#asoiaf fanfic

[loksthegreat]

Princess Rhaenys III was a dornish woman to the realm but to Ser Aryon she was his northern rose.

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

More medieval dyes for y'all!

[targaryen-dynasty]

SEMPITERNAL.

final part of Precious Delights

Dad!Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, breeding kink, slight praise kink, kinda medieval daddy kink (?), size kink, lactation kink, lactating, pregnancy, pregnant sex

WORDS: 4.3 K

NOTES: Precious Delights comes to an end with this. I‘m a bit sad, because I really started to love the series, but I think I've managed to end it in a good way. Thanks to everyone that joined me on this journey.

It was going to be a day of revelry. The construction of the Red Keep had been completed, and your husband found it fitting to throw a feast in celebration for those who had taken part in it. 

Taking on a fatherly aura the moment your twins took their first breaths, Maegor didn’t want the festivities to start without his precious family present, even though you were meant to depart for your chambers once they started to indulge themselves in bawdier things. 

“You have to sit still if you want Mama to finish the braid quickly,” you warned the little girl sitting in front of you, though there was no sharpness to your tone, knowing you could not expect your daughter to sit still for so long. She was just three summers old after all, and just as excited about the feast as everybody else. 

Your own flowing locks loosely cascaded down your back and shoulders, not combed and unbraided as you had been taking care of your children the whole morning, often taking their care into your own hands as they were a blessing from the Gods above. And, while Visenya was clad in a black dress that once belonged to you when you were around the same age, your swollen curves still were concealed by a white nightgown. 

The raspy chuckle you heard, as your little girl didn’t remain still long enough for you to finish the task properly, prompted you to turn your head towards your husband, sitting in a stool not too far away while the barber tended to his hair and neatly trimmed beard. 

You raised an eyebrow in innocent enquiry at the sound, which briefly changed into something different while your eyes flickered over his frame. He was dressed, but barely. His cloak, and most pieces of his wardrobe, still were draped over a chair across the room from where he sat. His torso was exposed from the waist up, covered only by the leather breeches he wore. 

Maegor had a grin on his lips – entirely different to the expression he usually wore around servants and maids. In the confines of your chambers, he often lowered his guard, not too concerned about what others thought was proper. But in the presence of other people, he was always focused on remaining harsh and cold, wanting to display his dominance and power. 

“Have you been at this all morning?” Maegor asked, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes trailed over your body just like yours had done before. A hint of nervousness filled your veins, and you scolded yourself internally for your thoughts to stray towards things you should not be thinking at that moment. 

Not bothering to hide the blush that covered your cheeks, you finally replied. “Yes, I started at first light, not long after you left. I was hoping to finish before sundown, but this little one…,” you emphasized the word, causing your daughter to glance over her shoulder, flashing her father a big smile, “... has other ideas.”

You continued to braid her hair, trying to stop the braid from becoming too tight whilst also keeping the little princess’ fidgeting at bay. The barber was done trimming Maegor’s beard at this point, packing his utensils and scurrying off at once. 

“You would think that at three she would be more disciplined,” you sighed, smiling softly at your daughter. “But she takes after you.�� Briefly pressing your lips into a thin line, you wondered if you had overindulged yourself in the bantering the moment the words slipped past your lips, and if Maegor knew you were just joking. Partially, at least. 

Visenya was the spitting image of your husband in more ways than one. Not when it came to the looks, as she was taking after you in that, but her rambunctious spirit was most definitely one of the attributes she shared with him. Aerion, however, was a different story. His looks resembled Maegor’s more and more with each passing day, while he had inherited your gentle presence. 

As Maegor chuckled, your frayed nerves calmed again. “You might have been better off dressing yourself before attempting to braid her hair,” he jested. 

“And I thought you might have helped, instead of sitting there and making witty comments,” you replied, glancing at Maegor, and trying to disguise your slight frustration as playfulness, directing your husband to your current predicament. 

You knew you couldn’t expect the King to take care of his children, not on an important day like this, but you also knew that Maegor more often than not had deferred his duties in the past in order to bond with the twins. 

Not wanting to admit defeat, you continued to braid your daughter’s hair, fighting against her lack of patience, and trying to finish before she kicked the entire braid off her head. Eventually, you were successful, pulling the braid into a bun behind little Visenya’s head. 

Maegor rose from his seat, and walked over to where you sat behind your daughter. He focused his attention on her, admiring her and your work for a moment, a soft sigh escaping him as he scooped her up into his arms. 

You smiled at the sight, your heart swelling in your chest, more so as you watched the gentleness with which he handled her. In a feeble attempt, Visenya tried to escape his bear hug, grumbling slightly as he snuggled her head and smelt her hair. It was the same as whenever you did it, but something in your children’s scents was just too intoxicating. 

Tilting his head back, Visenya’s little hands grazed over his beard, seemingly enjoying the feeling of the coarse hairs under her fingers just as much as you did, before she placed them at the sides of his thick neck for stability. 

He smiled softly at your daughter, a smile that scarcely graced his features when looking at you. It was gentle and loving, and whenever his eyes met yours, his expression was tinted with desire and longing. 

“Does Mama not know that your Papa is a skilled swordsman, and not a hairdresser?” Maegor asked your daughter in a playful tone, swaying her in his arms and pressing his lips to her temple. She was giggling uncontrollably, barely comprehending what he said, clearly keening at his affection and attention. 

When the doors to your chambers opened, the wet nurse came in with a styled and dressed prince at her side. Getting Aerion ready had taken you one hour at most, and was far less complicated. 

Upon spotting his father carrying his sister in his strong arms, the boy all but barrelled towards him in jealousy. The wet nurse failed to pull him back, leaving him as he tugged on the leg of Maegor‘s leather breeches, demanding to be picked up as well. 

You used the opportunity and leaned past Maegor, trying to fix a stray strand of Aerion’s silver hair – but the excited boy didn't have any of it. 

“My my, look who is here,” Maegor said with a smile, kneeling down while carrying Visenya on his hip.

The boy hugged his father tightly, squeezing him with all the strength he could muster with his tiny arms, which left Maegor chuckling. You could not feel any greater joy than seeing the brute of a man, mostly known for his harshness, so soft and full of affection for his children. 

“I want up, Papa. I want up, now,” the boy demanded, wrapping his arms around Maegor’s neck. The sight was adorable, and you could see on your husband’s face just how much he basked in your children’s affection. 

“Up you say, mh?” Placing a hand under the boy’s bottom, your husband lifted him up with ease, carrying both children on his hips. 

You sighed, bringing a hand to your swollen belly as you planted your feet firmly on the ground, and slowly rose from your seat. It was evident Maegor had wanted to help you, to reach out to support you, but with both arms filled with your twins, he could merely offer you his forearm for you to hold onto. 

This pregnancy was not as woeful as your first one, truly a blessing from the Gods above. And your husband was more generous this time as well, allowing you to walk the gardens and the keep all by yourself, despite it taking you a bit longer to be with child again. The pregnancy in general was not that strenuous for your body, though your breasts and bump had swollen to ridiculous proportions already, and you barely exceeded the fifth moon. 

Approaching them, you brought both hands up to their cheeks, the pad of your thumbs brushing along their soft skin as they leaned into your touch. “That is enough, you two,” you hummed, smiling softly. “You must go with Erena now. We have guests arriving soon, and Mama is not ready yet. It would not do to keep our guests waiting.” 

The twins pouted, but with neither you nor Maegor being too lax with them, they knew there was no chance they could stay for any longer. You motioned for the wet nurse to approach, before you cupped your children’s faces one by one, and pressed a kiss to their foreheads. 

“Aye, you have heard your mama,” Maegor said, having your back. His eyes had taken over a half-lidded look as they were all but glued to your features, your lips mostly, watching you and admiring your motherly aura. 

He put both of them down, but not without ruffling your boy’s hair in a way that had you taking in a deep breath, trying to keep the anger of him destroying Aerion’s hairdo at bay. 

Clinging to the wet nurse's hands, they left the room at once, no doubt going to their chambers for her to read them a book. There were merely two servants around you at this point, stopping in their tracks as Maegor’s deep voice rang out. “Leave us,” he ordered sternly, his usual demeanor crawling back to the surface. 

It was the side of him your children were not meant to see, at least for now, and with Maegor’s paw coming to your swollen belly once you were alone, the softness returned. Cupping your bump gently, he looked down at it in awe.

“Are you ready for the feast?” you asked, smiling softly at him before your eyes trailed over the expanse of his bare chest. 

“I am, for as long as you’re by my side,” he said, his other hand trailing over the slight curve of your waist. Both his hands now rested where the swell was, feeling the gentle curve of your bump. When he spoke again, you could hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, his words making you chuckle. “But I fear the crowd will pay more attention to you than me.” 

Bringing your hands up to his face, you cupped it just like you had done with the twins before, your thumbs brushing the stubble on his jaw. His eyes softened, fixing yours. “I can not wait for you to be with my fourth child,” he spoke with a mischievous grin. 

You raised a brow. “Oh, only if you will be the one carrying the babe,” you retorted, the tease in your voice and sparkle in your eyes hinting at something only he would understand. “I doubt this pregnancy will spare me from the terrible birthing pains, and I do not know whether I can endure it for a third time.”

Maegor sighed at your words, his hands running over your sides once more, before one moved to the back of your head, threading into your thick locks. Gently tugging your head back, he leaned down to press a kiss to your jaw. 

“Would you like me to try?” he chuckled against your skin, pulling back just enough for you to spot the smirk on his lips. His tone had taken on a huskier edge, one that always forced you to squeeze your thighs together. “The Gods will be on our side this time. There will be only one babe, I am sure.” 

Licking his lips, he kept his grip on your hair, and pulled your face towards his. You anticipated a kiss, but alas, he kept a few inches between your faces, your heavy breaths fanning over each other's lips. 

You tried to chase him for a kiss, but Maegor kept your head in place. “I hope you know the dangers of challenging a Targaryen man,” he teased. 

Oh, you did know. More than once had he proven that it was just not wise to challenge him. It was impossible for him to resist a good challenge, no matter how bold or brazen. Your late brother Aegon was the perfect example, and also the reason he and his dragon Quicksilver were slain by your uncle in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye. 

Slinging your arms around his thick neck, you kept your eyes locked with his, a mischievous glint flickering in them. “I shall take my chances,” you replied, biting your bottom lip. 

That was the last bit that caused his resolve to crumble. Bowing his head forwards, he pressed his lips to yours fervently, void of any gentleness. Your hair was released, only for him to snake one arm around your waist and bring the other to your arse. Cupping it, it was easy for him to lift you up, holding your body to his in a cradle carry with your lips still connected. 

You pulled back from him to chuckle breathlessly. “We can’t… not now,” you laughed, bringing a hand to his bare chest as if you meant to stop him. “Our guests will soon arrive.”

But he was not having any of it. “Oh, is that so?” he taunted, slowly walking towards your marital bed, shrugging his shoulders when he came to a stop. “Let them, they can wait.”

You stared up at Maegor with wide eyes as he placed you down on the bed, one of your hands cupping your bump, while the other just rested on your chest, your full breasts hard and heavy. He stood at the side of the bed, and began to undo the laces in the front of his breeches. 

As much as you wanted to lock your gaze with his, your eyes always trailed down to where his fingers were fumbling with the laces, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth running dry. 

Maegor was the most handsome of all men, and his other skills were unparalleled. Even though his cock was the only one you had seen, you knew Maegor was very well endowed, and probably possessed one of the most beautiful cocks in Westeros.

Unable to wait any longer, you tugged the skirts of your nightgown up as much as your bump allowed, and shimmied your way out of your smallclothes. Your swollen belly was obvious, but you hadn’t thought of it as so obtrusive. But your husband didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he was even more determined and motivated to have his way with you.

Maegor eyed you just as hungrily, and his jaw set as he noticed the slight glistening of your womanhood as you spread your legs. You were eager and ready to take him. 

Stripping the last of his clothes off, Maegor joined you in bed, making himself at home between your parted legs. Leaning over you, careful not to put any of his weight on your bump, he planted kisses to the side of your neck, trailing up to your lips. His large frame completely covered your significantly smaller one, making you feel protected and safe as your fingers entangled into his silver strands, tugging on them gently and keeping his lips locked on yours. 

His cock was hard, pressing snugly against your soaked womanhood, sure to coat the underside of it and the sac of his stones in your arousal. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against him, rutting your swollen folds against his hard member which prompted him to groan against your lips. 

“Be still, would you,” Maegor scolded, but his tone was void of any harshness. 

But you couldn’t. Not when your body craved to be filled by him so badly. And Maegor seemed to notice your despair. He sat back on his haunches, looking down at you. The pout on your lips had him smirking smugly. “You have teased me long enough,” you whimpered, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s what I deserve after this strenuous morning.”

Raising his brow, Maegor sighed – he was admitting his defeat. “I shall make it quick for you then.”

His hands roamed over your bump, the white silk allowing them to slide over it with ease. He then proceeded to lean to the side, fetching one of the pillows next to you and folding it in half. 

Maegor hooked one hand beneath your knee, and used that grip to lift your hips, slipping the pillow beneath them to slightly raise your body for him, and make your back arch in a way that was not uncomfortable. It caused your swollen breasts to spill from the low neckline of your nightgown, the white silk dampened and darkened by the droplets of milk that had oozed out of your hardened buds. 

“Let me take care of you, mama,” Maegor drawled, his dark blown eyes traveling over your frame. Despite most of your body still concealed by your nightgown, he couldn’t be any more attracted to and aroused by you than he was in that moment.  

