#aemondtarqaryenssleepover

[moris-auri]

You are the silence in between (what I thought and what I said)

mdni by @arcielee ♥️♥️

Taglist: @black-dread @helaelaemond @orcaunionleader @aemondtarqaryens @artyoms @barbieaemond @bottlesandbarricades

A/N: to think this is the result of a mental image I had out of the blue and several very awful diagrams later that will never see the light of day 😂 I hope you like it ♥️

Summary: In the wake of a more than disastrous dinner between the two sides, anger is not the only thing running hot.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ NSFW, Female Reader, edging, handjob, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, 69

Word count 2.1k

A wave of nervousness washes over her as the seconds pass, churning low and unpleasantly in her belly the longer she stares at Aemond. Her thighs clench together at the sight of the hungry, almost wild look that burns in his eye, sending desire rolling through her, threatening to swallow her whole as his sapphire winks at her from the cavern where his other had been. The look on his face grows more heated every time her gaze flicks to the book placed almost unassumingly on the little table, the title of it all but seared into her mind now, before shifting back to his. 

She never imagined marriage, let alone her own, she thought with a suddenly dry mouth, feeling her heartbeat thump almost painfully behind her ribs, could be like this. She knew what awaited her as a daughter of a great House, what her future held, as did any highborn girl, yet she had still clung to the hope, more a child's folly than anything, that her own marriage, to whoever her father chose for her, would be different. 

That it would be better. Happier, even, than the ones she had been witness to as a girl, surrounded by the unhappy unions of her father and mother, as well the ones of the King and Queen Alicent and later the Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. 

Her betrothal to Aemond mere days after her seven and tenth nameday had come as no surprise to anyone, expected even, given how close her mother was to the Queen. Except her, it seemed, not that she dared to complain. To be tied in marriage to a Prince was an honor. A dream, too, one that countless girls held, all but lured in by the promise of gold and jewels and riches and the tales they listened to at the knees of Septas and nursemaids. 

He had been distant at first, her Aemond, the sudden change in his demeanor from the sullen boy she remembered of her youth giving way to the rigid and stiff spined man he had become, more often than not finding some way, whether on dragonback or concealing himself in some hidden spot within the library that she had missed, to evade her. It had stung more than she had cared to admit every time she saw the thoroughly disinterested look in his eye whenever he laid eyes upon her the few and far in between times his mother the Queen had been successful in wrangling him into dining with her or his siblings. He almost always spent those times alternating between picking at his food or leveling flat unimpressed looks in his elder brother's direction or focusing on his sister, his eye sliding over her when he did. 

It had only been after carefully spoken words from the Queen and Princess Helaena and her mother did she resolve to gain his attention, all but cornering him in the library, squaring her shoulders as she opened her mouth, though not before plucking the book from his grasp and tossing it aside, did he finally, truly look at her, his eye free from the disdain that she had become so painfully familiar with. After that, the days leading up to their marriage seemed to all but pass in the blink of an eye, one after the other, a haze of time spent at his side until the day came and she stood face to face with him. It had been in that moment did she believe it - the phrase that she had heard half a hundred times echoing inside her mind, that Targaryens were closer to gods than to men - as she stared at him, lips parted, the light of the high windows in the royal Sept bouncing off the sharp, pretty angles of his face.    

**

She tightened her hold on him, one arm wound around his neck, the rich, almost wine red hue of her dress standing out vividly against the dark of his leather as she felt it, the burning dragonfire heat of his need to dominate, to consume, in every touch of his lips to her skin as he trailed his mouth down the curve of her throat. She let out a low moan as he pushed at her skirts, his hands flexing against her waist, feeling the vibration of the agitated noise he let out barely a moment later as his fingers tangled in the fabric instead, the sound still carrying traces of his anger from the dinner. Not that she cared, really, then or now, when the peace between the two sides of his family the King craved shattered like glass the moment the doors closed in his wake. 

