”

“Is that how you found me here, needing to be rescued is it?” You bashfully provoke, a bright light glistening in his lilac orbs.

“Do not think I did not notice what was going on. Seven Hells, it was torture. I must admit, Y/N dearest, I do not know how much more longer, I can keep this facade up, my love.”

“I know, Aeg, I know. In all due time… But for now, thank you. I-I don’t want to know what would’ve happened, had you not been there.”

“You’re mine. And I take care of what belongs to me.”

A faint smile beamed across your face in exchange with his sweet words. You truly saw no other future, other than with Aegon, it was only a matter of time. Tip toed up, you lean forwards, sharing a passionate kiss as Aegon’s hands gripped your waist, steadying you, remaining there as you let go.

“Such a great feat should not go unrewarded, mayhaps my Saviour, wishes to do as he pleases-”

Undoing the front laces of your dress, loosening the bust, your cleavage exposes more, the material dropping as your breasts plunge forward.

“Mayhaps, he wishes to touch these-”

Aegon’s eyes fleeting from your breasts, to your face and back towards the entrance to the party, and back down at you, he guides your steps back into the corners. Away from any lingering eyes, nestling you between himself and the wall, as he lifts your mass up, resting you atop his leg.

“More-” He growls, as one hand reaches down below, his fingers teasingly graze the entrance of your folds, already moist from his heroic action.

“A greedy hero I have claimed, I see… Whatever pleases you.”

In cue to your words, Aegon shoves two digits in between your folds, motioning circles as his fingers explore from within. Quiet, moans helplessly fall from your lips straight into Aegon’s ear, as his head rests atop your bust, his lips suckling at the soft flesh of your cleavage. Even feeling a prompt, sharp bite, teeth plunging into your skin, leaving a trail of red, dented bite marks. Your wetness begins to stir, coating his thick fingers, as their size and motions stretch you out in preparation.

“That’s it, Aeg. My body is all yours, only yours.”

Without a warning, Aegon inserts another thick finger, feeling the ring breach your entrance, jammed tightly not moving further in, as your walls clench around the fingers inside.

“Fuck, I can feel your pulse, how tight you get for me baby, that’s a good girl.”

“O-Only for you.”

The tip of his finger, rubbing harshly at your clit, your grip on Aegon’s clothes back grew firmer, desperate for something bigger and longer to sate the tension beneath.

“A-Aeg I-I need you-”

“Just a little bit more baby, stay with me-”

His words salivating at your breasts, the warm breath and saliva coating your nipple as he suckled and spoke on. His teeth gently nibbling and pulling at your nipple, to tease, knowing how sensitive you’d get.

What felt like eternity, was most likely only a few minutes, as you continued begging Aegon for his cock.

Just as he did so to enter, he pulled his fingers out, your chest heaving as your pant in relief. You could feel your weight dropping on him, as he carried you against him, his fingers coated with your cum, inhaling your scent, as he licked it off one by one.

“Tonight baby, we will continue this tonight… Gives me a reason to get through this god forsaken evening.”

[bibliophile221b]

A treeline promise: part 2 — [18+MDNI!!]

summary: tension was at its peak after the battle at Burning Hill. In order to restore peace across the Riverlands, a feast has been hosted by your father. When the newly-anointed Lord Blackwood learns about your publicly announced betrothal, things turn sideways… // part 1

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Fem!Bracken!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, mentions of blood, dirty talk, swear words, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), (slight) breeding kink, religious aspects, Benji’s a tease, your dad kinda dislikes u, my first language isn’t English…

The wind howled through the castle walls, and harsh rain cried upon your windows. You watched as the trees below danced with the wind, trying to keep up with its rhythm. How long had it been since you left your chambers? Since you’d seen anything other than the same fireplace, the same books, the same stone walls that entrapped you from the outside world.

If you had to blame anyone for your current situation, it would have to be yourself. If you could take it all back, you would.

The sight and smell of battle were still as present and persistent in your mind as ever. The bodies of the dead lingered in your thoughts, haunting you still. How naive you were, believing it to be victorious to fight in the midst of battle, and how terribly wrong you were.

At dawn, you had managed to sneak yourself into a cart with your father’s soldiers. Dressed as a boy, you had taken your sword with you, apt to give up your life for your House. You had been prepared, but as soon as the clash breathed a beginning, it felt as though you were in all of the Seven Hells at once. You slew two men, but soon as the aftermath had hit, there was nothing you could take pride in.

The fight had been pointless, unnecessary, and cruel. Too many lives wasted for a king or queen that would never give up their own for theirs. As this realization dawned on you, paranoia took over your mind, and all it could fixate on was that one person. You had searched around you, over the muddied, bloody cadavers that were piling up over the grassland; all in an attempt to find him.

You needed to find him alive, you had thought, stumbling over people, fallen swords, and all the things you couldn’t reminisce before fortuitously facing your father mid-fight. You can still recall the pure fury in his eyes. It was only after the battle that you faced a truth much worse: your brother, Amos, had been killed. The ride home with your father had been tormenting.

Unable to grieve, you endured your father's relentless anger—a reaction not to the loss of his son, but to finding you on the battlefield; his griefless facade never slipped. All you wanted to do was mourn your brother, and when you expressed this at last, all your father could say was, “And so you will, but not in the sight of mine,” and thus, you had been locked up in your bedchamber ever since. Even so, today would make a difference to your solitude.

After the battle at Burning Hill, tension had risen in the Riverlands. The uncle of the one who sits the throne, Daemon Targaryen, part of the blacks, had left your father no choice but to bend the knee to his niece Rhaenyra Targaryen. Moreover, he had compelled the numerous houses of the Riverlands to fuse together, to become each other’s allies rather than enemies. Your father, aware of your aversion to marriage, had thought of the idea fondly and betrothed you to some Tully lad you had yet to meet.

It was on this sorrowing day that you were to meet your future husband, your other half. Your father had hosted a feast for all Houses in the Riverlands. Today, the announcement would be made, and your father would proudly declare how he sold you to the highest bidder, a decision in which you undeniably had no say in.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your door. "My lady, you’re late. Your father is waiting for you," Alice, your housemaid, insisted. You nodded and rose from your seat by the window, smoothing your dress straight. Before leaving the room, you felt as if you were leaving a part of yourself behind. When you return to your chambers tonight, you will be promised to a man you didn’t even know. All you will be known for is being his wife. This night a part of you will cease to exist, you just wished someone had known you for more than that, but time was nearing its hour. "It is better to believe I wasn’t someone else before," you thought, closing the door behind you.

The halls of Stone Hedge were filled to the brim with people. Knights, Ladies, Lords and all the people who held titles were scattered across the room. You noticed some of the sigils; House Tully, House Butterwell, House Mootoon of Maidenpool, House Frey- you were overwhelmed with the mixture of noise from the crowd and music blasting from every corner.

You walked through the room, seeking your seat by one of the grand tables set against the walls of the hall. You noticed your father speaking to a Lady you didn’t know, who sat disconcertingly close to the right of him. The table was packed, but a seat had been reserved for you. It was only when you took your place that you realized the table where the noblest of your House sat was shared with another particular House.

House Blackwood.

Your heart started racing. Melded emotions of anticipation and fear overcame you. You casted your eyes across the table, seeking someone or something, but the attempt was ill-fated. You were breathing heavily, clutching your dress by your knees, trying to collect yourself- and, after some time, you did. A cup of ale or two made the food before you start to looking delicious and the music around you kissed your ears rather than harrowing them.

Despite your father’s calling, he refused to recognize your presence, leaving you to fend for yourself whilst an hour passed by. You kept to yourself mostly, avoiding locking eyes with the guests sitting close to you. You were the only one of your family on this side of the table, feeling in your gut that it was a decision made on your father’s part.

Your thoughts got interrupted yet again that evening, but this time by the announcement of your father. “Good evening, everyone, how appreciative I am to be the host of today’s feast,” he started, keeping a cup in hand, silencing the crowd. “Today marks a special day in the near history of the Riverlands as we share the table with all Houses and see each other as equals, at last. All of us have lost loved ones in wars between our Houses, and so we shall know sorrow, but let us, at the very least, bond through grief, lest gaining nil from our suffering.”

When you looked up from the table, you saw your father’s eyes water slightly. His eyes gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. The sight somewhat warmed you, knowing your father grieved his son, even in his own silent, troubled way. “Certainly affiliations can be developed in many other ways, for instance, through marriage-“ as his eyes caught yours. “Therefore my House will fuse with House Tully through a betrothal between my daughter and the eldest son of Lord Elmo Tully,” with that he raised his cup, earning loud cheers and hoorays throughout the room.

His proclamation seemed to have been a sign for many to retrieve to the floor. Amongst you, Lords asked Ladies from different Houses than their own for a dance. Regardless of the fact that it truly felt nice to see clarity after such dark times, your misfortunate fate still hung in the back of your mind. As you returned to your plate, you were at least relieved to find your side of the table almost completely empty, which made you feel more at comfort and less agitated than before. However, you only got a small taste of comfort before it became interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind you.

You turned and locked eyes with a black-haired man; looking into those dark brown eyes that appeared amber in the luminance of the room. You could never forget them even if you wanted to, neither could you his smug face that was quite literally looking down at you as of now. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you getting your melancholy all over your dish,” he chuckled. “You look like shit”.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? I think about you enough as it is,” you admitted, earning a smirk from him. “Daydreaming about me, are we?” he purred, offering himself a seat next to you. “Yeah right,” you scoffed. “Any thought or word I hear about you is another second too many I’ve come to waste of my time, so don’t delude yourself.” You poured yourself some more ale, even though you hated the taste of it. If enough of it could cure you to forget about this night, then so be it. You chugged the liquid and wiped the remnants of it off of your lips.

Benji looked at you with a hint of concern, but you didn’t take note of it as he poured himself a drink as well. “I’d ask if you cared for a dance, but I’m still sore from battle, something you luckily don’t have to worry about,” he teased. “A dance? Have you grown soft on me or has the fight given you brain damage?” you grinned. “Oh, you wish-“ he laughed sarcastically, clutching his stomach. “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep praying to your Gods for my ruin.” “They’re in the process, so beware,” you replied, hitting him against his chest. “Besides, believe it to be true or not, I was also present at battle. I have yet to experience any soreness from it, so I believe it to be an issue on your part.”

You noticed his smile dropping slightly by your last remark, but you thought nothing of it forthwith as you turned around to witness the dance. You saw your father dancing with the same Lady he had been previously speaking to. Her hair was golden, a striking contrast to your late mother’s. Inside you, a sense of one-sided tension brewed, though you tried to ignore it, clutching your cup tightly in your hands. Benji noticed it and you felt his eyes boring into your every movement.

“How’ve you been? I didn’t hear from you since-“ “Since when?” you broke him off, facing him. He was taken aback and frowned his eyebrows, “I don’t know, such as after Burning Hill perhaps?” The name of the battle hit your heart like a knife. Everyone in Stone Hedge avoided the name like a plague, merely referring to it like a ransom battle, a nothing fight, ignoring the catastrophe that it was. “What the hell were you thinking when you decided to show up?” he cursed, raising his voice slightly. “I wasn’t,” you admitted irritated. You looked away from him in an endeavour to make the conversation come to an end.

“What’s going on with you?” he whispered, leaning into you and begging for a somewhat decent answer before the two of you got interrupted. “Lady Bracken,” a voice chimed in. You looked up to see Kermit Tully, your betrothed, in front of you offering a hand. His auburn hair had been neatly brushed back, and his raiments were fit for a man of his status, showing everyone his place high up in the hierarchy between your Houses. His blue eyes caught yours. “May I have this dance?” Even though a pit was forming in your stomach, your face beamed with delight. “Of course, ser.” You graciously took his hand, turning a blind eye to Benji along the way, and let your partner lead you to the floor.

A hand traced down to halt at your waist, while his other hand let go of yours, hovering slightly in front of yours as you mirrored his movements. As you moved your feet alongside his to the rhythm of the music, you noticed Benji remaining at the table, watching the two of you. His jaw was clenched tightly, reflecting his vexation as you moved closer to your betrothed. For the rest of the dance, and the dances thereafter, you paid no mind to him. He was the past, if there had ever been one. You hated him; you always had. The feeling was mutual, and that was all you needed to remember.

When time had passed the twelfth twice, you excused yourself to get some clear air. You felt quite drowsy and drained, despite your good time with ser Tully. He was kind and seemed to care about whatever was on your mind. You were at least glad that he was better than your horrid expectations. You entered a hall past where the feast was being held, when a housemaid greeted you. “Lady Bracken,” she said as she nodded to you. You returned the nod before she greeted another, “Lord Blackwood,” she bowed slightly. Blackwood.

You turned around and faced Benji again. “Seven Hells—are you following me?” you exclaimed. “I was headed to the gardens,” he remarked, “these halls are quite general. Figured you’d be the one knowing that as common sense.” He walked past you, brushing his arm slightly against yours. “And what business do you have in the gardens, may I ask?” You followed him as it was the same route to your chambers, nevertheless. He sighed lightly, his irritability showing as clear as day. “A Lord’s business isn’t that of a Lady’s now, is it?”

The corridors were silent aside from the breeze of the harsh wind forecourt. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from ongoing his pace, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He effortlessly tugged your hand from his arm and met your eyes. “You’re a Lady now, correct?” he said, his voice edged with ire. “I believe that Lady’s aren’t expected to be found together in the presence of a Lord, all alone, especially near nighttime,” he shot his head in the direction of the hall where the feast was being held, “what imagination might overcome the guests if only they knew?”

“I don’t trouble myself with thoughts of what others might think, especially the guests” you snickered. He looked at you, narrowing his eyes, as if you were an enigma that needed deciphering, before laughing it off, “You go from an aspirant knight to a betrothed Lady, and I’m ostensibly supposed to find any reason for that change of heart?” Your smile quickly faded. “Some people can’t permit themselves to let their heart guide their actions,” you said sternly.