Gripping the base of his cock, he used your arousal to tug on him once, twice, before aligning the tip with your throbbing entrance. He was completely focused and careful as he pushed inside, moving slow enough for you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag along your walls. 

“Gods be good,” you moaned, enjoying the feeling of being stretched out by him, bliss taking over your senses. 

Your husband remained upright, his hands on your knees as he started with a slow, deep grinding. Your smaller one found his and held onto him for stability and to feed your longing for his touch, your eyes never leaving his. You felt the familiar heat building in your belly quicker than usual, the coarse hair around his member grazing over your sensitive pearl every time he moved and fueling the pleasure you felt. 

“You truly were made for me,” he grunted, a large hand moving to splay over your bump, covering most of it. “The most beautiful woman in the realm, swollen with my seed and carrying my children.” With a blush covering your cheeks, you bit your bottom lip, stifling a wanton moan. 

Noticing the color on your cheeks, Maegor smirked, slightly increasing the pace of his hips, his cock hitting deep enough to drag over the spot that had you whining and whimpering. You were squeezing him so well, making it impossible for him to keep going for much longer – not that you had time to do so anyways. 

Your pearl throbbed with anticipation, and your cunt clenched and convulsed around his member, announcing your approaching peak and coaxing grunts and groans to escape his parted lips. 

You tipped your head back into the pillows, unraveling beneath him as you closed your eyes in bliss. 

“So good,” he groaned, reaching to rub your bump before trailing his hand up to your full breasts. “I shall fuck you full of my seed, and bed you until your womb runs dry.” You weren’t sure if it were his words, the thoughts accompanying them or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your brain went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you couldn't think straight and answer him. 

His big hand tugged the neckline of your nightgown down to the point it ripped at the seam, freeing your breasts from their confines. It could have been a growl or a groan rumbling in his chest – either way it sounded threatening and dangerous, lured out by the sight of your leaking breasts. Clamping one of your darkened buds between his calloused fingers, he squeezed it to force some more droplets of milk out of it, coating his fingers in it.

Bringing them up to his lips, he sucked them clean with a groan, only for him to pay equal attention to your other breast not long after. It was not much, but already helped enough to relieve some of the pressure and ease the fullness. 

You bit your bottom lip and started up at him with half-lidded eyes, a teasing grin on your lips. “Want to get your fill, papa?” you asked, feigned innocence weaving itself through your tone. 

Maegor panted heavily, his eyes glued to where his fingers were milking you. “You little minx,” his husky voice drawled, interrupted by strained breaths. He was close. “Later.”

The coil in your belly tightened each time his body rutted against your pearl in combination with his fingers on your breasts, and it eventually snapped and allowed your peak to wash over your body with a loud cry. Maegor watched you mesmerized, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered around his cock with relief etched onto your features. 

He seized the opportunity, and bowed his bull-like body forwards, placing one hand next to your frame to support his weight as he increased the pace and intensity of his thrusts. Your cunt melted around his hard member, sucking him in with each snap of his hips.

You couldn't deny the slight aching that started to blossom between your legs, growing more apparent with the repercussions of your peak slowly subsiding, but you knew Maegor was racing for completion at this point, his breathing ragged and his jaw set. 

“When this babe is born…,” he rambled, panting in between the words. Strands of his blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, a sheen of sweat on his skin. “… I shall fuck another into you. I can not get enough of watching your body swell with my seed, making it clear to everyone that you are mine.”

“Y-Yes, Gods, please.” The flush on your cheeks grew hotter, matching the growing volume of your whimpers and moans. Suddenly, the thought of another babe growing inside of you didn’t seem too bad. 

It was with a final thrust of his hips that his body finally relented, his cock spending in a burst so strong Maegor stilled his movements. You felt him twitch and throb inside of you, spilling his seed and painting your walls as you milked him for every drop. 

The sight was divine. His muscular body crouched forwards slightly, blonde strands framing his chiseled features, beads of sweat highlighting his flexing muscles, and his jaw set tight enough you feared for his teeth. 

If you weren’t with his child already, you would have mounted him to make sure his seed would bear fruit. 

Every muscle in his body was tensed, until he eventually collapsed into the vacant spot right next to you, careful not to put any weight on your swollen belly. His flaccid cock slipped out of you in the process, causing you to pout at the sudden feeling of emptiness. 

But you were quickly distracted when you looked to the side, studying him carefully. The blissful smile on his lips sent heat straight through your veins again, reigniting the fire and longing for more. You traced your fingertips over his sharp cheekbones, while his hand had remained splayed over your bump in a protective manner. 

Moving to lie on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, mischievous thoughts filled your head, inspired the moment you glanced down at his thick cock. Teasing and arousing you was a weapon only Maegor possessed, and he wielded it so perfectly – intended or not. 

“Mh, our guests may have to wait a little longer,” you said, voice laced with desire. 

It was a bit troublesome for you to get up, but once you managed to do so, you moved to straddle your husband’s hips, his cock trapped between your soaked womanhood and his lower stomach.  

He watched you with an eyebrow raised, but made no move to stop you. You rutted your hips over his length, coating him in your mixed essences and coaxing him to full hardness again. 

Maegor propped himself up on his elbows, a groan leaving his lips, and brought his paws up to graze over your sides. He understood what you wanted, and was eager to give you just that. With unsurprising strength, he fisted the silk of your nightgown and tore it in half, exposing your whole body to him. 

You gasped, more because of the chill air hitting your hot skin than the shock of the sudden movements. 

Licking a flat stripe over the curve of your full breast before wrapping his lips around your hard bud, Maegor sucked on it a few times to swallow some of your milk. You moaned at the stimulation, tipping your head back as your cunt clenched around nothing. 

He pulled back with a string of saliva connecting his swollen lips and your skin, glancing up at you mischievously. And when he spoke, his voice was husky and strained, teasing you with a smug smirk on his lips. “I think they will understand.”

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme @valyrianglass

General Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @goldyfishsstuff @connorsui

[msmorningstaarr]

let me fill you up | Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

ao3 | masterlist

Pairing: Jaime Lannister x F!Targaryen reader

Summary: You, a Targaryen princess were married into the Lannister fold to ensure the alliance between the two houses, ensuring your eldest brother’s claim to the Iron Throne. Now, Lord Jaime makes your days filled with happiness and makes you eager to present him babies.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: rhaegar wins AU, no targcest, smuff, fluff, breeding kink, praising kink, a lot of pet names (sweet girl, princess, love), reader has no physical description besides the silvery white targaryen hair, creampie, oral (f receiving), a very devoted husband commited to your pleasure, smut, sex;

a/n: Happy new year! I had posted I wanted to write something like that and it's been a while since I want to write something other than holy and heathen because I must admit I'm not very satisfied with what I've been writing lately. Some validation kudos, comments and reblogs would be very important to me, seriously :') I’ve been thinking in turning this into a small series but I’m not so sure. Could you give me your thoughts on this too? please, enjoy your reading!

Taglist: @princessanglophile @hiroikegawa @hiraethrhapsody

You are sitting surrounded by your maids and children on a breezy night, covered with a fur coat and a crimson silk dress under it. Attentively, you go stitch by stitch and slowly form a lion, sigil of your husband’s house. Ever since Robert’s Rebellion ended and your brother, King Rhaegar Targaryen won, you became promised to the former knight of the Kingsguard, now Lord Jaime Lannister. Life in the lion’s den was not difficult, once Lord Tywin treated her with the most kindness and Jaime was still coming out of his shell. At first, he was your sworn sword in King’s Landing and spent plenty of time together in an unbalanced relationship. Now, you two are sharing a bed after a tumultuous year of war and destruction, as equals. In the beginning, you were sceptical about marrying into the Lannister household, but as the months went by, you found yourself drowned at him. Jaime is careful, gentle and kind. He brings you a small dandelion every morning once he knows it reminds you of home.

His only quirk was the strange attachment to his sister, Lady Cersei. But after being sent to Dorne to marry Prince Oberyn of House Martell and getting distant from each other, your relationship with your husband seemed to finally thrive.

“It appears to be beautiful, my lady.” Said one of her maids, taking care of your youngest son, a small silvery blonde figure of two years of age.

“A bright lion handkerchief for Jaime to carry with him.” You reply, admiring your piece of work. “Do you believe your father will like it, sweetling?” You then ask your eldest daughter, an adorable child of four. Your daughter eagerly nods her head and wraps her hands around one of your fingers to pull the fabric closer to her eyes.

“Dada will love it, mama!” The little one exclaimed, spinning around with the kerchief on her tiny hands.

“What will I love, if I’m allowed to ask?” A tall, blonde figure shows up in your private bedchambers, wearing a classic Westerland attire with a crimson fabric and intricate strings of gold shaped into the sleeves and collar. You smile sweetly to Jaime as he approaches you and grabs your middle child to hold in his arms.

“Papa!” The blonde little girl runs towards her father to embrace his legs and your maids stand up to bow to their lord.

“Have you missed me, dear?” Jaime asked and the fussy children eagerly nodded at him, embracing their father even more. Sometimes, seeing Jaime being so loving and kind towards your children simply melted your heart. You felt the urgency to kiss him and dig your fingers onto his bright hair, begging him for another child. Your cunt ached in pleasure to the thought of Jaime pumping his seed inside of you. You were still young and could bear many more children.

“Mm-rrhm…” You scoffed. “I have missed you too, husband.”

The three children giggled and the child on his arms hid his face on the crook of Jaime’s neck. The eldest covered her laugh with her tiny hands and the youngest beamed along their siblings. Jaime came closer to you and caressed your cheeks with his free hand. Then, a single and gentle kiss he places over your forehead, making your heart flutters with love and passion.

“I have missed you too, my love.” Jaime said, passing his fingertips on your chin and smiling at you.

Your maids quickly stood up and bowed at their overlord as a sign of respect. “Excuse me, my lord, my lady,” Said the servant girl. “Let us take the children so you can rest.”

“But I want to stay with papa!” Said the elder daughter, pouting and crossing her arms. The other two children whined and complained along, but you lowered into their level whilst Jaime talked to the youngest on his arm.

“Sweetlings,” She said, caressing their cheeks. “Your father is rather tired after riding for so long. Go with her, I promise you, your siblings, me and your father will have plenty of time together on the morrow. Is that understood, my loves?”

“I can take you to ride a horse tomorrow and even let you eat lemon cakes before super. What do you think?” Jaime asked, delivering the fussy child from his arms to the other maid. In unison, the three infants agreed and left disappointed. Once you and your husband were alone in your bedchambers, Jaime smiled at you gallantly. You embrace him intimately and are finally able to feel the warmth of his muscular body and feel the softness of his golden hair. His lips reach yours and in a whirlwind of sensations, your cunt is already dripping in anticipation just by a simple touch coming from him. Once he breaks the kiss, he keeps holding you by your waist and gazing at you with admiration.

“You have been gone for too long, love.” You say, passing your fingertips on his lips. He smiles and gives you a peck on the lips before speaking.

“I had duties with your brother, Our Grace King Rhaegar, sweet girl.” Jaime replies, pulling her out gently and grabbing the fabric she embroidered for him.

“I hope you like it, I made it just for you.” You point out, joining your hands to follow him. He keeps smiling as he observes attentively the intricate work you did.

“I shall cherish it and take it wherever I go, dragon princess.” He replied, folding and putting the kerchief in one of his pockets. You giggle as you hear him calling you ‘dragon princess’, a custom he chose to never abandon as a form to remember the late days of their relationship “I wish I had more time to be around and play with the children, I have been missing them and you.”

“They made drawings every day and left it on your desk at your office.” You reply, walking to the window and being followed by him.

“I will make sure to have them guarded in our chambers. Safe as our gold.” He says, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck lightly. You beam in ecstasy feeling his body smother you into a comforting embrace and full missing him.

“Sometimes I still cannot believe we are wedded to each other. You were my sworn shield in King’s Landing!” You exclaim as his hand caresses your empty belly and it tingles by his touch. He grins at your words and says.

“Most people are not so lucky to know your spouse before the wedding day. I consider myself the most lucky man in the world because I could be in your acquaintance from so long ago.” He replies, falling his head on the crook of your neck.

You turn around to be face to face with Jaime, feeling the cold breeze of the rock hitting your back and giving you small shocks as Jaime caresses your back, making you experience a thermal shock and shudder to his touch.

“I feel very lucky to be your wife, Jaime. Most women are not so fortunate to have such a kind, loving and handsome husband.” You mutter as he strokes your hair, in awe with your beauty.

“I guess we are fortunate to be together after so many troubles in war. We even brought new lives into this world to paint a new, brightful history.” He replies, caressing your womb. You stare at his fingers passing up and down your belly and glances at him with a sweet smile.

“And we could have more, love. I must admit I feel empty for so long and I want to give you more children… I know I can give you an entire army of your own. Half lion, half dragon. Unstoppable creatures.”

“You feel empty, love?” He asks, smirking and you eagerly agree with him. “Then allow me to fill you up…” Jaime finished, slowly undoing the intricate laces of your dress to reveal your bare skin under the crimson fabric. In response, you open his attire slowly and little by little his white tunic appears to her eyes.

By this point, your cunt is already sore in anticipation for the moment about to happen and clenches around nothing once he pushes the last section of string holding your garment, releasing you from the pressure tightening your upper body. Jaime pushes down your dress and your underwear is now on display for him, which makes him bite his lip and eagerly take down your white camisole to show him your bare body. You moan as he squeezes your breast and pinches your nipples whilst kissing you. You quickly take off his own undershirt to show off his chest.