Aemond's fingers traced upwards, deftly loosening the lacing of her dress before he leaned back, watching enraptured as it floated down her body to puddle around her feet. His eye moved upwards to her face again, his pupil dark and almost back, his breathing little more than pants now as he pressed his body harder against hers, the heat of him almost suffocating. It felt like he was everywhere all at once, but she wouldn't have it any other way. It was as easy as breathing, the way he touched her, the way he craved her just as much as she did him. His hands were warm on her skin as he slipped the hem of her shift up her body and over her head, his breathing growing more ragged as his chest began to rise and fall more rapidly. 

He made another noise, this one bordering a whine as a reddened flush of color rose beneath the surface of his skin where her fingertips dug into the meat of his shoulders, the leather of his tunic soft beneath her fingers. 

"Ābrazȳrys-'' he panted, the color painted across his face and down his neck. The hand he had tangled in her hair fell then to her hip as she pressed her lips to his, kissing him again and again and again, hoarding the sounds he didn't make for anyone else like they were treasure. She pulled back to grin at him, her eyes darting over every inch of his face, taking in his pleasure slackened expression. He was so very pretty like this, bare and free of clothing concealing his body from her gaze. 

She let out a yelp as his arm wound around her waist, sudden enough to startle her. He shifted his grasp on her as he crossed the room, laying her down almost gently atop the bedding, keeping his eye locked on her face. She shivered, goosebumps erupting across her arms from the night air floating into the room from the open window, all but incapable of turning her gaze away from where he towered over her, the moonlight behind him alighting in his silver hair. She reached for him then, exhaling a breath at the feel of him coming flush against her, the way the length of his body never failed to fit against her own so perfectly like the puzzle box she had gifted Helaena on her eight and tenth name-day. 

"Gevie," 

He groans the word against the flesh of the curve of her shoulder, trailing a line of kisses over the skin that grow sloppier by the second as the pads of his fingers dig into her sides, and she knows there would be bruises there come morning. 

"This is what you wanted, is it not?" She murmurs as she grins at him again, pulling far enough away from him to settle on her haunches, an almost triumphant look on her face as she drags the fingers of one hand over the curve of his jaw and down his chest, feeling every ridge and contour under his skin, her eyes moving over the planes of his lean frame before stopping on his stomach, watching as the toned muscle under his skin shifts just beneath the surface. He glowers at her in response, his eyes narrowing as a brief flare of fury overpowers the lust sitting dark and heavy in his sole eye, his hands fisting and unfisting at his sides. 

'Yes," he utters finally in response to her raised eyebrow, keeping his gaze locked on hers, the tone of his voice carrying a not so little trace of his growing desperation. She lets out a raspy, breathless laugh, watching him intently as she retreats, turning her body away from his gaze, lips twitching at his half annoyed huff. She kept her eyes on him as he moved, the bed creaking beneath his weight, pushing his loosened hair behind him as he lowered himself down to be an opposite mirror image of her. She doesn't miss the way his face twists when his knee connects with the wood of the baseboard before his expression smoothes over. 

His hand settled on her thigh as he kept his gaze on her, his eye half lidded now, the pad of his thumb moving back and forth across the skin of her waist in a manner she almost thinks is purposefully done. She finds the strength then to move, the bed creaking under her as she shifts closer to him until there is almost no distance separating them, her fingers wrapping around his cock, flushed and weeping mere inches from her face, watching as he hardens in her hold, the tip leaking almost pearlescent spend onto the tips of her fingers. 

“I've never done this before,” she manages to choke out as she ducks her head in retaliation, keeping her eyes locked on his as a feeling builds inside her, one she knows borders on vengeful, something stemming from her pride as much as it did from his. 

He hums in response, the lazy unhurried noise turning into a choked, half startled moan that escaped him when she hollowed her cheeks, breathing through her nose as her tongue swirled around the underside of his cock, the sound almost wanton, thunderously loud in the near nonexistent space between them. His hips jolt, half rising up in response to the warmth of her mouth. Her breath fans over his skin, the lewd sounds of his mouth on her cunt echoing throughout their rooms, clashing with the sound of the unrelenting rain from the storm that had come hours ago and had yet to abate.