“What has gotten into you? Seriously?” he snapped, “Since when do you bow down to be society’s pawn?” His sudden change in demeanour from earlier in the evening stunned you, the dimly lit hall capable of imaging the hostility in his voice perfectly. “A stitch in time saves nine,” you disclosed. He let out a sardonic laugh, stained with disbelief. “A marriage- a fucking marriage of convenience. That’s what you settled for?” You stood your ground, though conveying pure astonishment.

“That’s all there was in my reach; I couldn’t settle for more,” you persisted, “Therewithal he’s kind, he’s good-” you argued. “You don’t love him. That marriage will be worthless-” he swore, casting his eyes to the heavens. “How do you know I don’t love him?” you interrupted him, your blood boiling. He always knew precisely how to push your buttons.

“Because I know you. You cannot keep up this pretence for much longer-” he condemned, raising his voice. His brows knitted together, his frustration bleeding through them. “Why do you even care?” you shot back at him as you deflected your eyes away from him. “I-” he tried, but his words were in vain as you interrupted him by a whisper, “I thought you were dead.” His silence synced with your mind, leaving your heart stark. “I looked for you everywhere, I heard nothing from you and couldn’t get a word out of anyone even if I begged them to-” you continued, “I thought you were dead and you couldn’t care less if I knew you were alive, so please do enlighten me how I’m supposed to know that you care for me when today is the first day I’ve seen you since-” You stopped before you could finish your sentence, with heartache overcoming you.

His gaze softened, though his lips tightened into a thin line, his scar faint. “I sent word for you. Ever since,” he said. “I believed you weren’t eager to return a letter, so I let it be.” He moved closer to you, narrowing the space between you. “When it comes to you, I will always comply. Whatever you wish, I will abide by.” You looked at him perplexed, “Whatever do you mean?” “To hell with Tully,” he said, his gaze filled with momentum, “leave tonight with me.”

Confounded was a belittlement to describe your riposte at that moment. “Are you at your wit’s end?” you exclaimed. “You have no reason to pursue this marriage if you go with me. I’m a Lord, whereas that Tully lad is nothing more than a cunt with a stick too far up his arse,” he pressed. “I have a life here, a duty,” you persisted. “Seven Hells— you always think the entire world can be stopped if only you utter a word.” “Quit changing the subject and pretending there’s nothing between us,” he said at last, frustration painted across his face, his poise a sharp contrast to yours.

You narrowed your eyes, “Can you no longer reconcile our past? I don’t like you, I never fucking did, and neither did you. That’s what’s between us,” you said. He took a step towards you, your movements countering his. “You’re a fool if you still believe that either of us adheres to that,” he said before leaning in. Your back pressed against the unforgiving cobblestone wall behind you, its freezing touch sending a shiver down your spine. Eyes closed, your heart raced, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. His lips hovered before yours, a silent plea filling the space between your breaths. “I want you to say it”.

You opened your eyes, meeting his, the brown ablaze.

“I’ve always-”

Hated you.

“hated you” you thought, but you couldn’t bear to say it aloud. It was too strong a word and not fitting evermore. Something held you back, the words remaining in your mind, burning into your soul- why couldn’t you just say it?

As one with the words, he waited and could only look into your eyes, waiting for the end of the sentence, waiting for the kill, but it never came. Your blade never stroked his throat, his sword never caressed your side. Blood never did spill; the tiles beneath never got a taste of either of you.

Breaking the silence, he leaned in, pulling you into a hungry kiss, as if compelled by an overwhelming need. Your hands roamed over his body, craving his touch, while his tongue explored your mouth, making you feel whole and completely intoxicated. Your fingers ran through his hair, gripping it slightly and earning a moan from him. Your body felt as if it were held above a stove, burning from the inside out. You broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily. “We can’t—I’m betrothed, it’s a sin,” you said, your words no more than a whisper.

"I do not care," he breathed. "I do not need the favour of the old Gods nor the new. I am your devotee. I'll face anything sacred; I'll walk through all the Seven Hells if that meant the Stranger could grant me another day with you. I’ll yield my soul if I could receive the blessing of the Mother for both of us; I’d beg forgiveness of the old Gods, so that the feud between our Houses is no longer and our blood can be seen as one.” His teary eyes begged for a response, but you were aghast, your words stuck in your throat, betraying the essence of your heart. “I lay myself bare for you. It’s your choice,” he whispered.

This time, you were the one who leaned into him, pulling him into a carnal kiss. Dizziness spread across your mind like a virus, turning you impulsive, leading him into a nearby room and latching onto him again as soon as the door closed. All you both could manage were sloppy kisses, whilst yearning for more. His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. He grinded his hips against yours, seeking any friction between you until he kissed your neck and trailed down your body, halting before your waist. He pulled up your dress, inciting your heat, kneading your thighs. “Let me worship you the way you deserve”, he whispered before unveiling your core and placing a soft kiss on it, sending shivers throughout your whole body.

His eyes glowed in the moonlit darkness of the room as he locked onto yours, maintaining eye contact while his tongue traced a slow path from your entrance to your clit, teasing and savouring every moment before enveloping you completely. Each motion was relentless, fuelling your senses and stirring a rhapsody within. His touch was irresistible, his gaze captivated by you as his moans pulsed against your clit. “Wait—” you breathed as you felt your peak nearing, “I need you”.

With a final lingering kiss, he rose, his mouth slightly open, glistening with your slick. His hand wrapped around your neck, thumb resting on your chin. “Use your words, love.” Your cheeks were painted a shade of red, but its reaction was futile as you felt shame no longer. “I want you to ruin me for anyone else,” you confessed in a silent whisper. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his bulge, begging for friction against your thigh. The space between you endured a burning desire, an ache for more, your hearts syncing as one. “You suffocate me,” he sighed, “you’re fucking killing me.” You brought your hand to his face, caressing his lips and feeling the wetness of your own on his scar beneath your fingertips. “Don’t hold back,” you hushed before capturing his lips with yours.

Afterwards, everything was covered in a haze, every action bewitching your psyche and soul entirely. His lips were a divergent blend of softness and harshness against yours. The deep hunger, alienated for far too long, surged from the depth of each other’s souls, filling the room and drowning out all else. He desperately and swiftly unbuckled his belt, freeing himself from the restraints of his garments as your hands wandered through his tender hair, pulling him closer. “Missed my touch that much, did you?” he teased between kisses, feeling his grin against your lips. You tugged at his hair in response, eliciting a groan from him. “By the end, you’ll be the one begging for more,” you swore as he lifted your dress.

“I’ll beg if only I can hear those pretty noises of yours again,” he purred before he sank into your heat without warning. The sudden contact made him hiss, and in response to his size, you clamped your hands to his shoulders. Once you seemed adjusted, his movements became feverish, seeking that ecstasy you both longed for. The lewd noises from the slapping of your skin and his merciless pounding made you unable to hold back your moans, earning a laugh from him. “There you go,” he breathed, “make your betrothed hear you.”

He lifted your leg, allowing him better access, directing for that sweet spot that made you sing so sweetly for him. “Look how pretty you look, taking all of me so well,” he sighed. His lips wandered on your neck, marking you purple with desire, while his hand ceased under your dress, claiming your breast with his hand. His cold, coarse hand against your sensitive skin made you gasp, your breath hitching as he played with your nipple before pinching it briefly. You squirmed beneath his touch, the sensations becoming maddening, making you light-headed.

He brought his hand lower, pausing before your bundle of nerves, then rubbing harsh circles against it, making your release feel imminent. “Please, Benji, I’m so close,” you begged. “Cum for me, love,” he whispered as he looked at you through his lashes before giving you sloppy kisses around your neck. “Just know no one else can make you feel this good.” His thrusts became bodily, hitting that spot inside you just right, brewing something in your lower stomach and making you reach that euphoria at last.

He watched as you threw your head back, mouth agape. Lightning struck nearby, lighting the room and making your shadows dance on the walls. The thunder hit right after, the weather strong and fierce, aligning with your sinful act. A Blackwood and a Bracken; defying and going against your nature, but Seven Hells- it felt right.

You clenched around his length, uncontrollably, feeling him throb inside you. The corrupt desire to feel him release within you delayed your clarity. “Fuck, I—” he sighed, attempting to pull himself away. “No—“ you pulled him back. “I want to feel you. Fuck the betrothal, fuck Tully. I need you.” His flushed face looked at you reassuringly, silently seeking approval before he yielded; before he melted into you, unable to resist. His eyes rolled back into his head and a silent groan escaped him as he released his load inside you. The pressure of his seed filled you, making you gasp and pull him even closer.

For a moment, you remained together as one, both struggling for breath. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he whispered, breaking the silence between you. He withdrew from your embrace, leaving your hole dripping with his load. He cleaned you up as best as the occasion granted him, before attending to himself. “Did you mean it?” you asked, uncertain of whether or not you wanted to know the answer. He turned to you, a trace of confusion on his face before he took your hands in his. “I stay true to my word,” he insisted, “but before we want Tully, or worse—your father—to suspect anything, we need to leave at once.”

So when the servants walked by the chamber, looking everywhere for a sign of Lord Bracken’s daughter, it was all in vain. The lone wind blew its last breath near the dormer of your bedchamber, your name haunting the grounds like they did you with your victim’s names. No matter your father’s shouting or his scolding, for his voice blew back to its chilling home, and your soul was to return to Stone Hedge nevermore.

Your true name would be plated in silver, laid on a grave to be long forgotten, since there was no more to remember. Your false name became one of songs in the Riverlands, an old maid’s tale exchanged between the elderly and later the young turned elders. A knight of the Riverlands was who you were born to be, and a Lord’s name drenched in blood yielded before you to take whatever fate was yours to claim. His bloodied teeth sang as lasting as oak, dripping your true name in the songs that enshrined your false one, making your own self true at last.

[freya-captain]

Aegon was so skilled in sex and he meant to teach Jace a lot on their wedding night but Jace (as a virgin or few timers) surprised him in a way he couldn’t imagine.

Long story short, Aegon cried so hard that the whole castle knew he got heir in his belly already.

[anamazingangie]

iron out the kinks by AmazingAngie

Aegon II Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

E / 8k / Chapter One / Chapter Two

Summary: “What do I like? Well, there is nothing better than coming home from work and finding something pretty waiting for you. Or, I suppose two pretty things.” He corrected.

“I like watching movies with someone in my lap, my fingers in their cunt. Or their mouth wrapped around my cock, just a warm place for my length to sit after a long day.”

“That sounds… good,” Aegon squeaked, and Rhaenyra nodded.

“I think we are compatible, then.” Daemon said with a grin.

sequel to a sign of maturity (or a midlife crisis)

...

Chapter Two

Strawberry

...

As desperate as Daemon was to get them back into a bed—or actually the bed didn’t really matter, as desperate as he was to get them naked, he knew he needed to be the responsible one. It was the role of dominant to begin with, and he had two decades of experience over the pair both in the lifestyle and…well, life. 

So before venturing back into bed with them, he wanted to establish a better understanding of just how inexperienced they were. And that was why he asked to see their apartment—or more specifically, their toy box. 

They had given him a brief tour of their place—a nice apartment with two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and large (at least by city standards) living space. It didn’t compare to his place but he really hadn’t expected it to. 

He was quite charmed to find each of them had full sized beds—Rhaenyra had rolled her eyes when he pointed it out, explaining that, “Our parents furnished the place and wanted to discourage overnight visitors.” 

“Jokes on them,” Aegon says, “The closer we stay to each other at night, the more we have sex.” Rhaenyra shoved him in a childlike display and Daemon just shook his head at their antics. 

They escorted him to their room, though they admitted it was technically Rhaenyra’s. “He keeps his clothing in the other one—you know, for plausible deniability.” Daemon hummed in response, thinking it was quite sad that even in their home they had to keep up appearances of being single. He understood it, he just didn’t like it. 

Rhaenyra opened the top drawer of her birch dresser with a flourish, revealing an assortment of toys. There were a couple dozen at least, nothing to scoff at by any means. None were especially large, but some of the dildos sported ribs and scales, certainly beyond what a normal sex shop would carry. His brow rose at the tapered tip of one that resembled a tentacle, wondering which of them used that. 

There were plugs too—the largest of which was still smaller than his dick, but not small by any means. And vibrators, lot’s of those. He guessed that Rhaenyra favored those—he could see her as a pillow princess, content to slip one into the front of her panties and let it do all the work. It would definitely do the job, but wouldn’t be as satisfying as the orgasms he could provide.  

He picked up the largest dildo, one with a flared base that made it acceptable for anal use. 

“Do you like it?” Daemon asked, addressing Aegon, who was blushing. Before the boy could respond Rhaenyra snorted, “He really likes it.” Aegon glared at her, “What?” She asked, “You do! He’ll spend like hours just sitting on that thing.” 

Daemon smiled at that, and at the boy's blush. “Don’t be embarrassed, nothing wrong with having a hungry hole, hm?” He said, enjoying watching him squirm a little.

“And you, Rhaenyra?” He asked. She shifted, less vocal now that the conversation had turned to her. She even looked a bit embarrassed herself before admitting, “Not really.” Daemon hummed, “Do you think you could be trained to like it?” He asked, reaching out to stroke her jaw. She shifted again, before saying, “I…don’t know.” 

“What have you had up there before?” She bit her lip before looking down at the drawer of toys, rummaging around until she found a nondescript metal butt plug. He nodded, “Can you turn around for me princess?” He asked, and when she did he pressed gently on her back, bending her torso over the dresser. He lifted her skirt, a pleated thing which brought back schoolgirl fantasies of his youth. He pushed that thought aside—though he wouldn’t rule out revisiting it later— then hooked his fingers through the sides of Rhaenyra’s underwear. “Can I pull these down?” He asked, and she muttered a quiet “Yes.” 

He ran his thumbs under the swell of her asscheeks, whispering praise about how pretty she was, because it was true. And then his thumbs parted the crease of her ass separating the cheeks and shushing her when she whined nervously. “Look at that little thing,” he cooed, stroking his index finger against the outside of the puckered flesh, pleased by the way she shivered at his touch.

“You’re too pretty back here for a plug like that, princess. I’m not surprised your precious hole rejected it.” He continued stroking—there wasn’t any lubrication, and he didn’t want to hurt her, so the touches were featherlight.