“So eager is my dragon princess.” He playfully says, leading you to bed and carefully laying you down. With devotion, he starts to kiss your feet, legs and knees, his hands roaming through your thighs and hips. “Spread your legs for me, little dragon.”

You part your legs, obeying his soft command. “So wet… I can see you truly missed me, my love.” He says, kissing your inner thighs as your body squirms in pleasure before he reaches your intimacy.

“Oh… I have missed you so much, my lion.” You moan your words as he kisses your groyne and passes his fingers lightly over your clit, making your womb tremble and convulse to his touch.

“I can see that, just as I missed you, my dragon princess. Do I have permission to give you a lord’s kiss?” He asks and you only nod in response, making Jaime wet his lips with his own saliva before diving into your dripping core and you to scream involuntarily as his tongue and lips eat you up with full desire. Jaime circles his tongue around your clit and roam around your entire intimacy, making your hips bounce onto his direction. It was his costume to make you come every time before he would be inside of you, now could not be different.

You feel your body explode as if someone threw you into dragon fire as Jaime relentlessly pleases you, making magic with his tongue. Skillfully, he explores your intimate area inch by inch with eagerness, making you dig your fingers on his golden curls, pulling him closer to your cunt and you contorses your body urging for more. Tears of pleasure fall off as you feel goosebumps once you realise you are close to your climax.

As the intensity builds, Jaime's movements become more deliberate, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. Your breath hitches, and your fingers entwine in his golden locks, urging him on. The world narrows down to the pleasure he provides, the connection between you deepening with every passing moment.

When the climax finally crashes over you, Jaime doesn't relent. He continues to caress your sensitive core with his tongue, prolonging the sweet release. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you feel the bond between you and Jaime reaching new heights.

“Husband…” You try to stop him and give yourself some time to take a breath, but Jaime does not back off and part your legs once more, holding it as he keeps licking, kissing and sucking your pussy.

“No no, wife… let me please you and bring you to climax once more…” He cuts your words and gently goes back, but now he plays with his fingers on your clit, with far less pressure and slowly draws circles around it, taking soft moans from you. Jaime rises to hover over you, a wicked glint in his eyes. His fingers trace patterns on your flushed skin as he leans in for a heated kiss, allowing you to taste the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips. “Taste yourself, love.”

And not so long after, you scream his name as you feel waves of pleasure hitting your body as a lightning bolt hits the ground in a storm. Your body is trembling and your legs seem to be two wooden sticks, barely able to stand.

“Please… inside of me, Jaime… I need you…” You plead with him, pulling his body to be on top of yours.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” He replies, kissing you passionately once more and positioning between your legs. Jaime's eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of desire and adoration. The anticipation was hanging heavy in the air, your bodies aligned perfectly, and as he slowly entered you, a shared moan escaped both of your lips.

The sensation is electrifying, the culmination of the pleasure he bestowed upon you and the intimate connection between your bodies. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deepening the bond that exists only between you two.

“My perfect princess takes me so well…” He grows as thrusts into you going back and forth nonstop. You lock him by involving your legs around his waist and feeling his hard cock entering your cunt in full force, reaching your cervix and making you beg for more in his ear.

The room echoes with the sounds of your shared ecstasy, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies, creating a tapestry of love and passion.

“Put another babe on my belly Ser, please…” You beg him as moans leave your mouth and the sound of crashing bodies fill the room quickly.

“With pleasure, love…” He says once more. Jaime moves with a rhythmic precision, each thrust deeper inside of your pussy in farfetched positions. He missed you too much after months away from you and it shows by the way he kisses you as he moves desperately to have more of mounting his dragon. The room echoes with the sounds of your shared passion, a symphony of pleasure that reverberates through the stone walls. The flickering candlelight casts shadows that dance across your entwined bodies. As Jaime's movements become faster, the pleasure intensifies, and you find yourself on the verge of another climax. The pleasure is overwhelming, and your bodies move in perfect harmony.

With a final, fervent thrust, Jaime succumbs to the ecstasy and releases his seed deep inside of your womb, growling and grunting with relief and utter bliss. You hit your own orgasm as you feel the warm jets of his seed invading your walls and your body squirm and you scream his name, crying out.

Your bodies tremble in the aftermath, and he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. The room is filled with a comforting silence as you both catch your breath. Jaime's fingers gently trace patterns on your skin as you bask in the warmth of the afterglow. “Do you think we created one more life for our household, love?” You ask him, laying your head on his chest. The world outside your chambers seems distant, and for a moment, it's just the two of you, lost in the serenity of each other's embrace.

“Depending on your fertile womb, my love, I have no doubts you are.” He replies, caressing your silvery white hair. “But we must endure in our pursuit on a daily routine. Just to make sure our fourth babe is on the way.” He playfully replies, smirking at you, who mischievously smiles back at him and kisses his lips, wiping some strings of sweat from his face.

Jaime presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur, "I love you, my dragon princess."

And you, wrapped in the arms of the man you love, whisper back, "And I love you, my lion shield."

[two-white-butterflies]

fresh out the slammer | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen always found himself running to you after his failed marriages.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/The Hand!Reader

Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to.

The Dragon Prince was always an unpredictable figure. He made choices of his own, allowed his hot-blooded anger to rule his decisions instead of his mind. "Lord Otto warned me years ago, he knew that Daemon would try this..." Viserys cursed underneath his breath, it was a mere second ago when Lord Otto Hightower delivered the news about Rhaenyra's excursion with Daemon.

"I know Rhaenyra, she wouldn't do that in her own accord - this is Daemon's doing, my husband." Queen Alicent followed behind him, and you both exchange a look. Viserys takes a deep breath.

Viserys wanted to believe that his daughter was as innocent as Alicent thought but he knew that it wasn't the case. "The same blood flows through their veins, Rhaenyra and Daemon, they are both unpredictable - untamed by tradition. I would approve of this but my brother has a wife, we cannot risk offending House Royce." the King responded, waiting for your reply.

"We must do something about Daemon." Viserys articulated, "I believe that we have exhausted all our efforts into taming your brother, my king. You've already named him as the Commander of the City Watch. If that position has not taught him anything about honor and respect, I-I cannot see a possibility that anything could." you mused, his eyebrows merged into each other.

"We can send him away, force him to return to his lawful wife." Alicent suggested. "- the people at court, they'll talk about Rhaenyra, they'll bring her moralities into question. If she is to be the future Queen, then shouldn't the court respect her?" Alicent added, hoping to sway her husband into making the decision.

"It is already an endless cycle, my queen. Prince Daemon is forced into exile, he returns a few years and he does something that forces him to exile once more." you argued, on top of that, the prince was an asset to the crown - a warrior if not anything lesser.

"- to catch him would be to catch the wind." you ended and a sigh escapes the King's mouth. "- and we are still unsure if Prince Daemon was with Princess Rhaenyra. Mayhaps, it was just a whore from Lyss who bore resemblance to our princess." you defended, mentally reminding yourself to confront him after this conversation.

Viserys was silent for a second.

He takes a deep breath.

"I shall speak to my brother, confirm or derail the allegations. Then I shall call the small council and make a decision there." he concluded.

Daemon clenched his jaw, seeing you walk towards him in his periphery. A child in his eyes - decades lesser than his age, and yet his brother found you more fitting to be the Hand.

What did you have, that he did not?

"Lord Otto reports seeing you with Princess Rhaenyra late at night in Fleabottom." you opened the conversation and he did his best not to show any facial expressions. "What do you want?" his eyes narrowed.

"It was her then? I'll have you know that your brother plans to wring your head because of that." you chuckled, amused by his childish antics. Was it his first time in court? "If it is her, if it is not her, it is none of your business, hand." he grits his teeth.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Your brother will send you back to your wife. He will not grant you disbarment, nor will he grant you marriage with your niece. You are caught in a limbo, my prince." you explained his situation.

He could give lesser of a fuck.

"- but I can offer you a way out." you offered, and his pupils dilated. Suddenly piqued by your proposition. He takes a strand of your hair and moves it behind your ears. Your faces were mere inches away from each other. "A pretty lady offers me a proposition, I cannot decline." he agrees with the deal.

You stare deep into those purple eyes.

"I'm fairly new to court, they don't trust me - I've made a few enemies. Especially Lord Otto, and I know enough to know that you are smarter than you seem - that he fears you to some extent." you whispered, your voice low so that he'd have to lean closer to hear.

"You protect me, and I'll protect you." you offered. "- this thing with Rhaenyra will die down, just pretend that it was some Lyseni whore you bedded, and not your niece. You can still fuck her, if you wish, but be a little more discreet." you counseled.

"Sure." he hummed, pulling away from your body.

It's been a few months since the start of your alliance with the Rogue Prince, and surprisingly he's become a decent friend. Hilarious, when he tries. "Drink this," he placed a cup of ale in front of you. It wasn't your first time in Fleabottom, but it was your first time going here incognito beside him.

"Gods, aren't you going to help Harwin?" you chuckled, taking a slight sip of the ale. It was much too strong for your tastes. Daemon laughed in return, raising his hand and calling out to Harwin. "Are you alright?" he inquired and the man nodded his head sluggishly, fighting against the effects of alcohol.

"He's alright," Daemon antagonized, biting back a few giggles. "This is my first time seeing you loosen off. You're kind of a boring prude." he insulted jokingly, and you responded with an eye-roll. "Fuck you." your eyes narrowed.

"Seven hells, aren't you going to do anything now?" you raised an eyebrow, seeing Harwin led to the stage by a few bedwarmers. One of the girls pressed kisses on his cheeks. "I thought I was your only one," Daemon chuckled, not planning to stop Harwin from having his fun. "I thought you were old friends." you teased.

"Closer than friends, lesser than lovers." he shrugged and a laugh escapes your mouth. You always managed to laugh at his antics. He always pretended to be close to the people that hated him, sometimes even referring to Otto Hightower as the father he never had - of course, that was an insult to the man's physical features.

There was a comfortable silence between you, a silence that was only marred by the habitual sipping of ale. "You frequent these types of places?" you inquired, only beginning to realize the slight reddish tint on his cheeks.

"I used to, but not much now, they've grown...boring." he waited for the right words to exit his mouth. The truth was, he found himself slowly liking your company - liking the words that came out of your mouth, the insults that made him laugh, and the thought of fucking a woman who was only paid to moan and groan left him unfulfilled. He craved something deeper - like an idiot, he wanted a woman that understood him, that was able to shake his soul with avarice.

He needed someone like you, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet.

"The Prince of Flea Bottom, finding his own kingdom...boring." you mimicked his tone. "I've merely understood the fact that there are much better things to do than empty my spend on a whore's belly." he retorted, the conversation turning serious. "You should return to your wife and empty your seed on that belly." you teased once more, you've always laughed at the topic of his wife.

"I fucking hate you," he took a large swig of his ale. "- get me pissed enough and I'll fuck you, I swear to god." he cursed and you froze slightly. He made you feel dangerous for a moment. Like something could sweep by and take him, and you won't even have the right to mourn - you'll just watch him go, and wallow in the memory of him being vulgar with you.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Gold Rush (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your whole life you have been Daemon’s voice of reason. Tonight, you choose to be the impulsive one. 

Warnings: Velaryon! Reader (And POC!) Friends to lovers. Fluff. Eloping. Tender, loving smut.

Requested: Uh, I don’t know for markers of arousal, but they are a mess. Sub Daemon and POC reader, as requested. I finished the bingo! Yay! 

You clutch the letter in your hand, a joyous smile slowly starting to spread on your face. Uncaring of the guards, or the people around you, you hike up your skirt and race to the courtyard, screaming with all your might. 

“Daemon!” You say, laughing. “Daemon, Daemon, come quickly.” The letter is still clutched in your hand. Your light blue slippers, matching your dress, are starting to get mud soaked; you have avoided the paths to get there faster. 

Your childhood friend is in the training yard, his armor glinting under the sunlight. For once, he is not wearing the full Targaryen regalia, but rather a simple chest plate. You find yourself a bit taken aback by how handsome he looks with the sun hitting him from behind, hair shining like polished silver. He reminds you of the statues of the Seven you have seen in the royal Sept, a halo around his head. 

Daemon sets Dark Sister down when noticing your arrival. He steps aside from his sparring partner, a knight from House Lannister, as if he were meaningless. The man shouts something, probably in indignation from the abandoned match, but Daemon only has eyes for you.

Standing on the steps near the courtyard, his full attention is a heady feeling. It nearly makes you sway. He manages to look even more handsome when a bit roughed up. 

“Is that…?” He asks, pointing at the parchment in your hand. You nod. 

“He said yes! My brother said yes!” You shout, laughing. Daemon runs towards you, even more mud soaked and sweaty than you are and hugs you to him, spinning you around. It only prompts you to laugh louder. 

“You wonderful, wonderful woman.” He says, peppering your face with kisses, uncaring of the stares from the rest of the knights scattered around. You squeal when he squeezes you to him a little too hard, only to laugh right after at his eagerness. 

At the noise, Ser Harold lifts his head, but when he realizes that it is Daemon and you once more, he only shakes his head in exasperation before returning to his guard duties. 

“And has the Queen..?” You ask Daemon, in a low voice. Sudden doubts make your heart clench. Convincing her of allowing Daemon to marry you had been hard, especially considering she had a match in the Vale already lined up for him. It had taken the two of you nearly a year, and you had only managed to soften her heart by reminding her and her brother husband were once a love match too. She had agreed only if your brother agreed to it too. 