She doesn't stop though, enraptured and enthralled by the way he flushes, the darkened hue of color in his cheeks that she can see even from where she lays. Her fingers ghost almost teasingly over his thighs, edging him closer to his peak over and over and over, all but addicted by the sight of him, hair askew and his sole eye half unfocused as he meets her gaze, his slickened fingers curling around her thigh, an almost feral grin forming on his lips. Her head thumps back against the pillows behind her a half second later as she bites her lip in yet another weak attempt to stifle the moan that falls all too freely from her lips as his nose brushes her bud, her eyes rolling back as pleasure coils tighter in her stomach. She feels almost boneless from it, the pleasure licking a trail up her spine, and she knows how she must look, how he must look, debauched or mussed or any number of things, but she pushes the thought from her mind easily. 

Her musings cut off suddenly when the heat of his mouth vanished, his hand moving to flatten against her stomach as he slid one finger inside her, then two, his attention so focused he didn't notice as she half raised her head, her hips bucking this time. Her knuckles blanched white, her fingers twisting around the sheets, her forehead pressing against the near scorching skin of his hip as she writhed, a half uttered curse slipping from her mouth. 

She thumped the heel of her hand against his back, all but letting the overstimulation and the desperation wash over her, closing her eyes as she sagged limply, one eye cracking open halfway at the feel of his fingers brushing her hair back. Her eyes move over his face, some of the haze fading at sight of the grin dancing on his mouth. "Aemond-" 

She breathed his name weakly, one hand wrapping around his arm, brow furrowing. She shivered, half turning on her side and away from the near frigid breeze that blew into the room. She sighed, fingers twining with Aemond's when he settled behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist as he pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulder, his fingers stroking up and down her side softly. 

Her head turned to the side, nose brushing his, feeling the heat of him hot against the curve of her spine, her eyes dragging down the length of his arm, watching his hand dip between her thighs, his still half slick fingers circling at her bud more gently than he had earlier. "You're insatiable," she huffs breathlessly, her tone fond and more than a little half amused.

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Play with me

Pairing: Modern!Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning: Sugar Daddy AU, dark dom Daemon, slight obsessive behaviour, slight dacryphilia, ass slapping, none proper use of a belt, masturbating, orgasm denial, smut, a sprinkle of slight soft dom Daemon

Summary: Daemon needs his favourite toy to let off some steam.

A/N: This piece is a contripution to @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge. Reblogs and comments are appreaciated. Have fun! Please note, English is not my first language.

Walking into her apartment she felt like falling into bed and waking up when her aching body had healed itself. She threw her bag on a chair at her dinner table and sat down on her couch. She threw her head against the back of the couch.

Her eyes were only closed for a moment as her phone rang. A deep sigh escaped her lips before she opened her eyes to look at her phone.

Her heartbeat was faster as she read his message. She thought long and hard about what she would answer him. Coming up with only a simple one.

With bated breath, she watched as the three dots appeared on her screen. She could feel her anxiety slowly growing. She knew she had broken a rule. The sound of a new text brought her out of her head.

She texted him back immediately. Her hands slightly shaking.

What she didn’t expect was a phone call. It must have been urgent if he was too impatient to answer her via text message. She picked up, her voice meek as she greeted him. “Why did you not come into office today?” He barked out. She shrunk slightly.

He seemed on edge. His voice filled with rage and something far darker. “I have written it in the calendar. I was at a meeting, representing the company. Representing you.” She whispered.

She could hear a drawn-out sigh. “Be naked when I come home.” He growled before he hung up. Her body shivered. She let her phone fall onto the cushion of the couch. Her shaky legs moved to her bedroom.

She got undressed quickly. Her clothes disappeared into the hamper or her closet. She knew he didn’t like it when she was messy.