“I’d start you off with some little anal beads, so small you could practically wear them around your neck like jewelry without anyone knowing otherwise. I’d press one of the little pearls into you, with lots of lube, and the rest would just dangle against your thighs.” He stroked between her legs then, tracing his fingers down the aforementioned flesh. 

“When you got used to it, I’d push another into you. And maybe another, until you were squirming because your hole felt so full. But there would still be one more, tugging gently thanks to gravity. The reminder of what you couldn’t take would be there taunting you with every movement. And princess I think you’re competitive, no? You’d want to take them all. Prove that your little hole could do it. So I’d press that one in too. It might hurt a bit at first, all those pearls inside of you, but gosh I’d be so proud of you.”

She whimpered, hips squirming beneath his palms.

“You’d be clenching down so hard, your cunt would be so tight, I might not even be able to get inside of you. Maybe Aegon would have to fuck you? His little cock would be gripped so hard by your walls because your ass is so full your little cunt just can’t help it.” 

He slid her underwear back up, folding her skirt back where it belonged as he stroked her clothed waist. “You’d come like that I think.” He paused for a moment, fingers stroking the length of her now covered bum. “I’d get you a prettier plug, maybe with a gem? Purple to match your eyes I think, and it would look so good nestled between your asscheeks that you’d be desperate to take it.” He said, thoughtful. 

“I’d let you have as many orgasms as you wanted—but only if you had the plug in. So you’d learn to associate that hole being full with pleasure. How does that sound?” He asked, and he heard her let out a little puff of breath. “Good. That sounds really good.” She admitted. 

She was still bent over, and ground against his groin. He laughed, stilling her hips with his hands and calling her “Naughty.” As he moved away from her, worried he would be too tempted to raise her skirt again. Then he asked, “Which are your favorites?” And gestured to the toys before them. 

Rhaenyra picked up a small rabbit vibe—something a few inches long to clench on with clit stimulation, unsurprising. He’d introduce her to something more fun, already mentally adding a hitachi wand to his shopping cart. It was the gold standard for a reason, and their collection was shamefully missing one. 

Aegon seemed to realize it was his turn—picking up a thick but relatively short plug. It wasn’t as tapered as the others—something between a plug and a dildo, in that it could stay inside undetected but would keep the rim stretched wide. An interesting choice.

“You like stretching out your hole?” He asked, and Aegon nodded shyly. 

“His fans go crazy when he takes it out and it gapes a little.” Rhaenyra said. 

“Have you tried tunnels?” He asked, knowing based on what was before him that the answer was most likely no. When they confirmed this by shaking their heads, he continued, “They make hollow plugs, so you can see inside your hole while it’s pried open, and they make tunnels for vaginal use too—so you can see deep into the cunt. But your insides can gel all dry—you’d have to take breaks so I could get you nice and wet in between. Flood that cunt until the tunnel would slide right back in without lube. Wouldn’t that be nice?”  

They both nodded, oddly in sync and looking a bit dazed thanks to his words. A glass dildo could do something similar—they were versatile too, able to be heated or frozen for added simulation, and there was an idea, but maybe he’d keep that one to himself for now.

“Whose is this?” He asked, picking up the tentacle shaped one—grinning a little when they both blushed. “It was a joke,” Aegon said, defensive, “But it does feel pretty good.” Rhaenyra admitted. 

“You know,” Daemon said—thinking of a company he invested in ages ago. “They make longer ones—they come in a bunch of different sizes, and if you buy the right one, the tip will press right up against your cervix.” Rhaenyra’s nose wrinkled and Daemon almost laughed at the expression. 

“It’s like a game—do you want to risk the pinch of it hitting that to feel the stretch of its base? Or do you try to control your thrusts and get off on just the tip? You can’t be satisfied without a bit of suffering.” Rhaenyra looked more contemplative, now.

“Then again, some girls like that—having something just a little too deep, butting against where nothing is supposed to go. Even grinding down trying to make it bruise so they can feel it the next day.” He hid his smirk, the girl now looking straight up curious. Yes, he thought he’d order a selection of those, too. 

“This has been illuminating, thank you.” Daemon said, stepping back from the drawer.

“What is your favorite toy?” Rhaenyra asked as she shut the drawer, and Daemon grinned. “Whatever hole is wet for me, princess.” He paused, then continued, “That’s not true. Whatever hole I feel like getting wet for me.” He took great pleasure in the way Rhaenyra audibly swallowed—a retort clearly not coming as quickly as she expected. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked—when there was no response he asked seriously, “Would you like me to leave?” Aegon actually grabbed his wrist in protest, though both of them said “No!” Quite enthusiastically.  

“It’s our first date, hm?” Daemon said, “We could curl up on the couch and watch something? Maybe order dinner later, my treat of course?” 

“That sounds nice.” Agreed Aegon. 

Rhaenyra smiled, a fiendish expression, “I know just the thing.” 

…

It was only mid afternoon, but Rhaenyra pulled the curtains shut so the room was dim. There were no overhead lights in the apartment, just lamps on the side tables that gave the room a soft glow. Their couch was large, too big for the space, really, the cushions were deep and made from a textured velvet. He immediately noted the chaise section on one side, allowing someone to recline— Daemon could already imagine using that for his benefit.

He swallowed, trying to dull the thrum of arousal that had been stirring since he sat down across from them hours earlier. It seemed unfair he had to go this long without touching either of them, at least in the intimate manner he craved. He’d try to resist a little longer, though he doubted they’d get through an entire film without a bit of petting. 

He didn’t want to make either of them uncomfortable, or move too quickly, but now that they had established what they wanted, he didn’t see much reason to draw things out, either. As far as he could tell, they were ridiculously compatible and he was eager to prove that to them—and himself, too. 

Still, as he sat down he kept his hands to himself—letting the siblings snuggle into his sides. They were sort of like kittens though, pressing up against him and eager for attention, and it would be cruel to ignore them. So It didn’t take long for his arm to drape across Rhaenyra, finding a place in her lap and sneaking under her pretty white skirt in its eagerness to feel bare flesh. At the same time, Aegon almost melted beside him, his head coming to rest on Daemon’s lap. It was nice—one hand on each of them, just softly stroking them. 

He’d like to do this more often. Or as much as possible, really. It was soothing in a way that, despite his best efforts, being by himself never seemed to be. When he was alone, he always had to be doing something, and he supposed with them, he was still doing something. But that something was relaxing, fulfilling and rewarding for them both in a way his work wasn’t. 

Rhaeynra fiddled with the remote, navigating the menu of their tv with the deftness of youth. Once she had selected something, she nuzzled back against Daemon, a smile still on her face. He knew she was up to something based on her smile alone, but he still found himself a little impressed by nerve as the opening credits for a period piece played—followed by moans of a dark haired couple fucking while a pretty blonde girl played voyeur. He laughed in earnest when the brunette was revealed to be the blondes brother, as if that wasn’t fucking perfect. 

“What?” Rhaenyra said, “It’s inspiring!” She insisted, and Daemon laughed again, unable to resist kissing her. It was a gentle kiss, all things considered—his eyes went back to the TV, while his hands remained gently stroking what was before him. 

Though Daemon was trying to be good, his hand did naturally wander higher and higher, until it was between Rhaenyra’s thighs—playing with the lace trim of her underwear and pressing lightly against her mound. She was panting a little at the stimulation and Daemon decided to tease her a little. 

“Princess you’re all flushed, are you warm?” He asked. 

She narrowed her eyes, looking about as intimidating as an angry kitten when she said, “No.” 

“Are you sure you aren’t too hot? Maybe you should take your dress off, kitten.” 

She raised her chin, “Is that a command?” 

“Would you obey it, if it was?” He asked, pleased when she responded with a nod. 

“Take your dress off, kitten.” He said a bit more firmly, smiling as she managed to squirm out of it while still sitting. It wasn’t the most glamorous strip tease, but he was too distracted by the exposed skin to care about how it came to be revealed to him. She unclipped her bra, tossing it onto the floor with her dress—he definitely hadn’t asked that of her, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not with those glorious tits on display for him.

He did, however, stop her from removing her underwear. He needed something to prevent him from just bending her over and fucking her. The thin fabric wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. So he said,“You can leave those on,” and then, “Good girls don’t fuck on the first date, do they?” He asked and Rhaenyra bit her lip before shaking her head. 

She retook her place beside him, the show still playing in the background—though now he was more focused on the pretty things next to him. His hand draped over Rhaenyra’s shoulders—not a casual touch, where his fingers rested on the slope of her arm. No, that would be the passing touch of a boy testing the waters on a first date, and Daemon had more confidence than that. 

He had taken her bralessness as an invitation to feel her bare breasts, and it was one he wouldn’t hesitate to accept. She nestled closer against him as he stroked her collarbone, before moving lower and taking the weight of one breast in his palm. He played with the nipple a little, giving it a slight twist and delighting in her moan.

He was still petting the hair of the boy in his lap, who seemed to be feeling a little left out—he started nuzzling at Daemon’s length, hidden beneath black wool but beginning to stiffen. He pressed down on the boy's head in an effort to encourage him before gently cupping his neck. He wouldn’t squeeze, even if Aegon did consent, some kinks were just too dangerous for reality. But he provided a light pressure there, thinking the boy would enjoy the reminder of the power he was giving to Daemon

He probably would like a collar or harness. Something just a little too tight so the pressure served as an embrace and constant acknowledgement of his submission, not that he needed it, god it seemed to come naturally to Aegon. He wondered if he had gone into subspace before? How quickly Daemon would be able to get him there, just with some sweet words and a soft fucking? 

While the boy was busy playing with his clothed cock, Daemon returned his gaze to Rhaenyra’s bare breasts. Compliments came from his lips unbidden as he played with her nipples, praise that just couldn’t be contained because she was so pretty. And she preened under it, shifting, and eventually pushing his hand lower—until it was cupping her cotton covered cunt. 

It was oh so easy to dive beneath the thin fabric, dragging a finger across her clit before digging it into her cunt. She squirmed a little against the grip, and he pressed a second finger into her. She arched against his hand, forcing herself further down on his fingers before grinding against them. He wanted to laugh a little at her frustration—the angle wasn’t right, she could only really take them to the knuckle and clearly she craved more. 

He must have let out some sort of noise marking his amusement, because she glared at him before taking matters into her own hands. She rather rudely pushed her brother away so her hands could access his belt and fly. Aegon sat up, looking like a kicked puppy. Daemon had little desire to reward the girl for her behavior, so he removed his fingers from her cunt and used them to cup her brother's jaw instead. 

Aegon melted into the kiss that followed, his fingers digging into Daemon’s shoulders as he pressed more against his mouth. Daemon realized that despite all they’d done—the fact this boy had licked his cum out of his sister’s cunt, they had barely shared more than a soft kiss. He was a practiced kisser Daemon thought—and he should know, he was one too. He’d bet with the boy’s looks that the girl’s loved him in school. Though why he would be interested in them when he had Rhaenyra at home, Daemon wasn’t sure. 

His tongue pressed at the boy’s lips until they parted, submissive and quick to respond to Daemon’s wants even without verbal commands. Daemon’s tongue lapped across his teeth before venturing deeper—only to pull back and change into something quite chaste. Daemon liked kissing—lazy make outs in bed that didn’t lead to anything. 

But he liked this too, keeping his partners guessing and treating kissing being a game that was only exciting if you didn’t know who would win. He’d go from little pecks to biting to spitting if he felt like it and his partner obliged. He couldn’t recall where that fell on this boy’s limits list, though, so he didn’t venture into that territory. And he was so distracted by the boy’s lips, he forgot about Rhaenyra until her hand was on his dick. 

He pulled away from Aegon in surprise, and Rhaenyra took that as an opening. With his length freed from his trousers and curling against his dress shirt, she settled herself in his lap—cunt pressed up against his cock. His hands naturally grabbed onto her hips—pulling her closer until he could feel the heat of her folds through the damp cotton of her underwear.

When he was confident she was balanced, his hands traveled to her waist. She was a curvy little thing, and he liked the way his fingers could dig in slightly to her flesh. He also liked the fact that his hands could almost encircle the smallest point of her. He wasn’t violent but there was a certain appeal, especially in a sexual sense, to a girl you could throw around. 

But on this occasion, he was going to make her do the work. “If my fingers aren’t enough you’re going to have to get off without my help, princess.” He warned. Her eyes narrowed, and she braced her hands on his shoulder, seeming to take this as a challenge. 

Daemon wasn’t about to reward the brat with more attention, so one of his hands returned back to Aegon’s hair so he could pull him in for a kiss. Daemon belatedly wondered if they should have established more guidelines for this—he’d neglected to ask about their experience with having a third partner. He assumed it wouldn’t be an issue, since it wasn’t mentioned, but he wondered if Rhaenyra would get jealous? 

A little jealousy could be fun, he wasn’t above encouraging some competitive spirit in the bedroom. Who could take more of his cock down their throat? Fun. Who could come the fastest? Fun. Who could hold off coming for the longest? Also fun. But there was another type of jealousy that could come with threesomes—the type that curled in your gut and made you feel sick. Daemon hadn’t personally experienced it, but he’d been with enough people to know those who had. 

The existence of threesome’s that ended with hurt feelings and tears because someone felt too neglected, or felt like they got too much attention, couldn’t be ignored. Daemon didn’t want that to happen here, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood either—so he’d follow his intuition, and hoped they all enjoyed themselves. 

He licked further into Aegon’s mouth, delighting in his moans, which had the added benefit of opening his mouth and making the kiss even deeper. Daemon couldn’t remember the last time he just…kissed like this, it was nice. But not nice enough to distract him from the girl in his lap—for Rhaenyra was making a plethora of lovely sounds, too, pretty little sighs and whimpers and groans as she ground the crotch of her panties against him. It felt good to him, too, the bit of friction and pressure as she steadily moved against his length.  

Her movements intensified, as did her grip on his shoulders, nails digging into the shirt that he couldn’t believe he was still wearing. She was thrusting in earnest now, truly taking her pleasure from his cock. God, it was really working for him too—he wasn’t sure he had ever come from that little stimulation? At least not in years, but fuck between her cunt and Aegon’s mouth he was about ready to explode. 