And that had been another can of worms. You knew Corlys was ambitious and wanted to see his wife, Rhaenys, on the throne. Marrying Daemon was the utmost betrayal in his eyes, for it was clear your friend would side with his own brother if there was a succession issue. Thankfully, he had given you permission, swayed by the promise that you would keep Daemon and Caraxes out of it if the worst came to pass. 

Finally, Daemon and you could marry. You were holding the very proof of it in your hands. 

“She has. But still…” Daemon gently grasped your face, tilting your head up so he could look into your dark eyes. “We must not allow them to change their minds.” 

You looked up at him, chewing your lower lip. It was not the first time Daemon suggested eloping. Running away to Dragonstone to be wed in the traditions of your shared ancestors and damn to your families. You had never dared. Despite being oddly similar to the romance tale of the Queen and King, you doubted they would take kindly to it. 

“Corlys said…” You start, softly. You do not mind being the voice of reason. It is how it has always been. Ever since you were the little girl sent to foster under Queen Alysanne’s watchful eye. Your father had thought, back then, if you could claim the Cannibal, you surely needed a strong woman to teach you to be one. 

His plan had worked. Perhaps you had not learned much about being a proper Lady, that didn’t track mud into the halls or stab others with practice swords, but by the Gods you had learned strength.  Both of you had, under her. The thing was, Daemon always thought that strength meant charging right at problems while you thought it was better to watch and think first. 

“Give me that.” Daemon complains, taking the parchment from your hand. You yelp and try to take it back, but he raises it high over his head, where you cannot reach. You try regardless, holding his shoulders and jumping up and down in a quite undignified manner. 

Daemon watches you with a smirk, eyes lingering on the bodice of your dress. It is once you exhaust yourself that you notice he is leering at your breasts, and you give him a good shove for it. 

He laughs. He pulls you by the waist and places a kiss on your forehead. 

“You are a pig.” You complain, crossing your arms over your chest. It is not the first time you have caught him looking at you, but it is the first time it feels so intentional. Daemon and you have never crossed that line before. Sure, he has looked, and you have too, but it is only natural. You are the only girl he has been around in a consistent manner. The two of you have been partners in crime since you were children. 

Daemon has had his dalliances outside of you, of course. You know he is fond of brothels and Gods know what else. You do not mind it. This wish for a match between the two of you is not about physical attraction, but rather that if you had to pick one man to be bound with and him only one woman to belong to, both of you choose each other. It’s simple. 

You love him, of course you do. But then, how could you not? Everyone loves Daemon. He is just that charming. Maidens want to be with him, knights want to be him. He is a true dragon, the finest his House has to offer. 

And you are… You. A daughter of House Velaryon, a bit too wild, a bit too unladylike. Nothing to your name but your dragon. At least in that you take pride in. What a foe, your child was. 

“Only for you.” Daemon says, brushing a stray curl away from your face. He twists his finger in it, making it coil tighter before springing back up. 

“Sure.” You laugh, and Daemon gives your hair a harsh little tug, making you yelp.

“I am serious.” He warns, a bit threateningly. His grip on your hair is firm enough to force you to keep your attention on him.  His eyes are locked with yours. “From today on, you are mine. And I am yours. I won’t… I don’t want anyone in my bed that is not you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. It might as well be a declaration of undying love, coming from Daemon. He is not one for monogamy, your friend. That he is now saying he wants you and only you means… It means everything. 

“But you have never touched me.” You say to him, confused. 

“Of course not, you silly thing.” Daemon shakes his head. “My father would have strangled me.” 

You fight the urge to laugh. Baelon Targaryen had never been too fond of Daemon not being a proper Prince. Unfortunately, he was often so busy with his duties he had little chance of teaching either of you manners. 

No, instead, the older Prince was much more decisive. Every time he caught Daemon with one of the maids, he got rid of them and paid them a pretty sum to forget the incidents ever happened.

“They would have sent me back.” You realize, voice barely above a whisper. If he had ever caught a whiff of impropriety between the two of you, Prince Baelon would have sent you back to Driftmark so fast you would have gotten whiplash. 

“Yes. They would.” Daemon agrees, softly. His grip on your curls soften. Instead, he starts scratching at your scalp, as if to soothe the hurt. “And I didn’t… You are good. I wouldn’t have brought you dishonor.” 

The admission embarrasses him. Daemon wants everyone to think he isn't concerned with that sort of thing. It is his armor. Being the Rogue Prince, the one who makes the unexpected move, the one who doesn’t care about consequences. But he does. When it is someone he loves on the line, Daemon does. 

He loves you. You love him. Why do you have to wait a full moon for Corlys to get here? He is not the one getting married. You don’t need a fancy gown, nor do you need to be wed in a Sept, under a religion that is not yours. 

You look up at Daemon, a mischievous smile starting to form on your face. He looks at you. Not a word is needed. Daemon knows what you are thinking right away. 

His brows pinch together.

“Are you sure?” 

“Daemon.” You say, exasperated. Who does he think he is speaking to? You had not claimed the most dangerous dragon in Westeros because you lacked boldness. 

“Tonight?” Daemon searches your eyes. He finds no hesitation.  

“In the traditions of our houses.” You agree. 

“You understand that if we…” Of course you know. The bedding. Being married usually implies that. The thought fills you with dread and excitement in equal parts. You have been trying very hard not to think of Daemon in this way since the two of you were teenagers. But now, it is not only expected, but encouraged. 

“I know.” 

His hand on your waist tenses. You can feel his grip tighten, greedily. There is so much want in his eyes that it warms your blood. 

“Alright, Lady Confident.” Daemon teases, pressing another kiss to your forehead before letting you go. 

“The dragonpit, tonight. Get us the robes and Viserys.” You point at him, sternly. 

“And what will you get?” He pulls you in again, pressing your bodies flush against each other. You tremble against him, unable to help it. Daemon has such a magnetic pull on you, sometimes you feel like the two of you are never truly apart. He is constantly pulling you to him, into him, even when not in the room. He owns your thoughts, your feelings, your desires. 

But you are not about to tell him that. You like running too much, and by the Seven he likes to chase. 

“Is my presence not enough?” You tease, deftly slipping out of his grip. You start to walk away, hips swaying. Before you are truly out of his reach, you casually speak, as if it were the most normal thing to say. “My riding gear. I intend to ride a dragon tonight.” 

Daemon grabs your wrist, pupils blown. He stops you from leaving. 

“A dragon?”

“My dragon.” You snicker. “I suppose, while we are busy with that, Caraxes and my Cannibal can get to know each other.” 

His joyous laughter chases you all the way to your chambers. You spend the afternoon getting yourself ready. You bathe, soaking in the hot tub until you feel dizzy from the heat. Choosing to elope has made you unable to seek any advice from the only female presence in your life. You doubt Queen Alyssane will take well to the news of what Daemon and you are planning to do. 

Nerves clench in your stomach at the thought of bedding him. It is needed, if you wish to really be wed in the manner of your ancestors, and it has to happen tonight. Otherwise, the tradition would not be complete. 

Having grown around Daemon, you are not fully innocent. Not only have you listened to his exploits, but you also know your body well. What worries you is the fact that he has a lot of experience on you. 

You scrub yourself clean and get up, taking out your secret stash. Pearls are one of Driftmark more prized exports, and you have quite a few. Some have been ground into a fine powder that you apply over your eyelids. You like how the shimmery white contrasts against your brown eyelids, drawing attention to your eyes. 

Some women, especially near Dorne, use black pigment to make their eyelashes look fuller. You have always enjoyed the contrasts more. Velaryons have striking coloring, or so most say. The shimmery silver hair all Valyrians share, with darker skin to offset it and make it pop even more. It’s the same logic you apply to your makeup. 

Once you have scrubbed yourself to your satisfaction, you fret over choosing a shift to wear under the robes. Daemon has sent them to your chambers already, wrapped in a cloth as to not let anyone see what they are. You note that he has selected ones with a red sash, and you frown. You will no longer be a Velaryon after tonight, but you intend to honor your House. 

Perhaps the followers of the Faith of the Seven have the right of it, with the exchange of cloaks. With no Corlys to attend your wedding, you feel oddly adrift. You exchange the red sash for a light blue one. 

Finally, with no other excuse to stall, you put on your black cloak and make your way to the dragon pit. The dragonkeepers barely spare you a glance, used as they are to your antics. 

Caraxes has been brought forth, as has Balerion. Their growls and cries greet you as you step into the lower part of the pit. Your own mount is near, but kept carefully separated. He has an unfortunate tendency of biting other dragons. 

“This is an awful idea.” It is the first thing Viserys says to you, once he sees you approach. “The two of you will kill our grandmother one of these days.” 

“Good evening, Viserys.” You say, taking off your cloak. “Why, thank you for congratulating us.” 

“Thank the gods.” You hear Daemon’s voice before you see him. You turn, finding him dressed in his own set of robes. You had not doubted him for a second. “I thought you were playing a cruel joke on me. That you were… Oh.” 

He finally sees you, dressed in your version of the ceremonial robes. He freezes. 

“You look beautiful.” Daemon says, still a bit stunned. The images of him superpose in your mind. The boy he had been, the man he is now, lips stretching into the most joyful smile you have ever seen. It makes something warm and syrupy sweet nestle inside your chest, covering you in a golden glow.  So of course, he has to be a bit crude. “And all of it mine by the end of the night.” 

Viserys sighs. He looks very put upon, your recently appointed officiant. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Daemon and you marry under the traditions of your Houses that night, with only Viserys and your dragons as your witnesses. 

After the deed is done, palms and lips bloody, you race each other to Daemon’s chambers. The few servants left behind turn to stare, and as you pass, chamber’s doors open. Everyone wants a look at the two troublemakers that are making a ruckus near midnight. Gasps and scandalized murmurs are heard as the onlookers take in your appearance. The runes are painted brightly on your foreheads for all to see if your attires were not damning enough. 

You are sure the news will reach the Queen before the night is over. But as you stop in front of Daemon’s door, you can’t bring yourself to care. He lifts you up into his arms and opens the door with a well-placed kick. 

“Finally.” He says, carefully placing you inside. You laugh. Daemon busies himself with closing the door after the two of you, and it is then that you realize. 

You are married. To Daemon. Your best friend. Your childhood companion. Daemon, rider of Caraxes, the Rogue Prince, Daemon. Fuck. 

Daemon seems to be going through a similar thought process because when he turns to face you, his face is frozen into stunned realization. Now what? His eyes seem to be saying to you. So you step closer. And closer. 

And then his hands are on your waist, and he is kissing you for the first time. 

It’s devastating. There is no other way to describe it. You have been looking at Daemon ever since the two of you met, unable to look away from him, and you finally have his full attention on you. It’s terrifying. His lips move with yours, soft and tender, as if you are something to be treasured. No one knows you as he does, no one could break you as easily as he could. 

You grasp at him like he is your lifeline, hands clinging to his shoulders. There is no finesse in the way you undress him, greedy hands grasping at his robes. Daemon allows you to do so, his hands on your hips steady and calm. It is not until the robes have fallen from his shoulders, exposing his bare skin, that the two of you separate. 

“What do you need?” Daemon asks you, voice low. You look up at him, hoping to see the same desperation you feel reflected in his eyes. What you see takes your breath away. Daemon’s eyes are almost all pupils, the black having swallowed the purple you so love. His lips are swollen from your kisses, mouth slightly agape. “I’m here.” He says, and it sounds wrecked. “I am here.” 

The softness makes you want to cry. You feel overwhelmed with how badly you would like to be close to him. 

“I want… I need…” You articulate, barely. You try to take off your robes, but your hands, so deft at removing his, are slow and stupid when it comes to removing the knots. 

“Let me.” Daemon unties the knots, taking your robes away. His hands wrap around your back, pulling you close. “You are gorgeous.” 

His hands are warm against your ribs, caressing softly. He traces the curves of your waist and hips as if committing them to memory. You do not feel exposed or embarrassed, with Daemon touching you like this. You have belonged to him, heart and soul, since before you knew what the word meant. It’s only right that it is him who you give yourself to. 

Daemon kisses you again, slow and soft. His lips trace your jaw, and then, the shell of your ear. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. 

“I seem to remember you saying something about dragon riding.” He whispers, and you can hear the devious smile he must be sporting in his tone alone. 

Because you are mean, and so much like him, you bite at his naked shoulder. You expect him to yelp or curse, but are fully unprepared for hearing Daemon moan. 

The both of you look at each other, before a giant grin takes over your face. 

“You like that.” You smirk. Daemon’s brows raise.

“So what if I do?” He challenges, with a smirk of his own. You run your nails down his sides, almost experimentally. His eyes almost cross, expression morphing into half pain and half pleasure.  “Seven Hells, you are not allowed to do that!” He complains, and you laugh. 

“I do intend to ride, you know?” You whisper to him, not a hint of shame on your face. 

“Good.” Daemon goes sit on the bed and takes off his breeches. He parts his legs, letting you see his cock for the first time. “Princess, come sit on your throne.” 

You shiver slightly, feeling arousal quickly taking over your best senses. His cock is pink and almost angry looking, perfectly placed for you to sit on his lap and sink on it. You want nothing more than to have him inside you. 

“No.” You say, instead. “Get me ready first.” 

“Come here, then.” He orders, impatiently. “Let me touch you.” 

“You have no manners.” You complain, a bit irked. Daemon has the bad habit of issuing commands, instead of asking. Ever since he was a child, the people around him have yielded to his position or his charm, even to his good looks. Daemon always gets what he wants. 

And you don’t want him to think it includes you. Being taken down a few pegs is healthy, once in a while. So you remain rooted to your spot, naked and confident in your own skin. You start to run your hands along your neck and breasts, tantalizingly. You can feel yourself starting to get wet. 