Patiently she waited for him on her bed. Her knees began to hurt as she leaned on them. But she knew he liked it when she was in slight discomfort. Her body slightly shivered as the cold air nipped at her skin. She wrapped herself in her duvet until she heard the click of her front door. She unwrapped herself as fast as she could and put the duvet into order.

She could hear the frustration from Daemon’s actions and how he threw his briefcase to the floor. Or how he threw his shoes into the foyer. His walk to the bedroom sounded like a monster was approaching it. Fear softly crept up on her. The sound of his belt opening made her gasp softly. He was beyond frustrated with her.

“Bunny, I hope you are naked as I ask you to.” He called out to her. His voice was slightly strained. He walked inside with his leather belt in hand and a dark look on his face as he saw her kneeling naked on her bed.

He walked up to her and grabbed at her chin, holding her chin up with his index finger and thumb. “Here I am, giving you a stable job, a stable income. A beautiful home. And all I ever ask of you is to tell me where you are.” He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Maybe I should install a tracking app on your phone. Or give you a necklace with a tracker in it.”

His hand moved from her chin to her throat. He held her, not squeezing it. “How will you repay me, kitten?” He asks with a dark smirk. She looked at him with slight fear in her eyes. “My loyalty.” She whispered.

Daemon chuckled darkly. “Oh, the same loyalty you ignored today. You want to repay me with that?” He bared his teeth at her as he spat his words in her face, applying slight pressure on her throat. A soft gasp managed to escape her throat.

“No,” she whispered gently. Her hands slowly moved to his dress pants. As she opened the button, he stopped her. “No!” He barked out. Her hands immediately went to her side. She looked up at him with wide eyes, waiting for his command.

“When I let go of your throat, you will lay down on the bed and start playing with yourself.” He squeezed her throat a little tighter. “Understood?” She nodded, which didn’t please Daemon in the slightest. “Use your big girl words, sweetheart.” “Yes, daddy.” She rasped.

Daemon leaned down, kissing her harshly. “Good girl.” He whispered into her ear. “Now, I want you to touch yourself.” He let go of her throat and sat down at the armchair in the corner of her room.

She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at her. She scrambled on her bed trying to work against his impatient nature. Positioning herself so he would have a good view of her.

His fingers impatiently tapped at the armrest of the chair. He watched her like a hawk. The shadows of the room cast a mysterious shadow around him.

Her hands began to snake between her thighs. She could feel her arousal had already spread onto her thighs. Her fingers softly caught on her sticky thighs. Daemon smirked as he saw the glistening of her juices spread across her thigs and tripping down her womanhood.

Her fingers went lower. She gasped loudly as her index finger made contact with her aching pearl. Her back arched slightly. “Permission to touch me, sir?” Daemon only grunted. With small circles, she began to tease herself.

Daemon watched with glee as her thighs began to shake softly. “Faster.” He grunted out. She obeyed immediately. Her whimpers become louder. It was music to his ears.

His eyes roamed over every inch of her glorious body. Mine. He growled under his breath as he watched her pleasure herself. “Add another finger and put pressure on your clit, baby.” She obeyed. Her moans get louder. “What a good girl you can be for daddy, hm?” She nodded. Her mind was nearly gone from the pleasure she was feeling.

“Stop!” He growled suddenly. She whined but obeyed. He observed her. Seeing how her chest was rising and falling rapidly. How her breathing was rigid. He saw her thighs tremble slightly. How her toes were curled into the duvet. “Look at you.” He taunted. “Such a needy kitten. Do you want fingers inside you?” He knew her body like the back of his hand. She was close to the edge. She whined but knew she wasn’t getting far with it. “Yes, sir.” She croaked. “Get on with it, kitten!” He demanded.

Her fingers slipped down her womanhood. Her body shook faintly as her fingers ran down her sensitive pussy. Her back arched as one of her fingers slipped inside of her. “Slowly.” Daemon chided her. She nodded, moving her finger slowly in and out of her. Her eyes closed at the torture feeling, imagining his fingers pumping in and out of her.