He pulled away from Aegon—one hand still on his cheek as he looked back at Rhaenyra. She seemed singularly focused on her task, hips gyrating in a way that was really, really, hot. And then her mouth fell open—like she couldn’t control it, because it felt too good, and her moans got louder. 

Fuck, he was going to come. He didn’t want to interrupt her, but he had to reach out and squeeze the base of his dick. Luckily she didn’t seem bothered, continuing to grind against him as she came. 

God she was so hot when she did, the mixture of her little movements and moans almost took him there too. But there was a part of him that was aware he wasn’t a sixteen year old boy, and that dry humping—no matter how hot, was no longer an acceptable form of release. So while Rhaenyra caught her breath, her cotton covered cunt still pressed right up against his erection, he made a decision.

“Can you lift up for me princess?” Her movements were slowed from her orgasm, but that made her pliable too—she followed the instruction without the sass she usually showed. Once her cunt was level with the tip of his dick, he used his other hand to move the crotch of her underwear to the side. “Can you hold that for me?” He asked. She nodded, her fingers coming hooking into the cotton and exposing her cunt to him.

His hands returned to her hips, guiding her down onto the tip of his cock. 

“I thought,” she gasped when he breached her, then continued, “Good girls don’t fuck on the first date?” She asked, breathily. He smiled, because clearly some of her sass was still present. “This isn’t fucking princess, just stay right there with just the tip inside you, okay?” He said, and she nodded, eyes a little glazed from arousal. Her thighs were shaking a bit, too, from the pose—making her cunt contract and clench around the tip of his cock in a manner that was pretty fantastic. 

When he finally released the pressure at the base of his dick, the orgasm came quickly. He tried to keep his hips still, but he couldn’t resist thrusting a little, pressing maybe an inch or two into Rhaenyra as he rode out the release. He relaxed into the couch after, his softening dick slipping out of her folds with a wet sound. 

Her hands fell to her sides, and he gently moved her underwear back into place, lazily stroking the wet spot as his cum seeped out of her cunt. “See, that wasn’t fucking, was it? I was just using your cunt to store my cum—but princess, it’s leaking.” He said almost smirking as she rutted against his fingers. Clearly someone was eager for another orgasm. “I don’t want you to ruin these, maybe you should take them off?” He asked, and she nodded, happy to except this flimsy excuse for the sake of nudity. She stood and slipped them off, but before she could retake her seat Daemon grasped her waist—pulling her down into his lap, so her back was against his chest. 

She giggled, nestling up against him and letting her head fall back against his shoulder. When he was confident she was comfortable, his fingers traveled, pressing into the wet mess of her cunt and slipping up to her clit, spreading the juices until everything was delightfully slick. 

“Aegon?” He asked, the boy’s eyes focused on where his fingers had roamed. “Let me see your dick, hm? I bet it is all hard from watching your sister get off. It’s your turn, no?” 

He nodded—still seeming fascinated by the mess that was his sister's cunt. But he slowly stood, unbuttoning and pushing down the jeans he wore. His underwear followed soon after, and seeming embarrassed by wearing just a collared shirt, he stripped that off too. 

“Gorgeous.” Daemon said, appreciatively, mindlessly slipping a second finger into Rhaenyra. “So hard, too. Come put it into this cunt—I got it all wet for you.” He encouraged, wiping his slick fingers on the skin of Rhaenyra’s thigh before hooking underneath them, gripping one in each palm and spreading her legs. She moaned at the action, leaning further against Daemon and tilting her hips upward, practically inviting Aegon to come closer. 

Aegon did come closer, dragging his own fingers through her messy folds before looking back up at Daemon for approval. He was all to happy to give it, “It would be slutty for her to fuck me on a first date, but you’re her brother, so it’s ok.” He said, the logic twisted, but so was this entire fucking situation. 

“You don’t have to make it good for her either, she already came. Just fill her up, hm? Girl’s love having their cunts flooded with cum.” He insisted. Aegon blushed at the crude talk, but didn’t hesitate—pressing his length in with a single thrust. The siblings let out matching moans at the sensation, and the expresion on Aegon’s face was truly delicious—as was the slight bit of pressure against his chest, each of Aegon’s thrusts rocking Rhaenyra against him. 

Rhaenyra let out a little whimper, something about being “Sensitive.” Which Daemon teased her for, “What is sensitive? Your cunt? With that tiny cock in it?” He shook his head, mocking, glancing up at Aegon to enjoy the blush of the boy’s cheek. “I’m surprised you can even feel it, sweetheart.” 

One of his hands wandered down her thigh, to the point where Aegon was thrusting into her. They both groaned as he teased the place where they were joined and the rim of Rhaenyra’s cunt. He let them get used to his fingers there, while he pondered his attack. The action was timed with Aegon’s thrusts, when the boy had pulled out an inch or two, he pressed his index finger against slightly stretched skin. Everything was slick from his cum, and Rhaenyra’s own release, and his finger managed to slip inside—only to quickly be pressed deeper by Aegon’s next thrust. 

They both moaned, loudly, almost sounding pained, though their faces both spoke of pleasure. Daemon moved his wrist, so more of his finger could enter her cunt, making everything feel tighter for the pair, and that was all it took—they both came, a symphony of moans coming from their lips as they rode out their orgasms against each other. Daemon waited until after Aegon’s limp length had slid out to remove his finger. Then, in an unplanned move, he held the finger up to Rhaenyra—who stared at it for a moment before taking it into her mouth. 

“Good girl.” He said, pressing a kiss to her hair and manipulating her so she was sitting sideways on his lap and able to lay down on the couch. Aegon sat down too, before partially pulling Rhaenyra into his own lap—seeming to find comfort with his fingers tangled in her hair. She rolled slightly, so she could press kisses to the bare skin of her brother’s  pelvis. When she went lower though, threatening to kiss the limp length that had been inside her, he pushed her away—letting out a childish whine that it was, “Too sensitive.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but obliged, flipping back over so Aegon could stroke her hair. 

They stayed like that for a while, one episode of the show—which admittedly Daemon had missed most of, turning into two. By the time the third one came on, they were all awkwardly asleep on the couch, slumped together while sitting up but managing to find rest regardless. 

When Daemon woke up—with a crick in his neck, because he wasn’t in his twenties like some people. 

(To this, Aegon had responded, “I’m actually nineteen!” Which had not made Daemon feel any less ancient.) 

But it was still the best sleep he’d had in a long, long, time. 

If this was what being with them on a couch was like, then he really couldn’t wait to get them into bed. 

[fan-goddess]

For the prompts: ❛you don't even mean to torment me, do you?❜ with modern Aemond

OR ❛i want to spank your hot ass for driving me so crazy.❜ with Aegon.

Whichever floats your boat ;)

Well, why not try and do both? 😉

Okay:

‘I want to spank your hot ass for driving me so crazy’ is posted and linked here

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Pt. 2 ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Niece! Targ! ( Strong ) Reader suggest song to listen to whilst reading: Like Real People Do by Hozier or Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives prompt : would you make a part 2 for "like real people do" where after the fight reader gets really depressed and gives up trying to talk to him so he finally realizes his mistakes and tries to be a better person for her. she's still weary of him so doesn't really speak to him outside of formalities which frustrates him. but during that period aemond tries to make a move on her but he's a really good friend and makes her feel wanted and loved so when aegon watches them dance during a feast he kinda snaps and they finally argue talk their feelings out with them making up by the end and maybe if smut if you want to write it??? thank you! word count: 1, 000+ words

You listened to him a little too well, like a loyal pup listening to its Master. You avoided him like he was the Stranger himself. Your once soft glances. The subtle smiles whenever you looked at him. The way your fingers would brush against his. The way you would tend to him. The way you would set out his clothes after a night out in Flea Bottom. 

Everything that you had done for him. It was all over and done. He had ruined it all with his pathetic temper tantrum. He regretted it. He fucking regretted it all as days turned into a fortnight. A fortnight was dragging into a full moon. And he was starting to crave having you around once again. He craved you more than he craved wine. You were now a ghost in his life. Passing by, unseen and unheard. 

He was sure that soon enough you would come back to him. You'd snap out of this little daze. You'd come back to him. You'd coddle him, just like you used to. Everything, everything, everything would be alright. You'd be back and this would be nothing more than a small fight in the past.

Watching you and Aemond dance together, Aemond was so gentle with you, his hands and gaze never strayed into another inappropriate. Aemond was a true gentleman, he would never dare to dishonor you. He always treated you with such respect and kindness. Brushing it off as nothing more than a cordial dance between a brother and sister-in-law, Aegon takes a sip of his wine, turning his back to the two of you. 

Hearing soft laughter come from behind him, he snaps his head back towards you too in an instant, eyes sharp. He did not care. In the weeks of your avoidance, he was fine! He was fucking fine! But, why the fuck did you look so happy with him? You looked happy with Aemond, of all people. You looked really happy with Aemond. Happier than he had ever made you in the years of your marriage together. 

“They look happy together.” Helaena smiles, “Do they not, Aegon?”

“They do.” He grumbles, scowling deeply. 

“I am happy to see her so happy once again.” Helaena nods mindlessly, “She was so upset before.”

“She was?” He raises a brow. 

“Yes, she was. Aemond though, he was very kind to her. They spoke a lot. She has been smiling since she had spoken to him. Tis’ good.” Helaena smiles, unaware of her words.

Narrowing his eyes at the sight of you and Aemond dancing, he shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on his chalice. He wasn’t upset. He wasn’t fuckign upset in the slightest. Why the fuck would anyone get upset at such news like this? He wasn’t. He wasn’t. 

“What of?” He asks, masking his displeasure. 

“Dragon’s.” Helaena smiles, “Other things. But, most of dragon’s.”

“Dragon’s?” 

“Mm-hmm, she has always had an interest in dragon’s. Specifically Vhagar.” Helaena shakes her head, “She thinks that Dragons and their riders can share memories of Old should their bond be so tightly intertwined.” 

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I do not think so. If dragon dreams are true, tis’ no surprise if such a thought could be true.” Helaena argues, “If you spoke to her, you would know of this.”

Clenching his jaw tightly at Helaena’s subtle jab, he trails his eyes back onto you, seeing just how happy you looked with Aemond. His heart clenched tightly. It should be him in Aemond’s place. He should be the one getting you so happy and comfortable. He should be the one listening to the stupid thoughts. Not Aemond. Chugging all of the wine in his chalice, he slams the chalice down hard on the table, standing up from his seat. 

No. Nope. Not a chance. Not a fucking chance. Aemond would not take his place. He could not, no he would not be replaced by his younger brother. You were his wife. You were supposed to be his little pest. You were supposed to be his. Running a hand through his hair, he stalks towards the two of you, keeping a calm facade for your sake. He would win you back. If he could seduce whores in Flea Bottom, he could seduce you back. 

“If you do not mind, I would like to have my wife back, dear brother.” He cuts in, his voice smooth with a hint of iciness.

“Oh..” You murmur, the smile on your face dying in an instant. 

“If the Lady wishes, then I shall end our dance.” Aemond glares at him, “After all, she may be tired of dancing.”

“She is my wife.”

“Yes, she is. But, we’ve been dancing for so long.” Aemond argues, “Mayhaps, you should ask her if she wishes to keep dancing or if she would like some wine.”

Seeing the subtle glare his brother gave him, he puffs his chest up in defense, attempting to intimidate him. He was the King and your husband. He had every right to be around you and ask you for a dance. Narrowing his eyes hard at him, Aemond motions to you with his eye, trying to make him understand. What the fuck was he trying to say? Clenching his jaw in confusion, it suddenly clicks in his head what Aemond was suggesting. A way for him to speak to you. Aemond was not attempting to steal you

“Um, Y/n, would you like to dance with me?” 

“Oh, um, no thank you.” You softly shake your head, “I have had my fill of dancing.”

“Then, may I suggest you join me at our table for some wine and fresh air?” He offers again, attempting to find some middle ground with you. 

As tempted as he was to sling you over his shoulder, he knew that it would only worsen the distance between the two of you, and maybe earn him a hard punch to the nose from Aemond. He had to be smart. He had to be the complete and utter opposite of himself. Looking at you a little hopeful, he holds his hand out for you to take, praying that you would at least grant him that. 

“I thought you wished for me to leave you be?” You murmur, “Twas’ hard to not understand that when you were shouting at me.”

“Mayhaps, I was wrong.” He gulps, suddenly feeling nervous. 

“But, you said to me⎯” 

“I want to be alone, but alone with you.” He stutters, “Um, that is if you will allow it to me.”

Cowering slightly as you stare him down, he retracts his hand, now aware of Aemond’s lack of presence. It was just you and him. Though, it was not a comforting thought. Clasping his hands behind his back, he slowly looks you over, eyes trailing down your gown.

It was purple with pearls sewing into the skirt. You always wore green to match with him. His gut churns painful, now aware of just how much distance had brewed in the weeks apart. You used to be so intertwined with him. 

“I do not wish to be around you any longer. Tis’ clear my presence is a bother.” You argue, staring him down like he was your prey. 

“No, I do not wish for that any longer.” He mumbles, like a petulant child.

“You do not?” 

“I do not. I wish for us to act like real people do. To not be like how we once were.” He explains, “I wish to change. For there to be no distance.”

“Bold words do not move me, Aegon. Tis’ actions that do.”

Nodding his head in agreement at your words, he knew that he had royal fucked up. Hell, even his own dragon refused to look at him for what he had done, siding with your dragon. He had to earn your respect. But, he was willing to do it. Swallowing his pride, he looks at you shamefully, seeing the hate within your eyes.

You now looked at him with the same hate that everyone else in the Realm did. It was not as pleasing or comforting as he had wanted or though it would be. It felt shameful. It felt heartbreaking. You were supposed to look at him with love, not hatred.

“I..”

“You what, Aegon?” You snap back, annoyed.

“I…Tell me what you wish for me to say and do. Tell me what man you wish for me to be, and I shall be him for you.” He pleads, using the same words you had said to him weeks ago.