His eyes track your movements in the same way a man dying of thirst might look at running water. Hungrily, greedily. 

“And you intend to be the one who teaches them to me?” Daemon’s voice comes out much breathier than he probably expects. 

“It is never late to start.” You agree, mischief making your eyes light up. One of your hands pinches your soft buds, getting them hard and alluring. Your breath is heavier, soft little sighs leaving your lips at the stimulation. 

“Fucking… Come here.” Daemon says. You ignore him, running your hands over your breasts. “Please.” He adds, a bit desperate.

You smirk. You take exactly one step towards him. The way he looks at you makes you feel bolder. Your stance widens, one hand dropping between your legs, teasing. 

“Please. Please, by the Gods let me touch you.” He interrupts, before you can do anything more. “Come here, just… I’ll behave.” 

You run your hands over your sides and wait a bit, as if pondering his question. 

“Please.” Daemon repeats. He looks wrecked and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if this is what he likes about sex, how powerful and in control you can feel knowing that you have another person wrapped around your little finger. 

“I suppose I’ll allow you to get me ready.” You say, very graciously. You make your way to his lap and pull him in for another kiss. 

As soon as your hips are over his, Daemon tries to cheat. He lifts his own hips, trying to grind his erection against your core. You pull at his hair, in warning. He growls against your mouth, and insists on attempting to grind against you. 

You pull back from him, bracing your hands on his knees. Almost on instinct, one of his hands goes to your waist, to steady you. 

“Was that what I asked you to do?” You ask him, frowning. Daemon pouts. 

“I was getting you ready. You are so wet and warm, I bet I could just slide right in.” He complains, much like a scolded child. 

“Really? Then you must not know what getting a woman ready means.” You grin. “Allow me to teach you. Sit back and watch.” 

Daemon growls at you, face slowly starting to flush. You are not sure if he is more enraged or aroused by what he is seeing.  

“You can’t be serious. My balls are turning blue from…” 

“Not my problem.” You answer him, cheerfully. You remain sitting on his lap. The hand he keeps on your waist allows you to not need to support yourself so much. You free one of your hands and direct it to your pearl, where you rub slow, steady circles. 

Under the candlelight, your cunt glistens. You wonder what you must look like to Daemon, wantonly touching yourself on his lap. By the awed look on his face, it must be quite the sight. 

“Do you..?” He licks his lips, throat suddenly dry. “Do you need my help?” 

“Yes. Put a finger inside.” You spread your folds, feeling how slick you are. Daemon groans. 

“Fuck. That’s…” He presses his finger into your hole, slowly. It sinks right in. You sigh, please. Fascinated, Daemon pulls it back a bit, only to push it back inside and feel your walls swallow it. 

“Another. Open me up.” You say, voice a bit shaky. “Curl… Ah. Like that.” No other order is needed. Daemon adds another finger and curls it, a bit mean. It makes you sit up straighter, hands clutching at his shoulders. For a while, nothing exists, except his fingers moving inside you. Want is making you burn up, sweat collecting in the small of your back. You rock your hips against his hand, looking him right in the eyes. 

Daemon’s expression is open in a way you have never seen before. He looks entranced by you, as if he is in the middle of a religious experience. His eyes are fixed on your face, watching your mouth form soft little pants. His other hand is on your hips, aiding your movements. 

“I love you.” He says, sounding a bit broken, a bit in awe. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You press a kiss to his temple. “Ready?” 

Daemon nods, hiding his face on your chest. You grab his erection and line it up with your hole. He hugs you, tighter still, and it’s then that you sink on him. 

You curse, eyes going wide. Daemon lets out a groan. 

“Daemon.” You say, urgently. You feel like he is carving out a space for himself inside of you, as if he had not owned it already. “Daemon.” 

“I know.” He whispers back, rubbing slow circles on your back. He lifts his head and cradles your face, as if you are made of the most fragile porcelain. “My lady wife.”

“My lord husband.” You answer, equally tender. And it is then that you lift your hips and bring them down again. Daemon gives a punched out moan, hands tightening on your hips. 

You push him down to lay flat on the bed, bracing your hands on his chest to get better leverage. You lift yourself, up and down, until you have worked yourself into a frenzy and cannot stop moaning. 

Under you, Daemon has his eyes closed. His mouth is parted open, and he gives soft moans every time you bring yourself down. His hands are curled around your wrists, gently holding you to him. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough, it feels like you cannot breathe if you are not near him. You need to be as close as you possibly can, and you need it now. 

You lay yourself down on top of him, until your breasts are squished against his chest. Daemon’s eyes open. He hugs you to him, kissing the crown of your head. 

“Thrust your hips.” You say, starting to lavish his throat with kisses. “I need…” You grind your hips against him, his pubic hair rubbing against your pearl just right. With the way you are laying on top of him, Daemon can’t get enough leverage to do anything more than shallowly thrust. You nearly cry from frustration.

“Shh… Just…” He rolls the two of you over, ungracefully. He grinds his hips against yours, with little to no technique. His back is hunched, hair in complete disarray. The blood - drawn runes on his face have smeared, leaving only red lines in their wake. You wonder if you look as fucked out as Daemon does. The thought makes you clench around him, pleasure building up, and up, until one well aimed thrust makes you scream and reach your peak. 

Daemon collapses next to you, his release painting your thighs. There is silence, for a while. Both of you look at each other, sated and exhausted by the day you have had. And suddenly, there is a pounding on the door. 

“I swear to the Seven, Daemon Targaryen, when I get my hands on you…” The Queen screams, and you dissolve into a fit of giggles. 

[rhaenyslay]

Blushes and Daisies

Prologue: 'A Rose Between Thorns'

Aemond Targaryen x OC!Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond and Aelora chatter idly in the comfort of their hideaway - the hidden beauty of the gardens of the Red Keep among the wildflowers and cherry trees.

Warnings: Sickly sweet childhood sweetheart fluff, I’m talking blushes and giggles - twirling my hair and kicking my feet.

Word Count: 945 (normal chapters will be much longer don’t worry)

A/N: Hi lovelies! If you have any ideas/notes feel free to comment! There are a few changes to canon: The ages are adjusted slightly for the children (Aelora = 110 AC, Aemond = 110 AC, Jacaerys = 113 AC, Lucerys = 115 AC, Aegon = 106 AC, Helaena = 109 AC), and the timelines of Rhaenyra’s relationships are slightly altered too.

༻❁༺ 117 AC, THE GARDENS OF THE RED KEEP

“Aemond?”

“Yes?”

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be… normal? You know - not a prince or princess, not a Targaryen, not… anything.”

“Not really.” The young prince muses. He turns his head to the side from where he lay on the grass to look at his young niece, “Do you?”

The early morning breeze gently brushes over their cheeks as the two lay among the wildflowers deep within the gardens of the Red Keep, hidden away. The young Velaryon princess sighs softly, her face remains pointing to the sky - blue and clear, yet there’s a hint of grey that threatens to taint its hues.

“Sometimes.” Aelora admits almost silently, the only thing carrying the sound to Aemond’s ears being the warm breeze. “I think about going to Flea Bottom - maybe even Lys or Myr - about living among the people. No silly titles, no duties, no stupid corsets.”

Aemond laughs softly, to which she smiles.

“I think normal women still wear corsets.” He comments, “Just maybe not as tight.”

“Maybe.”

There’s a peaceful quiet that falls between them, a blanket of calm and serene isolation. Here, in their little hideaway, they have their own reprives: the young prince is free from teasing, from expectations, and from disappointment; and the young princess is free from whispers, from duties, from the conflicts of family and court. They share a silent understanding, a silent agreement, to speak only of pleasant things, to ponder only the oddest of dreams and queries, and to never share a word of it. The carvings in the trees, orange peels discarded, plucked flowers - the only testaments to human life this deep in the gardens.

“Mother and Father are already thinking about suitors.” She says after a minute or two of silence.

“How lovely.” Aemond replies, though his teasing tone conveys their shared distaste.

She lets out a breath of a laugh, though the matter is not amusing to either of them, “I just hope he won't be cruel.”

Once more, Aemond turns his head to look at her, the blades of grass tickling his freckled cheek, “If he is, I’ll see to him myself.”

“Oh, truly? I’m sure any grown lord will be scared of the a little prince like you.” She giggles, her warm brown eyes glistening in the beam of sunlight that floods through the trees above.

Aemond, who was being deadly serious, blushes a little, facing the sky once again, “They will be once I’ve trained more, once I’ve grown.”

Upon realising his seriousness, the princess maintains her smile, but it grows more appreciative than amused, “Well, I’m sure you will be the bestest swordsman in the world, and the bestest prince.” She smiles, brushing some of her hair from her face.

His blush deepens and he smiles, “Thank you.”

The silence returns.

“How is your training going?” Asks Aelora, “Ser Criston is always nice about you.”

“Well - I think so, at least.” Aemond replies, pulling at the grass absentmindedly, “Aegon is still mean though, and your brothers.”

She sighs softly, understandingly, “I can speak with them if you like - my brothers? But not Aegon…” she giggles airily.

Aemond smiles, though it’s sad, “Yeah, I’m not sure he’d be too easy to talk to about it.”

Noting his sad tone, Aelora shuffles a little closer in an attempt at comfort, the two of them laid side by side, eyes looking to the sky.

“I don’t know why my brothers are so mean.” She muses, “I promise they aren’t like that, they’re just… stupid sometimes.”

Aemond sighs, “I know… It’s Aegon mostly. But it’s fine, I’m manag-”

“No,” She cuts him off softly but firmly, turning to look at him, “it’s not fine; it’s not fair, Aem.”

“It’s okay,” He takes a breath, “we all have to go through something I suppose.”

Aelora thinks. She sighs and nods faintly, “I suppose.” She muses in agreement, “Doesn’t make it fair.”

Another silence. A bird sings from a tree above before taking flight, joining another mid ascension, flying off towards one of the many turrets together.

“Is your mother still being odd?” He asks, looking up and between the leaves of the trees and cherry blossoms above them - that hide them away.

“Yes… though I’m still not sure why.” Aelora frowns softly as she speaks, “One minute she’ll be fine, and then the next... she acts like I'm not even there.” She tries to explain for the umpteenth time, the dull ache in her chest forming as she ponders over her mother’s continued behaviour towards her. “It hurts.” She admits, a tinge of pain in her tone.

Noticing this, Aemond offers her a small, sympathetic smile, “I’m sure it’s nothing. She has no reason to have anything against you. You’re wonderful.”

Aelora blushes, “Thank you, Aem.”

Aemond pulls at the grass slightly, accidentally plucking a daisy. He looks at it for a moment. He turns and, in a moment of courage, gently tucks it behind her ear, within her soft brown curls. She finally turns to look at him, smiling.

“Here,” she, too, plucks a daisy, mimicking his actions and tucking one behind his own ear and within his own white curls, “now we match.”

With both having daisies in their hair, deep pink blushes, and twinkling eyes, they did indeed match - their souls mirrors of one and other as they always had been, and always would be, as they inwardly hoped, unaware of the turmoil to unfold, the blood to be wasted, lives to be changed. For now, all they had were their daisies, blushes, and whispered words. ༻❁༺

[highgardenart]

Malora Hightower

The Mad Maid

[mkstrigidae]

She's finally finished!!! QITN Sansa Stark from my fic 'Winter's Child'. PLEASE full view- there are so many details on this thing. I drew all the patterns by hand, drew SO much ice, and spent like, three whole days designing the throne.

Is she too detailed? Probably. But I was having fun drawing 8 million different kinds of ice/frost and learning how to use procreate. Whether Sansa painstakingly embroiders ice motifs on her clothing or just magics up frost to decorate her sleeves in painstaking detail is up to interpretation. She's SUPER ice queen here to show the northern lords and any pesky invaders that she's every inch a Stark and that she Means Business.

Bonus: Throne Details! They get kind of covered up by the frost and her robes, but I spent so much time designing her throne and I'm wildly happy with how it came out, so have some close-ups!

The top part I wanted to have the wolves on either side fading into weirwood leaves and vines (which was harder than it sounds), and her armrests have a stylized weirwood tree carved into them. There was going to be a tiny raven sitting on the tree in that space between branches, but I've gotta sleep at some point, tbh. Took forever, but was totally worth it- I love how both designs came out, and I think her throne is my favorite thing about the entire drawing.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Birth of Dragons

Pairing(s): Aegon i Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader, Aegon i Targaryen x Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon i Targaryen x Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenys Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: canon Targaryen sibling in*est

Words:2625

Summary: It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart.

Part 2

It wasn’t fair of him to choose a favorite between his sisters. Fearless Visenya, playful Rhaenys and loving (y/n). Above them all he secretly placed (y/n) close to his heart. She was the baby, needed the most protection as she was the youngest. Visenya and Rhaenys agreed on this as well, for she was their favorite and most beloved. Many often speculated that Aegon married Visenya out of duty, Rhaenys out of desire, and (y/n) out of pure love.

With such a sweet demeanor it was a shock to all the day she mounted Balerion. The Black Dread wasn’t phased at all and allowed the third Targaryen queen to climb onto his back She was just a small speck among his black scales. Even he wouldn’t let Rhaenys or Visenya on top of him. He would bare his sharp teeth at either of the sisters if they dared try. Not (y/n). She coaxed him with a soft voice and delicate caress to his nose. (y/n) had her own dragon, an albino that she lovingly named Renoxa. The bond between rider and dragon was a strong one to begin with but (y/n) and Renoxa seemed to always be in such perfect sync with one another. Dragons couldn’t truly be tamed yet Renoxa was close to it. While even Balerion snapped at Aegon a few times, Renoxa would never dare do such a thing to (y/n). She was something different.