“Add another one, kitten.” He demanded. She did as he said, much to his enjoyment. His grin widened. His eyes never left her fingers pumping in and out of her.

He could feel his cock straining against his slacks painfully. Slowly he opened them. Slipping his fingers inside his briefs and softly palming his aching member. “Such a good kitten for daddy.” He breathed out.

A soft whine escaped her lips. A noise Daemon had mistaken as one of discomfort. He leaned slightly forward, his hand slipping from his trousers as he brazed both on the armrest, ready to stand up if she needed him. “What is it, darling?” His concerned voice rang through the room. She could see the worry dancing in his eyes. “What hurts?”

She whined again as she pumped her fingers in and out of her core. “They are not enough.” She whispered hoarsely. Daemon leaned back and relaxed into the back of the chair. His concern disappeared in an instant. “Oh, and here I thought you were in actual discomfort.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “That is what you get for leaving me alone in the office.” He taunted her. “You have to be grateful for what you get. As did I. Had to use my fucking hands like a teenager again.”

She moaned pitifully, trying to get him to yield. “Bunny, you know I am not that gullible.” He taunted her. “I am sorry, daddy.”

Daemon went back to palming his cock in his trousers. “I thought you would check your calendar.” She whispered. Daemon chuckled humourlessly. “Why do you think I would do that if I got you to do it? It is your job I gave you, bunny.” A shuddering breath escaped her lips. “It will not happen again, Daddy.” She whispered.

Daemon grinned. “I hope you remember your words. Next time you can crawl back to that shitty apartment you had in Flea Bottom.” She whimpered softly. “Are you close, bunny?” He grinned wider. She nodded, “Yes, sir.” She mumbled.

Daemon groaned. “Get your hands away from you and hold them up.” She obeyed. He stalked over to her. Like a predator walking closer to his prey. “What a good girl I have here.” He huskily whispered as he took the hand where her fingers were inside of her and licked at her fingers.

She watched him with bated breath as he licked her fingers clean. His dark eyes looked down at her. His grin showed around her digits. With a pop, he let go of them. “Have you seen my present for you?” She nodded softly. Her body shifted to her nightstand. Her hands closed around the cold black leather of the chocker. She held it up for him to show it to him. “Put it on, kitten.” He urged her.

She followed his plea, putting on the chocker as tight as she felt comfortable. Daemon’s smirk widened as he watched her put it on. “So beautiful. It looks good with your black Louis Viton dress I got you last week, don’t you think sweetheart?” She nodded softly. “It would.” She agreed meekly.

“Turn on your stomach. Let me see those soft cheeks.” Daemon growled. She obeyed, turning on her stomach.

She could hear him snarl before the leather of his belt made contact with her bare ass cheek. She cried out in pain and pleasure. “Count!” She did, loudly. When she whimpered out eight he stopped. Softly caressing the abused flesh. “Eight fucking hours without you in the office. I thought I would shoot myself just to feel something else than boredom.” She whimpered as he seethed into her ear. “I am sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” She whispered. Tears running down her cheeks.

Daemon chuckled softly. “It better won’t.” His threat went straight to her core, clenching around nothing. He tsked at her body's reaction. “Be patient, kitten.” He slapped the right cheek of her ass again, this time with his large hand. She moaned softly. The pain mixed with pleasure.

He quickly removed his clothes. Pumping himself he leaned close to her ear. “I hope you had your shot this month. Because a pill won’t protect you this time.” He whispered into her ear before sheathing himself inside of her in one go. She cried out at the stretch. His pace was brutal from the beginning. He didn’t even give her time to adjust to him.

She held on to the duvet beneath her as he rutted into her. “I will fill you up so many times, you will feel me for days inside of you.” He grunted out. His hands grabbed at her hips harshly. She knew there would be bruises the next day.