----

[cherryheairt]

O Hello, can you write about Gwayne? I really like the way you write.

EI was thinking something like enemies to lovers. Instead of Baela, she is the one who flies over the dragon. They met at the dinner Viserys prepared before he died in the first season.

At the end of the dance Gwayne is forced to bend the knee and accept Rhaenyra as queen. Her daughter doesn't miss the opportunity to make his life hell, until he corners her in a hallway and takes her like a dragon.

hello! I love this prompt, I miss gwayne already 💔

Beckae is the name I gave MC, just to add to the immersion of a Targ-Velyron lol, pronounced Becky still. No description for the reader (mother is Rhaenyra but father is anyone made up, lets say that the reader looks a spitting image of their father to keep it neutral. fem pronouns. I couldn't include the smut at the end, just a lil steam. I'm sorry 😞, I'm terrible at writing those scenes.

noticed that Gwayne's costume included a ring on a chain, a thing typically done by people who want to keep their wedding ring on them, but not lose them. It gave the the main idea for this lol

Dance of Green and Black

When Gwayne Hightower and Beckae Velayron were forced to wed by order of Rhaenyra Targaryen, both did not bother to hide their vexation. They were married mere days after Rhaenyra won the Iron Throne, her loyal men killing Aegon ii in his state of disarray from his burns.

Now, months later, they had left their marriage uncomsumated and drier than the sandy hills of Dorne. They refused to sleep in shared marital chambers at the Red Keep, having agreed on that one thing. Gwayne reluctantly took his father's place at court, staying among the very snakes that brought him here in the first place. He cursed himself for ever responding to Alicent's letter when Aegon first took the throne. If he hadn't, he'd be living his life peacefully alone at the Old Tower.

Now, his days were spent being tormented by the spoilt Princess. She attended each council meeting, laughing snidely at every suggestion Gwayne gave his Queen, and suggesting one of her own in turn. She got away with this every time, seeing as her grandmother was the Hand of the Queen, Rhaenys, and her mother was the Queen.

Gwayne sipped on his wine, which he had taken to indulging in every council, listening to the drowl words of the nobles around him. His wife shared his boredom, apparently, twirling her own glass in her hand. Beside him, she huffed every few minutes. He resisted the urge to ask her to excuse herself if she were so bored. Suddenly, a wet 'splash' fell to his lap, dampening his breeches.

"Oops..." Fluttered the Princess, who covered her mouth in surprise. "That was an accident, I assure you." Though Gwayne could care less if it was genuine or not, he was already scooting his chair out and storming out of the council room. Shocked faces around the table landed on Beckae, who at least had the gaul to look embarrassed. Rhaenyra raised a brow at her daughter, nodding her chin toward the door shortly.

The Princess swiftly followed after her husband, not truly caring for his embarrassment but moreso glad to be given an excuse for leaving the room. If she had known putting her mother on the Iron Throne would have been so dreadfully boring, she would've taken her dragon to Pentos and lived out her days as an old maid.

Gwayne reached his private chambers first, long legs able to carry him so much faster. He took off his trousers and small clothes, left with his bottom half bare to the world. Beckae followed after him, gasping and turning around at the sight before her. Shit, she thought. Perhaps she should've waited at his doors.

"Here to empty your goblet entirely? Go ahead, I'm used to it." He sneered, rolling his eyes at her sudden bashfulness. It would not be the first time she witnessed such a thing. For modesty's sake, he slipped on a fresh pair of linens.

"I am merely here to apologize, husband. Not patronize." She mumbled, face hot.

"Hm." He stepped forward, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. "Where was this attitude when you were chasing after me on your dragon? I think your true colors much suit you, wife."

She grit her teeth, annoyed at his haughty behavior. "It was war. If I hadn't been on my dragon and your party happened upon me, I'd have been killed by Criston Cole without remorse."

"I wouldn't have allowed that to happen." He insisted confidently.

She snorted, "when had that man ever listened to you? He hardly heeded the usurper's orders when he was alive."

"Do you think I would have let you die, especially such a dishonorable death?" Gwayne questioned, squeezing her cheeks harder.

She grimaced, "we were not wed, then. Barely acquainted, to add."

He looked disappointed at her snarky reply. "I may not hold much affection for you, wife, but I have always shown myself to be an honorable man, have I not?" When she didn't respond, he continued. "I would say we were not acquaintances, either. Were we acquainted when I bestowed upon your head the crown of The Queen of Love and Beauty at your nameday tourney?"

"That's different. You had to name me that. It is the expectation of a tourney winner to name the celebration's main subject with that title." She said.

"I could've named someone else, even so. Was our little tryst that night meaningless?"

"You cannot use that against me, Gwayne. It is shameful enough that I allowed myself to do such a dishonest thing." She grabbed his wrist lightly, urging it away from its grip. He listened, moving it to a more gentle caresse at the base of her neck, tangled in her hair.

"I do not regret it." He said, softly. "Nor do I regret the night we spent together after the dinner with our families."

"Gwayne," she pleaded, avoiding his intense gaze. While their marriage was yet to be officially consumated, she was far from a maiden. He was to thank for that, of course. How ironic that they ended up married only after they begun to resent each other.

Gwayne resented his entrapment here. She resented his family and his actions during the war.

"What, Princess? I only speak the truth and you know it. Do you regret it?"

She remained silent, hands placed on his chest as if to ground herself.

Gwayne took that as his answer. "We do not have to live this way. We could leave—return to my home in Old Town. You can have your privacy, do whatever you please whenever you'd like. I beg you, it is torturous here for me, and I know you share that sentiment. I will not ask for heirs, I have my brother for that. You can take a lover, a paramour of your choice." He promised her, grabbing her hands and bringing them together. On his knees, he looked the proper image of a knight, kneeling like such. To beg for his Lady to do him this one favor, to release him from court.

"I do not want a lover." She said lowly. "I want for you."

His eyes widened, then his brows furrowed together in bemusement. "You have taken it upon yourself to belittle me publically every day, do you expect me to now believe that you do not resent me?" He scoffed bitterly.

The Princess looked away from him, unknowing of how to phrase her next words. "That is true, I will admit to my teasings–"

"I would hardly call them teasings." He cut in.

She glared at him, continuing. "–or torments, perhaps. No one truly enjoys court, it is both of us who are trapped her together. If I hadn't been forced to marry you, we would have both been free to live where we wished."

"Your mother is Queen, if you only ask she will provide."

"You overestimate my influence, Gwayne. She wants your advisory in council–for Gods know what–and she knows you being married to me keeps you loyal to her."

"Then I will stop being useful. I will be the worst advisor that council has ever seen." His face lit uo in a smirk, as if we were a profound genius.

"Do you not think she will see through this rouse."

"You will be my aid, dear Lady. You need only continue your extremely rude and annoying actions, only louder and more aggressive, so that they will have no choice but to kick you out from future meetings. In addition, my uselessness will send me with you out of the Keep to be rid of us both. If we hate each other in their eyes, they will not suspect that we are working together." He explains.

She carefully thinks it over. True, they would not want wither of them uselessly loitering around the Keep after they were kicked out of the council. She nodded firmly, agreeing to his plan. If all things went to shit and they were discovered to be playing a rouse, the only consequence would be a scolding. What was stopping them?

🏰

Gwayne and Beckae went through their little routine for weeks. The Princess rudely commenting on the entire council's opinions now, not just Gwayne's. Not rude enough to be kicked out immediately, but for irritated glares to be regularly shot at her. If looks could kill, Beckae would have been buried long ago. Gwayne, for his part, entirely stopped giving his opinions. If asked, he exaggeratedly thought for a long time before giving false information.

The weeks passed with many stressed advisors going through the boring meetings with many complaints to the Queen and her Hand. With Gwayne and his wife, however, they started to bond over their mischiefs. Late at night, after their duties were done, the two shared laughter and pleasent conversation over their cups.

When Rhaenyra pulled the married couple aside one morning, before the meeting started, Gwayne and Beckae felt giddy with anticipation.

"You two...I have been thinking for a while now. I think it is time you retired from court and traveled back to Old Town, to raise your children and take care of your House directly from it." The Queen avoided her true reasoning, skirting politely around the Hightower man.

They both nodded solemnly, agreeing with her choice. "We will miss the Keep, Mother. I expect next time I visit, you will perhaps be blessed with a grandchild." Beckae said, hugging her mother, who looked relieved.

Gwayne's brows raised at her words but agreed with them in front of the Queen. Soon, she left the married couple alone.

They shared a loud laugh together, holding each other at their small win. "Free at last!" The Princess cheered, earning a hearty chuckle from her husband.

"Indeed, wife. What were you saying, blessed with a grandchild? Are you so eager to be bed in your new home?" He asked teasingly.

She felt her face grow unrelentingly hot, scoffing. "I was only appeasing her." She said.

Gwayne hummed disbelievingly, nodding along. "I'm sure you were, wife."

At her gawking defenses, he only laughed and walked to his chambers to pack.

🏰

After a sickening three months on the road to Old Town, Beckae and Gwayne were more than ready to sleep on cushioned beds.

So ready, in fact, that they didn't bother to split into separate chambers. Both in Gwayne's chambers, the Princess and Gwayne relaxed in his spacious bed.

"I can not tell you how much I missed a proper bed." She sighed loudly, groaning in pleasure at the comfort. He did the same, humming his own praise.

Well into the night, the two merely talked and sipped on cups of sweet wine. In only their night shifts, Beckae could clearly spot a ring shining on his chest. She grabbed it, pulling it towards her slightly, fingerd brushing over his bare chest and earning a shiver from him. He leaned in with the ring, the chain pulling him by the neck.

"I did not notice this. I had thought you threw your wedding ring away the second you left the feast." She said softly, smiling at the sight of his matching ring.

"Of course not. I am not so cruel." He said, grabbing her own ring-adorned hand and gently placing a kiss on top of the ring. She giggled at the ticklish feeling, earning a smirk from Gwayne. He smirked, continuing to place feathery kisses up her arm, to her shoulder, then neck. The sensitive skin being so softly kissed made her shiver in turn, sighing pleasently. He paused before reaching her lips, grabbing her chin softly in his hand. Silently he asked for her approval.

Nodding, she was immediately drowned in a hot kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as she moaned. She moved her hands to his red hair, tugging at it. He moved her onto her back, hands squeezing her waist playfully. They pulled apart, lips swollen and panting.

The ring hung down to her own chest as he leaned over her. She twirled the ring in her finger, pleased at the sight of it. He was hers, and she was his. Entirely. She brought him down in a kiss again, pulling his chest to her own and adoring the heat that he brought with him.

That night, they comsumated their marriage in a way that no one could deny, every servant in the Tower being able to hear their Lord and Lady making heirs.

🏰

[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.

[spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack]

my girl, aegon II targaryen.

MINORS DNI- smut ahead you will be blocked <3

prompt- aegon teaches you the repercussions of making fun of him.

sorry for being inactive, lots of things have happened lol. just wanted to write a super quick drabble! my requests are open! please request anything you'd like to see written, i mostly write smut for house of the dragon or dune!

warning; nsfw, aegon getting bullied, penetration, praise, use of 'good girl'

It had been a simple jest, something that gave a momentary laugh to You and Aemond. Aegon had said the improper terminology during your shared lesson on the Valyrian language, you hid your smile and giggle behind a hand, which didn't go unnoticed by either of the Princes.

You, who was their half-sister's prized eldest daughter, You who was sure she would be appalled by the situation you ended up in after your lessons ended.

You whipped around the corner, fleeing the lesson to go and meet your father, Laenor, for a ride with your dragons.

Only to have your wrist grabbed so hard you were sure it might bruise. Your uncle, Aegon, who had gotten only more handsome with age, had his grip on your wrist.

His hushed words, his pleas for you to be quiet, this hatred between you two had always been a facade; in private you two were the most energetic lovers.

You ended up in his rooms, Your corset untied and your dress thrown around the room, your bare legs wrapped around Aegons bare torso, his cock deep within you.

Your eyes grew glossy with unshed tears, your breath not quite catching up. "Breathe.. good girl," Aegon whispered into your ear, his pace slowing but not stopping; his movements were harsh but sweet. Your pussy gripped him tighter, as you gained your breath back. His pace went back to punishingly swift, his sweetened touches turned dark as he pawed at your hips- groaning and whimpering.

"fuck- that's my girl, yesss…" his noises of pleasure could only turn you on further, as you felt the tip of his cock hit that spot deep inside you that made you shudder at the feeling- that led you to your completion.

fin.

[emmaofnormandy]

~A Medieval Tale: The Rogue & His Lady. Part II~

Plot: Y/N is a damsel who captures the heart of a rogue, misunderstood prince named Aegon Targaryen in 14th century England… with no civil war to disarray the family.

It’s fluffy, very mediæval like; smut; long post.

(+21)

***

Even sun sets in paradise.

Clouds rumble in the skies, a sign of storm, a bad omen to all those who fear the ire of the divine. Many were the peaceful years of King Viserys’s reign. Some would incline to judge this monarch as fool, others, wise, good even.

Whatever epithet this king deserves, it goes to wind, blown away by the first evidences that peace is yet to be supplanted by something worse. What might that be… is yet to be found out.

With the sun eclipsed, new events are setting stage. Aegon and you are forced to be apart by these circumstances and you fear to remain a shadow in his memory, praying to the divine that he does not forsake you .

On his part, this redeemed prince has renewed his vows to you. But he’d come to find that easier is said than done for his attentions are required elsewhere. Demons are coming out to reclaim his soul and he’s the target of evil again.

Indeed, to be surrounded by such creatures requires an inner strength that a fragile faith cannot knock down. Here, Aegon finds difficult to shake ‘em off.

Oh why Lord hast thou forsaken me?

Masking his pain, his porcelain skin turns to ivory. Sweet Prince is now a king… who faces the opposition of partisans who threaten to replace him with Rhaenyra.

Where there is smoke, there is flame. And someone might get burnt.

You, despite yourself, feel inclined to let be consumed by these unnatural flames.

Already pained by how politics are preventing one to find the other, you swallow your pride and discreetly search for him.