She had a way with all matters of beasts. Whether they were dragons or men, she was a beast tamer. In Visenya’s fits of rage, (y/n) was the only one to soothe her anger.

(y/n) was equally fierce though, determined to stay by her siblings’ side no matter what.

When she started showing signs of sickness, the other three Targaryen rulers were quick to forbade her from riding alongside them to conquer the north.

“Really, I’m alright. All of you worry too much.” (y/n) says and once again tries to reach for her armor, but Visenya pushes her aside and back down onto her bed. The youngest didn’t put up much of a fight since she had been vomiting all morning, her energy greatly drained.

Rhaenys shakes her head. “Look at yourself, sweetling. You’re in no shape to be riding.”

Aegon agrees. “She’s right. I’m not about to put you at risk.”

“What risk? We have four fully grown dragons. They’ll give up easily.” (y/n) tries to protest. Large violet eyes beg them to let her come. Normally they would have bent to the will of those lovely Valyrian eyes. No one wanted to risk (y/n) getting hurt though.

“No (y/n). You can barely even sit up. If you were to ride in your state you would fall off of your dragon and to your death.” Aegon firmly tells her. “You stay here and let the maesters tend to you. That’s final.”

Outside their fort they could catch the screeches of Renoxa and the other dragons as they leisurely roamed around their territory, loving the open air and freedom as dragons should have.

With the tone her brother had used (y/n) knew there was no way of making him budge. His rule was law. She looks away from her siblings feeling ever like the petulant child, her fingers fiddling with the dragon head ring she wore. Rubies in the eye sockets glistening in the daylight that crept through the window.

Unable to bear her sister looking so rejected, Rhaenys takes (y/n)’s face in her hands and gives her a kiss on the lips. “Don’t look like that. We’ll be back before you know it. Like you said, we have fully grown dragons on our side. What are direwolves compared to our beautiful dragons?” Her fingers brush away (y/n)’s silvery bangs and she places another kiss on her forehead. “Don’t be upset ñuha jorrāelagon.”

*

It was hard for you to not feel left out as your siblings donned their glorious black armor and set off on their dragons to finish taking over the rest of Westeros. You had been with them through it all, through every battle. You and Renoxa paving the way to Targaryen victory and conquest.

What else were you supposed to do? You could tell that even Renoxa was getting restless. You wanted to go outside and comfort her but the maesters that Aegon had put in charge of your welfare refused to let you out of your chambers. Any other time you would have tried to threaten them, stating that you were their queen and could not be kept locked up but in all honesty you were tired.

You spent most of the time sleeping. Any little thing made you so incredibly tired that you wanted nothing else but to take a long nap. You would sleep for hours and many times you wouldn’t even be aware that you had fallen asleep until you had woken up. It was then that the maesters had started bombarding you with questions. When was your last moon’s blood, when was the last time you had sex with Aegon; questions that had you blushing. You were still young after all. If they had asked the same thing to Rhaenys she would have just smiled and coyly replied without feeling any embarrassment.

When the third week had rolled in of your siblings being absent, the maesters gave you the news that you were pregnant.

The news was quite shocking to you. Of course you weren’t naive enough to not know what happened after sex. Pregnancy was a possibility. You just never thought you would be the first one out of your sisters to become pregnant.

To have a living thing growing inside of you was an odd thought. Your stomach was still flat and showed no signs of there being any baby. When you placed your hands over your stomach though you swore that you felt a heat that wasn’t usually there. Like a fire suddenly lit inside of you. You were going to be a mother. Your child, if they were to be born a boy, would be Aegon’s heir. His first heir.

Smiling slightly to yourself you grow even more antsy for your family to return.

The news that Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar had been spotted nearing Aegonsfort had you sprinting out to greet them. Maesters yelling after you, you slowed down remembering your condition but walk quickly.

Renoxa is already up in the air, almost as white as the clouds. Even from way up there she spots you and begins her descent. Your hair whips in the gusts she builds up as she lands on the ground, her mighty wings beating against the air as she steadies herself. Her scales were bright, almost to the point of blinding. It was a great contrast when she stood next to Balerion or any of the other dragons. Her blood red eyes gaze at you, unblinking as she gingerly nuzzles your cheek with her snout.

You kiss her giant nose, you could feel her hot breath from her nostrils. Lovely, smooth, scales like priceless ivory. She was a gorgeous creature despite her small size; she was as young as you were after all and was still growing. Renoxa was slightly larger than Vhagar but not by much and no bigger than Meraxes. Still she was perfect to you. Even though your siblings loved their dragons it was nothing compared to your adoration for Renoxa and it showed through your strong bond. You doted on one another. You were as protective over Renoxa as she was over you.

And now you hoped she would be equally protective over your child.

“You must know that I’m pregnant.” Smiling against her snout, a gentle sound vibrates from her barrel of a chest. Yes, she knew.

There’s a cry in the air of a dragon, Balerion’s cry to be exact. They were closer now and you noticed the Black Dread picking up speed as he tilted downward to the earth. Both him and Aegon must be excited to see you.

Renoxa cranes her head, opening her mouth to bellow out a greeting. To others it might have been ear piercing, a sound of horror, but to you it was the sound of utter joy. You grin when Meraxes joins in with Balerion in wanting to see you.

Soon enough the three dragons were shaking the earth as they landed. Normally there would have been a crowd to welcome back the king and queens, but people were still standoffish when all four dragons were together. They made for an intimidating sight. Bannermen cheered at the arrival, the good news of Torrhen Stark bending the knee had already reached Aegonsfort.

Balerion lowers down onto the ground so that Aegon could dismount him.

“(y/n)!” Aegon’s smile is big at the sight of you and you have to control yourself from yelling that you were pregnant. “You look much better! How are you feeling?” His fingers weave through your hair, slightly undoing the braid that the maids had spent a while in designing. His eyes were sparkling as he leaned down to pepper your face in kisses. Sometimes you forgot how young your brother actually was. Being a ruler made him act so much older, but his true age always came out when he was lavishing love and affection upon you.

You giggle and cling to him. Rhaenys was soon to join the two of you while Visenya chose to stand off to the side with her arms crossed yet holding a gentle smile on her otherwise harsh face.

“Oh my (y/n)!” Rhaenys sings and nearly pushes Aegon out of the way to hug you next. Aegon only chuckles and allows his beautiful sister to coddle you. When she took in all of you though her face changed. Not in a bad way, but in disbelief. “Your pregnant.”

Aegon’s eyes grew large at what his sister had said. It wasn’t even posed as a question but a fact. Even Visenya let her arms fall down to her sides. The news must have been a little upsetting to your older sister as she had yet to get pregnant despite being the first to marry Aegon.

Scared to jinx the news, Aegon asks with hopefulness in his tone “Is it true (y/n)? Are you really pregnant?”

Giddy you nod your head uncontrollably. “Yes!”

Rhaenys breaks out into tears. “My sweet (y/n) is going to be a mom!!” She hugs you, refusing to let you go or share you with Aegon.

Even though there was still much left to do, Aegon refused to leave your side during your pregnancy. That is why Aegon put Rhaenys and Visenya in charge of overseeing the rest of what needed to be done in order to truly construct a kingdom for the Targaryens to rule over for generations to come. And you were playing the part of beginning the future generations.

Aegon marveled as your belly grew larger and rounder. He loved showing you off to his new vassals at how much your child was growing and that surely they would grow up to be a strong leader of Westeros. Even other noblewomen who were pregnant as well didn’t have a belly compared to your’s. It worried you at first, the size of your belly. Wasn’t it too large? You would ask Rhaenys if it was normal but she had as much knowledge of being pregnant as you did.

“Perhaps it’ll be an actual dragon.” She teased. Her hands roamed all over your exposed abdomen, feeling the heat coming off of it. Rhaenys pressed her cheek against your swollen belly. “Or maybe you’ll be having two.”

You gawk at your sister. “Two?!”

Her laugh is as clear and tinkling like a bell. “Yes, women can have two at once. It’s not that common but it does happen.”

“Dear gods I hope it’s not two.”

“Regardless of how many you have we’ll love them all the same. Even if you do happen to pop out an actual dragon. It’ll just show the people how strong you and the Targaryen family is.” Quiet in contemplation, Rhaenys kisses your belly. “You have done our family much pride (y/n).”

Regret eats at you for your older sister Visenya. “It should be Visenya who is pregnant. She’s been married to Aegon longer.”

A frowning Rhaenys rolls onto her back next to you on your grand bed. She had forced Aegon away from you so that he could be part in building his kingdom. The only thing that soothed Aegon was the idea that she would be with you. “She has never been happy in this marriage, (y/n). A baby would have made no difference. But yes, I suppose it does sting her a little bit. She knows though, knows out of the three of us you would be the first one to be pregnant with Aegon’s child. He may warm my bed a few nights but at the end of the night he goes back to you.”

“He loves you too, Rhaenys.”

“Oh I know he does sweetling.” She taps your nose dotingly. “But there is one thing that Aegon and I can agree on and that is that we adore you above anyone else. He loves you more than me and I love you more than I love him.”

You curl up against her, you had always found Rhaenys’ heartbeat to be so soothing. Ever since you were a small child you ran to her for comfort. She would always embrace you with ready arms.

And Rhaenys stayed to comfort you during your labor. She never left your side and held your hand as you screamed in pain. Her hair had been braided and pulled back into a bun as to not get in the way as she was assisting with the birth.

Aegon and Visenya had been forced to wait outside and listen to your wails of agony. They had never heard anything like it. At first when you started screaming,

Visenya had gone for her sword with fear that something had happened to you. That maybe an assassin had snuck into the labor room. Aegon had stopped her with a hand to her shoulder and had her wait with him.

You had never gone through anything as painful in your entire life. Many times you had been wounded in battle but no wounds compared to the pain you were in now.

Finally after hours of screaming and pushing, your son was born.

A beautiful baby that screamed much louder than you ever managed to. Hair as fine as white silk. Even if he was covered in afterbirth you wanted to hold him close to you.

But he was taken away before you could even touch him.

“M-My baby. . .” You reach out imploringly to him.

Rhaenys scowls at the midwife. “What’s the meaning of this. Give your queen her baby.”

“I-I’m sorry your grace, but she isn’t finished yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“There comes another baby.”

“WHAT??!!”

“Visemarys and Baelyx Targaryen.” Aegon smiles down at his newborn sons. Rhaenys held your firstborn Visemarys while Visenya awkwardly held onto Baelyx. You were exhausted from giving birth to not one, but two babies and had no energy to continue to hold them.

“How will you tell them apart?” Visenya asks skeptically as she looks from one scrunched up face to the other. “They look the same.”

Right then Baelyx started shrieking out of nowhere, startling Visenya. His older brother merely looked at him, puzzled as to why he was crying. Switching from his crying brother he looks back up at his Aunt Rhaenys and gurgles in delight.

Aegon chuckles. “Well that could be one way.”

[humanpurposes]

I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 1

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

A/n: Surprise!! It's the Florismond fic no one asked for :) Planning on this being a 3 part mini series.

“A terrible coincidence,” my husband says.

Head bowed, he kneels before me where I sit on the end of our bed. Thunder and lightning rage beyond the windows but he has brought the storm inside with him. The rainwater that has drenched his hair and his riding leathers soak through my nightgown. I keep my jaw tight and my teeth pressed together to stop myself from shivering.

He has discarded his gloves to hold my hands in his, leaving a trail of kisses and tears on my skin. He circles the pad of his thumb over my fingertips, over the callouses left by my years of devotion to the harp. His hands are calloused too, from his sword, from the reins on Vhagar’s saddle.

He lifts his chin to look at me. I scarcely recognise him. My husband is a proud young man, always poised, never loud, often cold and stoic, gentle around the right people, his mother, his sister, me.

His single eye is glistening and glassy, the blue of his iris vibrant despite his distress. His breaths are laboured, his lips parted. I see nothing but hopelessness in him, but even like this, I wonder if the gods will ever manage to create a person quite so beautiful as Aemond Targaryen.

I slip a hand out of his grasp and, as gently as I can, pull on the eyepatch that covers the left side of his face. He lets me do it, as he has done many times before. A burst of lighting catches in the uneven edges of his sapphire eye. The twisted flesh that frames it is red, I wonder if it is hurting him.

I asked him once, why he was so reluctant to display this part of himself, why he wanted to hide it from me when we were first married.

His reply was always that he did not wish to frighten me.

What reason would I have to fear a scar? I’ve seen plenty of blood in my life, hunts, tourneys, accidents in the training yard. I see my own blood every moon. How could I fear my own husband?

He’s stuttering, sobbing, choking on his words. “I didn’t– I– I tried to stop her– but I was so– I just wanted him to…”

Heat rises behind my eyes. My skin is cold, my limbs frozen, but the shock is starting to wear off. I cannot listen to any more or I will surely break. 

I hush him, curling my whole body over his head. If he sees my face he will think I fear him, he will think I am horrified by him. I run a hand over his damp hair and he rests his face against the swell of my stomach.

Before he left, only a matter of days ago, after he had kissed my lips sore and stolen all the air from my lungs, he had come down to his knees to kiss my belly. By Maester Orwlye’s estimation, I only have a month left of my term. By tradition, I should be in confinement, but Aemond had ordered against it. He could not bear the thought of being apart from me, and I him. He has his own books and correspondences with Maesters across the continent. In Dorne, expectant mothers are encouraged to exercise as much as they can, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on their skin. This would be best for our child, Aemond decided, rather than keeping me a dark bedchamber with only midwives and septas for company. 