“Maybe I buy a plug for you. So it would stay inside of you longer.” He grinned. His pace growing faster. She moaned out his name. The pictures in her head began to dance in front of her closed eyes.

“Next time you are at a conference I am with you. Physically,” He thrusted deeper into her. Daemon was nearing his peak at a fast pace. All his built-up anger turns into uncontrollable lust and arousal. With two hard pumps, he stilled inside of her. She cried out as she felt the twitching of his cock and the hot spurts of his cum painting her sensitive walls. “Or in another form.” He moaned out.

He stayed inside of her for a few more minutes. Feeling his spend mixed with her juices run down his thighs. “What a mess we made.” He chuckled. “You gonna clean me up, bunny?” She nodded eagerly. The cocky smirk returned to his face. “Later. Get your ass up. I need to fulfil my promise to you.”

Main Masterlist

Can't get enough? Tell me about it...

[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.

[troublesomesnitch]

Uneasy Lies the Head

Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen (but subtle)

This is my contribution to @targaryen-dynasty's Sleepover Challenge! I was given the prompt only one bed/forced proximity and came up with this little drabble.

Contents: masturbation, lots of incestuous vibes, but no actual incest (sorry). Also minor 'historical' and HOTD inaccuracies.

Words: 1600

Military camps are a humble affair. Even for a king. 

They have been on the march for days, waiting for news of the enemy’s movements, and enduring the most discouraging conditions. Dust caking onto their skin, painful bug bites, and having to shit in a ditch in the woods, just to name a few.

Aegon’s tent is the nicest by far, but it is still a poor imitation of what he is used to. There are furs laid out on the ground, and an oil lamp hung from the rafters, but the banner on the wall is crooked, and the furnishings leave much to be desired. All they’ve arranged for him is a wobbly table, six uncomfortable chairs, and two cots on the ground. 

One for the king, and one for his brother. 

They have not shared a chamber since they were boys. Aegon doesn’t mind it so much, but Aemond’s mouth forms an even thinner line than usual, and he makes a terrible fuss when he undresses for bed. It will be scorching hot in the tent come the morning, but his shirt stays on, and he pulls at the edge until it reaches the middle of his thighs. Lest anything indecent be on show. 

“Seven hells, I’m your brother,” Aegon says, but it only earns him an irritated sound as Aemond settles on his cot. Flat on his back, hands folded over his chest, and not a single wrinkle in the sheets draped across his form. 

Aegon retires too, much earlier than he usually would. He is sore in his muscles, and fed up with bickering advisors and difficult decisions. With riding all day, with hurry up and wait. 

There are wineskins being passed around outside, and girls too, the usual camp followers. But none of them much appealed to him tonight. Nothing out here really does.

And yet. 

When Aegon wakes sometime in the small hours, it is with a terrible ache between his legs. His cock is hard, lying stiff and leaking against his stomach, and there is a tightness in his balls that demands attention. 

He has not had the chance to indulge in pleasures of the solitary kind, as the camp offers him no privacy - not when he is surrounded by lords at all times, and certainly not now, with Aemond sleeping just a few feet away. 

He is so close that Aegon can hear his slow breaths, and smell his scent of sweat and expensive oils. Somehow, it is strangely comforting. Nice to know that he perspires just the same as everyone else, even if there’s still a pleasant hint of sandalwood underneath.

In fact, Aegon does not believe he has ever seen his brother in such a candid state as just now. Aemond’s face is flushed with heat, and his lips are ever so slightly parted; dry and chapped from the harsh summer sun. The shirt is still on, but damp with sweat and loosened at the neck, baring his glistening collar bones; the golden hair that curls on his chest. 

Aegon still has that boyish quality about him, but Aemond looks like a fully grown man. Like someone who could and should lead an army to battle. He acts more like a grown man too, as Aegon will be the first to admit. Noble. Dignified. 

Aemond would never be caught drunkenly roaming the streets of King’s Landing. He does not share his brother's fondness for spirits and women. 