Aegon is found in secretive talks to Lord Daeron, his brother and councilor, who thinks best to marry off his sister in order to prevent political troubles that could arise in her state— and none seems to suspect, though, that the Lady Rhaenyra is holding the reigns of her life by taking her own uncle, Lord Daemon Targaryen, as her husband.

How bold, the scandalized court would whisper.

Part of shadows, you are invisible to the eyes of men—and to those of the women, too. For who are you if not part of a nobility that few are familiar with? Your family possessions may give them some credit, but no name, no blood, nothing… could commend you to His Grace.

The tentacles of the Devil hereby try to persuade you of your insignificance, thus trying to work against the designs of the Cupid by pushing you away from him, the one your heart desires.

To the most pious, though, this is read as an announcement of a heavenly battle for two lost souls. Which one is going to be the victor?

One could only pray to fight away such impertinent demons…

But a soul when linked to the other is prompted to recognize its other significant half… regardless the crowd that tries to part them.

Which means to say that His Grace’s lilac eyes find the y/c eyes of yours. So lost. Plagued by this intermittent chaos.

In silence, screaming for the lover stolen.

“Lady Y/N!”

The stunned group of councillors, and here his relatives are included, follow the cause of the king’s disrupted distress.

To many, the evident surprise in their faces when seeing it is you the very reason why Aegon II is more concerned to a damsel than politics may lead to that old superstition, understood as a sort of common sense, which places the blame of wrongs in women… simply because they are not obeying the natural orders.

Regardless, spotlight is on. The Cupid dances, the Devil threatens. Fate is about to play deadly its cards.

“I could not reach out for you. I pray you forgive me for being…”

Even if staying at the center of this stage is something you do not wish for, it is too late to storm out. Your destiny escapes your hands, it’s been woven by the divine. This is all you know.

“Do not apologize, lord. There is nothing to be forgiven for”, you smile, but Aegon sees sadness in your irises. “What can we do before duty? Should be me the one to ask you forgiveness for my meekness, my spirit so prompted to be passional…”

“I see nothing in you to be faulted for. Reason cannot conceive it. Lady Y/N, I aim to reclaim not your body, even if it arises the desires of my flesh, but your soul, so only I before it can be whole.” He cups your face with his hands, in complete ignorance of his mother’s baffled countenance. “Even so, unworthy of thee as I am, take me not as king, but as a man.”

“Poet of mine heart”, you sigh, to the delight of the Goddess of Love who claps before this chaotic profession of most profound sentiments. “I could not refuse you, whether as a beggar, whether as a king. Likewise, my heart is yours to be commanded… despite my most inappropriate station.”

Aegon smiles and it is as if sun shines the brightest. To a general astonishment, the king loves. And such a love is above mortal, fable laws; above lust, inferior desires that have made no other victims than himself.

“I care naught about the laws of men, for I stand before them. My wife you will be, lady of this court, mistress of the realm”, says he in a tone that leaves no argument to it.

Devil is finally fought off. Victory is placed in the hands of Cupid. Heaven smiles below… even if skies remain grey still.

***

Nothing evokes a greater scandal than unexpected unions. Disregarding reason and every sensible advise, the king intends to make his word law of the realm.

All of this is suffice to say that making you his queen attracted great disapproval of the court. Something unseen since the days of Maegor the cruel.

But Aegon may be many things. Cruel he is not. And you are unlike any of his consorts.

Despite the gleefulness of finally being tied to Aegon, you know that working for peace is part of your queenship.

Therefore, days before the wedding you come after the dowager queen, lady Alicent Hightower. You hope to be as convincing as possible in arranging domestic peace, for you do this overall for the man you love—never forgetting, however, how uncommon this union is, out of the Targaryen inbred and hierarchically mismatched.

The redhaired lady, once praised for her piety and discreetion, who once possessed a crown over her head, welcomed you with distrust in her eyes—even if you see how queenly she is in manners. That is to reinforce the regal obligations one has… out of habit, perhaps, when dealing with others she is less… inclined to like.

“Madame the Queen”, you address her accordingly. “I thank you for welcoming your humble servant.”

Your speech definitely surprises the dowager queen. The lady Alicent has judged you as some sort of gold digger, who craved your nails in her son and whose manners were most undignified of Aegon—even if he is not, as she knows well, the great moral of her house.

However, when studying you, your modesty and meek speech, she realizes she’s been wrong. Not many could surprise Alicent Hightower, but you, Y/N Y/LN did.

“Please rise, child”, she softens towards you. “I am not a queen… not anymore.”

“One never ceases to be a queen, even if the crown is legated to another. You are the force behind this house, my lady. I would do harm to all of us if I only followed my heart.”

Wise move. Oh, this lady possesses a sharp wit. Certainly not like any of the mistresses Aegon had conquered to warm his bed.

And yet… hasn’t Lady Alicent been remembered of that heroine whom she admired, Isolde being the character’s name?

Though the dowager queen envied you for being who she aimed to be since the days of her girlhood, she is not unreasonable where you are concerned.

“I appreciate you come after me for that. I admit all of this caught me out of surprise, for little I expected seeing my son so besotted.”

You try smiling, charmingly if you dare.

“Indeed it has baffled me as well that the king considered me in high esteem. Unworthy as I am, I, however, feel likewise.”

“But you surely must be aware of his flaws”, the dowager queen could not help herself. You remind her of sweet Helaena, who, however, even in her sweetness had a driven force that led her elope with Aemond, her brother.

“I am, my queen. I do not love for the king he is, but for the man he is becoming. I too have my flaws.” The final card is yet to come… “Before the divine, we are inferior beings, all longing for redemption.”

The Queen smiles. You’ve succeeded in captivating her.

“This is very true. Sometimes… when we least expect, we come to learn that love sent from above is yet to redeem us all.”

From this day on, you and the dowager queen become close, perhaps occupying the vacant position left by the princess Helaena.

***

It is the ceremony day. Here you and Aegon are, lawfully married. A banquet is held on your honor, as well as tournaments are drawing high and low born men alike who spots in the jousts an opportunity to write their names in history.

Most want to be the lady Y/N’s champion, but you’ve already granted your favour to Lord Daeron, the king’s youngest brother, who used to be your childhood playmate.

As wine is poured in your silver glass, you and your lord husband speak as if there is just the two of you in a gold and green salon.

“I espoused you”, says he with his typical smug.

“Indeed”, you side smirk. “But I pray you are reminded daily that I was not any conquest of yours.”

“No”, he agrees, looking deep into your eyes as he takes your hand to his lips in a lingering kiss. “You are the redemption of a lost sinner, my lady.”

But this sweet, intimate moment is interrupted by Aemond’s boast.

“It appears”, he announces in his own way, “this is the moment we have all been waiting for. The bedding ceremony.”

You look away, crimson pink painting your cheeks all the whilst Aegon raises his eyebrows at his brother—though he’d indulge in lies if he didn’t admit he’d been looking to it. Perhaps too much for a man who until recently was slaved by his flesh.

*

A path of flowers follows your steps as the gentlewomen remove every piece of your green gown. Your carefully embroidered hair is now loose in your back and every jewel that embellished your skin is carefully removed.

Never before you felt so nude, so exposed. Specially under the cries and giggles of the ladies, some of which behave in what you judge to be somewhat in the old ways.

“Be merry, my dear. Today is the day your queenly duties begin”, someone tells you.

You smirk at them, but pay little attention to their sayings, detesting this exhibition. Until your mind suddenly goes blank before the view of perfection that stands right under your eyes.

Aegon Targaryen hasn’t seen you yet. Perhaps to drink away his nervousness, he downs his glass of wine. His hair is somewhat a mess, falling short down to his neck; but your eyes scan his muscles, perfectly shaped after years of sword training.

The lines of his body that reinforce his shape awake something different in you. And when he turns at you….

Your face goes instantly red.

“My queen”, and it doesn’t help you that he scans you with the eyes of a predator.

And you like it how he smirks and moves all the way to welcome you properly.

“You look beautiful like always”, his whisper is like a summer breeze, warming and cozy; his arms are like a fortress, strong and safe. “Do not shy away from me, my dear.”

He is right behind you, his arms snaking around your waist, thus involving you in between. His chin is resting over your shoulder, his lilac eyes staring at your heart-shaped face as he uses one hand to play with your hair all the whilst the other is resting over your belly.

“You are gifted with a beautiful out of this world. As a sinner, I should not dare to look at you, but because of my weakness, I have my feebleness exposed.”

“Oh Aegon, you are no man, nor king, nor something in between. You are above all, and as your subject I boldly commend myself to you.”

Speeches are silent from the moment his lips meet your skin and your mouth drops in an “o” right as you give in under his touch. His slender fingers caressing your belly, squeezing gently your waist before cupping your breasts make you experiment—truthfully this time—this dragon fire.

And you want to get burnt so desperately.

“Aegon…”, you moan softly, dropping your head at shoulders.

Sinful has never been so tempting. Where there is a flame someone is about to get burnt, and you place yourself willingly in this position, notwithstanding the morals of the Church against lust and the dangerous of having pleasure in marital bed—everything must be balanced.

You certainly do not feel condemned by any means when he’s kissing your neck and cupping your breasts; nor guilty when his tongue paces slowly towards your neck.

Aegon too revives his old self, though he is now controlling his lust, not the other way around. As when he lowers his right hand and through forest he finds waterfall in you, diving in you and together finding pleasure in sin.

“Oh yes”, he groans in your ear, pleased to please you. “Give yourself to me, my dear”.

When your gazes meet, you know it’s your end. You are doomed.

And Aegon, has truthfully been tamed.

***

As when sun and moon meet, so it occurs a significant event the moment your body meets his. When he holds your thighs and pushes within you, when he looks at you with a mix of love and lust… you know it’s nothing regular.

It’s supernatural.

Divine.

Like when Mars met Venus and in her he planted his seeds, so the king plants his in you.

When does profanity begin? When does sacred end? A line so fragile between extremes is yet to be traced.

But one gaze, one kiss… one bliss is enough to bring altogether what has ever been apart.

Victory thus falls upon the hands of the Cupid, and Heavens will too bless this unique match. No one could have foretold the plans of the divine… as no one could have fought them either.

***

• Epilogue.

The king sits on his throne, eyes glued on his dancing queen. A smile dances over his lips, some might say Lady Y/N is a witch.

A love for a crown?

A crown for love?

When all eyes are set on their offspring, doubts are quietened. A pair of twins is seen dancing with their mother, whilst another, the elder and heir, is found by his father’s side.

All is well that ends up well… with you.

Aegon smiles. Against all wishes, the peace he provides. And he rises, uncontestedly victorious.

Their family is yet to grow further, with Lady Y/N, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, mothering at least ten more children. Their lives will last… until spring comes and summer passes.

During the autumn of life, when marriages thrive, you outlive your husband only to see Jaehaerys II with Jaehaera by his side.

Thus it is how this Targaryen line survives…

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

✨💫 NAVIGATION 💫✨

About me:

My name is Christina, I'm 20+, and I love Halloween, makeup of all genre, horror movies, 2000s rom-coms, writing, cats...and Taylor Swift more than anything. I'm a creative person at heart and share personality type with Kat Strattford and Wednesday Addams. I've been writing since I read the Twilight books and currently write for Scream, Wednesday, TSITP, Marvel, and more

☆ My taglists form here

☆ My 2024 prompt list is here and you can send requests here at any time

Who I write for:

MCU characters (Peter Parker + Loki Laufeyson) | Masterpost

Teen Wolf (Stiles Stilinski + Derek Hale) | Masterpost

Outer Banks (JJ Maybank + Rafe Cameron) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list

Jess Mariano (Gilmore Girls) | Masterlist

Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon (Daemon Targaryen + Aemond Targaryen + Aegon II Targaryen + Jacaerys Velaryon (NEW) + Cregan Stark (NEW) + Jon Snow) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list

Wednesday (Xavier Thorpe + Ajax Petropolus + Wednesday Addams) | Masterlist

Marcus Baker (Ginny & Georgia) | Masterpost

Scream (Ethan Landry + Chad Meeks Martin + Mindy Meeks Martin + Tara Carpenter + Billy Loomis + Charlie Walker + Amber Freeman) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list

The summer I turned pretty (Conrad Fisher + Jeremiah Fisher) | Masterpost

Tate Langdon (American Horror Story: Murder House) | Masterpost

Young!Coriolanus Snow (Hunger Games) | Masterpost special fandom prompt list ** crossed fandoms/characters are on hold

REQUESTS RULES

I have the ability to deny and delete any requests I don't want to write

If the request is from a list, adding the quote with the number helps me a lot (I have more than one list and it gets confusing for me)

I don’t have a set word count for requests, but I try to keep them between 0.5k - 1k

Do not send me the exact same request you sent to many other writers. If see it, I'll then delete it

Smut is allowed, and welcomed

I WILL NOT WRITE

These NSFW themes — feet fetish, a/b/o, innocent!reader , humiliation/degrading kink, water sport, graphic SA or anything non-con (unless it’s part of a ‘game’)

RPF (real people fiction)

Romanticization of mental health (eating disorders, depression, any type of self harm, etc.)

Anything yandere related

Anything involving someone being sick or periods

Peter x Tony (romantically) or any form of incest (with the exception of GoT and HotD)

Pregnancies / main characters being a parent

male!reader

nb!reader or gn!reader (nothing against it, I just wouldn’t want to write it wrong)

male!reader

black!reader or plus size!reader (nothing against it, I just would want to offend anyone by writing something I don’t know about)

[lovelykhaleesiii]

❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜

Argon and his girlfriend need to FaceTime due to maybe business stuff, and she gets horny and ruts on a pillow by the sight of his shirtless form…

Aegon ii SMUT Prompt #9

pairing: modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

warnings: Daddy kink, mentions of masturbation (female + male), swearing, mentions of p in v, NSFW dialogue.

You hated that Aegon was not with you at this very moment. Gone away for some family business venture, it was only temporary yet undoubtedly challenging, for this was the first instance you guys had at being physically apart. And right now, you needed him in every possible way.

“Aeg, you have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now. Fuck, I miss you, Daddy.”