Queen Alicent had said from the start that Aemond would make for a devoted husband, that he has always been a man of duty.

An awful sense of dread runs through my blood.

I should be glad that he has returned to me, and I am, I am .

“I wanted the boy to fear me. I did not imagine that I might…”

What can I say to him? What can I do to ease his suffering when I cannot stand the feeling of his body so close to mine? 

I am bound to him, through vows, through witnesses. I have given him my body and he has given me his. I carry his blood in my womb, my child as much as it is his. Most irreversibly of all, my heart is twined with his. I love him, and yet...

When he places a palm against my stomach, over the space where our babe grows, all I can think is that this is the hand of a kinslayer. Whatever fate the gods have for him now is my fate also. If he has cursed himself, then I too am cursed.

Full chapter on AO3

Tags (commented to be added)

Series taglist:

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

[loksthegreat]

The it girls of Westeros : Laena II Velaryon and Rhaenys III Targaryen, the heiress of Driftmark and the heir to the iron throne….

[chic-beyond-the-wall]

More natural dyes! I honestly love stuff like this so much.

[targaryen-dynasty]

ZĪRTYS PERZYS.

Prev. Part | Next Part

Maegor Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, teasing, breeding, size kink, size difference, slight humiliating/gaslighting?, slapping, teasing, mentions of blood, cutting of lips and hands, Valyrian wedding, female reader (no mentions of appearance besides purple eyes)

WORDS: 3.7 K

Maegor had kept true to his words. A sennight had passed until you stood in the Throne Room opposite him, the High Septon carrying out the wedding ceremony. 

But no matter how lavish it all was, how many people attended the wedding and its feast – it was not what you wanted. 

And your husband knew. 

For all the years you had been around Maegor, following him from a very young age, there had been enough occasions where you two had talked about your ancestors and the Doom that came over them. Therefore, you had more than one chance to tell him about your desire to wed in their traditions one day, regardless of whether you and your betrothed would share the blood of Old Valyria or not. 

Your wedding in front of the people of court and the High Septon merely seemed to be a means to an end to keep the smallfolk satisfied. You were wife number four ever since he ascended the throne four years ago, even though you currently were the only wife he had. The women that came before you had been dead for less than a year – something you hadn’t known of until he had told you the morning you followed him and Balerion to King’s Landing. 

And with the bedding following the ceremony and feast, you were officially wed… in the eyes of the Faith. 

But that did not mean it was official to you. 

Not more than nine days had passed since you left the castle of Dragonstone for the Red Keep, but it still felt completely different when you set foot on the island again. 

Many hours had you spent in Aegon’s Garden prior to your father’s death, surrounded by its roses and tall trees and basking in the peace and quiet. The familiar and pleasant scent of pine was enough to calm your fluttering nerves and brought back the memories of when your life had not been plagued by death and war. 

A gentle breeze blew through the tresses of your hair as Grand Maester Benifer led you through the ceremony, acting as an officiant and the third witness to your union – your mother and aunt being the other two. 

The ancient headpiece adorning the top of your head was not heavy, yet your pounding heart made you overly aware of it being there, and you could not wait to be allowed to take it off again. Even though dozens of Valyrian women before you had worn it to their weddings, it merely was a coincidence you had found the traditional marital robes you and your uncle now wore. They had been neatly stored away in a dusty chest in the depths of the Sea Dragon Tower, not even Maegor had been able to find them for his wedding to Alys.

Sitting somewhat tautly around his muscular arms and shoulders, Maegor’s robe did not fit him as well as yours fit, appearing as if it had waited all its life to be worn by you on this special occasion. 

Having read about the ceremony and traditions over and over again, you knew by heart what was to come, yet your eyes still widened a bit as Maegor raised a fine shard of dragonglass, zīrtys perzys in the tongue of your ancestors. Awe and fear alike blazed through the purple of your eyes, whereas you spotted a hint of something different in the gaze of the man opposite of you. Affection? Or even love?

Your hands trembled slightly as Maegor placed the shard in one of them, knowing exactly what was to come and to do since this was not his first wedding in the customs of Old Valyria. Hesitantly bringing it up to his face, the tremors did not ease with you dragging it over his bottom lip. The blood that gathered at the cut was no surprise, however, it still unsettled you to think of your lips undergoing the same procedure just a few moments later.

The gentleness with which he took the shard from your trembling hand was little comfort, and as he cut your bottom lip in return, you wondered how he had endured it without wincing as you did. 

After he had gathered some of your blood from the cut on the pad of his thumb, he dragged it over your forehead, drawing the Valyrian glyph for fire on it. You did the same, the glyph for blood written on his. 

A shiver ran down your spine as you carefully watched him cut his hand without any sign of discomfort or pain, figuring he was just as savage and brutal as everyone around you had said, used to the pain and to worse. But this was not about savagery or experience, it was about your union, to be wed by blood and fire. 

Only then it dawned on you just how much you had longed for this to happen – and how long you had waited for it. 

All the years you had spent cross with your father for not offering Maegor your hand in marriage, and even sending him into exile to Pentos, seemed ridiculous now. If only you had known back then that you were going to end up in his arms anyways. 

“Issa aōha pālegon,” Maegor whispered, his gruff voice barely audible over the rustling of leaves and excited roaring of dragons in the far distance. It is your turn. 

Staring at his cut palm for a bit too long, you examined how the blood gathered in the curvature of it, and how much it actually was. The shard of dragonglass was in his other hand for you to take, and everyone around waited for you to repeat the gesture and cut your hand. 

But you could not bring yourself to do it. 

Every time you thought about your wedding, you had never considered the pain that came with it. And now, it was all that was on your mind. 

Shaking your head, you swallowed thickly, flexing the fingers of your still outstretched hand. “Kostan daor,” you muttered, your voice breaking slightly, causing Maegor’s eyes to widen. Was he afraid? you wondered. “Kessa ōdrikagon.” I can not. It will hurt. 

When he tried to place the shard in your palm, you pulled it back, yet your uncle was quick enough to seize your wrist with a strength he had only rarely displayed towards you before. “Gaomagon ziry,” he warned, a sharp edge to his voice that prompted the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. Do it. 

You whimpered, more so as the cold dragonglass pressed against the thin skin of your wrist, close to cutting it. “Gaomagon–Gaomagon ziry syt nyke,” you stuttered, “... kostilus.” Do-Do it for me… please. 

He tilted his head to the side at your words, sizing you up, the grip on your wrist loosening almost at the same time. The slight crease showing between his brows indicated his confusion - or mayhaps even annoyance - yet he still complied. Taking in a sharp breath as the shard sliced your skin, the singing pain did not lessen, especially not when your hands united in a firm grip to make your one bloodline stronger.  

Replacing the shard of dragonglass with a goblet whose content was unknown to you, it was Grand Maester Benifer speaking, while you both took generous swigs of the dark liquid. 

“Let it be known that Maegor of House Targaryen and Y/N of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

Your heart pounded in your throat, and the coppery taste on your tongue made you aware that you had licked your nicked lip in anticipation of what was to come. 

“You may speak the vows,“ the Grand Maester continued. 

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” Maegor said, looking down at you with admiration flickering in his eyes. I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days. 

And then it was your turn. 

“Iksan zȳhon se issa ñuhon. Hen bisa tubis, ēva se mōris hen ñuha tubissa,” you replied, with eyes locked with his. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.

Your husband recklessly threw the goblet aside to snake his arm around your waist, drawing you closer towards him with your cut hands still connected. He briefly looked over to the Grand Master and the Dowager Queens, before focusing his attention back on you. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he cited in the Common Tongue, to which Grand Maester Benifer bowed his head once, and dipped forwards to claim your lips in a kiss that was shy of being reserved. 

Your marital robes and smallclothes lay in a scattered trail from the door to the bed, some still pooling around Maegor’s ankles as he held you tightly in his strong arms with your legs slung around his waist. His hard cock was nestled between your bodies, pressed against his lower abdomen and generously coated in your arousal. 

It felt as if your lips had not parted once since your kiss in Aegon’s Garden, still as fervent and demanding as it had been back then. 

Maegor tipped his head back slightly to break the kiss, yet yours tilted forward to chase his lips eagerly. He tsked at that and grabbed your chin to keep your head still, allowing him to press his lips to your jaw before they wandered to the curve of your shoulder. His teeth nibbling your skin, in combination with his tongue dragging over the light marks they left, sent you into a frenzy, distracting you enough from the sudden pressure of his cock prodding at your entrance. 

He had placed a large hand under your arse, effortlessly lifting your body so he was able to grip the base of his stiff member, tugging on himself twice before holding it steady to line himself up with your entrance. 

You felt him slide inside inch for inch at an agonizingly slow pace as if he wanted to make sure you were aware of every vein and ridge of his cock that dragged along your quivering walls. But the tightness of your cunt was practically sucking him inside, eager for him to fill you to the brim

Where you took in a sharp breath to brace for the sting that came with the intrusion, Maegor released a husky groan, slightly muffled with his lips still on your shoulder. You tilted your head back to moan shakily, the grip of your legs around his waist tightening in an attempt to lure him inside quickly. 

Your back arched against him, but the tight squeeze of your arse was enough to stop any further movements, pain and pleasure alike blossoming within your belly. 

“Gods be good,” you whimpered, burying your head in the curvature of Maegor’s neck the moment you spotted him carefully studying your face contort in pleasure. You felt his hand trailing from your arse up your spine with feather-like movements, until it settled at the back of your head, entangling in your hair and tugging on it to yank it back. 

You winced slightly, which probably made him aware that he had used a bit too much of his strength, immediately releasing your tresses. “Do not hide from me,” he crooned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “Let me see how good I am making you feel.”

Swallowing thickly, a meek nod was all you could do in return. It was the admiration in his gaze and the determination in his voice that rendered you speechless. Despite the fervor in his pleasure and the long-suppressed desire he felt towards you, Maegor had never been more careful, rawer and more vulnerable with you. 

He had one arm snaked around your waist and the other hand still buried in your hair, solely relying on them to support your body, keeping you mounted on his cock as he slowly prowled towards the bed. And even though you had adjusted to his size, neither of you moved. 

Carefully laying you down on the bed, it was inevitable for him to slip out in the process, leaving you pouting and yearning for him to fill you again. 

He stood in front of you completely naked, truly a sight to behold, and it still had not fully settled that you were to witness that sight for as often as you wanted from now on for the rest of your lives.

The light the candles granted was dim, yet bright enough for the beads of sweat to highlight his pale skin, accentuating his rippling muscles. His cock stood tall against his lower abdomen, appearing painfully hard as it glistened with your arousal. 

“Stop the sulking,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his gravelly voice. 

You licked your lips, your eyes flickering between his and his cock. “Come here and make me.”

Maegor chuckled dryly but was convinced enough to join you on the bed. You scooted further towards the headboard and spread your legs for him, making enough space to accommodate his bulky frame. 

Kneeling between your parted legs, he leaned forward and grabbed the headboard with one hand, towering over your small frame. The other clasped around the base of his hard member, aligning it yet again with your entrance. 

You anticipated him to enter you right away, a little moan of excitement leaving your lips even before you felt him prodding against your cunt. A mocking scoff left his throat once he noticed what had happened, shooting you a knowing glance that had you cowering beneath him from embarrassment.

Mayhaps it was you eagerly anticipating it, just wanting to tease you and keep you waiting a few moments longer, but Maegor instead dragged the tip of his cock through your soaked mound, generously coating it in your slick. As he repeatedly rubbed it over the little bud at the apex of your legs, you couldn’t stifle a whimper from slipping past your lips, your hips rutting against him instinctively. 

A wide smirk was plastered over his features, his gaze wandering down your frame, settling on what was happening between your legs. “Aren't you a naughty one, mh?” he said, making eye contact as he still teased your pearl, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to him. 

Heat blossomed on your cheeks, and you looked to the side. “Stop the teasing… please,” you whimpered, coyly. “I-I need you.”

Maegor stopped the teasing to pinch your chin, tilting your head for you to meet his eyes, the tip of his stiff member nestled between your soaked lips but not pushing inside. “But sweetling,” he started, the name spoken in a condescending manner that made your skin crawl. You definitely should not have liked him talking to you like that. “I am not teasing you in the slightest,“ he crooned, “I am simply being affectionate. Do you want me to stop?”

With your eyes wide and lips parted, you meekly shook your head, the intensity of his gaze as he awaited to hear your voice putting your body on fire. “N-No.” You weren’t sure what to expect if you would ask him to stop, somewhat anxious to offend him in any way. 

His cock was so close but also too far away, and while you were certain he could go another hour without being inside of you, you lacked that composure. Trying to angle your hips to the point the tip of his cock was breaching your entrance, Maegor firmly connected his hand with the side of your thigh – not as strong as you had anticipated, but still strong enough to have a hot pain spread from your flesh right to your cunt. A renewed wave of arousal seeped out of your core right onto his cock. 

“My my, would you look at that?” Maegor cooed, bathing you in a sense of feigned safety and calmness. “Who would have thought that my little niece is such a harlot?”

He placed his large hand on the spot where he had slapped you, soothing the stinging flesh with gentle movements. It was a stark contrast to the initial slap, and even though it confused you, you relished in the gentleness. 

“Mae-Uncle,” you mewled, pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a pout. “... please.”

An impish smirk pulled on the corners of his lips. “Please, what?”

“By the Seven,” you whined, balling your hands to fists at your sides in frustration. “Just-Just give me what I desire!”