Once, when they were alone in the training yard, Aegon had dared to ask you do fuck, right?, and Aemond had rolled his eye and looked at him as though it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. 

Aegon took that as a yes. 

He would like for them to share a girl sometime, like royal princes should, like Father and Daemon undoubtedly did in their youth. He would even let Aemond choose the girl, picky as he is, and let him have first pick of her openings too. He’d choose her cunt of course, because that is the proper way, but he wouldn’t call it her cunt, he would call it something more poetic and ridiculous. Her womanhood. Her flower. 

Twat. 

But it is still a nice thing for Aegon to imagine when he starts quietly fisting his cock under the sheet. A whore kneeling on a bed, Aemond behind her and himself by her head. Cocks buried to the hilt, and wet, squelching noises coming from both ends. Aemond’s balls slapping against her arse, and his own hitting her chin. 

Or, if that is not to Aemond’s liking, then Aegon would be glad to switch places. The girl would be on her back, and he would fuck her the usual way, and they could make her squeeze her tits together and have Aemond fuck the valley in between. Because that is the one thing Aegon knows about his brother’s preferences - he does like a good pair of tits. And it’d be perfect for Aegon too, because while he would get to feel the girl’s insides, he would also be able to look at the action in front of him. See her fleshy, bouncing tits, and Aemond’s cock sliding in between. Hard, and glistening with oil, as obviously they would need some lubrication. Aegon could even help hold her tits in place, if need be. In such a position, his and Aemond’s bodies would be so close that they’d have no choice but to move together, keep the same rhythm, or else neither would be able to find his release. What a dirty thing that would be, to fuck like that. Together. 

But unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that Aemond would ever agree to something so exceedingly intimate.

So perhaps they would take turns instead, in which case Aegon would be charitable and volunteer to be second for once. He would not ask the girl to wash herself in between - he would fuck her right after, while her cunt was still full of his brother’s emission. 

And of course, the filthiest thing of all would be to make use of both of her holes at once. Aegon can think of only one position that would make it possible: the girl would have to be on all fours, and Aemond would lie underneath her and fuck up into her cunt. He would have her tits in his face, squeezing them tight and sucking on her nipples, and then Aegon would stand between his legs and slide his cock into the girl’s arse. 

The thought of it makes his balls feel tight, and he pumps his cock with one hand, and massages his sack with the other, spurred on by the filthy images in his head. 

A pretty girl bent over a table, or riding his brother, or taking them both in her mouth at the same time. His own cock pulsing in her arse. Aemond in his moment of ecstasy, spilling himself all over her tits. 

They would leave her covered and full of their royal seed. Dragon’s seed. Surely for a common whore there could be no higher honour. 

Aegon tries his best to keep silent when he comes, gritting his teeth and gripping onto the edge of his cot. His cock throbs, and he rubs the tip of it hard, each squirt of seed making his body tremble and his hips thrust up. Unwittingly, and over and over until he finally feels relieved and can wipe his fingers clean on the sheet. 

It is quiet in the tent, and unsettlingly quiet outside. The sounds of drunkenness have died down, and even the grasshoppers have stopped chirping, as if time itself stood still. 

With his urges now taken care of, it takes only moments for the knot in Aegon's stomach to tighten once more.

There will be a great battle, and then several more after that, and hundreds, thousands of men will die in his name. Their wives will mourn, and their children will starve when no one is left to farm the lands, and all of the grains they have saved will soon be requisitioned for the armies. Green and black alike. 

In the weeks that have passed since his coronation, Aegon has come to realise that his father’s crown was too light and too shiny, and that the blackened iron he now wears is a better adornment. It is heavy, and ugly, and a much truer reflection of what it means to be king; of the burden he must now carry on his woefully ill-prepared shoulders. 

There are two with whom he can share it, though. Two who would die for his cause, out of love as much as duty, and one of them is asleep in this very room. 