You sent the text message above, eager to see Aegon’s response. You weren’t normally this upfront or direct, but having been two weeks of little to no pleasure with your own means, you missed your boyfriends fat cock. You felt yourself more temperamental than usual, work was frustrating as it is, and without Aegon’s soothing presence, you felt your mood swings shift without warning.

It was only a minute that had gone by when Aegon had responded.

“I miss you more my Princess. You and that needy, little cunt of yours. You free to video call?”

Without a second to spare, you FaceTimed Aegon immediately, a beaming smile on your face as you laid sprawled over your bed cozily.

“Hey baby.”

Aegon’s husky, low voice echoed from the phone as you returned the welcome.

“Oh Aeg- How much more longer, I’m missing you too much now-”

Your eyes felt teary and Aegon was quick to notice, as his gaze softened on the screen. It seemed he was in bed also, shirtless with a tiresome look on his face. Fuck it drove you wild just seeing him only partially naked, that touch starved feeling you could sate yourself just by the sheer sight of his bare chest.

“Long day, Daddy?”

“Aw baby. Yeah we had meetings all day, boring people just talking on and on. All I could think of was that pretty face and cunt of yours begging, all the things I’m going to do when I’m back.”

“Tell me more, Aeg-”

Shuffling in your position, Aegon notices your hand sneaking it’s way down below the screen where it cuts off, but he knows your mischief. By the look of your face, as your eyes shut momentarily before focusing back on him, squirming.

“More, Aeg. How bad do you want me to beg?”

“Beg like you’ve never done before, I’m going to have you on your fucking knees, crying for my cock, how much you’ve missed it, how much you need it, how nothing could do you the same justice as me.”

“That’s right, Aeg. Nothing-”

The muffling of movements from Aegon’s end, stirred your eyes awake, as your fingers halted below from between your folds.

“Fuck-” Now he was seated upright, one hand holding the phone you’d presumed and the other cutting below the screen, laying down on his abdomen.

“Look at what you do to me, what you make me do. Such a needy, little Princess, I’ve spoiled you too much.”

Helpless moans and pleas of his name escape your mouth just above a whisper. You could feel your back slowly arching against the mattress, as Aegon glared at your tits, bare and free from the restraints of a bra.

“What a mess you are baby, even when I’m not there. Such a pathetic, little mess. Let me see how many.”

Tilting your phone down, as you pulled the shorts down more, Aegon had a visible glimpse of your promiscuous gesture. A cheeky smirk beamed across his face, as his other hand hastened motions from below, his phone swaying in sync to his body.

“Only two? C’mon baby, add another digit for me-”

Doing so, you shoved on more finger in slowly, your hand already coated with your mess, glistening in the dim light reflecting off the phone.

“Good, good girl. Now I’ll show you mine-”

Immediately your eyes widened in alert, as you panned your attention to Aegon’s rigid, upright dick on the screen. His hand hastily and somewhat aggressively jerking his cock, his pre-cum oozing from the blush tip. The size itself was large, his hand just barely gripping its circumference in it’s entirety, and the veins potent, you felt a pang between your thighs, your walls clenching viscerally as if his cock was inside of you at this very second.

“Look at what you do to me, fuck. I have to jerk myself off every chance I get to think of you.”

Your moans became even more excruciatingly loud, and the thrust, sloshing sounds echoing from your phone alongside Aegon’s moans, was like a orchestrated symphony.

“T-Tell me how much you want Daddy’s big, fat cock, baby.”

You could barely make out what Aegon had said, let alone the incoherent thoughts in your mind, as you envisioned him here with you, you remained quiet besides the moaning and groaning.

“Y/N! How much?”

“S-So much,” You quietly whimpered, biting your lip, as you bucked your hips forward, pressing your breasts together, just the perfect sight of your cleavage for Aegon.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making.”

“I need Daddy’s cock, so f-fucking much. P-Please, come back to me.”

****

Your wish his command, Aegon couldn’t bare a single more day in your absence. That same night following your little one on one session, he’d booked a return flight, with the excuse that you were “ill.” His family unimpressed by his prompt leave, he could care less about. He had to be with you, if it was one way or another, he was going to fuck you senseless himself, face to face.

[bibliophile221b]

Shared intentions — [18+MDNI!!]

summary: your betrothed has been away for so long, and as time passes, you ache for someone to keep you company—only to find that the one you seek is closer than you believed…

pairing: Alicent Hightower x Fem!reader, Gwayne Hightower x Fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight angst, religious themes, c!nnilingus, f!ngering, cheating, not proofread, english isn't my first language – (let me know if there were more!)

The weeks had passed at a deliberately slow pace. The hours had quelled and teased you as you waited at court, the walls closing in and suffocating you as you met dawn and dusk in the middle.

Your betrothed, Gwayne Hightower, had been gone for the Seven knows how long, and you’d been aching for him ever since he left the Keep. The days had been weary, the weather depressing, but mostly, they were slow. You had been husband and wife for only a few fortnights before he was swiftly called away to claim his post next to the new hand of the king, marching to lands where they’d bury the ashes of those who didn’t support the king’s claim.

The match had been one of romance. You had kept each other’s company for many months before the previous hand of the king suggested the marriage. You still reminisce about your wedding night and how you could give in to one another at last. You had only tasted the sweet flavour of love for a brief time, and already it had been taken away, leaving you in a burning state, longing to relive the moments you had together.

The match had been one of romance, or so you believed, nay, you knew. Therefore, you couldn’t fathom what made the interval before his arrival abruptly bearable. You weren’t sure why you stepped into the Great Sept of Baelor that evening, having never had a devotion to the Seven before, and your mind was blank as to why you claimed a seat next to the dowager queen. All you knew was that she gave you the comfort you desperately needed.

It all began so innocently. From silent whispers in the Great Sept, to assuring eye contact, to solacing caresses, which then led to you being summoned to her chambers late at night. These meetings were sacred to you, never failing to remind you of their origin at the heart of the Seven. Although you were also aware of the illicit, sinful nature of your encounters, only the shadows of the night bore witness, unhearing of the wicked whispers the dowager queen made dance across your flushed skin.

Nights turned into mornings, which then turned into evenings. Now, presently, at the fourth hour past midday, you struggled to keep your breath at pace. Your back was against the cobblestone wall in the dowager queen's chamber, the harsh touch a contrast to your soft, feverish skin. Your body lay lazily, barely clothed, as Alicent looked up at you beneath your skirt, her tongue hungrily exploring your folds, making you squirm beneath her touch.

She knew that when she curled her fingers inside you just right, it would draw out a heavenly choir, portraying you as a martyr, drenched in oil, with your face slightly glazed and the sunlight from the windows setting it aglow. And so, when she did, vindication had never tasted so intoxicatingly sweet. “Seven Hells, you always take it like a good girl,” Alicent breathed as her lips hovered above your cunt. Her other hand held your thighs up as her tongue finally sought out your bundle of nerves.

Your breath hitched at the mixture of her soft hums, vibrating your nerves and setting your lower stomach ablaze. “Alicent, please—” you whined, begging for more if any was even left. Your mind was a haze, feeling only her inciting, impure touch. The mere sight of your voracious state made her long for your release. “Let go for me,” she whispered, her eyes locking onto yours as she continued to work her fingers in and out of you, latching her mouth onto your clit like a woman starved.

Alicent watched as your eyes rolled back into your head at your release. Your body felt electrified, her touch making you see stars and feel as if you experienced heaven’s touch. She drank your nectar as your moans filled the room, and you were coming down. Your knees almost gave way when she got up, holding onto you and keeping you steady. “You did so well for me, do you know that?” she whispered. Her eyes were a soft, innocent touch to your dishevelled appearance. You nodded, returning an appreciative smile as she brought her hand to your face, faintly locking onto your jaw and neck. “We can’t keep meeting like this,” you said, though you leaned into her touch.

You watched her with her auburn hair worn like a crown, still unchanged after the event. You believed your meeting was born of lust, nothing else, with her dark brown eyes able to trap you wholly. Lust was a sin, though committed by many, whereas love would not just be considered infidelity, but something much worse, you thought, as you observed her flushed face and her wet, half-agape lips. Yet, something more than lust brewed inside you.

“We certainly can’t keep meeting like this,” she agreed, as her other hand lifted one of the sleeves of your dress, covering your breast again before her fingers trailed down to it, cupping and squeezing it slightly, causing your breath to hitch. She never looked away, daring you, seeking a reciprocated acknowledgment for what ached inside her. “This was the last time,” she whispered.

Before your mind could take over your actions, your heart already had. You pulled her into a lustful, carnal kiss, your hands roaming her body and pulling her against you. It felt as if no matter how close the two of you got, there was still space wasted between you. Nothing felt close enough, and the more you were away from each other, the more your mind and soul burned for her.

“Gods, you’re my greed,” she sighed as you moaned into the kiss. Her mouth opened slightly, allowing your tongues to melt together as one. She groped your breasts while you pulled up her dress from beneath, sinking two fingers into her heat. Alicent gasped as you thrust two fingers inside her with a fevered pace, making her rock her hips in rhythm. “You’re fucking soaked,” you breathed, feeling her wetness drenching your hand. With your thumb, you began rubbing small circles against her core, earning a blissful whine—a clear indication for you to keep going. And so you would have, had a loud knock on the door not nearly drowned out the scandalous, wet noises of your actions.

-

The unyielding wind showed no pity against your skin as you made your way to the courtyard for your husband’s arrival. It was the fifth hour past midday, and the weather seemed to share the gods’ resentment toward you. You hadn’t been able to take a bath or clean yourself up, as the voice that held the knocker’s hand had proclaimed your husband’s arrival. Your heart had sunk at the announcement, and you had hurriedly left her chamber to ensure you met your husband before he could greet his sister.

You skin was covered in a layer of barely dried up sweat, and your dress was covered in wrinkles; you felt as if you had partaken in a tournament. You tried to flatten your dress as you walked down the fore stair, but in vain, as the fabric seemed unbending. It mattered no longer as you locked eyes with your husband across the courtyard. Seeing him in person again made you vividly remember the precious moments you had shared.

You recalled the way he’d comfort you and held you, his lean arms embracing you as he whispered tender words into your ear. The way he made love to you felt eternal, lasting evermore, with his calloused hands opening you up just right. And his lips, which had tasted every surface of your skin, or the way he looked at you, whenever.

You felt lost in a maze of thoughts, but it lasted only so long before your arm brushed against someone. Not just anyone, but the dowager queen, Alicent Hightower, and everything you thought of your husband was swept away by your burning desire for her.

You looked at her, just for a moment, as she looked at you. It was nothing, just a glance, but you felt like everyone in the courtyard could discern your history from that fleeting moment. Your cheeks felt hot, and you looked away quickly, heading toward your husband. His eyes were still locked onto yours, a serious demeanor overcoming him, making you believe he knew. No, you knew he knew, until his eyes suddenly softened. The gods were making you paranoid; there was no reason for suspicion, you thought, so you ignored it.

“Gwayne!” you exclaimed joyfully, taking him into an embrace. You smelled him and felt that was all you needed to remember who you truly were meant to love. “How I missed you, my love,” he sighed, pulling away and taking you into a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips, which made you melt inside. This was good; all was well. Your husband was here, and no one but the gods knew.

Alicent watched as her brother embraced her lover. She knew she wasn't supposed to feel some grudge against Gwayne, since it was all part of the arrangement. As long as he was away, she was all hers, and vice versa. But the two of you seemed like two parts of a whole.

Her brother’s relationship was bound by oath, approved by the gods, whereas yours was a double-edged sword, rotating evermore, piercing whomever reached out first. Alicent merely prayed it was a riddle, with a riddle’s ending—a way for both of you to escape without hurting one another, for her blaze to either cease to exist or ignite as one.

[freya-captain]

I wouldn’t be so surprised if prince consort Aegon always teases Jacaerys at royal dinner or sucks him hard under the table at the Small Council…Jace would be mad and then sneak out with him or just do it on the marble table as soon as everybody leaves.

[madame-fear]

༊*·˚𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 ☄. *.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Check out HOTD masterlist, part one for more content. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Check out HOTD masterlist, part two for more content.