Maegor raised his brow, seemingly impressed by that little outburst and the lack of coyness with which you said it – completely different from how you had acted before. “Oh, how could I ever say no to you?” he rasped, hungrily licking his lips. His hand wrapped around his cock again, and he kept it in place as he pushed inside in one, swift thrust, forcing himself into your tight heat. 

You forgot how to breathe as you tried to adjust to his size again. It felt as if he was harder than before, if that was even possible, filling you to the brim at once. You clenched down around him, and the choked gasp he released made your heart swell with pride. 

Despite the slight aching of him being a bit too rough and big for you, an immense pleasure started to blossom in your belly, granted by his curved length plunging in and out of you. 

A dip in the mattress next to your head, and Maegor had supported the weight of his bull-like frame on one elbow, inevitably bringing his chest closer to yours. His other hand had long abandoned the headboard to grab your thigh, hoisting your leg around his waist. 

You drowned in the proximity. His weight pinning you to the mattress, the warmth that emanated from him, his scent — it all pushed you into a frenzy. 

Maegor was balls deep inside of you, bullying the spot that had you seeing stars and hiccuped your breathing. As you looked to the side with your eyes squeezed shut, he was quick to cup your chin, tilting it back to force your eyes to meet his. 

“How does this feel?” he asked, uncharacteristically tender. 

You arched your back, arms wrapping around his thick neck to bury your hands in his short hair. “So good,” you whined, the words swallowed by Maegor pressing his lips to yours. 

You tugged on his silver tresses, walls squeezing him so tight you couldn’t even tell if they had even unclenched before. The kiss was fervent, full of passion, and was all teeth and tongue – unlike any kisses you had shared before. 

It might have been the feeling of your marriage finally being legitimate to the both of you, or you two being completely alone without any prying eyes and ears or people of court, but even the bedding was different from the many times you had shared a bed before. 

“Such a good girl,” Maegor grunted against your lips, rutting his hips into yours. “Mayhaps I shall reward you tonight and put a babe in you. Would you like that?”

Keening at the praise and the significance of his words, your walls started to flutter around him, clenching and unclenching without a rhythm. 

“Yes, please,” you slurred, digging your teeth into your bottom lip. “Please, give me a child.” You were not sure if it was the thought of being round with his seed or the sensual rolling of his hips, but your mind went fuzzy with pleasure, clouding each thought to the point you could only think of his cock dragging along your walls. 

Where you could have sworn you could have indulged yourself in his proximity just a little longer, your body seemed to act on its own with your peak suddenly washing over you. Your body was taut, convulsing as he fucked you through the sensations, reveling in the way your moans grew louder and wanton. He mouthed along your neck, his hot and heavy breath fanning over your skin. 

In your state of bliss, you had barely noticed the increasing pace and intensity of his thrusts. “I shall give you what you desire,” Maegor rasped to which you merely replied with a breathy ‘yes’. 

The snaps of your husband's hips grew harsh and uneven as he crested the horizon, spilling his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt. His fingers dug harshly into your cheeks now, still cupping your chin while groaning into the crook of your neck. Maegor was relentless as he fucked his seed deep into you, desperately wanting it to take and bear fruit. 

Once the throbbing of his cock became less, he collapsed onto his side, purple eyes squeezed shut and needing a few seconds to steady his breathing. You watched him with a tired smile on your lips, reaching out to scratch your nails over the coarse hairs on his chest. 

“What?” he asked as he opened his eyes to you smiling at him. 

Hesitating to ask the question, afraid of the answer breaking your heart, you licked your lips. “What if I do not give you a boy?”

But it seemed that the failed pregnancies of his wives before you had softened his heart, even if only a bit, because he brought his hand to yours on his chest, lacing your fingers. “I do not care, for as long as it’s healthy.” Bringing your joined hands to his mouth, he pressed his lips to the back of yours while maintaining eye contact. 

The gesture and his words had your heart fluttering with nothing but love and admiration for the man everyone dubbed ‘the Cruel’, yet he was not cruel to you. 

Pulling you close, he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Sleep, wife,” he crooned, “we shall reside here just a little longer.”

And sleep you did. The best you had slept in a very long time. 

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @watercolorskyy @xxxkat3xxx @baedebnam @simonedk @heavenhatesme

[alienoryva]

"Jaehaera & Aegon III grown up modern AU"

High school girl & College boy Relationship

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fc : Kiki hertz & Hugh Laughton-scott

[two-white-butterflies]

good riddance | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen meets a lowborn woman. He is forced to choose between duty and love.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen/lowborn!reader

ANGST

"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end." - Sylvia Plath.

Winter came in a typical fashion - all the heat purged itself and was replaced with uncomfortable coldness. A small chuckle escapes your mouth understanding the bitter irony of the situation. It was a cold winter, the type of cold that would make you shiver and unease - the same could be said with your current detriment.

Your father, ever the gracious host decided to house rebels. Of course, not just any rebels but ones where the Rogue Prince wanted to settle a score with. "How long does he plan to keep them here?" your brother paced back in forth, his fear growing with every second.

"There are already whispers that Prince Daemon plans to visit every town - the guards have doubled since last week. Seven hells, what if someone sees us with those rebels? They'll wring our necks." he cursed underneath his breath. A small sigh escapes your mouth and you continued sewing the dress that you were working on.

As if your brother jinxed himself, the Rogue Prince came knocking. You could see him from the window, long blonde locks and those peculiar purple eyes. "We're going to die." Kirdan mumbled, carefully watching his father open the door with a smile on his face.

The both of you exchange a knowing glance, slowly marching down the stairs to eavesdrop on the conversation. "Good morrow, Ser." the Prince met your eyes. He welcomed himself inside your home. "Good morrow, my prince. To what may I owe your presence?" your father did not falter nor stutter.

Daemon smiles at him, a charming smile - you almost expected him to be kind. If it weren't for the rumors that surrounded him. "Me and my men are here to ask you about your visitors, the insurgence is what they call themselves." Daemon's posture shifted quickly.

His shoulders were straight now - an aura of command permeating around him. "My visitors? I suppose that you are my only visitors." your father smiled, and your brother's grip on your shoulder tightens. "We're looking for the rebel brothers. There were rumors that they resided in your estate." Daemon argued.

You were sure that there was no use in lying now. Your father might as well kneel on the floor and begin begging the Prince for forgiveness. "The rebel brothers?" your father repeated the name. "Frode and Harald Stone." Daemon named them.

The moment those names exited the Rogue Prince's mouth a sudden commotion happened outside. A man began running away from the estate, barefoot and wearing nothing other than his sleepwear. "Catch him, now!" Daemon commanded and the rest of the goldcloaks began chasing after Frode.

"My prince," your father now began. He is momentarily speechless by that glare in Daemon's eyes. "- what will you do to him?" your father inquired. Daemon's grip on the Dark Sister tightens.

The men began dragging Frode back into the foyer, blood dripping down the rebel's mouth. Prince Daemon's attention now twirled towards you. His gaze softens, and the facade begins. "I apologize for the commotion, and I shall make amends when I return." he breaths.

He grabs the rebel by his collar, and begins dragging him outside.

He will return?

"We should be thankful that he did not sought to punish us." Kirdan breathes a sigh of relief, leading the both of you down to the base floor. "What did he say, papa?" your eyes narrowed.

Ser Groleo evades your gaze.

"He will return - for supper. I suppose." the man groans.

"We should prepare a feast. In gratitude of not arresting you." Kirdan immediately retorted. "I'll leave the both of you to arrange that." your father smiled bitterly. You and your brother exchange a stare again.

The table was arranged in a neat fashion. All of your best cutleries and porcelain ware were all in view. The best meats and exotic fruits were there too - it was a feast for a king, and the Prince didn't even look impressed.

"I apologize once more for the commotion that me and my men have caused. It was protocol to ensure peace in our realm." he apologized, staring at your face. Presumably soaking in your features. "Frode and Harald are honorable men - they fight for a good cause." your father laid out, in a tone that wasn't at all offending.

"Though their knowledge may be great - and their heart in the right place, what they do is treason. As the Commander of the Goldcloaks, it is my duty to rat out the poison that seeks to usurp my brother." Daemon responded, taking a sip of his dornish red.

Your father swirls the wine in his mouth.

"The government that they propose is akin to the Free Cities, whose wealth has expanded since they last welcomed freedom." your father discussed, and to your surprise, the Prince seemed to listen.

"Volantis can vote for its triarchs, only if the citizens are free but slavery is still rampant. If I may speak for myself, I'd rather be ruled by someone who was taught how to rule since their birth rather than vote for a man who wants to see himself as King." Prince Daemon decided to leave the conversation at that.

Kirdan smiles, nodding his head.

"I agree with the Prince, father." he voiced out. Unamused by the audacity that his father encompassed. Daemon turns his attention towards you - his eyes trailing back and forth between your eyes and your body. "You should apologize to my daughter for the commotion that happened earlier on." your father smiled.

"There is no need, my prince. The women of this household are not like mimosa pudicas, we do not rattle easily." you interrupted his sentence. Daemon is piqued in interest. "I have no doubt that you are fearless, brave and not easily rattled, which is why I must apolo-" he opens his mouth but you interrupt him the last moment.

"Then there is no need to apologize. If I am all that." you smiled falsely, seemingly teasing his limits or seeing if he'd rage at you. "Alright then, my lady." his responded in an equally teasing manner.

He could not stop thinking about you - ever since that dinner in your father's estate; your features have consumed his entire soul greedily. When he sleeps, all that he sees is you - when he opens his eyes all he longs to see is you. He couldn't believe that he was feeling this way - over a woman whose features are not all different from his Bronze Bitch.

He sits beside you, in one of the soirees that your town hosted. He couldn't stop staring at you, eyes glistening from the light of the fireplace. "Not even the Prince has a chance with Ser Groleo's demure daughter." he could hear the whispers from behind him.

The blood of the dragons flow down his veins, and you were his newest conquest. If you were hard to have - then he'd work well to have and hold you. "Do you rarely dance in these events?" the prince leaned on your body, whispering on your ear.

A smile finds itself on your face.

"I dance - all the time, my prince. But somehow, I do not feel like dancing tonight." you responded, implying that he may have something to do with that feeling. "Is it my fault?" he raised an eyebrow and you turn your head to look at him.

He was more beautiful up close.

His chiseled jaw - his unnatural beauty. It was new for you.

"I would not risk offending you, my prince." you looked away. "There is nothing that you can do to offend me." he enunciated, and the townsfolk began buzzing behind you. "- dance with me." he commanded, standing up and offering his hand.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. "I see these men looking at you and I wish to compete for your attention." he explained. You exchange a knowing stare with your brother, Kirdan nods - encouraging you to dance with the prince.

The lively music begins, and he claps in beat of the song. "I've heard rumors about your lifestyle, about the women around you." you opened the conversation plainly. His eyes did soften, but it returned to its normal posture before you could realize any difference.

"Don't believe the rumors that you hear, they are naught but spittles encouraged by those who want to weaken my family." he gritted his teeth - you could not figure out if it was a sign of his lying. "I-I've heard nothing, but I see it in your eyes. Lust - you lust for everything that moves." you accuse him. He shakes his head.

The both of you continue dancing. "Do you see that or are you still basing from the rumors?" he raised an eyebrow, and a defeated sigh escapes your mouth. "My father told me long ago, that you can change a man's face but not his nature." you say.

"That may be the case for men with skinny arms, but not for us warriors. We can always be changed - we live hundreds of lives. You believe me to be wanton and lustful, but give me a chance and I shall prove otherwise." he promised, and the both of you stop dancing.

"I wish to wed you."

You have avoided him for three months now. Pretending to sleep when he'd visit your father's estate. Passing your chores to your brother, who was now forced to go to the market every Sunday. You prayed to the Seven Gods that he'd forget about you.

That he'd be piqued by another young lady from your town, but he never did. He never seemed to forget about you.

One time, he managed to see you.

"I'm leaving, my lady - but I will return in week's time." he promised. You forced yourself to smile. Your decision suddenly becoming clearer. He was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, and his brother would never approve of him marrying a lowborn woman.

The love you shared was still in its early stages but it could not be. He was a hero, a prince, a dragon and you were mere sheep. "I am still adamant in having your hand in marriage. Your father has already approved and if you feel the same way - send me a letter." he pressed a kiss on the back of your hand.

A kindness that he has never shown any woman before.

My Prince,

You are reading this now in Kingslanding. Possibly sitting on one of the thousands of chairs that you own, or lounging on your bed. One thing is for certain, however, the love I bare for you is stronger than the ocean waves, warmer than any dragonfire. Our love is true, exciting and forbidden. That is the reason I will decline your marriage proposal.

At a young age, I was taught the importance of duty and sacrifice. A lady of my stature must marry above my ranks, not a prince, but still above my ranks. A prince like you must marry someone the same level as him. Someone like Lady Rhea Royce.

You are a prince, a hero, a warrior - a father of the goldcloaks. You have your duty and I have mine, mayhaps in another life. One where we're living in the Free Cities, selling oranges and cinnamon. Mayhaps in that life we'd build a home.

Yours, Lady (Your Name) Groleo.

Prince Daemon wasn't sure on how to react.

A few days ago, he got a letter from you - rejecting his proposal of marriage and now he's received a letter from your father - stating your death from an unknown fever from Naath.

He could not think straight. He could not breathe.

He hasn't cried since his mother died, and he didn't expect himself to cry harder than he did with her. The Seven Gods were cruel and he spurned them will all his heart. "Kepus, think before you do anything else." Rhaenyra warned him, fearing that he'd hurt himself.

His cloudy eyes gazed up at her.

You looked like Rhaenyra in some lights.