“Aemond,” he calls, quietly, like he would often do when they were very little and still slept in the nursery. As if to make sure he was still there. “Aemond. Aemond. Aemond?”

“What,” Aemond grumbles, hoarse with sleep, but as irritable as always. He stirs on his cot, wiping the sweat off his brow and shuffling around under the sheet. The soaked shirt is pulled over his head and tossed aside. Too hot.

“I told you,” Aegon says. 

“Are you quite finished,” is his brother’s sullen response. 

It must just be the talking he’s referring to, but. Aegon can’t be sure.

Proof read, but my brain is mush today, so sincere apologies for all the stuff I've missed.

[targaryen-dynasty]

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄.

So, there‘s been such good feedback to the poll, that I figured I‘ll publish this now!

MASTERLIST

𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒:

－ You have to be 18+ to join.

－ You can join at any given date until mid-March. You see this post on the 1st of March and want to join? Sure, as long as you heed the not-so-official deadline.

－ This challenge is open to all characters of the ASOIAF universe.

－ There's no word count limit, but everything longer than 500 words has to be put under a read more.

－ Dark fanfics are alright as long as you tag it accordingly and add the respective warnings.

－ Bestiality, Necrophilia, Urophilia and Coprophilia aren't accepted.

－However, you can, but you don’t have to write smut.

－ If you're writing a sequel to something, please make sure to link the original story in your post.

－There's no real due date for this event, though it would be amazing for you to post the story until mid/end-March at latest.

－ I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me know when you're no longer able to participate.

－ Make sure to tag me, and use the #aemondtarqaryenssleepover

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑?

Basically, you need to heed all things listed above. If you want to join, please tell me if you want to get assigned a trope, an AU or up to two smut prompts (changed this up a bit — if you choose the trope/AU option, I can still assign you a prompt as well if you want). You can either send me an ask or a dm.

If that's settled, I'll assign you a trope/AU from the lists below and/or (a) prompt(s) from this list.

You can always tell me when you‘re not comfortable with the trope/AU and/or prompt(s) you‘ve received, so we can work something out together!

𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒:

－Angst

－Friends with benefits

－Enemies to lovers

－Fake dating

－Forbidden Love

－Friends to lovers

－Only one bed/forced proximity

－Slow burn (with miscommunication)

－Mutual pining

－Jealousy

－Second chance

－Hurt/Comfort

－ Blind date set up by mutual friends

－Arranged/Accidental marriage

－Meet cute

－Meet ugly

－Unresolved sexual tension

－Second chances

𝐀𝐔'𝐒:

－Roommates AU

－Mafia AU

－Modern AU

－Rockstar AU

－Business AU

－A/B/O

－College AU

－Soulmate AU

－Coffee Shop AU

－Babysitter AU

－Blind Date AU

－Sugar Daddy AU

－Bodyguard AU

－Royality AU

If you want to join: please send me a direct message or slip into my asks! 🤭

gif created by @black-dread

[targaryen-dynasty]

Is the sleepover only for reader fic? Or can it be a canon character and OC?

It can be reader inserts and also original characters! 🤗

[targaryen-dynasty]

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 — MASTERLIST

AEMOND TARGARYEN.

You are the silence in between (what I thought and what I said) by @solisarium

Hearts and Handcuffs by @aemonds-fire-writes

To Whatever End by @ripdragonbeans

Gīsītsos (little Ghost) by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

What Could Possibly Happen Next? by @namelesslosers

Stress relieving Purposes by @venmondiese

AEGON II TARGARYEN.

Downpour by @huramuna

Rip It Up And Start Again by @adragonprinceswhore

RHAENYRA TARGARYEN.

Lupus Draconis by @barbiedragon

CRISTON COLE.

Jealousy, Jealousy by @bucknastysbabe

DAEMON TARGARYEN.

Play with me by @the-dendrophile-bookdragon

JACEMOND.

Presumptuous by @raybyanothername

AEGOND.

Uneasy Lies the Head by @troublesomesnitch