—♡ last updated : 09 / 02 / 23 | requests : closed —

↳˗ˏˋ HEADCANONS ˊˎ˗ ↴

꒰ LUCERYS VELARYON ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ JACAERYS VELARYON ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ VELARYON BOYS ꒱ • General NSFW headcanons with a Wife!Reader • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ RHAENYRA TARGARYEN ꒱ • Yandere!Mother!Rhaenyra with a Daughter!Reader. • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEGON TARGARYEN II ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEMOND TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ HELAENA TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ SEVERAL CHARACTERS ꒱ • Christmas with the Hightowers and Targaryens. • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

↳˗ˏˋ ONE SHOTS ˊˎ˗ ↴

꒰ LUCERYS VELARYON ꒱ • To Hold Dear | Lucerys x Pregnant!Wife!Reader • Heirs of the Tides | Lucerys x Shipping Businessman Daughter!Reader • Venus as a Boy | Lucerys x Reader [ NSFW, prompt 105 ] • Still Waters Run Deep | One Eyed!Lord!Lucerys x Reader [ part one ] • Still Waters Run Deep | One Eyed!Lord!Lucerys x Reader [ part two, NSFW ] • Unravel | Ghost!Lucerys x Widow!Reader • Jealousy, Jealousy | Lucerys x Jealous!Reader [ angst to fluff ]. • Silk Kisses | Lucerys x Reader [ fluff ]. • Stirb Nicht Vor Mir (Don’t Die Before I Do) | Lucerys x Prophetic!Reader • Thin Needles Disrupt Silk Threads | Lord!Lucerys x Celtigar!Reader [ angst to smut ] • Issa Perzitsos (My Little Flame) | Lord!Lucerys x Wife!Reader [ NSFW ] • Possibly Maybe | Lucerys x Targaryen-Hightower!Green!Reader. • Dragonsong | Modern!Guitarist!Lucerys x Reader • Heartstring | Modern!Lucerys x Reader • Duty & Sacrifice | Lucerys x Maid!Reader [ angst to fluff ]. • Yellow Daffodils | Lucerys x Targ/Hightower!Wife!Reader [ fluff ]. • Petrichor Salt | Lord!Lucerys x Lady (of Driftmark)!Reader [ NSFW ] • Like Someone in Love | Lord!Lucerys x Lady (of Driftmark)!Reader • Sealed in Silk | Lord!Lucerys x Shipping Businesswoman!Reader [ NSFW, part two of Heirs of the Tides ]. • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ JACAERYS VELARYON ꒱ • Say It | Modern!Jacaerys x Jealous!Reader [ friends-to-lovers ] • Tear You Apart | Dark/Yan!Jacaerys • Scarlet Hue | Jacaerys x Princess Regent!Reader • Trying Not To Need You (Is Tearing Me Apart) | Jacaerys x Tully!(Redheaded!)Reader [ enemies-to-lovers, NSFW ] • Bastard for Bastard | Jacaerys x Daemon’s Bastard Daughter!Reader [ angst to fluff ]. • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ VELARYON BOYS ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ RHAENYRA TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEGON TARGARYEN II ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEMOND TARGARYEN ꒱ • Bloodrose | Aemond x Velaryon!Niece/Wife!Reader [ NSFW ] • Come To Me | Jealous/Possesive!Aemond x Reader • Fireburn | Aemond x Reader • Not Everyday is a Lazy Sunday | Modern!Aemond x Reader [ NSFW ] • It May Be | Modern!Aemond x Reader [ Enemies to Lovers ] • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ HELAENA TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ SEVERAL CHARACTERS ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

↳˗ˏˋ IMAGINES ˊˎ˗ ↴

꒰ LUCERYS VELARYON ꒱ • Being Lucerys future wife, and him taking you on dragonrides. [ slight mention of NSFW ] • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ JACAERYS VELARYON ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ VELARYON BOYS ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ RHAENYRA TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEGON TARGARYEN II ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ AEMOND TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ HELAENA TARGARYEN ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

꒰ SEVERAL CHARACTERS ꒱ • To be updated soon, check previous masterlists for more content.

[darlingofvalyria]

As lovers, you and Aegon were the best. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst. But he can't help himself, and you're powerless to your own desires. A Halloween Party, more than hard liquor, and glances that attempts to stifle stares of want— everything comes to a catalyst.

╰┈➤ PROMPTS ❝ INTOXICATED, DOM/SUB DYNAMICS ❞

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 2,359 ] [ masterlist ] | Modern!AU Aegon Targaryen II x F!Reader

contains— smut, angsty - exes to lovers, frat parties, college au!, possessive, cheating (not you or aeg), intoxication - messy sex for the messy exes, sorta toxic if you squint - petnames: sweet angel, sweet girl, sweetheart - mention of drug usage, slight hint addiction - nsfw: fingering, overstimulation, marking, dubcon + enthusiastic agreement, degradation, praise kink, dom!aeg— dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink if you squint, creampie - no betas.

a/n— hopefully this works for the request! it's a little... sadder and smuttier, but hey! ahahah! this is why i don't do daily kinktober. as an overwriter, it's just not possible to be quick jsdhjsh. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

It starts with, "Don't look, it's your ex."

And you pause. You freeze. You physically feel the adrenaline course through each and which way vein in your system, finding the end of your epidermis and hairline. It's a lot and you still have yet to land your eyes on him. The punch you've been offered not long ago that's slowly been condensing between your fingers register in your brain as cold, a drink, alcoholic— that you toss your head back and chug.

You sputter and choke afterward, your friend slamming her hand on your back in sympathy. "F-fuck. That's gross."

"Dude," she nervously giggles. "I don't think you were supposed to throat shot that."

"It tastes chemical, like chugging a nuclear reactor. I don't recommend it either." You exchange each hand to wipe the wetness on your skirt and holding your glass, trying to settle your nerves. "Where is he?"

"Got waylaid by two frat brothers, Dumb and Dumber, I think... think he's chatting up— yep, Frat President, with... an Olsen Twin on his lap. Fuck. I'm sorry, bestie."

You try to laugh but it comes out strangled. Because of course. Aegon is a pretty comet who streaks by, just as pretty and just as infrequent, coming to pass like a godly miracle and people just devours him.

Because he's Aegon, always the shiniest star, the bestest friend, somehow everyone's first something. First kiss, first messy hookup, first 'and he did this thing with his tongue, oh my gods, I saw five stars and the moon!', etcetera.

You aren't his first love and you sure as shit aren't going to be his first heartbreak. You wonder how many heartbreaks it'll be tonight; there's a running tally of three heartbreaks within one party, a fantastical rumour, a proud, mysogynistic chidding between male friends— before you got together with him, before your sphere ever clashed with Aegon Targaryen when he too was just a comet to you, a moon, an asteroid— always on orbit but always outside, unknown to the taste of his lips when he giggles between kisses, nor the pretty sighs when your fingers find the bulge in his pants.

Fuck. You're getting teary and you're in your first Halloween party since breaking up with Aegon. You got dressed up and had gotten your makeup done by your more creative friend.

You need to stop wasting emotions and cruelly painful thoughts for the star haired boy.

"Fuck it. Where's the hard drugs?"

Your friend snorts. "I'm not letting you do hard drugs. I am going to do very nice grass with you from very nice people on the sofa already hallucinating."

"Fine. But we're doing shots."

Aegon didn't see you the first time he arrived, but he will always, always find you in a crowd.

It's your laughter that triggers it this time, a sound embedded in his bones that he turns like a dog at the sound, as if finding his master. And then you're there, loose and happy, his heart stuttering at the pure joy and fun in your face, in your body, as you swayed slightly the beat, holding a freshly emptied shot glass.

He swallows. Fuck. You're still so pretty.

Your makeup is done sharper, your lips glossy and bright— a cherry red. His mouth watering when you pout dramatically at your friend, the pulsing lights caressing every dip and bow, every curve and edge of you. Your hair is loose, framing your face with a fake, paper halo over your head that sparkles in glitter, matching the body glitter across your shoulders and collarbones, even the peeks of your thighs under the white, silk dress that, with a jump in his throat, has his cock standing at attention.

He knows that dress.

He remembers the ghostly echoes of the lace detailing atop your chest, how it feels under his palms when he skates his hand over to squeeze your tits, the feel of the silk against his stomach when you lean over his body as your pussy flutters, clenching, while you roll and grind against him, trying to find pleasure—

"Fucking hell," he downs the punchy, mysterious liquid that's just straight vodka with rum, soda and strawberry syrup (absolutely disgusting but good enough for college students on a Friday), because he's fucking hard, and you're just there, oblivious, dancing, looking gorgeous, and his heart is aching. You're everything he's ever want, desired and should have kept better care for— fuck all the arguments, all the fights, all the stupid little reasons that he can't remember anymore why you two broke up —

And his stare is heated, penetrative, because the next thing he knows you're looking back at him. A thread of swallowing gaze, of empty thought but the baseborn sound of a Halloween party and two people who can't look away. Their past is twisted between them, their future uncertain, but their present is here and the want is certain.

The shared heat is gone when a hand is on his shoulder and he is forcibly turned. Qoren Martell shakes his head, lips turned down.

"No, dude. That's a bad idea."

And Aegon smirks because that's what's expected of him. His fingers tingle as he clench and unclench them. He can't be seen mooning over an ex.

"Not if she wants it."

It's a douchebag reply, an Aegon Second of His Name reply, but Qoren knows him better than that, even Jason who's not even looking at him, staring at Solana who was grinding against some frat bro from Beta Theta while staring directly at him.

Aegon snorts when Qoren smacks Jason's head.

"So that's why you didn't bring Johanna, you fucker." Aegon takes another beer, itching for the paraphernalia hot in his pocket. You've turned away and the itch is back, low but steady.

Jason shrugs. "I don't know what you mean."

"I am not babysitting both of you, motherfucks," Qoren mutters. "You're both responsible of your mistakes tonight I'm meeting Somi tomorrow and neither of you messy fuckers are going to ruin that for me, alright?" With that, he slaps a hand on both of their backs, making Jason curse as his beer spills.

When Aegon watches Qoren leave, he turns back to you and see you're already staring, irises too wide, full lips slightly open, and the thrum of heat, nice and striking, runs down his body.

He's going to fuck you. Or you're going to fuck him. It's set in stone, written in fate's ink. When you move away, his stare hooked on you, he smirks the moment you turn back to see if he's still watching, starving, and cocking your head as if asking,

Not going to follow?

But of course he does, it's you and him.

It doesn't start with a kiss. It's a hungry stare meeting in a bathroom mirror spotted by dry water, and he knows what you need, taking your hair in his hand as he stands beside you, tugging you toward him as a gasp leaves your lips, your hands winding to his hips, anchoring yourself.

"How much have you had?" he asks, moving his hand to your neck, stroking the edge of your jaw, watching your wet lashes and licking lips. "Come on, sweet angel." His other hand moves to the edge of your white silk, running his nails across your thighs.

"Does it matter? I want you." A breathy whimper leaves your lips as his mouth latches on your neck, tugging your hair to the side to start sucking bruises as his hand finds your panties and a groan rips out of him.

"You're this wet, sweet angel? All for me?"

"I was grinding on, hhh— Jon, don't flatter your—" You yelp, a sounding slap on your wet cunt and your wetness clings to his hand. You squirm in his hold, but he tightens, cupping your centre with his thick hand.

"This is my pussy," he hums sweetly, cheekily, but you know better. Aegon got sweeter when he was jealous. He smiled brighter when he got angry. He goaded when he hears warning in someone's voice. Daring them. Daring you. "How fucking dare you let someone— Snow, that creepy, depressed asshole, really, sweetheart? — my pussy?"

A flash of heat in your eyes meets his mullish blue gaze. Heat and hurt. "We've broken up, Aeg. You don't get to own me."

His heart thrums, head swimming— but not much as yours. You don't do drugs as hard as him, and you've been hitting something tonight. Your irises are wider, blacker even when you're turned on. You kept wetting your lips even as slick already covers your gloss. With a hum, he thrusts two of his fingers inside without preamble and you keen, arching against him as he kept a steady, fast pace, using the meat of his palm every few chuckles to rub your clit until your leg shakes.

"F-fuck, fuck, Aeg—" Your hands hold onto him for dear life as you feel your orgasm tide but he doesn't let up, continues his humming with his fingers, his mouth sucking your neck until you feel slobbered through the haze, until it starts to hurt with your overstimulation, forming bruises continually sucked on— and you cum again, too fast and too painful the second time. Pushed rather than pulled into the peak and he coos as he slows once you start crying out, tears in your eyes, mouth agape, patting your pussy and even you can hear the squelch.

His last pat is more of a slap, making you jolt and wail.

He smiles as he meets your watery gaze in the mirror, leaning back against the tiled wall to pull your skirt up, bracing you against his knee so you can see your wet and abused fluffy folds.

"What'd I tell you, darling? This is mine. Even she recognises me when you couldn't. For being an angel, you sure do got a mean streak."

You sniffle, nodding along in your hazy mind. "S-sorry. I'm sorry, Aeg."

"Aw, it's okay, only hurt my heart a little." He gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, fingers running down the wet path of freshly forming bruises on your neck. "I've missed you s'all."

"Me too. I-I've missed you too, baby," you say, eyes burning as you blink at the sincerity, smile turning a little softer, more real. "Wanna feel you."

"You already did, sweets, you did well too. How many special grass have you had?"

"Just okay." You twist in his hold, his knee straightening as you turn to him with your hands on his chest, looking up, pouting. "But I want you."

His cock throbs and you feel it against your thigh, but his face remains neutral, tinged with amusement as if he doesn't want to hoist you and fuck you into oblivion.

"It seems such the angel has forgotten her manners." He presses his thumb against your lip until he pushes it deeper, pressing it against your tongue before letting you suck on it, lashes fluttering.

"That's not what we say when want something. Use your words properly, baby," he mock, heat sizzling inside you, cunt throbbing. Though pleasing him has always been how your dynamic works, enjoying the way your mind blanks, filled only with the desire to be his sweet girl, his good girl while he relishes in dominating you.

Physically manhandling you was one thing, puppeteering your wants to mould his was another.

Loss of control was a soft tissue in Aegon's armour. And though you had gotten close, he had never opened up that part of him.

It was one of the reasons you broke up.

Your intoxicated-addled mind comprehends that, to a level, this is bad, but b, he's close, distracting you with his presence, his thumb on your mouth a familiar action, and you never get just one orgasm from Aegon so it doesn't linger long. The thought vanishes like a salt-licked ghost from a too recent past before you're holding on his hand and you're smiling sweetly.

"I want you to feel good too, Aeg," you whisper. "I want your cock inside me."

And he smiles— won, lost, who knows anymore. "There she is."

The next events are truly hazy. All you can remember is that he's close, closer than he's been in months, in you and stuck to you, snapping his hips against yours while your legs are up and jelly, bunched up in his arms while you hold strong against the wall.

The world is mush of thought, tongue, and messy kisses that are more spit and moan between your familiar, favourite cock driving into you again and again. A steady, almost sweetly, rock of his hips driving into that spongy, hard part of you that makes your toes curl and the pleasure to overwhelm. There's sweat and there are tender presses of his lips on your face when you both calm down, almost too sweetly, too needy for the Aegon that you know.

But every time you're about to come down from that high, he's rocking into you again, squeezing your thighs, your tits, using the mess of your cum and his to rub against your clit, and you're gone again.

The pleasure, driven again and again, wipes your memory of the more tender words he murmurs against your skin.

"L-love you so much, baby, god, you don't know how much I've missed you."

"You cumming again? T-that's a good girl, so sweet f'me, fuck, so good."

You don't know how you got to the room the morning, but you're dry and clean and the morning is stale but not head pounding. And you wake up alone, no trace of Aegon at all.

If it wasn't for the trail of bruised kisses against your throat, the throbbing between your legs, full of shared cum when you dip a finger in— you could've said he was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a pretty little dream.

Hooking up with your ex ends with a toughened heart, too empty to cry as you read a message from him.

BLOCK HIM: i'm sorry.